January 31, 2012
Dear Reader,
The title of page 44 is, "Oh Bless My Spinning Heart." You will find a transcript of this page at the end of this letter. Make sure you zoom in to see the lettering and/or read the transcript, below. Next Tuesday, February 7th, I post page 44. Have a great week!
Remember, if you don't dream any other day of the week, dream with me on Tuesdays.
You can now link to the Table of Contents on every page. Click here to start at the beginning of this webcomic. Have a great week and remember that Goatwater is updated every Tuesday. Email any questions or comments to bassacards(at) yahoo.com.
If this is your first time visiting this site, or you are a regular reader, email me at the address above if you want me to add you to my mailing list so that I can send you an email reminder, every Tuesday, when I’ve added the new page. No spam, and I will not share your email with anybody else, just the link to the new page and some update information, if I have any. And feel free to let me know, at any time, if you want to stop receiving the weekly emails. Thank you for your support!
Goatwater - Page 44 - Transcript - Oh, Bless My Spinning Heart
Octaroon
Among the customs on this demented island Reverend, Doctor, Officer of God, is one called, “Re-petition.” This is when a Reveler, for whom heaven no longer seems an option petitions an unaccredited Saint, for an eternal place atop their personal altar. The Ribald Reveler waits in fear that the Saint will respond by unmasked messenger stating that they do not, will not and never have, accepted on their sacred altar, any shitty icons, relics or cracked figurines. And then there’s the train. The Rejected Reveler catches, if they can, a Number Ha’ Mercy Train, which carries repentant heathens to the heavenlands, through rank smelling holes of history that open in space. “Oh bless my spinning heart!” they cry once aboard. “I am done with the devil. My History is now a lie, ain’t it, Conductor? Wait, is that a goat, I see? And why, when our history never happened, do I see my ancestors marching and spinning through space as though alive? What in cotton happened to that goat’s head?! I’ll have none of that goat water, thank you! I did none of these things. I experienced none of this. Still, why am I so affected? The only true story, praise God, is in that Goodly Book. Have you read it, pal? I thirst, Goddammit. I thought we get wine – Communion of course, haha. Apologies and Amen. Conductor, this is my stop! On to glory! Goodbye, Devil! I said stop, Conductor. But wait! Why are these gates not golden? And what of these rabid goats? Why are they gold? Press on, Conductor. Hurry up, close the door, man, and press on! Jesus, God! This ain’t my stop!”
A trip for the tormented, to be sure, and best avoided, yet, still, as is my duty, I walk with the vulnerable Reveler to the train station and wait with them. “See! The only glory is in the groin,” Missus, that jaded, jilted Reveler, said to me, after the train passed her by, once again. These people go backwards and forwards on this island, Reverend, Doctor, Officer of God. All while it spins on top of a fat black finger. I want to get off.
Horny
Stoosh, quiet! Not another word about Maman! To her, we are invisible. She didn’t even notice that your head was removed. Shh, I said! The Revelers on this island will hear you, take you away and jubilantly roast you on a spit. Come now, Stoosh, we’ve got to catch that train.
Stoosh
Our Maman looked quite well, considering, didn’t she? Be grateful you’ve got her nose.
Dear Reader,
The title of page 44 is, "Oh Bless My Spinning Heart." You will find a transcript of this page at the end of this letter. Make sure you zoom in to see the lettering and/or read the transcript, below. Next Tuesday, February 7th, I post page 44. Have a great week!
Remember, if you don't dream any other day of the week, dream with me on Tuesdays.
You can now link to the Table of Contents on every page. Click here to start at the beginning of this webcomic. Have a great week and remember that Goatwater is updated every Tuesday. Email any questions or comments to bassacards(at) yahoo.com.
If this is your first time visiting this site, or you are a regular reader, email me at the address above if you want me to add you to my mailing list so that I can send you an email reminder, every Tuesday, when I’ve added the new page. No spam, and I will not share your email with anybody else, just the link to the new page and some update information, if I have any. And feel free to let me know, at any time, if you want to stop receiving the weekly emails. Thank you for your support!
Goatwater - Page 44 - Transcript - Oh, Bless My Spinning Heart
Octaroon
Among the customs on this demented island Reverend, Doctor, Officer of God, is one called, “Re-petition.” This is when a Reveler, for whom heaven no longer seems an option petitions an unaccredited Saint, for an eternal place atop their personal altar. The Ribald Reveler waits in fear that the Saint will respond by unmasked messenger stating that they do not, will not and never have, accepted on their sacred altar, any shitty icons, relics or cracked figurines. And then there’s the train. The Rejected Reveler catches, if they can, a Number Ha’ Mercy Train, which carries repentant heathens to the heavenlands, through rank smelling holes of history that open in space. “Oh bless my spinning heart!” they cry once aboard. “I am done with the devil. My History is now a lie, ain’t it, Conductor? Wait, is that a goat, I see? And why, when our history never happened, do I see my ancestors marching and spinning through space as though alive? What in cotton happened to that goat’s head?! I’ll have none of that goat water, thank you! I did none of these things. I experienced none of this. Still, why am I so affected? The only true story, praise God, is in that Goodly Book. Have you read it, pal? I thirst, Goddammit. I thought we get wine – Communion of course, haha. Apologies and Amen. Conductor, this is my stop! On to glory! Goodbye, Devil! I said stop, Conductor. But wait! Why are these gates not golden? And what of these rabid goats? Why are they gold? Press on, Conductor. Hurry up, close the door, man, and press on! Jesus, God! This ain’t my stop!”
A trip for the tormented, to be sure, and best avoided, yet, still, as is my duty, I walk with the vulnerable Reveler to the train station and wait with them. “See! The only glory is in the groin,” Missus, that jaded, jilted Reveler, said to me, after the train passed her by, once again. These people go backwards and forwards on this island, Reverend, Doctor, Officer of God. All while it spins on top of a fat black finger. I want to get off.
Horny
Stoosh, quiet! Not another word about Maman! To her, we are invisible. She didn’t even notice that your head was removed. Shh, I said! The Revelers on this island will hear you, take you away and jubilantly roast you on a spit. Come now, Stoosh, we’ve got to catch that train.
Stoosh
Our Maman looked quite well, considering, didn’t she? Be grateful you’ve got her nose.
Goatwater
Copyright 2011-2012
words and images by:
Tiffany Osedra Miller
all rights reserved.
Copyright 2011-2012
words and images by:
Tiffany Osedra Miller
all rights reserved.
**scroll down to read the transcript to page 44**
