dolores666's photos with the keyword: Travels

This is not so much a case of repeating myself -you know, all those wandering vessels and things- as the fact that I keep finding myself in similarly confusing and occasionally inhospitable places. And it’s not that these places are black and white, far from it, but often-times they are of an enhanced variety of gray that well... sort of dulls the wits and temporarily shrivels the soul. Fortunate there are nearly always a few helpful indigenous creatures willing to assist in the getting out of the soup moderately unscathed. Bumba be praised and His lovely Mother even more!

aka. Nothing Left to Explore? Or perhaps we’re sick of exploring and all we want is to go back home, curl up and dribble. The point is that we never seem to get where we want to be. Couldn’t say why. The Cyclops are friendly, the Sea Serpent is on our corner, even the sea itself is reasonably kind. And yet here we are, stuck in the middle of a godawful throng of jokers, fools, psychos and murderers that get away with all sorts of horrors. Bummer. Myffological Note. The companion SeaSneak is a distant relation of Nure-onna, the famous Japanese snake woman wot likes water.

Patchwork Entities. Behold the Mishmash Man, also known as the Bits & Pieces Man. He was made with leftovers, discarded stuff from the cast off creations of several smarty-pants bombastic demiurges, by a down&out avant-garde sorcerer with a taste for recycling. He travels the Uncertain Shifts with his spiky owlets and a couple of defrocked warrior princesses he met at a villainous tavern in the alien district of !Ting who, unable to find any kind of job in any respectable army or even any disreputable one, volunteered to tag along as his bodyguards and purveyors of silly jokes. They (the ragbag geezer and the two louche damsels) are willing to undertake some (not many) special ops of the Annoy, Harass and Torment variety for a nominal prize* and for the mere joy of it. The owlets can carry messages to & from their higher-born cousin, the owl of Pallas, if you ask them very, very nicely and your message is not total fiddle-faddle. *They neither need nor care for money. They don’t eat and they are quite content to be like the lilies of the field; the raggedy bloke wears whatever the eccentric necromancer clad him in back when and the two misses what they were wearing at the time they had to leg it from whatever sphere they decamped. However, if you offer them a discarded teddy bear or black and white picture postcards of the Plateau of Leng, they’ll throw in a bonus ball of sending nightmares to Priti Patel, for free, por la cara. duckduckgo.com/?t=ffab&q=plateau+of+leng&iax=images&ia=images

Series Old Wine in New Bottles No 3 Same story but not quite. This is a crude, B & W reworking of a much more colourful and refined version of one of the last vignettes of The Story of Oops, the one and only comic strip I have ever attempted so far and which remains unfinished owing to my back being total crap and refusing to let me sit at my desk for any reasonable length of time and thus use my surviving desktop, where dwells my beloved Flash MX, which is the tool I used to do most of my stuff before my body sold me down the river to the vagaries of osteoarthritis and the like.

From atop the Subsidiary Mountains of Madness the Palmy Tadpoles are launching a young spore into the big bad world. She’ll travel in great comfort and safety on her sentient Nautilus shell, which will also act as her bodyguard. The young sphere's grandmother is refreshing her last minute advice on how to navigate the choppy, dicey waters of Late-Days so-called reality. The avatar of all the murdered Palestinian children officiates as chief launcher and well-wisher to the youngster. We wish her all the luck in the world. She’ll need it.

Oops Ibn Niggurath, our fearless traveller and adventurer, has hit the road again with his faithful companion, Meena the Wee Worm. Today they have reached the forest of the Numinous Muffin Trees where they’ve come upon sundry residents of that most sheltering and comforting of jungles: four refugees from the Great Catalan Catastrophe, an itinerant Unhappy Frog, the twin sister of the White Bird of Moderate Doom and one of the many wise Sneaks (-not-snakes) that are to be found habitually in any place where subtle and sensitive creatures relocate to escape the horrors of End Days Crapitalism and its huge discontents. Meena thinks they should stay a while, as the escalivada at the local inn is unsurpassed and the scrambled Shantak Bird’s eggs ain’t half bad either.