Tag Archives: artwork

Chuck Dickens and the Origins of Writing

Image

 

Don’t make the mistake of thinking I have any earthly idea where writing comes from or how it began.  I am only talking personal history here, nothing grander or more meaningful.  This post is only self-referential hoo-haw, which is a fancy way of interpreting “conceited crap”.

So, the truth is, I am writing about Charles Dickens because he is the author I most want to become.  True, I rant on and on about Twain and his humor.  And a good deal of my artwork owes everything to Disney, but everything I am good at in writing is based on Dickens.

The first actual Dickens novel that I read was accomplished during my extended illness as a high school sophomore.  I read in bed, both at home and in the hospital, from my library copy of The Old Curiosity Shop.  I was enthralled by the journey and subsequent tragedy of Little Nell.  I thoroughly loathed the villain Daniel Quilp and was roundly thrilled by his well-deserved fatal comeuppance.  It was my first encounter with the master of characters.  I followed that reading with a biography of Dickens that revealed to me for the first time that his characters were based on real people.  Mr. Micawber in David Copperfield was actually Dickens’ own father.  Little Nell was the cousin he dearly loved who died in his arms.    The crafty Fagin was a caricature of a well-known fence named Soloman, a Jew of infamous reputation, but not without his redeeming quality of caring for the orphaned poor.  So it is that I have chosen to make my silly stories about real people in much the same way Dickens did.  If you are now worried that since you know me, you may end up in my books, never fear.  I change names and splice characters together.  You will have to make an effort to recognize yourself.  And, besides, nobody reads my books anyway.

I also like the way Dickens uses young characters and follows them over time as they grow and change.  Oliver Twist was the first child protagonist in English literature.  David Copperfield, Nicholas Nickleby, and Pip in Great Expectations also like that.  David Copperfield, in fact, is Chuck’s own fictionalized self.  I fully intend to do the same.  It is the reason my books fall into the Young Adult category.  I also intend to employ the same kind of gentle, innocent humor that Dickens used.  I mean to portray things that are funny in a disarming, absurdist way rather than resorting to attack humor and bad words. 

There it is, then, my tribute to Charles Dickens, a writer who makes me be who I am and write what I write.  I am not supposed to do Christmas posts because of my avowed religion, but you can consider this to be as close as I can come.  The author of A Christmas Carol… it doesn’t get much more Christmassy than that. 

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

The Fire Fighter (A Poem)

In the near past I have had a few occasions to face the choice of self-sacrifice or self-preservation.  As hard as that decision is, the more it becomes apparent you must face it, the more you must be ready to step between the people throwing punches, the more you must call the attention of an enraged attacker to yourself over their intended target, and the more you must ignore what it is you have to lose.  Thus, in this short poem, I imagine myself facing the flames of conflict.  I, after all, am Mickey too.

Image

 

The Fire Fighter

 

The man in the red hat…

Sometimes he stood there…

Looking at the fire…

Measuring the fire…

Then he picked up the hose,

And marched into the fire…

Knowing he would burn…

To save a home…

Save a building…

Save a life…

Because it was the right thing to do.

 

Now I am standing…

Looking into the fire…

Measuring the fire…

It is hot and horrid…

It will burn and kill…

And I have to pick up the hose,

And march into the fire…

Knowing I will burn…

To save the future…

To save hope…

To save a life…

Because it is the right thing to do…

And there is no other choice.

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Autorumination (the reprise)

Image

 

(This is a black-and-white cartoon in pen and ink that I have shamelessly colorized with colored pencil.)

