All Souls' Day

El Otro Reloj (The Other Timepiece) - 1957, Remedios Varos. Note that the figure's
head is a pentagram. The strange spirals are her own.

(I apologize for missing Halloween this year, but the powers-that-be were working against me. Specifically, that power known as Wi-Fi. I haven't had enough of it in the past 2 weeks to accomplish much of anything. And, upon WiFi's return, although I scrambled to put up several unfinished posts in the past 48 hours, more and more information distracted me as well as an onslaught of my usual daily distractions.

But, in my favor, although Halloween (Samhain) has passed, along with the first day of the Celtic New Year, the first Day of the Dead and the (Catholic) All Saints Day, this sequence of holidays has not, yet, come to an end. Today is All Souls' Day, or the final Day of the Dead.

That being said, when it comes to this blog and the witching season, my go-to artists have often been my two favorite Patron Saints: surrealists Leonora Carrington and Remedios Varos. And why not? When it came to painting, each was a sorceress conjuring up some of the weirdest images the world has ever known; images that in many respects were so similar, they seemed as if they emerged like branches from a single tree.)

Inset right is El Encuentro (The Encounter), 1962, by Remedios Varo.

"The dream world and the real world are the same.” - Spanish Surrealist Remedios Varo (1908-1963), found in this article.

"To the ancient Celts, the year had two 'hinges'. These were Beltaine (the first of May) and Samhain, or Samhuinn, (the first of November), which is also the traditional Celtic New Year. And these two days were the most magical, and often frightening times of the whole year."

- An excerpt from the Samhain page at Druidry.org. The photograph of Remedios inset left was found in this excellent series of articles about her life beginning here.

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All Souls' Day, when intoned, has a dolorous ring to it... reminding me of "for whom the bell tolls," an often quoted line by the English poet, John Donne.

"Any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee."

For Whom the Bell Tolls was, of course, also the title of the 1940 novel by Ernest Hemingway which was based on his experiences as a reporter during the Spanish Civil War.

Coincidentally, Remedios Varo, born in Catalonia - as was her fellow Surrealist, Salvador Dali and architect Antoni Gaudí - fled  Barcelona during that war and moved to Paris with her lover, French poet, Benjamin Péret.

Three years later, France, along with Great Britain, entered WWII. The good news is that Varo, after stopping off in New York, emigrated to Mexico, where her alchemical relationship with Surrealist Leonora Carrington would intensify, and "the two women would collaborate in attempting to develop a new pictorial language that spoke more directly to their own needs."

María de los Remedios Alicia Rodriga Varo y Uranga was born in the province of Girona with its medieval, walled towns. It was place she loathed to leave and she carried it for the rest of her life in the form of a small black and white photograph. Sometimes Girona appears in her images. (Inset right is a photo of Girona.) 

The province of Girona borders France and has a very interesting history and an important Jewish heritage. In the 12th century one of the most important Kabbalistic schools in Europe was built there. The unique Santa Maria de Girona was featured in the television series Game of Thrones.

One noteworthy element found in Varo's Wiki biography is that she was given the named of Remedios in honor of the Virgen de los Remedios ("Virgin of Remedies"). Varo became the 'remedy' for her (Basque) mother's grief after the loss of a first daughter. This gave Varo her first ghost... the older sister she never knew but remained unconsciously tied to.

Remedios Varo, herself, died in 1963. She may have become Leonora Carrington's first ghost... and as Carrington lived till 2011; they may have had a lot of strange years together. Inset left is a photograph of Carrington and her cat seated in front of her painting The Temptation of St. Anthony, (1945). Both photo and painting were sourced from the wonderful article The Surrealist Magical Mystery of Leonora Carrington by Cecile Paul.

