Hey Reader,
On my walking meditation this morning, I contemplated how blessed I’ve been to not have a car the last few years. Once considered a deadly sin in the olden days of Southern California before Lyft, Uber & the Metro (which can get you from Sunset & Vine to Universal City in 10 minutes. Impossible on 'the 101'), ‘carlessness' has enabled me to experience the world with new eyes. Often more entertaining than shows created by people navigating 6-figure vehicles across freeways. No dig. Just facts.
Those of you who have followed me since early incarnations of “Nouns in the Road” know that, whether concrete, dirt or rock, pilgrimages of all means have been a treasured source of my visual stories. Vast spectrums of objects constantly reveal wondrous 'still lifes' in motionless movement along sidewalks. Underrepresented fables, filled with color and conflict, leap off train floors. Potent nutrients for the imagination roll in from the sea.
It wasn’t until I circled this “TSOLZ Creature” two or three times that I realized it was a mushroom, recently unearthed & swept onto the sidewalk by a torrential Southern California rainstorm. Even after that revelation, amongst the soggy leaves and broken limbs, it reminded me of those cheesy alien creatures and monsters from 1950s and 60s television shows. Like the Kamut aliens from Twilight Zone’s “To Serve Man”; or the squiggly ones on “Lost in Space” that kidnapped Doctor Smith; or "The Outer Limits" delivery guy (played by pre-Man From UNCLE David MacCallum) who allowed a scientist to expand his mind, only to have his head swell to the size of a prize-winning pumpkin.
As I leaned down closer to this evocative fungus, my imagination got the best of me: I envisioned it resurrecting itself from the alleged dead, multiplying like Star Trek Tribbles to invade Southern California from the ground up by stuffing themselves into car exhausts [of non-electric vehicles] and doggy strollers. Then crawling up and latching onto the necks of victims (via stop motion animation), injecting humans with a supernatural venom that makes them itch uncontrollably and giggle maniacally. While 11-time savior-of-the-world, Tom Cruise is stuck on ‘the 101’ in a Cybertruck, as a new strain of TSOLZ Creatures rain from the sky and start sucking the life out of electric car batteries.
Compelled to cleanse my creative palate of mediocrity, I was inspired to put a “Zonie” spin on the image for Billy Otis’s “Invasion of the Love Monsters” "Imaginary Bands..." album cover. As the offspring of a Desert Storm vet whose dream of being the next Hendrix was thwarted by his ingenious multi-instrumental musical talents (in an era that only wanted computer beats), and an aspiring Korean gospel singer, Billy’s music education began as he teethed on spindles at the base of stereo speakers that bumped everything from Janis Joplin & Aretha Franklin, to James Cleveland & Jim Morrison. Because his identity often dangled between cultures and races, Billy’s early poetry embodied Morrison’s angst and Aretha’s glory. A job at a local print shop where he could print his poetry ‘zines for free, then sell them to high school classmates and in night club parking lots, won him a cult following amongst freaky geeky freshman and sophomores, thirsty for understanding and hidden codes of courage.
Composing intricate melodies for his lyrics with GarageBand on his iPad, and streaming live performances from his bedroom, wins Billy a global following that Prince and MJ would’ve admired. His next level of stardom brings opening gigs with seasoned artists like Sting, Andre 3000 and Dave Matthews. Leveling up also spawns obscure haters, who label him a Morrison/Hendrix/Prince wannabe. Ever the old soul, with a low tolerance for foolishness, Billy denounces notoriety and goes on the same spiritual pilgrimage that Jesus traveled during his 17 missing years from Israel. He is content living the life of a yogi, making ‘deep & gleeful’ music, until he hears a tourist listening to a cover of his song, “Love Me With a Verb” generated by an AI agent. Thrusting himself back into the spotlight to “invade the world with a most necessary love thing”, he launches a 1-man music festival streamed live from his room in his parents house.
Thank you for taking 7 minutes to read the latest stories from my "Imaginary Bands & Their Fake Ass Song" photo series. (There's no audio form this week only because I got hit with a stomach bug yesterday…) Next time, I’ll be ‘Dangling…’ between life’s ironies. And announcing dates for upcoming pop-up exhibits, and book releases. Thank you for all your support and encouragement.
Wishing you Halloween Treats & A Feast of All Saints!
Carolyn
