Greetings friends, you will notice that this site is changing – starting with the name, which will no longer be ChickenDance but rather Aint John. The domain name is also changing and after February 8, 2012 – the chickendance.ca URL will be replaced with aintjohn.ca for good. As well, there will be a focal change….
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Doodling toward a new avatar
I spent a very pleasant half-hour doodling today. I’ve noticed that a few of my fellow Tweeps are using self-portrait doodles as their avatar images, and decided to explore the idea myself. My results are, however amusing to me, not much in the way of representing me. Nosferatu!
When in doubt
Add a weird drawing instead of a post full of words and then add some half-baked words that don’t go along with it. Sure, why not?
The Andy Griffith Toilet
Vintage tumblr content from April 7, 2008 This morning I awoke, in the usual way, from a very strange dream. In this dream I had been preparing/ordering a large and varied meal of brightly coloured dishes all served in white tupperware and styrofoam clamshell packs. The meal was being delivered by speedboat. It seemed strange…
Is it new?
Many things are new. For one, this blog… I guess that’s what it is. New? You might ask. No! You may protest. But then, it does look different, doesn’t it? That’s one thing – I’ve migrated to using the Headway framework with WordPress (on the recommendation of my sweet friend Jessica) and you will be…
Need to know
Do you need to know? This is part of my conundrum. It is my duty to provide content to the great beast but what is right to share? Dare I say something I wouldn’t shout in the street? The topic I have been contemplating lately is the future of the human culture and how it…
Walking Wombded
On Mondays he often found himself desiring a return to the womb. It would become apparent as he was making his morning coffee. Always, at some interval between micro-tasks, the realization would float to the surface. The faucet ran, he with empty carafe in hand and immobile, staring out and beyond the shredded-wheat, martian landscape…
The worst poem ever
I saw a dead bird on the fence today. Part of it was missing, and part of it was black, and the tiny little flies that dotted its back looked at me and said, “Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.” -fin-
Knowing every knowable aspect of a lie does not make it a truth.
Earlier I thought of a kind of place. Not truly a physical place, but involving the physical space. Not tied to a specific spatial coordinate, an imaginary, yet agreed upon location at the intersection of two imaginary lines. No, this place can be entered into by any consciousness-bearing sentience that stumbles upon it. This is…
Did I mention this already?
Hiding in the deep country. Staying away from the other creepers, scurrying like vapid rats to the trickle of moisture in some dank public house. Their mutterings only give rise to distration and boiling rage of the hobo. He’d try desperately to stay awake. Pouring carafes of scalding coffee into his raw esophagus in the…
I tweet
- @TheOnion has some kind of 5-page limit and a subscription-only policy now? Is this a joke? What the hell were those ads for?25/11/11 - 6:20 PM
- Alex spent two weeks battling the beavers who'd erected a lodge directly in the spring-fed pond from when his drinking water was drawn.24/11/11 - 8:22 PM
- Breathe the diesel fumes, seabreeze, woodsmoke, emmissions and fog. Arresting and absorbed.01/11/11 - 12:03 AM
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