But, while they both lived, the two friends were no strangers to the occult world and it's many esoteric  subdivisions, and this includes some innovations of their own. In Part 1 of Mara Marietta's Women Surrealists and the Hermetic Tradition, she mentions that the two women shared "dreams, stories, and magic potions." Certainly they were also well-versed in myth and folklore. I don't doubt they were psychic. I don't doubt they had their "magic" rituals... practices that all makers and all dreamers can, in some way, (secretly) relate to.  But, I really believe that both Carrington and Varo were right on the threshold of a unique knowledge or understanding. A knowledge scientists strive for but which is unlikely to be found in the expected places or in the traditional ways.

Inset right is a photo of Varo with one of her many cats found here.

I suspect it is this unique, hermetically sealed knowledge Varo was referring to with her enigmatic owl hybrids; a deeper wisdom... so deeply embedded it may as well be an alien thought process of a different species.

But, then again...

(GIF source: Tenor.)

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(Continued below the jump...)

The Peaceforce

Three rock doves (or collared doves) in an acute Vic formation - 2025, DS.

 

"I come in peace."

Who said that first? I forget now, but, according to internet sources, it was some pulp fiction alien life form or another. Ironically, this makes a certain amount of sense. Here on Earth, peace is an almost extraterrestrial concept.

That being said, "Take me to you leader" is, perhaps, funnier.

But, I strongly sense a moment of peace is needed on this blog and clouds are my go-to source these days. The photo above was a lucky shot; 3 doves flew through the frame in real time. Meaningfully, this happened almost 9 months ago. So, if it was a good omen, well, maybe it's still gestating. The "good" is yet to come.

But, enough of that. The point of this post is to find peace, and, failing that, to make it... like artist, Berndnaut Smilde, who conjures up his own clouds to photograph. Even if you're familiar with his work, it's always cool to watch him unleash a cloud in a dramatic indoor space.

 

The video above documents his NeueHouse performance of Nimbus. Basically, Smilde brings a cloud indoors. From Wiki: "He chooses locations that are old, damp, and have no air circulation." The upshot is "Time magazine called this technique one of the fifty best inventions of 2012." It almost strikes me like some kind of Fairy Tale... have you ever wanted to capture a cloud in a jar?

Timestamp: July 24, 3:01 PM, Albuquerque, DS.

A Country at War (Part 1a) - The Art of Slaughterhouse 5 (Complete)

 

Above are a few examples of the numerous editions of Kurt Vonnegut's 1969 novel Slaughterhouse Five (or The Children’s Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death), compiled by Emily Temple (2019) and found in the Literary Hub article, The 50 Best Slaughterhouse Five Covers from Around Around the World.

From upper left to lower right (publisher, language, date): Vintage Classics (USA) 2024, Points (French), 2016, Knygos (Lithuanian), 2017, Mondadori (Italian), 1988.

The Rosy Spade meme has taken me to some pretty strange places since the first day I envisioned it, on February 13th of this year. And, it's been a long and winding road. There is no real way of rationalizing this journey. I seem to be unconsciously following some intuited breadcrumb trail with no consciously known goal. And, weirdly enough, those dates, February 13 and 14, seem to  keep popping up throughout my research like little red flags, although not necessarily in a Friday the 13th nor a Valentine's Day aspect..  

Recently, the name Kurt Vonnegut came to me... as I compulsively grappled with how best to describe the present (absurd) state of American affairs (an unfortunate factor that can't be dismissed). It's as if someone whispered it in my ear. Eureka!, I thought, Kurt Vonnegut, exactly. The second thought that came to my mind was Slaughterhouse Five, a novel I once read in my rebellious, energetic youth... a time when many of us still believed everything could, should, and would eventually make sense. Vonnegut warned us about that delusion. But, like most children, we didn't listen.

Inset left is a photo of Vonnegut with his signature unfiltered Pall Mall which he unapologetically chain-smoked until his (unrelated) death at the age of 84.

As it happened, in keeping with the Rosy Spade's "birthday,"  February 13 & 14 would put in an appearance once again... in the darkest of ways. Read on.

