Author Archives: Tony Single

the blacklight gaze

maybe i am nothing
or maybe i did happen once
but history was never my story
and paradise always belonged to you
maybe if i denied my need
maybe if i’ve not said too much
i might finally find my field of reeds
to walk in, perchance to breathe

fain don’t you light a candle for me
for tomorrow’s breeze would see me gone
so scorn me not for a child
i intend to bleed from open hands

maybe i am grateful
or maybe i’ll be the final smile
frozen between provident lines
where i’m never right and you’re never wrong
maybe i haven’t bled enough
maybe if i defied the need
in an ultraviolet field of reeds
to haze in, ergo to breathe

fain don’t you light a candle for me
for tomorrow’s breeze would see me gone
so scorn me not for a child
i intend to bleed over scorched sands

maybe my blood was fire
maybe i am guttering now
bleeding out blackened fields of need
to lay in, forgo to breathe
so maybe i am something
maybe i’ll not betide even once
everyone’s busy living and dying
least of all me

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

GUEST POST // Funny Mood by Cassa Bassa

Today
I feel blah
It is one of those days
that repeats itself
without any
remorse

This hour
I feel nothing
It is one of those states
that appears intermittently
without any
warning

This time
I say something
It is one of those outpours
that shocks me
without any
reservation

By now
you must wonder
what I have said
Without any
delay
let me tell you
I said
blah blah blah

by CASSA BASSA
© All rights reserved 2020

Who Let the Pigs Out?

Dear Readers,

We are forever thinking of new ways to delight and entertain our audience. Many of you know already—and if you don’t, we hope this will be a pleasant surprise—that we not only write different strange texty stuffs but we also produce strange comicky stuffs!

So, given that boredom is the enemy of blog readers everywhere, we have taken it upon ourselves to present to you our new comic strip ‘Trottersville’. Well… technically speaking, it’s not completely new. Tony produced some original versions of this series more than ten years ago. One version was presented to the internet in black and white, and another version was in colour. It seems that he couldn’t resist the perfectionist’s obsessive need to refine and refine and refine. Ah, the mad, balmy days of youth!

Over the years that followed, this series got buried under heaps of exciting new plans and projects, but then Tati entered the room and flipped the script—in a figurative and literal sense. She saw the potential in this funny little piggy comic, and pestered Tony into bringing it back to life. And so a ‘restoration’ project of sorts was born. ‘Trottersville’ would shine again!

We like to think that the series has been further refined with this latest incarnation. Whole strips have had their scripts tweaked or rewritten from the ground up. All strips have been completely redrawn by Tony and coloured with the able assistance of Tati. Yes, even Tati couldn’t resist the urge to join in on the fun of making comics, and it turns out she’s a natural! We hope you like our work!

So, if you’re as excited as we are—and we’re pretty freaking excited!—and you wish to see our brand spanking old/new creation, you’re very welcome to join us at these online digs:

Tapas          WebToon          Patreon          Ko-fi

We plan to update these sites with a new episode of ‘Trottersville’ every Saturday, and all of them will be open and free for everyone. Sounds too good to be true, yes? But it is true!

Oh, and there will be a special surprise for our dear patrons. In addition to a new, shiny-as-fuck penny of a strip in your Patreon mailbox every Saturday, we’ll also provide the original black and white counterpart that was created by Tony back in the good old days. And we will be utterly delighted to hear what you think about our hellbent, unkosher adventure in general. Holy crap we’re excited!

Strap yourselves in, guys. It’s gonna be an oink fest!

Your Tati & Tony

PS: By the way, Tati is also hard at work translating the series into Russian. This is something that makes Tony feel insanely happy because he loves seeing strange looking pigs say ё, ю, ж and other funny symbols in speech bubbles. Maybe you will love this too. Stay tuned!

CALIXIAN // The Hangry Woman

The bell tinkles so hesitantly that at first I pay it no attention. But then it tinkles again. And again. So I put the magic tweezers down in my dream, and shake my head awake. I bet I know who this is.

“Do you always visit people’s homes at the butt crack of dawn… whatsyaface?”

He mumbles something that’s supposed to be a name. I’ve had no complaints in regards to my hearing but the only thing I can catch is Zra. That can’t be right. I say the first silly word that comes to mind in the full conviction that this dolt will repeat his name and I’ll get it right the second time.

“Fizra?”

Why is he gaping at me like a fish that’s dropped its keys outside of its water tank? That was a good guess! I scratch under my arm as he mutters something and shuffles in. Okay, what’s this now? The suitcases. Are they fucking big enough? Are they even real? When he opens them up, can I expect a seventy piece orchestra to step out and entertain the neighbours? Jesus.

“Where the hell are you going to put all of that?” I point up the hall. “I don’t want any of your shit cluttering up the place, you hear?”

He mumbles again. Yup. I’m ready to suffocate the guy, good and proper. Or give him a royal kicking. At least I’ve understood him this time. Something about leaving his precious clutter outside. Such a boob.

“No, you boob, just put it in your room.” Oops. It appears I said boob out loud. Well, I don’t care. May as well complete the thought now that it’s dangling between us like an unsightly knob. “I don’t need to be tripping over your junk is all.”

Puffing and panting, he drags the suitcases along the hall. I decide not to waste time. I’ll quickly show him the rest of the flat on our way to his room. Then I can get back to some sweet, sweet shut-eye.

“Toilet.”

He glances in its general direction. Fuck that. I’m going to make a thing of this. Make him really take notice.

“I hope you’re a seat lifter when you’re doing a number one, otherwise I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

I study his face carefully. I want to see how he’ll react. He doesn’t. He seems to be going out of his way to remain scrupulously silent. Whatever. The tour shall continue.

“Kitchen.”

What I really want to say is: “Fucking kitchen.” I’m a tad pissed off. But I also have no desire to burn through my quota of fucks so soon in our dealings. It’s best to space these things out, so I keep my fucks up my sleeve.

Suddenly he says (suspiciously loud and clear), “Fascinating.” What? Is that… sarcasm? I don’t believe my ears! Well, if that’s how this smug little goofball is going to play it… then hell, I’m going to wrangle me a chance to have something better than mouldy pizza for breakfast. One question preceded by a slightly menacing pause should do the trick.

The thought of finally getting a decent meal cheers me right up by the way, and my stomach starts to growl in anticipation. Trying to stifle this treacherous sound, I open my mouth and ask Zra… Fizra… whatever his name is… if he can cook. All my fingers are mentally crossed.

“Well, I’m not exactly Heston…”

The rest morphs into a mess of blah blah blahs, the essential point being that he can cook… after a fashion. Good enough for me. As long as I damn well don’t have to do it. I conduct him to his room in a timely manner.

Yep, my plan has gone over easy… like an egg! The quicker he drops his fucking suitcases, the quicker he can cook me breakfast.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

bed time

sleepy headed youth
lives in mawkish, dreamy fog
nearly wets his pants

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020