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Posts archive for: October, 2007
  • Happy Halloween!!!

    Chillin' on Halloween, who I'm listening to, today:

    Robbie Williams
    REM
    The Proclaimers
    The Mutton Birds
    The Kinks
    Richard X. Heyman
    Jam
    Runrig
    Heartsfield
    The Grapes of Wrath
    Michael Penn
    The Bridley Brothers
    Fleetwood Mac
    whiskeytown
    Ministry of Sound
    Tom Petty

    Well, off to change for work--for the fancy dress day, I'm changing into my alter-ego, Farmer Namcy,well... I do a pretty good redneck impersonation, ha-ha. Any excuse to wear jeans to work. :p But hey, we got free food, today! Yeah!!! Any day that I don't have to pack the dreaded peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, is a good day, to me!

  • Good Luck David Tennant


    Wishing actor David Tennant good luck at tonight's NTA awards--and his co-star, Freema Agyeman, as well. Well done!

  • To Sleep, per chance to dream...

    I had a good night's sleep, for a change. I've slept in some odd places in my life, so sometimes it irks me when I can't sleep in my own bed.

    I've slept in a lawn chair, a bathtub, on hay bales, on the grass underneath my pickup truck (it was a blistering hot day, with no shade, at an open-air flea market I was working), on a sofa with literally no springs, ditto in an arm chair, on a bed with a big basketball sized hole in the middle of it (don't ask), on a bus, on a plane, in a car, hospital bed, on the floor of a small, crowded airport in North Africa, on a very, very tiny bed in a ship's cabin, sleeping bag in a tent on the ground, on a blanket on a living room floor, in a horse stall, and under a moving tarp in the open back of a pick up truck in late October, going down the Thruway (NY state motorway) at 3am.

    So, it really perturbs me, when I can't sleep in my own blinking bed! I love it when I get a good night's sleep--had some really funky dreams, tho.

    First I dreamed that I was hanging blue satany curtains over some closet doorway, and Doctor Who (David Tennant's Dr., I think) was standing there, telling me they were crooked--then, I jumped back in time, to when I picked them out-- on sale at the bargain table at Woolworth's--which went out of business here, in the early 1990's! Then, while I was in the shop, picking out the curtains, I was suddenly being entertained by three alternating look-alike singers--one guy was pretending to be some country singer (I forget who), one was an Elvis impersonator, and one was a John Denver impersonator--they all had guitars, and were competing for some prize, and I was the judge, and suddenly we were on television...THAT was one weird dream!

  • Morning all

    Well, have my new blog up and running...and very obscure--one view so far, ha-ha. Suits me. My playwriting blog has had zero views, my fan fiction blog has had five (in the last two months)...so all's well, then.

    Have a few chores to do, this morning, so not much time for messing about. My internet is still slated for cut off. No way I have the money--it's the blinking phone, I'm gonna' miss, as the nearest one is about a 10-minute walk away, and isn't available after 11pm. So if I have a fire or other emergency, or need a cab, or want to contact a potential employer--I'm crap outta' luck, I reckon.

    And, of course, I'll miss all of you, and my contact with the outside world. But...the end of the pay cut's too late to save me--I'm only just avoiding eviction, as it is--and even that's still a bit iffy.

    So, anyway, hope you all have a pleasant day, and if you're celebrating, a nice halloween. Take care. N.

  • Photographs--Images we can't forget

    I was reading Jenray's blog, about some photography programme over there across the Big Pond, and was thinking about all of the touching images I'd seen, over the years. Dead images burning the life of the story they told, into my soul.

    I can remember, when my mum was running the village library, there was this big book--and all it was, was photographs of the Civil War--moving images. I remember one, taken just a couple days after the battle of Gettysburg, I remember, several times, sitting in the reference area, just staring at the photo. I guess I was about 15 years old, at the time.