Kurt Vonnegut believed in the power of art. If he hadn't he would never have had the courage, stamina or creative fire to complete his 1969 novel, Slaughterhouse Five, based upon his horrifying experiences during the bombing of Dresden (which began on the night of February 13, and continued throughout February 14, till the 15th, 1945) near the end of World War II; an undertaking which took him over 20 years to accomplish.

 It is now considered the pre-eminent anti-war novel of its time... possibly, of all time. And it's numerous, international incarnations over the past 57 years give testament to the novel's lasting power and relevance. But, it came at a great cost. The memory of the harrowing experience which compelled Vonnegut to write the novel never entirely left him.

Inset right is the cover of the Mladá fronta (Czech) edition from 1973. It has a great graphic treatment which seems to add it's own dimension to the story. And, you might say, this is true across the board. Art interprets art. Does language play any part in this process? Take, for instance, the most painterly and elegant of the editions, the French edition, with the less harsh-sounding title of "Abattoir 5."

Abattoir, Abatorul, Bitúnok, Jatka, Lò mổ, Matadouro, Mattatoio, Mezbaha, Rzeźnia Schlachthof, Slakthus, Skerdykla, Slachthuis, Slagtehal, Teurastamo... Who knew there were so many diverse ways to say the word "slaughterhouse"?

Inset left is a German edition published by  HoCa-Belletristik in 2016. Note it's sophisticat design but somewhat grim image ... and then compare it to the Lithuanian edition with the huge, cartoonish bird, or the Italian edition with the comic book action graphic. While each is powerful in its own way, they might be covers from different novels altogether.

Importantly, Slaughterhouse Five is a difficult novel to portray in a single graphic image. It is not your standard novel. Below is its (lengthy) title page, fashioned like a prose poem and not as straightforward as we might wish. It almost stands as a reminder: what you are about to read is not an ordinary novel; it is intended to represent a new literary (schizoid) art form.*

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Slaughterhouse-Five

OR THE CHILDREN’S CRUSADE:

A DUTY DANCE WITH DEATH BY

Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

A FOURTH-GENERATION GERMAN-AMERICAN

NOW LIVING IN EASY CIRCUMSTANCES

ON CAPE COD (AND SMOKING TOO MUCH),

WHO AS AN AMERICAN INFANTRY SCOUT

HORS DE COMBAT,

AS A PRISONER OF WAR,

WITNESSED THE FIRE-BOMBING

OF DRESDEN, GERMANY,

“THE FLORENCE OF THE ELBE,”

A LONG TIME AGO,

AND SURVIVED TO TELL THE TALE.

THIS IS A NOVEL SOMEWHAT IN THE

TELEGRAPHIC SCHIZOPHRENIC MANNER

OF TALES OF THE PLANET TRALFAMADORE,

WHERE THE FLYING SAUCERS COME FROM.

PEACE.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

So, although at its heart it is an anti-war story, it is a also a historical novel based on fact. It is a semi-biographical novel.  It is also, very possibly, a thinly-veiled case-study of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. But, beyond that, it is an existentialist, absurdist commentary and a satire.

And, yet, what most of the Slaughterhouse 5 book jackets fail to convey, is that the novel is also, both in spirit and fact, a science-fiction tale. It has all the qualifying elements: time travel, an exoplanet and an alien abduction involving some very freaky extraterrestrials.

How freaky? Well, the Vintage Press edition introducing this post - the falling hand with the central eye - actually represents an alien intelligence.

Inset left is one book jacket which carries the science fiction theme further. In it's almost childlike illustration we're confronted by a destitute soldier crouching next to what appears to be a unusual plant-like creature with a body resembling a toilet bowel plunger topped by a hand-shaped head with a single green eye in the center. This entity is a Tralfamadorian who (pun intended?) helps Billy Pilgrim become "unstuck" in time. In other words, unless the creature is in disguise, it is clearly a metaphor.**

Tralfamadore is also discussed in this Post-Mac Blues cross-post: A Post-Birthday Greeting from Tralfamadore.

