AN ASTOUNDING AUGUST INTERLUDE

The bureaucracy gods granted us a day off together. It started raining as we pulled out of Kiss the Cook. It had clouded over in the night. Wasn’t quite as hot in Phoenix . . . yet.

It was significantly cooler up toward Flagstaff. At first, I was doubtful about Emily’s suggestion that I wear a long-sleeved shirt, but she was right. And I was soon rolling down those sleeves.

It was still raining when we got to Walnut Canyon. The trail down to the cliff dwellings was wet and slippery, but doable. We weren’t the only people there. It seemed light-years from superheated Phoenix.

The forest smelled great. There was no need to run the car’s air-conditioner.

Lots of datura bloomed at the roadsides.

We headed down to Sedona and had the world-class Cowboy Up Burgers at the Cowboy Club.

While walking around, we passed an enlightened ape with a peeling gold paint-job in front of a “wellness cafe.” What is a wellness cafe? Did the proprietors think the whole thing was as funny as I did?

As we left Sedona, an indigenous angel with floppy wings and a horned buffalo cap blessed us.

We visited the Highway 89 elephant on the way home.

We got into a couple of traffic jams, and Phoenix was blazing, but we were feeling great.

CHICANONAUTICA UPDATES A WEIRDO SUMMER

It’s in one weird place, heading for another in Chicanonatica, over at La Bloga.

How weird is it?

Heading for education:

And judgment:

In a brave, new world:

SLICES OF A SUMMER

My wife just said: "Holy crap, the black widow got a lizard!"

The final scene of my dream was a dystopia in clay animation.

The concrete islands in the asphalt desert next to the ruins are being colonized.

Do androids run with electric bulls?

Bats and dragonflies flit about as the sun sets.

Still free to have tacos on the 4^th of July.

“Here’s some duct tape if you need some,” she said before leaving for work.

The smoke came from a parked car, its hood up, and flames leaping from the engine.

Sometimes you have to stop and smell the sunset.

CHICANONAUTICA FACES SUDDEN CHANGES, GONZO STYLE

When the going suddenly changes Chicanonautica gets gonzo, over at La Bloga.

The changes keep coming:

More than we can handle:

Some folks think they have a final solution:

You just gotta laugh:

A SINISTER URGE

 

It’s hot. And surreal. And transmogrifying into grotesque.

 

Basically, I’m an artist—a cartoonist, if you want to get persnickety—passing for a writer. I start with images, then arrange the (“compose” of you pardon the pretension) them into stories. Nobody has ever noticed this, but it may be why some folks think I’m doing it all wrong.

I never could land a lucrative art/cartooning gig. It's amazing how people want you to knock yourself out making stuff for them, then weasel their way out of paying for it. Especially if your stuff ain’t pretty.

Still get the sinister urge to draw.

It’s coming a lot in this summer of grotesque spectacle. Some folks get horrified, I get inspired.

So, I’m making an effort to stop neglecting my sketchbook and cultivate my long-lost habit of compulsive, spontaneous cartooning. What the hell, I can always post it here and on the social media.

Could be fun. Heh-heh.

Are we grotesque enough yet?