    The photo, by Matthew Brady, is of a lone confederate sniper, that had been shot in a remote area, lying in the rocks all alone, his corpse stiffened in his last act of life--clawing the earth, a rock as his pillow, waiting for help that he probably knew would never come, waiting for death, in pain...dying all alone, unburied, left to moulder into the rocky earth. Did anyone mourn him? Or was that image his only legacy, a photograph, instead of a headstone.

    To this day, the image moves me, saddens me. And, now, I know why.
    Link to a much larger image: http://www.archives.gov/research/civil-war/photos/images/civil-war-098.jpg

  • Loo Nazis?

    Gave my cubicle mates quite a laugh tonight, reading to them from the London Times online, how the Germans count the amount of toilet paper their troops use in the loo--8 million rolls, or, as the headline put it, ten rolls per man, per day!

    Which leaves one to wonder, just what do the Germans put in their winer schnitzel?

    Seems the troops used to have drilled into them, "I will not go anywhere without my toilet paper!" Or something similar. Good advice--not sure if it's up there with "Keep your head down when they're dropping the bombs," but good advice, nonetheless.

    "But wait!" The official German toilet paper counter says, "That figure's not quite right--that was 8 million SHEETS, not rolls! Ohh--and, we have to take into account that some of those rolls were three-ply. Ah. Great way to--erm, cover yer bottom, there, Mr.TP counter!

    I wonder how this guy handles cocktail parties? "What do you do, for a living?" Good thing he's not in the states--some rolls here, are four-ply quilted! :yes:


    "Say--Sargent Schultz, is that a winer schnitzel in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

  • Life post-drabble-a-thon

    You know, it actually has been difficult, adjusting to not having to write a story every single day?

    I sort of am at a loss, as to what to do with myself, ha-ha. Don't know what I'll do if I lose my itnernet--tho' I'm sure my apartment will get much cleaner! :DD :oops:

    Anyway, really, it's true. I sort of am at loose ends, right now, with my free time. Well, not RIGHT now, as I have to go and change for work. I really hate working nights--I mean, it's not the end of the world, having to work nights, but still. it's much harder for me to cope with a day/night shift, sometimes, in the physical sense, if you know what I mean?

    I hope I won't lose my itnerent, but if I do, I hope I can get it back in time to watch some of the Dr Who stuff that's coming out on YouTube next month, and thereafter. Dr Who really has been a nice break from my routine for me--that and someof the new and old music I've been listening to.

    Well..off to work...collections calls in the afternoon, fund raising on evening shift. I hope my illness won't play up, like last night--makes a long night longer, when you're exhausted.

    sorry about the rant about Firefox--it's just that every time I turn around, Firefox interferes with stuff--not letting me in websites (that it let me in, before), not always letting my use cut and paste, stuff like that. very, very frustrating! It seems to slow down my computer a little, as well.

    Anyway, meh--what do I know? Have a good day all.

  • David Tennant Gets Testy Over 'Do


    Actor David Tennant was overheard recently, getting a little testy over a comment on his hairstyle. Someone asked the actor if crappy hairdo's were the hot new trend in Cardiff these days, whereupon the actor was overheard to mutter, "Meh--go kiss a haggis."

  • Accord Hospice--Random Stories

    So, my internet status is still pretty much up in the air, I'm afraid.
    In that light, here's a few more stories, from my Accord Hospice 100-story challenge blog ( www.nbgolash.blogspot.com/ ), in random order:

    STORY#3:

    The Garden

    They were working in the garden, as they had for the past fifty-four years. Sam was pruning his wife’s roses. Suddenly, Anne stumbled, looking pale and wan. “You alright?” He asked. “No,” she whispered, “I feel weak.”

    “It’s your heart.” The doctor said, “You’ve not long to live.” Four weeks later, Sam sat on what was their wedding bed. He held Anne’s cold hand, tears coursing down his cheeks. “I wish I could see our garden,” she whispered. “I brought it to you,” He said, placing a red rose in her hand. She smiled, closed her eyes, and Sam wept.