(Continued below the break...)

Vale to an extraordinary artist: Yayoi Kusama

(Credit: the Tate Galleries video channel.)

"I followed the thread of art and somehow discovered a path that would allow me to live." - Yayoi Kusama, 2012.

"Ms. Kusama said she was inspired by hallucinatory visions she had experienced since childhood, in which she could hear the voices of flowers, pumpkins and dogs. Art served as a form of therapy: She wrestled with many of the vivid images in her head by re-creating them in her art, and at times was said to paint without interruption for 40 to 50 hours straight."

"She wrote in her 2002 autobiography that she encountered her first pumpkin — a human head-sized orb that spoke to her — at a seed farm she visited with her grandfather, and was drawn to its "generous unpretentiousness" and "spiritual balance." Violets, she said, also seemed to speak to her, and patterns overwhelmed her vision."

- Two excerpts from Juno Carmel's excellent article, Yayoi Kusama, whose art evoked hallucinatory wonder, dies at 97.

Inset right is a photo of Kusama, aged 10, found in another great article, Yayoi Kusama & Pumpkins -  What you should know, where all photos in this post were sourced.

***

When I heard Yayoi Kusama (inset left) died earlier this month (August 14), I was saddened for 2 reasons: the loss of an extraordinary artist, and my inability to finish the Feminist Art & Empowerment series (2018-2019) in which she would have appeared. There is certainly a lot more information about her on the web now, however, and much more of her  work to be found. She was a true Energizer Bunny... she never stopped.

One thing that is new to me is her strangecollection of "hallucinations" and her ability to communicate with animals, pumpkins and flowers... "and patterns of stones from the nearby river which would come to life in her waking dreams."

 In ways she reminds me of another "obsessed" Japanese artist: Sakiko Ide, who was also born in the 1920s, survived WWII, lived in New York,* and had her own strange relationship with flowers... specifically the variety held by the young Kusama above, chrysanthemums. Both also attempted suicide; tragically, Ide (allegedly) succeeded. Happily, Kusama did not. Instead, after several suicide attempts she checked herself into a Japanese psychiatric hospital in 1975. and made it her permanent residence, maintaining an art studio nearby where she continued making her art, and working her magic, till her last breath. Gotta do what you gotta do.

I wouldn't have chosen her solution - it seems as if spending half your life in a hospital might reinforce the idea that one was ill and something was wrong; a stressful position for an artist... or anyone. But, it worked fine for her. She made it work. Not all of us who "follow the thread of art" do half so well. ;-)

For more about her life from a feminist perspective, try The Woman's Studio, or the article, Yayoi Kusama, the Modern Alice in Wonderland.

To view videos of her cosmic Infinity Mirror Room installations and exhibitions try here, here and here.

A Dream I Dreamed, installation, Yayoi Kusama, 2014

_________________________________________________________

* A humorous anecdote about Kusama in New York (from Carmel's article:

          

"During her 1968 "Nixon Orgy" in Lower Manhattan, Ms. Kusama bluntly offered to have sex with the president-elect if he would call for a ceasefire. 'Anatomic explosions are better than atomic explosions,' she announced in leaflets distributed on the street."

Valentine's Day of the Dead (Part III) - A Country at War (Revised July 16, 2026)

 

Queen of Spades - screen print - 2022, Mahdieh Farhadkiaei

"In Iranian culture, women have historically cut their hair off in mourning, and over the past week we have seen videos of women snipping their locks at the funerals of loved ones killed by security forces. The act has also become a symbol of bodily autonomy and resistance against the oppressive regime."

- Via the 2022 Guardian article: Something in me sparked’: the Iranian women using art to protest.

"To walk among Iran’s rose gardens in spring is to experience a sensory and cultural journey. The air is thick with the heady scent of blossoms; the early morning sun glints off dew-laden petals; villagers hum songs while harvesting; poets and painters find inspiration in the delicate folds of each bloom. It is a celebration of nature, art, community, and history—a testament to a love affair that has endured for millennia.

