Electric Gooey Velvet Love Machines, Part 2 or Hanging the Wallpaper at the Lost Cantina of the Four-Eyed Serpent Prince. Psychedelic Abstract Art for Visionary Dream Trippers who crave Home Decor that Menards just doesn’t provide.

Blowing madly through my candy coated saxophone as I attempt to trade mad riffs with the ghost of Coltrane. Sadly, I cannot keep up… that fucker seems to never have to take a breath. I leave old John to howl madly and dispense his aural wisdom on Baba Ram Yum Yum, Fu Wang and Wolf Girl while I head for the safety and sanity of warm black tea brewed in an old pot. Some days, tea is all that’s needed, or perhaps all that can save you from spiraling into a deep, lonely depression-fueled existence as you ponder the big Why? But then again, I’m in no mood for the kind of answers that keep coming back from long-dead philosophers, but rather in need of some meditative, mundane, yet joyfully zen work. Like hanging wallpaper. I can hear the Little Goddess squealing with delight as I surrender myself to this mindful task.

And what wallpaper it is! Leftover remnants of Electric Gooey Velvet Love Machines, exactly what old Prince Serptoid wants hanging in his local watering hole. Something that inspires introspection when one is chin deep into the consumables and wondering if perhaps, perhaps this time, you’ve gone too damn far with it. Pushed the so-called envelope past the point of breaking. Hard thoughts on the day before the mid-term elections. The idea, that those vile sack bag Republicans or worse, Teapublicans, could somehow seize fucking control and jam their brand of authoritative, legislate morality down the collective throat of a nation of wild-eyed beasts who only want to be free in a way those “freedom loving” jack knobs would never understand. Free to run amok, not in some violent, gun-crazy way, but rather like happy, playful children, smoking, snorting, intaking whatever drug lubricates their sense of self and fuck who or whatever they choose, to love freely and throw them selves on the rocks of imaginary salvation.

But I digress, and damn, it’s time to get Veezheywul…

So grab some paste and lend a hand and let’s get this Cantina looking fine again…

Miley's got the Grease Part 2 Wallpaper is a transcendental piece of psychedelic abstract art madness born of the visionary lunacy of those weird fiends over at Sacred Square Art and Design. ©2014

Mad court jesters running about trying desperately to raise a laugh or even get someone to smile. Shaman priests offering up the sacred divine to the Great Void that sits at the heart of the Universe. Aqua blue-green glowing fields of warm forgiveness set against the dark shards of guilt for imagined wrongs. Sort it out? No chance. Just go easy with the paste and make sure to get the bubbles out… little Miley is coming down to autograph Prince Serptoid’s collection of rare bootleg recordings.

Bring forth the hot, molten goop! This will be perfect for the V.I.P. area…

NE Glass 2 Wallpaper is a variation of Albert Coldstein's venerable "Shaman Walking Abckwards" one of the seminal works of 20th century avant garde abstract psychedelic art. A true visionary who inspires the over-amped cranial meanderings of Sacred Square Art and Design. All Hail Albert! ©2014

Like a hot glass volcano… soothing yet overwhelming in both it’s scent and it’s desire to love you unconditionally. Chakra love bombs exploding in bright, shiny goo. Oh yes, this will work out just fine.

As always is the case except on days ending in “y”, we’d love to know what you think, what you see, what you feel… oh yes, yes we would. Fu Wang needs the interaction for he has felt a certain distancing between himself and the world as he prepares for his attendance at the annual Deep Think Meditation Training Course where he is all set to give an important, yet easily misunderstood lecture on posture and the Reptilian brain. Fascinating stuff…

Yours in rehabilitating the mind and child-like devotion to fun,

P.S. To my treasured little minx and playmate, Zengirl… all the love you can stuff in the sack… yours.


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