    STORY #98

    The Last Scout

    Moses Walker served with the 5th Cavalry in the heart of the Dakota Territory. Soon, he would retire, but now he was on scout for the patrol sent out to protect the gold miners. He halted on a knoll--when a band of Sioux appeared! Screaming, they began chasing him.

    Moses suddenly found himself in a box canyon. He leapt down, back to the rocks, firing over his horse--when his bullets ran out. Just then, an arrow found him, and Moses knew it was the end. He smiled. “Eh, didn’t want to retire, anyway,” he murmured as he died.

    STORY #87

    Gypsy Dancer

    Wallace rose from the poorhouse, to become one of the wealthiest men of the age, thanks to an invention he’d made. He was living in one of the grandest homes in all the shires. But, he was alone. The peerage shunned him, his peers thought him above them, so Wallace kept to himself.

    He spent his evenings, staring at a painting he’d bought in Venice: a life-size portrait of a gypsy dancer. Standing there, he whispered sadly, “I wish you were real.” As he turned, and slowly walked away, a tiny teardrop fell from a corner of the gypsy’s eye.

    STORY #36

    Doctor Who: Nothing to Brag About

    The lady was galloping her mare, leaving the lords behind. She stopped, waiting for the others to catch up. Meanwhile, in the Tardis, the Doctor was busy bragging to his latest companion, Donna. Gleefully he shouted, “Oh! I know! Let’s go back to Merrie Olde England!”

    The Tardis appeared, wheezing like a dysfunctional church organ--right in front of the lady’s mare! She reared, dumping the lady on her bottom, right into a steaming pile of manure. The Doctor stepped outside--and stared at Queen Elisabeth I, sitting on the ground. Raising an eyebrow, he said, “Ah. That's what happened!”

    STORY # 51

    The Battle of Verity Gap

    George kept down, lying in the mud of a shell hole. The bullets were flying overhead, so thick; they actually were stripping the bark from the trees. “Fire that rifle, soldier!” The lieutenant shouted. But there was nothing to fire at---everyone was wisely keeping his head down--except certain young officers.

    The lieutenant went down, shot through the head. Just then, George spied a woman in black, riding hell-bent across the battlefield. The bullets slowly ceased, as she leaped off her horse, and cradled a dead man in her arms--the widow who stopped the battle of Verity Gap.

    STORY #67

    Born to Buy

    It wasn’t a very large village. But, it did have a store/post office. The store, Wilson’s, carried a little bit of everything. It was a fine day, and, with his wife sitting nearby, holding their new baby, Mr. Wilson put the finishing touches on a new sign: “Wilson and Son.”

    Wiping the gold paint from his hands, he looked on proudly as his wife softly crooned a lullaby: “By-low, my baby, by-low…” Mr. Wilson chortled, “That’s right, love! You teach him to buy low, I’ll teach him to sell high, and together we’ll make a great shopkeeper out of him!”

    STORY 23

    Lover's Farewell

    Elisabeth stared out the open window, at the roses in her garden--but wasn’t seeing them. Her mind was on a far-flung battlefield. One day, she’d been pruning her roses, when something made her look up. There he was, Blane Gordon, astride a handsome bay mare, resplendent in his uniform.

    They waltzed the springtime away, even had a favourite tune: Lover’s Farewell. Sighing, she picked up his photograph--suddenly, the tall clock in the hall struck midnight. But, strangely, it was only ten. Then, on the soft breeze, Elisabeth heard their tune--and sobbing, she knew--her lover had died.

    Story #14

    The Lumberman's Last Dime

    Winter was over, the log drives done. Melva was pleased, for the lumbermen would come and stay at her parent’s lodging house. She was fond of Jim. All summer, he courted her, taking her dancing. When winter came again, he promised marriage, on his return.

