No exit and no return
From these imprisoning shadows.
A rustling creak creeps above
From a dread dimly seen
Thrills a chill of loosened bowels.
You really don’t want to know…
–Yip
Photo by Roman.
No exit and no return
From these imprisoning shadows.
A rustling creak creeps above
From a dread dimly seen
Thrills a chill of loosened bowels.
You really don’t want to know…
–Yip
Photo by Roman.
on the notorious Glenwood Avenue:
Photos by Roman.
Of course, with my vast ignorance of botany I am perfectly incapable of telling you a word of truth about it. But it is a pretty thing, yes?
I have become as mildew… or mold… a fungus festering on the cold detritus of life.
My day was the day after dinosaurs when mushrooms grew to the size of trees… amid so much freezing dark death… it was a good time for decay…
Today not so much…
But that I have become as mildew.
— Yip
keeping Glenwood Avenue weird…
For some reason (I’m not hip but you’re hip to that) there is a steady trickle of folks who’ve been visiting a particular page on this site after having done a search based on “There’s a fungus among us.” So I suppose the title to this page could be regarded as a kind of click bait. But rather than speculating on the origins and meanings of the sentence, here instead is some actual fungus.
See ya later, alligator…
Photos by Roman.
a teaser
One never knows what one is to encounter along Glenwood Avenue…
Photo by Roman.
Photo by Roman.
“In 1958, an unknown recording artist named Terry Noland foisted upon the American public a new expression: “There’s a fungus among us.” That phrase is most often used in a derogatory sense meaning that something, or someone, is disrupting the status quo. Normalcy is being interrupted by something foreign to our routine, and that something is a fungus upon society.”
— “There’s a New Fungus Among Us” by “Dr. G.”
Ain’t that just so 2020? It could apply to so many things these days. In this case, it’s a tree stump feeding an actual fungus.
I have no idea who “Dr. G.” is, but his paragraph is about the most succinct account of the phrase. For those who know the song, “static in the attic,” on the other hand, is genuine beatnik jive.
After while, crocodile.