Big Knob and the Three Boob Feet

‘Big Knob and the Three Boob Feet’… almost worth starting a band in honour of this charming, very vernacular vulgar Seaford Rock Graffiti… we’d be what? swamp stomp boogie?
me, Nina Simone, Dr John on keyboards and Scaramanga on… errmm peruvian nose flute?… yeah that’d make Thom Yorke jealous! yah boo sucks tom with an h! Rhadiohead… look there you are in the rocks!
Faces, all human art is seemingly about faces, the human vis-a-gog, that and a lust for preposterously engorged genitalia?
yep we are hard wired to see them (faces!), from responding to smiles from but a couple of months old, whether they be imagined midst the leaves in the jungle, else looming large out of Rocks
on the pedal tho i was thinking of none of this, rather about rhythm and cycles… day and night, the pulse of the moon, the turn of the year… dum de dum
.. as above so below… the twin entwined serpents, the dna double spiral, rhythmic, gulp of breath, pound of blood
looking out across the rocks at low, low tide, our ancestors, come down to forage… gathering muscles, shellfish from the rich pickings of the rocks
placing them in woven nettle fibre bags… these the deep rhythms of countless generations
fascinatingly they wouldn’t have had the neanderthal heavy brows, apparently the broad richly expressive human face is much older!…
anyway ponderings on cave art, the ancient human consciousness explosion driven by psychotropic plants (ala mckenna and hancock)?
to turn… and find, here scrawled and grooved into the rocks… faces, ghouls and goolies, thom yorke… we are, happily, mostly, absolutely but the same!

oh … and anyone called kathryn getting spliced? ‘a nice day for a white wedding’

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