    “Here, Mel,” he cried as he left on the stage, “keep this to remember me.” He threw her his last dime. “If you don’t come back, I’ll use this to buy a bucket of beer and drown myself.” Jim was later killed, and Mel, she bought herself a beer, and drowned herself in one swallow.

    STORY #71

    Writer's Block

    The writer sat hunched over his keyboard, massaging his temples. He’d just written a movie, called “Day of the Animated Cadavers,” and now the studio was at him to make a sequel. Trouble was, he had writer’s block.

    Deciding to go for a walk to clear his head, the writer headed out into the countryside. His stroll took him past a churchyard. Tired, he sat, leaning against a mouldery, tilted, marble headstone--and it moved slightly. A hand reached out from the grave…slowly, towards the unsuspecting writer. There was to be a sequel after all, but it wasn’t a movie.

    (NOTE: Ihese stories were written in honour of the patients of Accord Hospice and in memory of Mrs. Helen MacDonald. The stories were written to raise funds for a hospice in Scotland Thanks. )

  • Attn: Tennant Fan-girls! Look! David's Underwear!

    He-he-he-he-he! Well...I didn't say WHICH David, did I?

    I'm sooo-bad! :)) :)) :))

    I'd recently read this on a fan forum: (David Tennant) "..smolders with an unbridled passion..."

    Thought I smelled something burning, but I thought someone had burnt a haggis.

  • DELETED: Ramblings of an Aging Whovian

    I have just deleted my alternate blog. I had no choice. It seems some person sent a chain e-mail out to well over 100 people, with my blog address. In less than 6 hours, I went from my usual 10 or 15 visitors, to well over 100. And every last one of them was from some Yahoo mail address. I don't like that. Mainly because I could say things on that blog, I could not say elsewhere..oh, it had light stuff too, just like on here--DT and Dr Who captions, jokes, etc...but really--I feel...dirty, now, being passed around the web like some cheap hooker in a sailor's bar. No idea what attracted them, but..it's gone now. Forever.

    Made me sort of sad to have to do that...I mean, sure, loads of people visit this website--but there's big difference between people casually, or deliberately seeking out your blog--and some completely unknown person--without consulting you, just randomly passing your blog address out via e-mail, for whatever reason, to hundreds of people.

    I'm sure some of you are saying, "What's the big deal? What's she whinging about now?" Well, it's a fine line, I admit, but to me, it is a line. It a tiny, semi-invasion of my privacy. I'm glad if this sort of thing wouldn't bother you, really I am. And it's hard for me to explain, why it bothers me at all---but, bottom line is, it DOES bother me a little. So, no choice but to delete and begin again.

    I will set up a new blog, but will ONLY give the address to those who request it, and will not be putting it on any search engines, if I can help it. And, it will NOT be on blogger!

  • And...a little cat humour

    HAIR CRITIC CAT:

  • Halloween humour

    A skeleton walks into a pub, and calls to the bartender: "Give me an ale and a mop, please!"

    Why wouldn't the skeleton cross the road? Because he didn't have the guts to!

    Once a young assistant to an orthopedic surgeon was taking a display skeleton in her car to the doctor's office. At the red light, she noticed everybody staring her curiously. She smiled and tried to explain, "I'm taking him to the doctor." An old lady said kindly, "Poor dear! You are too late, don't you think?"

    A music scholar was touring through a graveyard in Vienna when he heard music coming out of a grave. On inspection, he found the headstone as Ludwig van Beethoven, 1770-1827. The music was the Ninth Symphony being played backwards. He soon rang up a friend who came in time to hear the Seventh Symphony being played backwards. They hurried to call an expert who hurried to them to hear the Fifth Symphony playing backwards. All the more weird was the fact that symphonies were being played in the reverse order in which they were composed. When the caretaker of the graveyard heard this, the only comment he made was, "What's the wonder! He's just decomposing!"

    How come the vampire had heartburn after eating? He had a stake sandwich.

