Mongrel Studios

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

lowering

Coming down from the rafters now, swaying,
on ropes so frayed they seem, from here,
like hairs caught on the surface of the eye
or jellyfish tendrils
or ghost fingers dripping
or ghosts of ropes
and that "is this place haunted" is not a question but a chorus
is only evidence to the lie that it's a place at all
or any more than nerves at play
or the chance arrangement of folds in sheets in dark rooms
or phrases found familiar in music damp through walls
or an excuse to change the subject.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Monday, March 30, 2009

hate's a hoot

Some hot hot hoot.

Better call the hootenanny.
What with all this hoot.
(It is a lot of hoot.)

Love,
the dead minotaur

Sunday, March 29, 2009

not this time but the other

We used to wonder about the crashing noise
we'd hear some mornings.

Never a sound before or after,

no warning, no explanation.

Just this violent roar, like
buildings

eating each other.

It used to terrify us.

Now that it's stopped, I'm never sure I've woken up entirely.

(and the morning's all wrong)

Love,
the dead minotaur

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Look Between the Lines

Between the Lines, the true story of surfers in Vietnam, movie poster

Troy Page, one of Mongrel's founding members and international documentarian extraordinaire, served as director of photography on the Vietnam surf documentary Between the Lines. It's a damn good look at an angle of the Vietnam War that's rarely been explored. Most might only think about surfers and Vietnam in relation to the surreal scene in Apocalypse Now but with 15% of our troops in Vietnam hailing from California you better believe there was hell of a lot of surfing going on over there.

Between the Lines focuses on the stories of two surfers: one who volunteers for military service and one who dodges the draft and bails to Hawaii. The journeys both men go on are shocking at times and will challenge your preconceptions about their initial choices. All this is interspersed with a wide range of interviews, photos and footage, giving a very broad and even-handed account of the war through the unique perspective of surfers. This is definitely a movie that anybody, regardless of their political or personal views, can enjoy and learn from.

Granted, I'm likely the least objective person to talk to about this movie. Troy is family, so even if the movie sucked I'd probably give it at least a half-assed holler. Thankfully, the movie's friggin' awesome, entertaining and informative straight through, but you don't have to take my word for it. There's a really good write-up about it right over here.

Anyway, they just started selling the DVDs and I can't recommend them highly enough. There are plenty of good bonus features to make it worth your while. We've got an ad up for them right above this post, so please give it a click and take a look at their website. It's worth having a looksie.

-jy

Friday, March 27, 2009

lighten up nik

Sparky over here was vaporizing diamonds and playing with electric swords over a hundred years ago.

That's the most depressing thing I've ever heard.

You'd think by now we'd be squeezing diamonds out of our electric asses.

But nooo.

Sai.

Just look at this guy.

Really check him out, because Mongrel Digs Nikola Tesla.

You can bet your electric ass on it.

Love,

the dead minotaur

Thursday, March 26, 2009

baggin, you son of a bag

Are dees your bags?

Smiling Bag-Time Jamboree

ALL OF DEMS?

Love,
the dead minotaur

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

deep passion i think

Quinn Allan is a white electric dog.

All of a sudden.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

snippit

***** up in the rafters cutting wires again.
You know how it gets.
Something's on, humming, whir-rattle against the pipes.
Grinding out a lullaby on teeth and steel.
Mewling grit.
***** cuts 'til it cuts but
it just ain't cut out for this cut
(trim)

Love,
the dead minotaur

Monday, March 23, 2009

not the reason we need, but the reason we deserve

I never said thank you.

Or chubsidillo.
Why would I say chubsidillo?
Those aren't real.
Who told you about those?
A liar told you.
That's who.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Sunday, March 22, 2009

I Am Getting Up To Go Get Coffee Now

Where's my coffee? Where'd it go?

Soft head guy getting coffee in the sky.

Who put it up here?
Coffee doesn't go up here.
Coffee goes on the coaster.
This isn't right at all.

Labels: sketch

Saturday, March 21, 2009

let no good deed go unfurnished

Get a couch in here.
Stat.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Friday, March 20, 2009

justify my thumbs

Raise your hand if you like video games.

Sack Boy from Little Big Planet. Click here to find out why Mongrel Digs the future of video games.

Oh good.
Then I'm sure you'd love to read a rambling babble on how Mongrel Digs 10 Things About The Future of Video Games.
Because apparently now we're digging on things that aren't yet.
Maybe next we'll start digging things that never were.
Won't that be something.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Thursday, March 19, 2009

bag full of bag

Over-bagged.

Smiling Bag-Time Jamboree

Bag-gagged.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

such shut-ins all of a sudden

Down forward and out the window.

That's my favorite time.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

change, leopardon!

Every hero should get the 1970's Japanese TV show treatment.
And their own inexplicable giant robot.

