Sunday, October 31, 2010

Mind Temple

There's nothing worse than waking up in darkness and having to pee. One time I woke up in pitch black and thought the body had become a corpse and that nothing was left but the thought of having to use the toilet. This absurd thought lasted only a few seconds as I stumbled for the light switch. In Greek mythology, there's a dream temple. The word temple is too obviously loaded with connotations, no point going on about it. In Club Morono, the temple provides a giant container where one could sit and listen to the echo of thought, or maybe even try to catch a glimpse of thought itself.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Chief Priest of Nomroh

Wearing the three-propeller decorative head dress to symbolize the three zeros or significant Os, this chief priest of Nomroh allowed me to capture his image with pen and paper during a recent Club Morono gathering at the tabernacle above the butcher shop.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Egg Break

Most people know the meaning of coffee break, however, in Club Morono, one frequently takes an egg break. Eggs provide protein and a connection to the mother of all breakfasts, the hen. What would tempera painters from the renaissance have done without good old egg yolk to bind pigment to the picture surface?

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Bread O

Before composing an inspirational homily about the after life heaven on Planet Blop, I went to the cafe down the street for morning coffee. An hour of coffee, prayer and contemplation at the cafe in the strip mall this morning, order a medium black coffee. Sit at a table where a man just got up and left, seat still warm. Waves of chatter from people gathered around tables made it difficult to concentrate, but at the same time, made my mind more fluid and receptive to messages beaming down from the enlightened Planet of Blop, to guide world-wearing beings down the hard road of life.

Friday, October 1, 2010

subject to decay

"All human things are subject to decay/ And, when Fate summons, monarchs must obey:" John Dryden, MacFlecnoe. Peachy last week, ripe for eating, meditating on a cushion of butter, this week, the peach was old, wrinkled and prickly. Did you still want to eat it?