In Iran, the rose is more than a flower. It is  memory, passion, spirituality, and identity rolled into a single, fragrant bloom. It embodies the Iranian understanding of beauty and impermanence, connecting the material and the divine, the ordinary and the transcendent. It is, quite simply, the flower of the nation’s heart."

- Excerpted from the online article: Iran’s Enduring Love Affair with the Rose. This information was, believe it or not, new to me and represented yet another thread in the weird web of synchronicities I found myself entangled in.

As it so happens, from mid-May to mid-June in the province of the ancient and beautiful city of Isfahan, Iran, there is the thousand-year old festival of Golab giri, a celebration of rosewater made from the fragrant Damask Rose (inset right), Iran's national flower which grows in abundance there. 

 

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"I am like a schoolchild madly

in love with her geometry books.

I am forlorn

and imagine it is possible to take the garden to a hospital.

I imagine I imagine

And the garden’s heart has swollen in the heat

of this sun, its mind slowly drains of its lush memories."

- From I Pity the Garden, a poem written by beloved Iranian poet, film-maker, artist and feminist writer Forugh Farrokhzad (December 29, 1934 - February 13, 1967) and translated by Sholeh Wolpé.

Previously in the poem she mourns: "Our neighbors plant bombs and machine guns, instead of flowers, in their garden soil.
They cover their ponds, hiding bags of gunpowder..." and, "I fear the age that has lost its heart, the idleness of so many hands
the alienation in so many faces."

Often compared to Sylvia Plath, her poetry has a similar sense of urgency and rebellion. Their lives shared a similar tragic cast. Unlike Plath, however, Farrokhzad's  material can be wildly erotic and, at the same time, in the Persian tradition of Rumi, the Rose & the Nightingale and the Language of the Birds, strangely mystical.*

I am particularly moved by the line "I fear the age that has lost its heart."

I fear that age is now.

(Continued below the jump...)

Valentine's Day of the Dead (Part II) (Completed 6/16/26)

A rosy Ace of Spades playing card with a 3 pence royal duty stamp - c. 1868 (?) -
possibly designed by artist and architect Owen Jones; printed and distributed by Thomas De La Rue & Co., London.

"With this in mind, I had an epiphany. I envisioned a white rose opening in the center of the spade symbol... so clearly that I was sure I had seen it before. And, it began to haunt me the way the Rose Pentacle haunted me in the early days."

- Quoting myself from Part I of this series in which I intuited a symbol representing the weird synergy presented by Friday the 13th, normally an ominous day, transitioning into Valentine's Day, the official day of love and friendship; a rare occurrence and an odd conjunction... the spade as an inverted heart, and vice versa.

Of course, my first inclination at the time was to interpret it in a darkly romantic way... a deathless (or clandestine) love kind of way. And, while I wasn't exactly wrong, I found clues to inform me that, relative to our Kafkaesque times, I was missing the greater picture. I was overlooking the shadows.

In any case, I did eventually find an image of a white rose in the center of an Ace of Spades. (See  above). This occurred in the midst of a constellation of synchronicities, a few of which I discuss on PMB in the post Hidden Synchronicities (of the Memetic Kind).

The image wasn't quite what I envisioned - the rose was much too large and clearly it's context was strictly an official one. But, it was intriguing nonetheless... a rosy spade surrounded by thistles and clover. Only later did I find that this trinity of plants is a reference to the British Flower badge, a heraldic device which symbolizes the union of England (Tudor rose), Ireland (shamrock) and Scotland (thistle). Sometimes Wales is also represented... by a leek, or a daffodil. Inset left is the Badge of the Yeoman of the Guard.

But, there's more. Because I found the coveted white rose/Ace of Spades symbol quite unexpectedly... in the Wiki entry for a 19th century British card maker, Richard Harding, in spite of the fact that the image was first printed by Thomas de la Rue long after Harding's death. That beng said, it was within the tale of Richard Harding that I found The Shadow.

