Hullaba Lulu: The Dance of the Bots

I wanted to link this week’s Hullaba Lulu video to San Francisco’s Pride Week so I used an excerpt from a 1929 Dorsey Brothers cover of ‘Am I Blue’ sung by Irving Kaufman.

Virtual Reality image of dancing robots
The Dance of the Bots in Purple, Rob Goldstein

It’s an unusual cover for 1929 and you’ll know why I chose it when you hear the song.

Am I blue

Sunday the 26th is Pride Day in San Francisco.

A couple of friends have remarked on how weird it feels to celebrate Pride
while the Trump Administration kidnaps children for reasons too horrific
too contemplate.

Here’s what I think: when the opposition doesn’t show up, the bullies win.

Happy Pride Month everyone and be sure to check out this week’s episode of Hullaba Lulu on Teagan’s Books.

‘Am I Blue’ The Dorsey Brothers with Irving Kaufman
Illustrations and Video (c) Rob Goldstein 2018

Strange Dream #12

The snake yawns wide and shows its venom glands.

He is a large scaly ES on the queen sized bed in room 314.

“Ssunlight is an abomination.” sighs the snake.

“Oh fuck off!” snaps the dog with a twitch of his tail. “The whole
day  is an abomination!”

“I know where the Garden iss.” says the snake.

“So you’ve said,’ replies the dog, “where is it, again?”

“In Manhattan, marked by the statue of the unknown bodybuilder.
Every Christmass true believerss ice skate to celebrate his musscles.”

“So, how come you don’t live there?”

“I got tossed by a blast of righteousness.  God did a shimmy-shake and
I landed here with Frank. God was jealouss: I got a piece of the woman.”

The dog’s tail twitches again.

“Howss about you?” asks the snake. “How did you get here?”

“I was a happy Lab, bounding and slobbering and bouncing when suddenly a Toyota Celica flattens me. Frank peeled me up and nailed me to this here wall.

Frank’s a good sort really, taking us in like this.”

 

(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2017 all rights reserved

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Felique Dupré in the Haunted World: Whose Hell is This?

Persephone plods relentlessly towards Hell.

Great drifts of snow form a tunnel along Union Turnpike.

Everything is grey: grey snow from a grey sky on grey
buildings.

Persephone rolls her eyes at the writer; perseveration of
thought is the sign of an overwrought mind.

Yet, she does consider the landscape grey

Illustration of Persephone made from a photograph of an avatar
Union Turnpike

Alla Saints an’ Mother Theresa coul’na saved me!” laughs Hades
with a puff on his cigar.

He’s just told the story of how, as a young Catholic converting a Jew in Switzerland, he was chased by a pack of Protestant dogs.

“My twisted sister!” Persephone hikes her skirt; that story never fails to impress.

Hades,” she says, “about Felique…”

“I don’t have your precious Felique!”

Nevertheless, she persisted: “But you must!”

Hades relaxes and chuckles affectionately: “Of course I must. She’s in the Garden playing with dolls. She’d love to see you.”

Persephone is confused: “What was that business with the hag in the mirror?”

“You know how the writer likes special effects.”

“And Felique…?”

“She’s a little girl named Trina.”

“I see…and, whose Hell is this?

“Cocteau’s, do you like it?”

Surrealist photograph of virtual reality avatars to represent Persephone and Lucifer entering the Garden
Persephone and Lucifer enter the Garden

Persephone examines one of Lucifer’s paintings and smiles: “Life is like a skyscraper on quicksand.”

(c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

Quicksand or Time

kneel into

self

as thick as

quicksand

or time

as short as

life

the mind goes

fritz!

and still soft

words

are the fashion

is the suck-off

are the

dreams

of

more me

of me

on the street

stretching

absorbed

into

niches

where the

envious

self

fails, extending

contempt

to the

“worthless”

to the

owner

of a sleeping

bag whose

mind has

snapped —

onto mine.

 

(c) Rob Goldstein 2014-2017

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