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Our favorite guitarist - Ryuji Fujihara
a little Genealogy goes to - - Our Cats & Dogs;
Phreap was once a one page magazine that was first published in Ottawa. This is a wonderful thing where I can keep all my projects together and this page can be an index to most of those projects.
Trying to work an an animator, craftsman, illustrator, writer, historian and musician, and make a living out of it, is something I had not really been able to do in the days before computers made Multimedia natural.
The starting idea of Phreap was to put some art work, some music, a song or poetry, an article on my vision, some sort of list and other pieces of thought, together in one page. From there it has taken on different formats and moved into some bigger projects. Software versions of some of these Phreap projects may be completed sometime in the future.
Below is a list of the Phreaps and some of there content and the bonus of (much of) the story in Phreap 11, 12 & 13.
Phreap 3 - Spring of 1981. (This was the first Phreap published and distributed.) an article - Steel Phantom / song - I Could Take it
Phreap 4 - Summer & Fall 1981, & Winter 1982 Artworks - Punk Paintings / an article - Steel Phantom / song & poem - Take A Part - It's About Me
Phreap 5 - Spring, Summer, Fall of 1982. article - End Brain Washing / song & poems - Everyday Girl - Wip Wop Water - No Time For A Day
Phreap 6 - Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall of 1983. You Won't Like Most of It Tape songs - You Won't Like Most of It - I Heard It Once Song - Substance - Center Of U
Phreap 7 - Winter, Spring of 1984. an article - The W. W. III Appreciation Society / song - Total Barf
Phreap 8 - Summer, Fall of 1984. an article - Nuclear Missiles Parks Committee / a list - 12 current favorite songs of Robert Jones / a song - Disappointment. Here is the list of my 12 favorite songs of Robert Jones in 1984; 1. Booke 5 # X. The sea hath many thousand sands 2. Booke 1 # X. When love on time and measure (John Lilliant) 3. Booke 5 # XI. Once did my thoughts both ebb and flow 4. Booke 1 # XVIII. What if I seek for love of thee 5. Booke 4 # XIX. In Sherwood lived stout Robin Hood 6. Booke 1 # XVI. Sweet Philomel in groves and deserts 7. Booke 2 # IX. Now what is love (Sir Walter Raleigh) 8. Booke 5 # I. Love, Love is a pretty frenzy 9. Booke 1 # I. A Woman's looks 10. Booke 3 # VI. Sweet, if you like and love me still. (Francis Davison) 11. Booke 5 # II. Soft, Cupid, soft 12. Booke 5 # XVIII. How many new years have grow'n old Here is me singing my third most favorite 'Once did my thoughts (Iones 1610 - XI)' on the 400 anniversary of its publication (2010).
Here is the list of my 12 favorite songs of Robert Jones in 1984;
1. Booke 5 # X. The sea hath many thousand sands 2. Booke 1 # X. When love on time and measure (John Lilliant) 3. Booke 5 # XI. Once did my thoughts both ebb and flow 4. Booke 1 # XVIII. What if I seek for love of thee 5. Booke 4 # XIX. In Sherwood lived stout Robin Hood 6. Booke 1 # XVI. Sweet Philomel in groves and deserts 7. Booke 2 # IX. Now what is love (Sir Walter Raleigh) 8. Booke 5 # I. Love, Love is a pretty frenzy 9. Booke 1 # I. A Woman's looks 10. Booke 3 # VI. Sweet, if you like and love me still. (Francis Davison) 11. Booke 5 # II. Soft, Cupid, soft 12. Booke 5 # XVIII. How many new years have grow'n old
Here is me singing my third most favorite 'Once did my thoughts (Iones 1610 - XI)' on the 400 anniversary of its publication (2010).
Phreap 9 - Winter 1985. Artworks - Totem poles Lute prints / song - Don't Take So Long
Phreap 10 - Spring & Summer of 1985. / song - Georgia Strait (Let Phreap Circulate) #78. This is the last of 7 'You Won't Like Most of It' Tape Phreaps
In Phreap 12 the story continues and I illustrated it and designed a house for the characters. This Phreap 12 has been a disaster in that I spent too much time on it and so far have gotten little out of it. Phreap 13 finishes the story and ties in some other bits of my life. - - - March 23, 1998 & April 22 & May 11, 2011.