Harding's was a rather strange, gothic story. It began in eighteenth century England with a tax levied on playing cards.

"Initially duty was paid and a random card in the pack was hand stamped to show it had been paid, but in 1765 the Ace of Spades was given a special design and designated as the card on which duty would be shown as paid.

The Ace of Spades was stamped using a metal plate and designed to be hard to copy – hence it’s detailed features."

But, apparently it was not too hard to copy... and Richard Harding got away with it for quite awhile.

He rented some space in a building owned by a certain Mr. Skeleton in order to carry out his "nefarious business." And, really, if this were a spooky movie, you might consider yourself forewarned.

While Mr. Skeleton did initially claim ignorance of Harding's forgery operation, "this, however, was cast into doubt when 2,000 aces of spades were found in his home." 

Harding also had a daughter. More cards were found at the bottom of her laundry basket... "money laundering" ? Anyway, this is all we know about Ms. Harding... and ditto for Mr Skelton. It's a very short story.

Suffice to say, Harding was tried and found guilty of a capital offense at London's Old Bailey, and on November 13, 1805, he - “a genteel looking man, powdered and dressed in black” - was executed by hanging, very possibly at the notorious Newgate Prison. He was 35 years old.

"His remains were at St George Hanover Square Burial Ground in Bayswater until 12 March 1969, when he - and others - were removed to Lambeth and cremated."

The upshot being that less than 30 years later (1832) the Forgery, Abolition of Punishment of Death Act was enacted, abolishing the death penalty for all offences of forgery, except for forging wills and certain powers of attorney.

This, however, did not remove the stain from the Ace of Spades, and to this day it maintains a sinister reputation.

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Source material for this section was also found in Death by Hanging, and the BBC's The man hanged for printing his own ace of spades.

Inset left: A tarot card depicting the Hanged Man (Le Pendu), the 12th key of the Major Arcana from the "Gringonneur" deck.

(This post continues below the break...)

Beltane, 2026 (Revised May 11, 2026)

 

(May 2, 2026 - I always associate Beltane with the symbol of the rose pentacle now. I would've liked to post a photo of a cast piece of my own design here, and I would have, if one existed. Alas, no. That project has been stalled for, at least, 2 years.

However, I did find the GIF above - with a pentagram inside a circle, accented with a spray of five roses - which we can consider an interpretation of the more traditional rose pentacle symbol.

It was found in this collection. I am unsure of it's maker but, it goes without saying, it's very nice!)

(5/15: Note the tension between the pentagram and the roughly pentagonal spray of flowers. Doesn't it feel like they're straining to come together?)

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"Also known as Cétshamhain ('first of summer'), it marked the beginning of summer and was when cattle were driven out to the summer pastures. Rituals were performed to protect cattle, people and crops, and to encourage growth. Special bonfires were kindled, whose flames, smoke and ashes were believed to have protective powers."

- From the Wiki entry for Beltane, it would seem that for the early Celts and Germanic people, the first of May and the beginning of summer was a very beautiful and, yet, vulnerable time of the year. The world had come back to life and rituals were performed, not only to celebrate that life but to nourish and protect that life from harm.

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“In the face of so much destruction of the natural world and so much disregard for life, Beltane is also an act of rebellion against the status quo. It says about us–as simple people, as a growing community–that we don’t give in to the death cycles imposed on us from Away, not in this season. We plant and know that the harvest comes – not in the stately march from Lughnasadh to Samhain but bit by bit and day by day."

- Byron Ballard, from Summer is Come, sourced from the wonderful Beltane page at Wild Hunt, as is the following quote and the Walter Crane illustration below, inset left.

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"The flesh is understood to be the place where evil resides and from which torment wreaks havoc upon the mind. The flesh is temporary, so it must be trivial. The flesh will not remain, so we must not give it credence. The flesh will pass unto the earth, rot in the ground, turn into dust. We are told again and again to dismiss the flesh. But Whitman says, ‘And your very flesh shall be a great poem.’ Yes. Our very flesh shall be a great poem. That is the message I’d like to offer on Beltane.”