Click here for more awesome.

You hear me Japan? Where's my giant robot?
Where is it?
Give it to me.
Please.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Monday, March 16, 2009

greens are good for you

Really good for you.

Beats the blues.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Sunday, March 15, 2009

a wasted yard

Sun strobes the green bits out the window.
Branches frantic.
We now return you to a wasted state.
And the rain and the wind and the rail and the waves.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Saturday, March 14, 2009

thing'll make

You take three steps off the wing and scream the
second
toes touch tar,
splashing yellow traffic reflectors
all over the audience.
and still
they applaud
and still

Love,
the dead minotaur

Friday, March 13, 2009

afraid and loathed

But it's fine, really.
On an unrelated note, here's Part Two of Mongrel Digs The Great God Of Gonzo.
It's also fine.
Mighty fine.

Love,
the dead minotaur

in loving tardiness

To honor the memory of Hunter S. Thompson, Part Two of Mongrel Digs The Great God of Gonzo will be posted rather late.
Just like Hunter.
Is and was prone to be.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Thursday, March 12, 2009

bag me to bag

All the way to bag.

Smiling Bag-Time Jamboree

Deeply into bag.
Bagging all the way.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

sky too is folding over you

Hope you like crazy patterns on your sheets.

And I wouldn't hold out hope for your reindeer armies neither.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

and now i hit the switch and now

Red pulse ripple right up the block.
Right it down.
Holding back with eyes on the window glistens,
always on the window glistens,
wet with the window glistens
juices keep our eyes steady.
***** steady between lashes,
"here comes the serration,
ripples off the blade,
halfway through the door already"
but I'm halfway through the door already
and I'm halfway through the door already

Love,
the dead minotaur

Monday, March 9, 2009

i told you i told you so

This shouldn't come as a surprise.

In fact, it shouldn't come at all.
How's it coming?
How's?

Love,
the dead minotaur

Sunday, March 8, 2009

how now is soon

Warm hydraulics over puddles a-glow,
gasping, wheezing,
like a lover trying too hard,
with lips wide taut
blast steam scald hot
'til the window's a wall of sweat.
Lick out your name misspelled
and towel off.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Saturday, March 7, 2009

speckle

Corridors behind us all a flutter.
Perfect bright ahead except for where it isn't.
Old man's beard outside,
fills the window,
lean,
spackle of red spittle
peppered about
and teeming with squirrels.
Polish the weird ones and let em shine,
I'd've said.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Friday, March 6, 2009

we can stop here. it's bat country.

You know something that everybody's good at?
Dying.
I mean, maybe not at first.
But eventually we all find a knack for it.
Like Hunter S. Thompson.

He's been actively dead since around February 20th, 2005.
Most are confident he'll be keeping it up for awhile.
I'm not so sure.
I'm full of doubts.
And crackers.
If you'd like to find out what Hunter was full of, Quinn would like to tell you how Mongrel Digs The Great God of Gonzo.
(I bet it was candy.)
(I bet it still is.)

Love,
the dead minotaur

Thursday, March 5, 2009

it's been a bag

A real bag.

Smiling Bag-Time Jamboree

You know how it is.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

let's try the gray ones

Had this dream this morning we were taking pictures
and you took out your eyes
and you said
"let's try the white ones now"
and I handed you two white marbles
and you stuck them in your head
and we took pictures
and you said
"let's try the black ones now"
and I handed you two black marbles
and you stuck them in your head
and we took pictures
and you
said
"let's try the gray ones"
and you took my marbles and
broke them.
So forgive me if I'm still a little sore about the whole affair.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

top ten things i can see from my window

Number ten: Sick tomato plant, purple, bloated over edge of crate, roots reaching between boards like fingers through fence.

Number nine: Tiny and/or distant satellite dish. Appeared during blinking fit a few months back with *****. Comes and goes. Shifty.

Number eight: Moss. Like a fuzzy blanket that lives on you. (I never should've shaved it off.)

Number seven: Basketball. It used to be next to one tree and now it's next to another. Shifty also.

Number six: Douglas firs.

Number five: Windows through the trees. May only be daytime phenomenon.

Number four: Corroded sign declaring hospital grounds off limits. It said more but the bottom's rusted off.

Number three: Douglas.

Number two: Ladder sloughing off white paint like snake skin, slumped against the tallest fir, retching.

Number one: Squirrels.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Monday, March 2, 2009

oh poppet

Now here's a little such-and-such about stick-to-it-iveness.
It goes something like this:

Chin up, poppet.
We'll pull through in time.
We tend to.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Sunday, March 1, 2009

the world is not a hollow shell

So we're debuting a new show I think.
Something you can dance to perhaps.

Of course, you know me.
I'll dance to anything.
Ha-cha.
More details later maybe.

Love,
the dead minotaur

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