Yes, Daffy has returned! The duck is back from his mad quest to commune with the spirit of Jim “Mojo Risin'” Morrison, And yes, he is certainly looking a little worse in terms of wear and tear for the experience. But that is often the case when one goes on an inflamed quest to chase down a dead rock star’s spirit. Personally, I think that Daffy had just fallen in love with the leather pants and the whole lizard king persona he was sporting while listening to the L.A. Woman album on his vintage quadraphonic sound system. Of course, there was also the incessant boozing the Duck was partaking in during this period. I’m ot a huge fan of alcohol as I’ve seen it do more damage than just about any other substance, but i must admit to finding some strange humor in hearing Daffy, ripped to the nines on cheap Spanish plonk and mescaline attempting to “sing along with Jim Bob” to ” The WASP (Texas Radio and The Big Beat)”. Yeah, that shit was pretty funny.
Oddly enough, that shaman of the garden of eternal happiness and joyful playmate of the Fairy Romantic, Baba Ram Yum Yum, thoroughly supported the Duck’s mad quest. Baba who usually had no time for star worship or deciphering the meaning of song lyrics, would often dance in wild abandon while the Duck blasted The Doors and petitioned the Lord for Morrison’s spirit while wrapped in rabbit fur coat.
When I asked Baba about this he said that sometimes one needs to get outside themselves, perhaps way outside themselves, to see the truth of themselves. And that ‘sometime” was now for dear Daffy according to Baba. “If he doesn’t figure it out now, he may never figure it out’. Figure what out, Baba? “That not everyone needs to be fueled to the nines on drugs, liquor or even Mammy Nature’s finest all the time to make passionate, compelling art of any kind.” Yeah, but… “But the Duck is transfixed with ole Jim Bob’s genius, and it was genius, but it was not fueled by all the substances, they were merely a trigger point to free Morrison of his insecurities and inhibitions to make art, they weren’t the cause of the art.” Well, yeah, I get that, but Daffy…. “Daffy needed to get out there on the perimeter. Get caught up in the substance dance before he could see the truth that one need not suffer to be an artist.” Well, you could have just explained that to him… “Now, now, you know Daffy. He’s not one who gets it through a conversation or a book. Daffy is elemental, he needs the raw experience to understand it, he needs to discover truths the hard way, in a visceral way.” Well, that’s probably true, Baba, the Duck is rather obsessive when it comes to his desires. “Exactly, so there was no point in trying to curtail him from seeking communion with Jim Bob’s spirit. Our job was to merely await his return and offer him a soft bed and some Tylenol.” Gotcha…
Baba just knows… he just knows… and now, let’s look at some Wrought Iron Soul…
So do you think Daffy found Morrison’s spirit? ” Oh hell no. Jim Bob was always more of a Bugs kind of a guy”. Psychedelic visionary strangeness. Wrought iron laying about the Garden. Some damn interesting “faces” and “heads” along the axises. And I love the colors and intricacies on these pieces. Kind of appears like the head dress of an Incan Prince after a bowl….
And another take…
Shamanic. Dream Tripping Dream Catcher in a way. Native and tribal in it’s look and feel to me. This is interesting when you click on it and make it big. It pulls me back and forth from the center to the edge along that east-west axis. So Baba, are you saying one shouldn’t take a hit of Mammy’s finest from time to time? “No, you dope! Mammy’s stuff is a very useful tool, but like all tools, when used to excess the results are not always positive and life affirming. By all means, use what the Goddess has given us, but do not make it your constant state because then it loses it’s magic key properties.” Magic Key properties? “Yes, the ability to unlock your conscious mind and open the, dare I say it, doors of perception. It shifts the world just enough to see the color in a new way, hear the sound differently. It’s an amazing tool for creative thought and play.”
Hmmm? And off we go to the perimeter….
A version of a piece from an earlier post. Just had too much cool going on in that center not to share it with my fellow Dream Trippers. Throat and Third Eye chakra blues and indigo along with the purple. Lots of facial things, figures and such and the rainbow chakra stuff is quite fun. So Baba, are you a fan of Morrison? “Absolutely! the man was a damn genius. Unfortunately, he decided to push the envelope hard on the substance side.” But Baba, isn’t that pushing it what made him great? “No, actually that made him dead. Some geniuses feel compelled to stand in the fire. Of course, you don’t have to be a musical artistic genius to feel compelled to do that.” Why is that Baba? “The fire is warm. And there is a primal and intense sense of belonging in the fire. Of connection to the source. Too bad that many fail to see the connection is already in you long before the fire.”
And one more for those that can’t keep their hands on the wheel or their eyes upon the road…
Oh there was no way to resist putting this variation in. That shield-face totemic tribal image in the center would not allow itself to be left out. I really like the textures in this one a lot, too. Very trippy, very tribal… courtesy of Thee Little Goddess. Randomness strikes again. So Baba, what’s your favorite Doors song? “At the moment that would be this one….” Baba drops the needle on the vinyl groove and the stereo comes alive… go ahead, sing along with Baba, Fu Wang and Wolf Girl… lyrics below….
“The Wasp (Texas Radio And The Big Beat)”
I wanna tell you ’bout Texas Radio and the Big Beat
Comes out of the Virginia swamps
Cool and slow with plenty of precision
With a back beat narrow and hard to master
Some call it heavenly in it’s brilliance
Others, mean and rueful of the Western dream
I love the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft
We have constructed pyramids in honor of our escaping
This is the land where the Pharaoh died
The Negroes in the forest brightly feathered
They are saying, “Forget the night.
Live with us in forests of azure.
Out here on the perimeter there are no stars
Out here we is stoned – immaculate.”
Listen to this, and I’ll tell you ’bout the heartache
I’ll tell you ’bout the heartache and the lose of God
I’ll tell you ’bout the hopeless night
The meager food for souls forgot
I’ll tell you ’bout the maiden with wrought iron soul
I’ll tell you this
No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn
I’ll tell you ’bout Texas Radio and the Big Beat
Soft drivin’, slow and mad, like some new language
Now, listen to this, and I’ll tell you ’bout the Texas
I’ll tell you ’bout the Texas Radio
I’ll tell you ’bout the hopeless night
Wandering the Western dream
Tell you ’bout the maiden with wrought iron soul
Ahhhh…. my favorite too…
Yours on remembering tomorrow,
P.S. Zengirl… thank you.