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I couldn't feel my bleeding flesh, as the sheet ripped through my fist. Driven by the raw wind, my small yellow boat jarred and cracked on the waves. Silent thunder pounded the sky open and Lake Ontario breathed rain. Through all of this I could nay tell up from down and my young heart jolted as I was engulfed in freezing cold water. I know not how long time was, or where I was, when I found myself no longer breathing water, but air! I was lying on the wood of my boat, and the rocks, that. came through my boat, with the taste of salt water lingering in my mouth.
The haze cleared. I saw a lush Island, not far from the huge barren rocks I was on, swan to it, and was about to rest my sore, stiff legs, legs that felt, like they had iron pipes over them, and close my leaden eye lids, when stones flew out at me from the bushes. I ran. A few rocks zanged close to my head, and one smacked into the bones of my knee, but I got away, not only with my life but also with a glimpse of the horrendous monster, that was my attacker.
One day after a couple of weeks of scrounging, and living in terror of that wild beast, I noticed the lilting beauty, of the Island. I was dazzled by the perfumes of flowers and the sun streaming through the trees. I made pictures in the trees, as one does when looking at clouds. I picked out the contents of the world in one tree, and the figure of a woman in another. Through the charming chatter of animal sounds and other forest melodies, I thought I heard a woman's voice, pleasantly singing. She sang to me, her name, Roshanalin, and that her gowns were the colour of the leaves of the trees.
At last there was a key to this land. My head filled with questions; Where was I?, but before I could ask any or say a word she glowed, then scowled and shouted ''Where is Len, who I love more than anyone?" Then she angrily answered her question. ''Len, of the rocky side of the island, is probably in the company of that fanatic, the zealot and imbecile Anthony Norman P. of the flat lands! He is probably working with him on crazy ideas, or taking seriously his non stop babblings!'' Anthony Norman' she went on, was not even a leader, or original, but a follower, who defended his sheepishness with trash statements like "Leaders are followers and followers are leaders: for followers lead by deciding who shall lead them; and leaders are no leaders without followers leading them to be leaders.''
She stopped her lecture to press her point, and in the silence I weakly blurted out that I was injured, lost, and hungry. Finally She looked upon my destitute state with some interest, but then barked ''Why do you roam these forests? Only wild beasts and I are allowed to be here. The land is restricted! You have a lot to learn!' taking no pity on me nor seeing my humble condition.
In future times Roshanalin was to do me great ill service by introducing me to another world, one with that pest, Joe- Charlie Smith ##, with Molly Ding Dong, - Calhoon-Fred Febealie and Butter Jones ### . The staff of Phreap magazine, of course.
Long was the time, that it took me to find out the nature of this place, who the inhabitants were, and what they were up to. But then, longer than I will you have to wait, wait for future Phreaps to find these things out. In the meantime you will have to content yourselves with, buying and playing with these, paper dolls and garments they sometimes wear.
Patrick Thomas Connolly copyright 1984.
Phreap 12 continues the story and Iıve created a dolls house for the characters. Phreap 13 finishes the story and ties in some other bits of my life. - small editing April 28, & May 12, 2011. - Cumberlen His Abode
Now that you have all been idly waiting since 1985 to find out matters unresolved in Phreap #11, I Guess it's time for me to get around to revealing them. The 11th issue left off with, myself just about to answer Roshanalin's questions and accusations.
My mind was grappling to gather smooth words to shield myself when it was overpowered by the passion of the beast springing up. As events connected, a hard shock was felt throughout us and I withdrew, not even being significant or considered. The first thing drawn on Roshanalin's face was anger, she untouched, glared at me contemptuously snarling "It's what you have n' run from", then she composed herself and confidently retreated. The raw beast rose up and shot after her, in vain. I knew not what she meant, but was relieved for the moment, relaxed.
The warm sun caressed me there, where the sun was agreeable. But I, ignorant or caring orbs, mocked peace and obstinately trudged on. When Roshanalin spoke of 'the rocky side of the island (where Len was supposed to abide), she had indicated it's direction. So barefoot squishing through clammy mud, wading through streams stepping seaweed slim and stepping over tarring rocks, I struggled to walk there. I made my tender legs trounce through thorny rose and raspberry bushed. Dizzily, directionless, I toiled on through whiplash branches and dark thickets of weaved and knotted briars, in that thick, cold, dewy, atmosphere, where the hum, sting and bites of insects were ever at my skin, nose, ears and eyes. the sun fell and darkness of night came I grew heavy and collapsed, too exhausted to resurrect myself. I surrendered to the fate of perishing by exposure or whatever. But providence watched over me and I felt a protective presence grew warm, slept and dreamed. I followed innate light, which decried and exposed to me a civilization that longed to make clearcut and paved pathways. The society desired perpetually to sanitize, sterilize and simplify existence. Life, works and pleasure were prevented by packaging, advertised and then exchanged for money in meat factories, conglomerate stores, and idiot boxes. This public forgot the normal life and sought fulfillment through money only.