- From Beltane 2013: The Great Poetry of Flesh by Teo Bishop (Matthew Morris).

***

A very nice Wheel of the Year found (for sale) at Maine Corner.

(May 3, 2026)

I enjoy the Sabbats. There's, undeniably, a special energy in the air on those days; a kind of clarity. Time seems to savor these days; it moves more slowly, stretching just a fraction, but, enough to experience a sense of unity... with the Earth, with your past, and with the very long past we know as "tradition."

Maybe all holidays do that; act as milestones.

April 30th (May Eve) - May 1st (May Day) is a holiday that emerged in Celtic and Germanic Europe: the Celtic Beltane or the Germanic Walpurgisnacht. Apart from it's pagan, Earth-religion elements the holiday is, in the Christian tradition, marked by May devotions to the Virgin Mary and the Saint Walpurga.**

It is also an official holiday in Europe; similar to the American Labor Day. International Worker's Day in the States is celebrated by rallies held across the nation for working class Americans. As you might expect, the gatherings were massive this year. Inset left is a May Day tribute to "the workers" by English illustrator Walter Crane. Crane's work often is orchestrated with the movement of the pentagonal Golden Spiral. Can you find it in this image? (Hint: start with the triangle.)

The full "Flower" moon rose over the Sandias on the evening of May Day. It was a pale, lemony rose color... crisp and bright, before it was made spooky by a transparent plume of clouds. A second full moon will rise May 31st. The month of May is virtually bracketed by full moons. I think there's a message here: the time is ripe to banish our bogeymen and truly come back to life.*** We've got the whole month. Get moving. ;-)

Here's to a merry month of May! 💮

(Footnotes appear below the jump.)

Just another mad, mad day

"I got silence on my radio

Let the air waves flow, let the air waves flow

Oh, I'm sleeping under strange, strange skies

Just another mad, mad day on the road

My dreams are fading down the railway line

I'm just about a moonlight mile down the road"

- Lyrics from Moonlight Mile, 1970, credited to Mick Jagger and Mick Taylor; released on the album Sticky Fingers. The video was found on this Rolling Stones' channel.

I rarely feel nostalgic most days... figuring what's gone is gone (for the most part) and, in the last analysis, the (alleged) "good old days" were never all that good. But, every now and then, some old tune pops up out of nowhere and takes me back to a less complicated time in the long past when merely being alive seemed to be enough. Yes, I was very young then. But, in ways, I knew my priorities far better then than I do now.

I never saw the Stones do a live version of this traveler's tune. But, hearing it again kind of soothed my "savage beast." Maybe it'll soothe yours, too.

Namaste.

(Blogger's note - April 29, 2026: Yes, I realize Valentine's Day of the Dead (Part II) is long overdue, but I am continuously interrupted these days with topics I am compelled to address. One recent topic has just been investigated on Post-Mac Blues: The Mar-a-lago Messiah - reverse engineering a hazardous meme. Also, I will be cross-posting the Day of the Dead story and the first installment is likely to be found on PMB.)

Coming Back to Life

A Pentagonal Phi Movement (and a reposted image)

She was once a real person with a real sort of life. However, like real people everywhere, she eventually died.

But, that wasn't the end of it.

Because, particles of her presence survived in one magical image a renowned master craftsman had once devised; a craftsman who knew well the essence of life. And, although the girl sat quite still for her portrait, the master painted a nuance of amusement in her mouth and eyes; a strange animation.

As it was, the craftsman was an old, funny kind of guy. It was difficult not to laugh outright at his humor. And, it was this laughter he captured in the sparkle of her eye. She was bubbling with merriment, and, so, she would remain.