    Two nuns are driving through Translyvania, when they stop at a crossroads just after dark. Suddenly, a tiny vampire leaps onto the bonnet of the car! "What'll I do?" cried the nun that was driving. The other nun said, “Turn on your wipers, that will get rid of him!” The driver-nun did, but to no avail. The little vampire just clung on. “What now?” the driver-nun asked in despair. “I put holy water in the windshield washer receptacle, try spraying him!” So, the driver-nun did, but though he got horribly burned, the vampire just hissed and started clawing at the windscreen. “NOW what!!!” The driver-nun wailed. “Try showing him your cross,” the other nun yelled. So, the driver-nun poked her head out the drivers-side widow and shouted, “I’m very angry with you! Get offa’ my bonnet, or I’ll slap you with my ruler!”

  • Connections

    Communication is one of the most difficult things for a human to do, I think. Just for the sheer breath and scope of humanity--we are all the same, in so many ways--yet, each of us is an individual, with our own separate and unique thoughts and experiences.

    Still, sometimes we do manage to connect with each other--for despite our vast differences, many of us share the same emotions and experiences. This is why theater and movies and television work so well--especially when the scriptwriter has touched a similar chord in our collective souls. We may be individuals, we may not always relate to each other--but, enough of us do, to make communication work.

    I don't know if this makes sense or not. One of the reasons I write is, of course, to communicate. But, I also write for my own pleasure. I've been messing about with a play, and I don't think it would be publishable--because I don't feel it really communicates anything--but when I write in my blog, sometimes...sometimes I think I make it work. There's something special, when I write, that I feel--that makes the effort worthwhile, knowing I'm stretching my thoughts and feelings out to dozens--even hundreds--of people, and knowing that somewhere I out there...maybe, just maybe, I'll make a connection.

  • Dr Who Captions--replacing the LOST post

    I have to totally re-do this post, because flippin' Blog.co.uk LOST the previous one--no idea where it went. This blog site is going to the blinking dogs, today!


    "Arrrgh! I had to wait ten years to get a dental appointment, just to clean these teeth, and now you say my appointment's been rescheduled for 2015?"


    "No Graham, that's erm--not my sonic screwdriver in there..."

    "Hair gel, super glue...they both looked the same to me..."

  • Accoustic Proclaimers!

    Loved this video! They sound every bit as good in person, as they do on their records, I think. Not every artist has that ability. These gents are just wonderful, and I'm glad I discovered them this year, they are areal gem, to me.


  • Quiz answers

    Quiz sent to me by dtfangurl73:

    Twenty Questions:

    1. What's the weather like where you are at right now?

    Mostly cloudy with patches of sunshine, mildly chilly.

    2. What part of the world are you writing from:

    Northeastern NY state, USA, near the Adirondack Mtns. and Vermont.

    3. What type of place are you in right now?

    My small one bedroom dump apartment.

    4. Are you hungry or not right now?

    Hungry, sort of.

    5. What would you like to eat right now?

    Toss-up: either a nice juicy steak, with zucchini sauteed in garlic butter, and fresh mashed--or, a Big Mac Value Meal.

    6. What will you, or did you have, for dinner tonight?

    I'm making one of those 39 cent boxes of "Valu-Save" Macaroni and cheese, a hot dog, and some peas.

    7. What do you do for a living?

    Telemarketer.

    8. What's the worst job you ever had?

    Tie: Cleaning loos at a casino/race track and Asst. cook in a convent

    9. What's the best job you ever had?

    Stable hand

    10. What's the most unusual job you've ever had?

    Running rides in an amusement park

    11. If you could do any type of work, what would you do?

    Not really an issue any longer, but, ideally, Either write, or work in theater, horses or history, or do something where I help people.

    12. Do you like your present job?

    Not really, no.

    13. Have you ever done any volunteer work?

    Yes, every now and then, when I'm able.

