AMP: Artists' Meeting Place and Resource Collective

7 July 2006 - 10 am

I am here at work, at the flute company. Shooting waxes into rubber molds.
I am a God in chains. A one winged angel. An octopus with one tentacle.

I know better than all of these people - don't I?

A voice: " Oh, they're just grumpy because their lives didn't turn out the way they wanted."

Another voice : " You'll never make any money with your own two hands."

A third voice : "Kissing each other all over."

It echoes in my head.

A fourth voice, my own, echoing from the past:
" I've got to get out of here."
"It's an Elephant's graveyard."
"I've gone from thinking 'Oh how the mighty have fallen' to 'Oh how the fallen have fallen'."

WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the last episode, Wong begins to stir as everyone else turns savagely on the Vice. The crowd at Ddwwchllyff's surprisingly proximate manse continues to swell, as the cast of characters try to squeeze into the antepenultimate chapter...
The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 71

Wonce Peppet was a miserable bastard just like his miserable brother had been. But his brother had been the lucky one – he’d died first. Wence Peppet wouldn’t have to live in a world where there was no one exactly as miserable as him. Wonce would. Wonce was staring at decades of unaccompanied miseration. His brother’s good fortune made him all the more miserable, so in the end, his and his brother’s miserableness were no longer on a par, Wonce’s being of longer duration. This would have gratified Wonce, but gratification, satisfaction, vindication – these would have lifted the veil of gloom swaddling him like sackcloth, could even (in a worst case scenario) put a spring in his step. Peppets weren’t built to be steppers, let alone springers. The Peppets were a breed of slinkers genetically predisposed toward creeping, skulking, scuttling, sidling and sloping. Nonetheless, they get where they’re going, unforeseeable death-dealing student bodies aside, and when they get there they hand over the suitcase, but not before they have a peek inside. Such are the Peppets – a miserable, trudging, predictable tribe. Easy pickings for an assassin, in other words. And yet, unlike all of their forebears, this was not to be the fate of the last two Peppets on earth. Wence Peppet had already died a natural death in a flukey accident and Wonce Peppet, slipping behind a handy Buddleia to have a peek inside, would fare no better. Damn it…

WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the last episode, S. Panther and Lassie emerge in the George Walker home as a busload of returnees returns and the embarrassing secret of the black gold is buried. Now, the return of everyone else.
The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 70

The shallow old Bangladeshi was profoundly unmoved by the doom of the gentleman who’d just been seen sliding into the drink outside the starboard porthole of the [haven’t thought of a name just yet]. And speaking of drink…he couldn’t see the sun, but surely it was over the yardarm, unless the yardarm were upside down. He would never know that the man drowning so ironically to death in a secret subterranean submarine tunnel was the famously scifictitious geology professor, Otto Lidenbrock, explorer of a secret passageway to a place once unreachable by public transportation but now apparently accessible to any old inmate at the George Walker Home for the insanely demented and luxuriously deceptive.

I blog weekly at my site at www.harriettstomato.com. My subject is food....and tomatoes right now. Please take a look there! I like visitors.
Best
Michele

WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the last episode, Wolfcastle, Elvis impersonator impersonator Ddwwchllyff and the lady killers argue about the significance and likelihood. How are Samantha Panther and the rest coping with the changes under foot?
The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 69

Disencumbered of the superflous Mr. E, abrupt absconder from the George Walker home for the Criminally Insane and Marginally Demented, the lifft crept upward carrying its precious cargo to the welcoming surface of Cymru. So eager was the Welsh terrain to greet the cargo, it was actually sallying down to meet it en route. In no time at all the doors creaked open on rusted hinges, revealing the top floor of Mr E’s erstwhile domicile. Through the high barred windows could be seen a lot of soil, yet a lactescent sheen shone along the uppermost third of the permanently sealed glazing, casting an eerie glow across Che’s logoic brow, glinting off the pushpins that held him in place.

Love and light hellos to the AMP family!

A medicine woman named Medusa led me to AMP months ago and now feels like the right time to work this resource.
My dear brothers and I have a band called Elevaters and we love to play about town. Check us out @ www.myspace.com/elevaters
This Friday, July the 14th is our first adventure to a true eastside venue and since AMP started in Silverlake I thought to send an invitation this way.
We would be honored with your presence.

Elevaters Live
The Derby
http://clubderby.com
4500 Los Feliz Blvd.
Hollywood, CA 90027
Friday, July 14th
10:45 pm

Here's some clips from our CD release party in March '05....We are in the middle of recording our second CD with some Special guest...please check them out. Other "spudcam" video's on YouTube include scenes from the indie movie "Confinement" co-produced by yours truly and featuring Laura Coombe and Myself.

Thats the way
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZFvinFjW1Y

Point Judith
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTprw0XLweE

Green Eyed Angel
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2Iwt2wDtqo

Bad
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lW9Dzzr673g

The Band WAS named FULL CIRCLE, but since 15 other

For earlier Chapters and an explanation of this dreadful story, see blog: The Cardiff Grandma.
WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the last chapter, the singular Schumacher a.k.a. et al, becomes his own man. Now Ddwwchyffll, as himself, hears voices.
The Cardiff Grandma Chapte® 68 of 73

Ddwchyllf turned from the window abruptly, snapping his eyes away from the fog. The fog. It seemed it had always been there. But how was he to be sure? He’d only just arrived there himself and had no way of knowing if, prior to that occasion, there had been any fog there at all. It was all, he thought to himself, very complex and quite perturbing.

I swear, the siren songs of the muses are leading me into the clashing rocks of reality. I'm suffering extreme PTMD (Post Traumatic Move Disorder), and for some reason my pdf file won't attach or compress. (Sigh) but I must somehow sail on through the torurous straits of the creative process. I have posted two new cells for the graphic novel, Cube Ghouls, and have the cover page of the July issue herein attached (just until I can figure out how to upload the full version). Now, all I need is a job with an income to feed those ravenous talents of mine.