    I have to tell you, driving in Texas, especially the “Big D” is taking your life in your hands, gripping that old steering wheel in a grip of death, and trying like heck not to hit any of the myriad things flying in front of you.  I have had in my lifetime three accidents and too many near misses to count.  Drivers that don’t have their number of kills painted on the driver-side door are rare indeed.
    One of the scariest encounters on the road has to be the legendary Texas Killer Grandma.  They have a private club where they get together over knitting and compare the goriest kills they have managed with their oversized automobiles.  These old lady drivers are invariably white-skinned and have hair either of strange shades of blue and periwinkle, or silver, almost chrome.  They have Killer Grandma nicknames like Suicide Sadie and End-It-All Emma.  They drive big black Cadillacs, Buicks, and Mercedes.  They have mostly no-fault insurance that will guarantee they can mash your children in the back end of your family car without jail time, and usually without paying for a penny of your damages.  They cruise around Dallas watching for unwary drivers so they can leap in front without signaling, getting bashed from behind by the victim, and sending the victim swirling off the overpass to a fiery death and dismemberment.  Then they cackle all the way to the next club meeting.
    Killer Grandmas drive a class of vehicle I call the American Wasp Rocket.  These are large, unwieldy vehicles from Ford and GM that wreak havoc with smaller, slower cars, especially foreign-made cars like Toyotas, Subarus, and Volkswagens.  In the northern precincts of Dallas, Austin, and Houston, where these vehicles truly dominate, you will often see BMW, Volvo, or Italian Wasp Rockets, which are almost an oxymoron by their very nature.  (“I only buy them gol’ dang furrin cars iffen they’re status symbols, cause I only buy American, but I figgur high-dollar wagons like them thar Lambourginis count as American too!”)  These cars are all large enough to crush an SUV under their wheels, and, of course, they are only driven at hyper-speeds while winding their way through heavy traffic so the occupants can arrive anywhere they are going FIRST.  Besides Texas Killer Grandmas, there are few other drivers of these vehicles who aren’t over-weight, middle-aged white males who have high-paying white-collar jobs.
    The most common vehicles on Texas highways are, of course, the typical Bubba.  Bubba cars are always pick-up trucks, and almost always Chevys.  In fact, they almost have to be white, red, or brown, or they don’t count as a proper Bubba.  Bubbas drive like Foster Brooks on speed, always weaving, wobbling, wagging, and wrecking.  The highway is their own personal demolition derby, and if they don’t get you with a straight-on hood-smash, they’ll ding you with whatever falls out of the back of their pick-up (beer bottles, kids, used tires, tools, parts of the vehicle that have already fallen off once before, and sometimes ugly wives).
    A more-or-less brain-damaged sub-species of Bubba is the Billy Bob.  They drive Ford pickups, white, red, brown, and sometimes gold.  They will kill you no less quickly than a Bubba, but they do tend to have better insurance.
    Of course, I can’t even talk about Beaner cars.  It is not politically correct, as a young Hispanic student was pointing out to me just two weeks ago.  “I can say I’m a Beaner,” he said, “But you can’t say it because you’re a Gringo Loco.  Only Beaners are allowed to call a Beaner a Beaner.  You could be killed for saying that in the Barrio!  Even for thinking that!”  So, I won’t talk about those cars on the road in the fast lane doing a mere twenty-five miles per hour.  I won’t mention how they have eighteen kids and a Tia Carmen in the back seat and can’t see out with the rear view mirror.  I won’t even talk about the rosary beads, fuzzy dice, and numerous brightly colored stuffed animals that hang from the rear view mirror blocking the windshield also.  It just wouldn’t be nice to talk about that.
    So, I guess I have to sum up with a concluding statement that makes sense out of all of this Texas road-rage and bumper-car nonsense.  It would have to be something like this:  If you ever plan to drive in Texas, be prepared.  Have your burial plot purchased, your insurance paid up, and “Drive Friendly!”

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

March of the Tin Soldiers

March of the Tin Soldiers

A big share of my surrealistic bent comes from the influence of Walt Disney on my childhood. Lady and the Tramp, Babes in Toyland, the Junglebook… Disney made me dance and dream.

5 Comments

December 19, 2013 · 3:37 am

Rooster Riding

Image

 

Do I believe in the little people?  Of course not.  If Tinkerbell depends on me, she is dead meat… or maybe dead fairy dust.

But if they do exist, then they are like the rooster riders in my picture, exploiting the world in the same way the big old slow ones do.  

They are not our inferiors or our superiors.  They are us.  They mirror us and our beliefs, our dreams… our nightmares, and all the things deep within us that could ever possibly go bump in the night.

