There ain’t nothing but heat and war and war in hot places and feels as if all that conflict has put out a tail of flames that heats heats the whole of the new world with the smoke and sparks of the old, or the ancient and I was sweating yesterday when I made this little picture on a wood panel.

Here is a video about nothing:
Escaped impending doom and embraced unending heat with a little local Shakespeare over the weekend… it was a pleasant spot to watch a play and if the play got a little dull, you could watch the audience watch the play.

I lay and I lie
in a bed of oysters
With sheets made of tide
That comes in till it goes
like the eel in my pelvis
or the crab in my nose.

That Little Ugly Man is me
I was made out of mud and a slather of goo
I walk with a foot, but never a shoe.
I dig and I float and piss where I sleep
I shit where I breath and fuck where I eat
I’m the Little Ugly Man who lives under the sea

But don’t put on any airs, ’cause you’re just like me.

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A friend told me yesterday that Syd Barrett had died. I made these drawings.

While this painting may be subject to change, I think it’s time to back off and look at it for a while. Something is alive in it now, that I’d hate to kill by overworking it.