As it happened, the image, (with it's sparkle) would outlast both the girl and the crafty, old master and, in time, would attract millions of spectators from all around the world... who came to gaze at this forever-girl as she sat, mysteriously and motionless in her special place upon the wall.

Hundreds of years would pass; each day the same... the golden light, the shadows, the frozen folds of her gown... the stiff pose of her lifeless hands and the unwavering line of her mouth. Oh, how she longed to lift her arms again and wiggle her fingers. And, how desperately she needed to release the laugh she'd held inside for so many years.

Then, one spring day, while no one was looking, there was a movement in the painting.

Perhaps, it had been stirring inside the brush strokes all along.

And, she came back to life like a spring unwinding... for one uninterrupted moment in time. Just like that.

So, is it that joy lasts forever... and laughter will out? Or, are there loopholes in the way things are made... and/or recorded? Who can say?

The wise plant seeds. :-)

(The adorable GIF featured in the post is AI created and was sourced from Tenor.)

A (Belated) Valentine's Day of the Dead Interlude (complete)

(March 4, 2025. No one is more sorry than I that this post has been so stalled this past week. In my defense, the Spade symbol is the heaviest and most complex I have ever encountered. More importantly, geometrically, the Spade is a pentagonal construction, and, come to find out, an important - although hidden - element of the Golden Meme. And, in the context of current events, a Key. Bear with me. Information will be posted continuously until completion. 🌺DS)

The White Rose & the Ace of Spades

A white rose ghosted over a darkened plane

is a sigil of love transformed.

Yes, even the darkest of shapes,

the Ace of Spades,

- a black heart impaled on a single thorn -

can't hide the light of its central, star-like eye

which, in the dead of night,

 opens and closes.

- 2026, DS. (revised March 2, 2026)

Rosa Mystica

***

"The story of St Valentine’s Day begins with some unknown medieval birdwatchers, probably in France rather than England, who reckoned that birds begin mating in mid-February, and decided to give this a precise date: 14 February. (They may have followed some folk tradition – in Slovenia this is still said to be the first day of spring, when plants start growing, and birds mate.) As was normal at that period, they expressed the date as the feast-day of a saint; in the Catholic Church every day in the year celebrates at least one saint, and for a public who had no printed calendars it was easier to remember dates by names than by figures. It happens that 14 February is dedicated to one or other of two early Roman martyrs, both named Valentinus, believed to have died on that date."

- Via an article from the Folklore Society.

 Possibly the sweetest thing about Valentine's Day is that it likely began with the recognized mating habits of birds... avian love... the kind of love everybody can celebrate. The martyrdom of saints, however, is an element we might want to dismiss. Well, most of us anyway.

February 26, 2026,

Perhaps, I should explain.

The poem, The White Rose & the Ace of Spades, was initiated days ago... specifically 13 days ago, on Friday the 13th... which, as it happened, fell on Valentine's Day Eve this year (2026). Apparently, the last time this "holiday" conjunction occured was in 2015. The next occurs in 2032.

I see now that it was extensively joked about on social media prior to the event with many mashups involving Jason from the slasher film franchise Friday the 13th, with a few Goth-inspired offerings announcing Darkwave raves. Somebody even made up a new holiday: Valloween! Gotta love it.

To add to our dark pleasures, the latest remake of Wuthering Heights premiered this Valentine's Day raking in billions of $$$. "Wuthering Heights" (with apostrophes) is (allegedly) heavily erotic... which could be a good thing. But, Catherine Earnshaw has been morphed into the requisite, vulnerable blonde and, being more or less a WH purist, I find this as problematic as I would a blond Heathcliff. Obviously, I've yet to see the movie though, so, no review is forthcoming. However, the review I linked to had this to say: "So essentially what we're getting at is that Wuthering Heights is a smutty fan fiction fever dream written by a 14-year-old."

In other words, it can't be all that bad! ;-)

In any case, something tells me that the darkly romantic Love-Beyond-Death meme is in full swing this year, so allow me to elucidate...

(Elucidation lies below the jump) ;-)