    14. Have you ever been featured in a newspaper article (writing, interviews, in the news)

    Yes, in the news once and interviewed twice, wrote four or five feature articles and one opinion piece, plus letters to editor.

    15. Have you ever been on Tele? (Acting, interviews, in the news)

    Interviewed once for Breakfast, and shown on camera for some public tv fund drives, that's about it.

    16. Have you ever been on radio?

    Once, in my early teens, I had to crow like a rooster on-air, to win a contest (free chicken dinner and a transistor radio), and also wrote/directed a recorded radio play for college, and also read the news once, on-air at the same college.

    17. Have you ever performed on stage?

    Several times in small roles.

    18. Have you ever given a speech?

    TONS of times, in college. And, a few lectures for a 4-H youth horse club, and a history lecture, many years ago, for a library group once.

    19. If someone in another country paid for you to go and live there, and either go to school or work there as well, would you go?

    IF I could take my cats and at least some of my possessions, and IF the job paid enough for me to live securely (able to pay food, rent, bills)--very probably.

    20. When was the last time you went out somewhere, for entertainment, where did you go, and whom did you go with?

    Late August I think, I went to the local history museum (it was very dull), by myself.

    I tag anyone who wants to be tagged!

  • David Tennant to Star in New Happy Days

    Exclusive: Actor David (Dr Who, Casanova) Tennant is up for the starring role in the in the new Happy Days series. The new series, instead of taking place in the US (Milwaukee, Wisc.) will take place in 1950's Perth, Scotland, instead, with Tennant to star as the motorbike riding, kilt-wearing ladies man, "Fonzie" The new series will also feature Hugh Grant as Richie Cunningham, Justin Lee Collins will be the new "Ralph the Mouth," with Alan Carr playing his sidekick, "Potzie".

  • Accord Hospice stories, #60 - 100

    The Accord Hospice 100-story challenge fund-raising blog, can be found at:
    www.nbgolash.blogspot.com/

    Information about Accord Hospice, in Paisley, Scotland, can be found at:
    www.accord.org.uk

    Story #60, written on 18th Sept., 2007:

    The Box

    Dick was driving on the A-1, when he spotted a brightly wrapped box in the road. He stopped. Looking at it, in his rearview mirror, the lure was too much. Dick took the package.

    It had a card, “Do not open--or else.” No name. Putting the box in the back, he drove on. But--he saw it in the mirror, tempting him. Stopping the car, he opened the box--just then, out of nowhere, the car was flattened by a lorry. Police found an unwrapped box at the scene, with only a note inside: “Open on pain of death.”

    Story #70, written on 28th Sept., 2007:

    The Torch-bearer

    It was a stony-dark night. Ron left the pub, shortly past midnight. In the car park, he noticed something odd. He stood, in the light of a distant streetlamp, looking down at a crumpled body.

    Ron heard footsteps behind him. It was a man in a dark suit. Handing Ron a torch, he said, “Hold the light steady.” The man examined the victim’s skull. “Dead--blow to the head with a blunt instrument.” Ron went to hand the man back his torch--but he merely gave an oily smile, saying. “Oh, I’d rather you had that, when the police arrive.”

    Story #80, written on 10th Oct., 2007:

    Life Between the Lines

    In was a quiet night in Booring Vale. Suddenly, the skies lit up, as a tiny light shot downward---it was fist-sized meteorite. It smashed trough the roof of the library, glowed briefly, then all was dark again. Abruptly, at midnight, the books began tumbling off the shelves, and the characters came alive!

    Lassie wandered into the C’s of the encyclopedia, and got lost in Cardiff. Tarzan swung into Charlotte’s Web and was stuck. Hamlet began flirting with Catherine Earnshaw, and Sherlock Holmes helped Allen Quartermain find Solomon’s mine. At dawn, all was back to normal…well, until midnight comes again.

