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in a web of glass, pinned to the edges of vision

Wherein you are directed to read something that made the author laugh until he hurt

I'd forgotten how often we saw Magritte

mucha mosaic

Wherein you are directed to read something that made the author laugh until he hurt

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mucha mosaic
Go here: it's completely worksafe.
And screamingly funny.
  • I will say I have a friend whose name is effectively Puck after so many years, and who is not a bad sign of anything -- he's a fine fellow with an engineering degree and is in the midst of a most excellent project concerning translation (his wife is a grad student in medieval Spanish) of period Spanish fencing manuals. And they live in the bay area!

    I'm just saying. He does juggle, though. But actually good.

    -R
    • Not everybody named Puck is desperately trying to be alternative and failing miserably, to be sure!
    • It's a bad sign the context of other bad signs. Remember, gentle reader, that this was bad sign 4 of 4...:)
  • I am astonished that my fire troupe never got booked for this show, honestly. Although we would at least have been competent, and at least thank GOD there WAS a fire safety crew. I've seen worse.

    Actually, I like to hope my fire gang would have smelled "art" on the winds and fled sensibly, but you never know. We have performed in several alleys, mostly because you can't get indoor fire permits without sacrificing a virgin male elected official to an Elder God.

    And there has been glitter involved. Although there was a better reason for it, and it failed to work due to lighting problems; we were trying to put glow-in-the-dark glitter in a circle on the stage, but the promised blacklights weren't there, so we strew glitter anyway because it was part of the rehearsed performance and we'd have been confused otherwise.

    And we don't invite dirty hippies, and we sure as hell don't show art films - okay, once we performed at a gig where somebody else showed a bad art film, but it wasn't our fault and we were clearly billed as a separate act.

    ...I"m reaching desperately, aren't I? Well, at least I think I've found a reason to be glad I can no longer perform. I no longer run the risk of becoming *that*.
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