The light went out and the dream left me there, satisfied with nature. I realized I had slept on a soft warm bed of leaves. Singing birds drew attention to the fruit of hawthorn, cherry and apple trees nearby. But the suns angle from the east of the earth increased, hardening the day. Rages poured into my heart and I compelled myself to trudge on against nature.
I ascended a high cliff where a panoramic view was spread before me. Surveying the hills, crags, valleys cliffs and the ocean, I concluded that, these were the rocky lands of the Island. I spotted a peculiar shaped structure, supporting a propeller, and situated on a hill. In its direction, I targeted myself.
After some distance, while vainly combining my ever burr-infested clothes, traveling through crackling snarled leaves and twigs and bows, They detwined and unraveled. A Woodsman stood before me. "Well you have taken your time," he growled "It's given in, that you'll stay at my dwelling for a while." He motioned me to follow and speed. Knowing not whether to trust him or no', I followed thither.
His habitation turned out to be the prominent structure on the hill, that I'd been aiming for. The propeller was a windmill. This shelter conformed well with the agrestic surroundings. It was fitted to, and chiseled out of the side of the eminence, with gouges and extensions filled and molded with bricks. The retreat was enclosed by a dome. One quarter of it was of arched solid brick, and the other three quarters were encompassed by a global canopy. Classical pillars, supporting trusses covered with fabric panels for an adjustable roof, made a verandah. The airy structure left a feeling of being outside, When still inside.
The woodsman said to me "Go back to the forest, get some branches for a fire and then we'll see to your fate." I obliged, and after returning and piling the wood, I cautiously intruded into the lower room. To prepare, in case I was assaulted, I had looked for escape routes. There, he was seated for our talk, Where the light, striking his eyes, gave him a malicious look. However the honors on his walls, belayed him as a prominent person on the Island, an achiever and an expert in the eyes of society. I gave trust.
I am the tree butcher 'Cumberlen' but you have heard of me by the shortened form, Len'," he smoothly stated. He'd obviously been conversing with Roshanalin, so I asked Of her, where upon he agitatedly replied "We all care little for her, it's not right to be concerned with her likes." I thought it diplomatic to change topic to that of the wild lustful beast. It was the wrong choice. He cringed and retorted "Talk about it! Nobody talks about that horrible and disgusting thing." He preached on kindly "What's wrong with you? You should suppress it and change. I can help you, a foreigner, acquire social benefits, if you will drug that friend into submission. Man can overcome nature, contain, sanitize, and build it into a box. Take control of fate. Do not let it run wild. It's a clear cut simple job."
There were noises outside and a foppish crazy laugh, followed by a colourfully suited fellow tumbling in.
- - - - to be continued ---
One of the original intentions of this, Phreap 12 was for it to probably not for a very long time will I do, if I do, such a construction; maybe in a later edition of this Phreap 12.
Phreap 13 is the conclusion of the story that was started in Phreap 11 and continued in Phreap 12. I left of writing the story on about June 16, 1987 to concentrate on finishing Phreap 12. It was last hand written in June of 1987 and it was typed up in April & May of 2000 & 2011 but not edited or in any way finished.
May 5, 2000 & May 9, 2011. All right! Please stop with the overwhelming requests! I'm working on it already! Yes, I actually have started to type Phreap 13 The end of the story which is Phreap 13 has never been finished. There was never any plan to do any artwork for it so the whole Issue is just text.
Phreap 15 - Winter 1988. an article - letter to Ottawa Council / Artworks - Chateau Laurie /Fox pictures / songs - Come On
Phreap 16 - Spring, Summer, Fall of 1988. songs - Listen - Two Way Street
- Phreap 18? - Winter, Spring & Summer of 1990. Phreap Space Program
-- Phreap 19? The Raving Biatrical Rider To get my drawing in shape to work on 'Nilus the Sandman: The Boy who Dreamed Christmas' I started work on this animation short that has never been finished.
- Phreap 20? - ?Vol. 2 #2 Summer, Fall of 1991/Winter/Spring, Summer of 1992.? Phreap Phrogs Since I was pleased, with the paper doll idea of Phreap 11, I did a smaller project making Paper Doll Frogs.