    Story #90, written on 18th Oct., 2007:

    Speaking in Tongues

    Two cowboys were sitting on the fence, talking. Joe was telling Bill about how he’d gone to see a lawyer to stop a developer from taking his ranch. “What happened?” Bill asked.

    “First, the lawyer asked if I had grounds, and I told him I had 500 acres. Next, he asked me if I wanted to bring a suit--but I only got the one I was wearin’. He asked me if I thought I had a case--so I told him I only had a six-pack.” Bill asked, “So then what?” “The danged lawyer threw me outta’ his office!”

    Story #100, Written on 28th Oct., 2007:

    The Lady in Red

    It was early on a sweltering Los Angles afternoon. I was sitting at my desk at my detective agency, watching the sun creep across the floor, hearing a fly buzzing at the window, and contemplating the bottle of bourbon on my desk. Just then, someone knocked.

    “Come in,” I answered wearily. “Hello, Charles.” It was her. That blond bombshell I called, “the lady in red”. The woman who suckered me into helping her cover up a murder, and nearly cost me my life in doing so. “I’m back.” She whispered demurely. But…did I want to kiss her, or kill her?

  • Accord Hopsice stories: #10, 20, 30, 40 & 50.

    Here are every ten stories I'd written, from the Accord Hospice 100-story challenge fund raising blog:

    Story # 10, written 31st of July, 2007:

    Some Things Never Change

    Bill gazed at the lake’s dark waters, the dense forest surrounding it. His wife, Alice sat beside him in the canoe, eying their Indian guide. The tall warrior paddled across the wide lake, towards Bill’s new cabin. “You be quiet,” he commanded, “lake spirit no like noise. Spirit will waken, rise up, smash canoe--we drown.”

    The lake was deep and cold. The Indian paddled in eerie silence. Abruptly, Alice spoke loudly, “Why’s it so quiet?” The warrior froze--then shrugged and kept paddling. “It alright,” the Indian said, “spirit knows woman can’t shut up for more than five minutes.”

    Story #20, Written 10th August, 2007:

    The Shadow Rider

    In the black storm-tossed night, a shadowy figure on a dark horse, weaves its way through the trees. The wind-driven rain lashes the rider. But he is never still, never stops. He just keeps plunging through the gloom. The night becomes formless, blurs into a blank wall of fog and mist. Still, the Shadow Rider and his phantom steed gallop onwards.

    A thoughtless man condemned. The fairies revenge is perpetual damnation. The rider had killed one of their own, ran her down on a bridle-path, so they cursed him with eternal life, a ceaseless ride, through the forests of Hell.

    Story #30, written 19th August, 2007:

    Found at Sea

    High on a cliff, the wind blew cold in the silvery moonlight. A young woman stood on the cliff-edge, gazing out to sea. Her long white dress was whipped by the fierce breeze, and strands of her hair oft-times went astray. She stood with tear-filled eyes.

    In the far-distance, a fog-horn blew, and a dense whiteness roiled over the foamy seas. In her hand was a letter--the last one ever, from a lover drowned at sea. She stared down at the foamy waves-and leaped. A water-drenched sailor came up from the waves, catching her. Two lovers reunited in eternity.

    Story #40, Written 29th August, 2007:

    Doctor Who: Party Crasher

    The Tardis landed with a wheeze and a bump. The door opened, the Doctor walked out. “The opening party of the Neon Gardens of Lucexsive!” Martha was awed. But she didn’t like the funny holographic food. “No sense of humour,” the Doctor sniffed.

    Martha was grooving to the geometric morphing sound system, when a scary flying instrument from the mechanical band, tried to attack her! The Doctor nipped out with his sonic screwdriver and zapped it. The vicious bagpipe dropped to the floor. The Doctor frowned and nudged it with his foot, “Damn thing was out of tune.” He muttered.

    Story #50, Written 8th Sept., 2007:

    Be Careful What You Say

    Emma and Randy, a young farm couple, were walking through the autumn countryside, and came upon a field full of dairy cows. There was another field containing a lone Holstein bull. The couple held hands and leaned against the fence watching the cows graze.

    The bull came up to the fence, and began nuzzling the nose of a nearby heifer. Then, he jumped the fence and began…well, doing what bulls do. Grinning, Randy squeezed Emma’s hand, and, looking at her sideways, whispered, “I’d not mind doing that myself.” Emma arched an eyebrow, and said dryly, “Go ahead--it’s your heifer.”

  • By Jenray's Request: Accord Story #1

    Jenray has suggested that I re-post my Accord stories--one per day, on here. Unfortunately, I'm probably going to lose my internet soon, so I don't think that's gonna' work. But, I'll compromise and post the 1st, 10th, 20th, etc.

    I've no clue if anyone out there would possibly want to read, or re-read these stories. But, I thought, why not? Honestly, I believe they aren't that great, but you can be the judge of that. So, while Charlie is lying on the living room floor, sunbathing in the light from the window, I'll post my first story for Accord on here.

    If you read the stories, and by some chance, happen to like them, the Justgiving button is right above this, and the Justgiving page will remain open to accepting donations, until the end of December. Even tho' the fund raiser has officially ended today, I decided since I didn't meet my goal (250 pounds in 100 days), to keep the fund raising site open for a couple of more months.

    BLOGGING FOR ACCORD HOSPICE: STORY #1 POSTED ON 22ND JULY, 2007

    DAY ONE: 22nd July, 2007

    Night Train to Paris

    The young man on the night train to Paris, stepped out on the platform for air. He saw a lady in black, watching a village go by-- two lights on. Most buildings scarred from the Great War: shell-torn roofs, black holes, the night masking the memory of death.

    The young gentleman spoke. “Cold night.” Without turning, the lady said, “Not as cold as the grave.” He bent his head to light his cigarette. “That was my village, that we just passed", she added sadly. “I died there, with my children.” Dropping his lighter, the boy blanched. The lady had vanished.

  • What the heck is wrong with Bcuk NOW???

    God! This site has sooo-many bugs, sometimes, doesn't it?

    Now I can't reply to your comments!

    I hit "reply" and NOTHING! Blank screen! This site sucks sometimes, with all the problems it constantly has---getting so it's nearly every week now. I liked the original site much better, the one that was here when I joined---the more this site "improves," the WORSE it gets! Someone should tell these gits that if something works, you stick with it, you don't need to change it every five minutes. If you're that bored that you have to change stuff all the time, maybe you should find something else to do, ey?

  • Accord Hospice LAST DAY--DAY 100

    Just wrote my last story for the Accord Hospice fund raising blog. I simply cannot thank you all enough, for your kind words of encouragement--and your sponsorship!

    Here's the last story, but you can read the others by clicking on the 100-stories banner above.

    STORY #100

    The Lady in Red

    It was early on a sweltering Los Angles afternoon. I was sitting at my desk at my detective agency, watching the sun creep across the floor, hearing a fly buzzing at the window, and contemplating the bottle of bourbon on my desk. Just then, someone knocked.

    “Come in,” I answered wearily. “Hello, Charles.” It was her. That blond bombshell I called, “the lady in red”. The woman who suckered me into helping her cover up a murder, and nearly cost me my life in doing so. “I’m back.” She whispered demurely. But…did I want to kiss her, or kill her?

  • Sad Farewell to a Gallant Horse

    Sadly, the wonderful career of Irish thoroughbred, George Washington, ended today, during the running of the American race, the Breeder's Cup.

    The horse was in the top finishers, on a sloppy track, when he broke down in front of the grandstand, shattering his leg. He was put down almost immediately, so horrible was the injury.

    A sad day for horse lovers and race fans, and for Ireland. The end of a brave and lovely horse.

  • Pet Food

    Now, like me, over the years, my pets have developed their own particular tastes in "people" fo