by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
Author Archives: Tony Single
BUT IS IT ART? // Toast of London
TATI: “Hup, hup!” I remember this one, Tony!
TONY: You do? I guess that means you like it, huh?
TATI: Yes, I do! I even remember we wrote a little silly poem for this picture. Do you remember it?
TONY: “Three little Soldiers stand in a row,
Two stand straight and the other bends low.
Along comes the Sergeant and what do you think?
Off pops her halter, quick as a wink.
Bless them and their tiny bazooms,
Their strap-on guns and primed vavooms.
Four little Soldiers ready to blow,
To make sweet jiggy and war not sow.”
TATI: Hee hee hee… exactly. Well, now I’m going to be deadly serious. Where are their epaulettes?
TONY: Eppa—what? I’m not sure what you mean.
TATI: And I’m not sure about ‘bazooms’ and ‘vavooms’.
TONY: Well. Erm. Ahem. Why don’t you just google those, Tati?
TATI: So google ‘epaulette’ and don’t ask questions!
TONY: Okay! Okay! Yeesh…
TATI: Have you served in the military?
TONY: I’m relieved to say that I haven’t.
TATI: I won’t blame you for that. Neither have I. What inspired you to draw this image? Why soldiers?
TONY: There’s a British sitcom that I absolutely adore called Toast of London. It has an opening title sequence that features marching girls, and it’s such a striking visual that I wanted to draw my own version of it.
TATI: Do you consider military girls sexy?
TONY: Generally, no. I don’t have a weird fetish for them or anything. I just like these particular military girls. There’s something undeniably sexy about the way they march across the screen in their bearskin hats and brief bikinis. And there’s something oddly compelling about their flat chests too.
TATI: Poor bears! I protest!
TONY: Well, you have a point there. Those hats are made from the skins of real American black bears. It’s a bit cruel to be sure.
TATI: A bit?! It’s outrageously cruel!
TONY: Yes, a poor choice of word on my part…
Tati runs away, leaving a thick dust trail behind her. Tony blinks in confusion.
TONY: I’ll never understand this flighty girl…
Tati rushes back with a piece of paper and shoves it under Tony’s nose. He blinks some more.
TONY: Erm… what is this?
TATI: A petition! Sign it! Now!
TONY: What’s it for? To get more flat chested women on telly?
Tati hits Tony over the head with the petition. He gives her a confused look.
TONY: What?! It’s a worthy cause!
TATI: Will you sign it or not?
TONY: Fine! Razzin’ frazzin’…
Tony begrudgingly signs the petition. Tati then snatches it from his hand and rushes out the door. He calls after her.
TONY: So… can I post my drawing on our blog?
Faintly, Tati’s voice comes from far away.
TATI: Not on your nelly!
Tony smiles to himself.
TONY: Did she say more flat chested women on telly? I think so. Excellent!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
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GUEST POST // Brokenness by Madhuri Katti
Brokenness
Sometimes I wonder,
Is it the brokenness
which holds the world together?
a crack that still holds parts?
Is it the brokenness that
unveils the Whole?
The imagined whole –
That never will be or
Maybe never was…
Even if the cracks give away –
Can broken pieces be
whole parts in themselves?
Or maybe broken parts
Will create a kaleidoscope
Sometimes I wonder
Is it the brokenness
that holds the world together?
What purpose does the Whole serve?
The Whole which excludes,
smugly nestled in itself
Till a crack breaks the egoistic shell
The Whole will never be a whole
Sometimes I wonder,
Is it the brokenness that
holds the world together?
Borders divide land and humans
But yet, when challenged
The humanity that rises,
Is often more than the sum
Of the broken souls
Sometimes I wonder,
Is it the brokenness that
that holds the world together?
by MADHURI KATTI
© All rights reserved 2018
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beautiful homunculus
love ripped through your brightened veins
you wondered how much you could possibly take
the blood (a choir) roaring inside you
rushing to shape a song inside you
naught can be done to hasten the healing
but you have to know they’re only scars
and i love you, my homunculus
hurt and all
your voice was sandpaper’s rasp
no one understood, who among them could
blood in a cage, no doors inside you
no release for the song inside you
naught can be done to hasten the healing
but you have to know they’re only scars
and i love you, my homunculus
hurt and all
you’re loved, deplumed, so no more pretense
no longer can you be about mere survival
blooded for life, a kindling inside you
the filaments of song deep inside you
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
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THE CRUMBCAST // Apocalypse Later
My friend Peter rang in the New Year with me over tea and scones, and we gabbed about the immovable forces that dominate our lives. (Okay, I’m fibbing about the ‘tea and scones’ part but the rest is utterly true.)
There isn’t a whole lot that’s actually within our control, so it behooves us to continue making the best choices we think we can make despite this, and to enact those choices where and whenever we can. Perhaps it’s this kind of self awareness that can stand us in good stead even when we feel as though the world’s coming down around us.
Anyway, enjoy this episode of The Crumbcast, won’t you. We certainly had fun recording it!
PS: This is a bit strange, but if you want to listen to the sound then you should click on the picture below. Yes, it’s real magic in the digital world, I tell ya!
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
unbolt me 