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Long Ago It Might Have Been

Long Ago It Might Have Been

This Paffooney was created with the mistaken idea that I would never have a child or be a Dad. Little did I know that after I turned 37 it would happen three times. This picture is one of my dream children, of the sort Charles Lamb once wrote an essay about. This is little Disney-Michael Beyer… a child who never was and re-created me in the birthing.

1 Comment

December 14, 2013 · 2:05 am

The Creative Process

Step one… perform some random act.  (choose a random illustration from Spiegelman & Mouly’s Classic Children’s Comics)

Step two… redraw in the Mickian style  (stupidly recast images in garishly wrong colors and cutsie goofishness)

Step three… realize you don’t have any idea what you are doing this for (What am I doing this for?)

Step four… yield to despair and get depressed (let me think about this too much and end up moping)

Step five… do other things and try not to think about it (What was that movie I wanted to see?)

Step six… give it time to percolate or get forgotten  (Say what?)

Image

 

Step seven… come back to it eventually (maybe later this week… or in 22 years)

 

How’s that for a Pointless Paffooney Prose Poem?

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

What Does Paffooney Mean?

Image

You may have noticed the word “Paffooney” used in some of my posts.  You may have been deceived into thinking it is some kind of real word.  Sorry.  It isn’t.  It’s my own original made-up word for postable buffoonery, baloney, and goofiness… with accompanying picture.  Yes, the picture is the key, though it may have no discernible connection to whatever the heck I happen to be writing about.  It is an illustration for illustration’s sake… and a story for the sake of putting words with the picture.  I confessed early in my blogging endeavors that I am basically a surrealist.  I juxtapose disparate images and ideas and make meaning by forcing the relationship.  Of course, you have no idea at all what I just said, and rightly so, because I tend to speak in college-art-history-meta-cognitive-gobblety-gook-speak, a language I first learned in college and have since banged into weird word-sculptures over the last thirty-three years by trying to explain things in a classroom to teenagers.  (I love the job, but I do not recommend it for those with a loosening grip on sanity.)

So, here is the definition; Paffooney, proper noun, (Origin from a silly blogger’s head, consisting of Paff, meaning a silly cartoon sound effect, and fooney an even sillier derivation from buffoon and looney.)  A silly picture and post combination caused by a brain fart or other gaseous anomaly inside Mickey’s head.

Forgive me, for I know my sins are many.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Icarus

Image

 

This is a re-post of an old poem with a new Paffooney.

 

Icarus

 

“You never believe in me,

You only hear the lie,

You never believe in me,

You never even try,

 

You never see the good in me,

You only fear I’ll die,

You never hear the words I say,

You never tell me why,

 

You never care how I plan,

Or why I touch the sky,

You’ll never lift me up,

You never let me fly,”

 

That’s how it always was,

Between my father and I,

Until the day I reached the sun,

And burned my hands on high,

 

And so it is he’ll never know,

How much his son was worth,

Because he couldn’t understand,

The day

I fell

To Earth.

 

My teenage son and I have been through some rough times.  One time, though, we sat down and talked about him wanting to be a music composer.  I realized then that the things I have been through as a writer, being discouraged by other, more sensible people, having to defend my art, and not even being believed in by my own family, were the very things that he was talking about.  So I wrote a poem about it.  The central metaphor is Icarus from classical mythology.  I even suggested he use it as lyrics and turn it into a song.  Of course he told me how stupid that idea was.  So let me put the poem here and see what you think.

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

The Thumb-Sucker

Image

 

The Thumb-Sucker

 

Darkness surrounds us

As the nighttime moves in

And we feel overwhelmed

And burdened by sin

 

But comfort can come

From a place we’ve all been

Just open your mouth

And shove your thumb in

 

Our childhoods were happy

And made us all grin

And simple we were

With our little thumbs in

 

So as we’re all worried

And all feeling dumb

We can make it all better

By sucking our thumb

 

 

 

(Silly poems and blue cartoons are a specialty of mine.  I’m no Ogden Nash, but I make it all rhyme.)

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized