November Reign - Inside and Outside the Poet's World
>
> outside
> through the blur of cold, wet and damp
> the rain rules supreme
> glistening silver diamonds
> captured moments
> flat planes of platinum glass
> encapsulating
> slick dot matrix
> these little rain drops
> regifted from the sky overhead
> silent
> as the encroaching
> changeable weather sounds
> whether or not
> we like it
> or not
> the rain is here
> to stay
>
> outside
> raindrops like teardrops
> victims of gravity's cruel pull
> crying for renewal
> searching endlessly to find
> that one stream of eternal design
> the seemingly insignificant individual
> dropping organically the mother cell
> becomes many droplets
> to form
> amoeba-like
> one
> mighty and powerful sea
>
> outside
> downsward streams
> where small rivers meet
> windows on another world
> gray flowing errie light
> making this world
> closer to magic winters
> equinoxs' at midnight
>
> inside
> waiting
> warm fire glows
> the heart is a golden locket
> of the cruel weather cannot open
> bone-chilling cold
> unrelenting
> unforgiving
> unbelievable this much rain
> here
> smiling smugly
> while cuddling my pooch
> on the couch
>
> inside
> looking out the window
> a bare picture window
> framing my dull life
> today
> on the bay
> a world away
> from dreams of yesterday
>
> inside
> on my computer screen
> my friends here
> poets all
> remind me
> rare diamonds all
> much rarer than the rarest
> out there
> keeping my heart
> as I keep theirs
> in my locket
>
> inside
> finding gold in field of dreams
> and conquered computer screens
> sometimes screams of various sorts
> sad and lengthy
> funny and short bursts
> truth blaringly bare and nakedly new
> the written word
>
> outside
> the season awakens
> yet seems quite dead
> the change in me
> the change in them
> leaves
>
> inside
> awaken the dreamer
> these
> new gems along the shore
> poets
> old and new
> to store
> forevermore
>
> inside
> as we await the next ouevre
> of creative poet laureates
> to emit eureka moments
> of all the world
> and all that is in it
> electrostaticmagnet ic world
> of neuropoetscientists
>
> outside
> the world remains
> on hold
> november reigns supreme
> a poet's month of twelve
> delving into matters
> within and without
>
> outside
> on hold
> here
> on the other side of midnight
> on the silken screen
> the november rains
> upon
> the truth
> below
> and
> above
> only love
> is there
> somewhere there
> for you
>
> gibj november 15, 2008
repost to chiccoreal nov 30, 2008
>
where i log i b
Sunday, November 30, 2008
What IS Synchronicity, really? Comment
Sychronicity to me is the sponaneous multiplicity of similar events within a given time frame. Sycnchronistic events can be small or large. For example; if you are talking to someone and are saying an unusal word say, dominion. The next thing you know the word dominion is repeated on the television the exact time you say it. Like feeling words were "put" in the mouth. That is a small example.
What is causing these events to repeat more and more often of late? To me it is the universe is saying it is collapsing somewhere, or time is folding upon itself. This may be the indicator, these seemingly "harmful" synchronicitic events. Comment please chicco real nov 30 08
What is causing these events to repeat more and more often of late? To me it is the universe is saying it is collapsing somewhere, or time is folding upon itself. This may be the indicator, these seemingly "harmful" synchronicitic events. Comment please chicco real nov 30 08
99 Feces Cloning Poem
99 Feces Cloning Poems
he made me
melt down
on flailing knees
palefully weakened by other worldliness
desiring his ring of power
i succumbed
all you have junk yard dog with your bulging eyes
and wrinkled face fur
is
fearful ugliness
binding the flesh to the bone
knitting our indiscretions to the City Hall
99 feces
needs to read between the covers
What you want you already have
you have mother on your mind
You are either coming in or out
of the womb that binds you
you are never nice to me B*tch
you know Lust and Desire
Make odd bedfellows
Give it up
Jane Jones June 18, 2008
he made me
melt down
on flailing knees
palefully weakened by other worldliness
desiring his ring of power
i succumbed
all you have junk yard dog with your bulging eyes
and wrinkled face fur
is
fearful ugliness
binding the flesh to the bone
knitting our indiscretions to the City Hall
99 feces
needs to read between the covers
What you want you already have
you have mother on your mind
You are either coming in or out
of the womb that binds you
you are never nice to me B*tch
you know Lust and Desire
Make odd bedfellows
Give it up
Jane Jones June 18, 2008
With The Flood (first short story)
With the Flood by Jane Jones c April 14,2008
The faulty powerboats' motor was about ready to call it quits, the last attempt to save us from a freezing cold death. The water below was beginning to set into a solid frozen mass reminescent of the last iceage. The wind would complete our fate.
The Captain had continued to forward this creaking vessel as best he could, but now the hand on the wheel was not his own. As he tried to command the guileless craft, wave after relentless wave hit the sides of the boat. We were drifting sideways down the wide flooded streets of the northern town, once dry as a bone.
My frozen face, a contorted grimace of pain and fear. The bone-chilling had made it difficult to move or listen to the captains'orders "Why couldn't he just expire now and forget trying to save our souls?" I thought to myself trying hard to fight my mind's negative thoughts. If I could only save my hands from freezing and hold onto some desperate hope for survival, we might live.
This night had enveloped my mind, making it seem like this has happened to me before, endless times. Dreaming this dream over and over again. I could feel the wind sweeping around my bare ankles and sore achilles tendon. I had cut the back of my ankle getting into the boat, and now I just felt the pain. My sockless feet were wet and numb in my favourite leather clogs. This eerie sensation felt like a ghost of the sea coveting my skin and trying to claim its human prize. Who would be the victor tonight?
Why did the engine begin to stall right when we needed it the most? Certainly fate has a sense of humour, if not a comforting dry sense of bitter sweet nostalgia. The boat's engine sounded its metallic grating noise, painfully etching my cortex with a thousand regrets. With these plummeting temperatures and frozen ice waters surrounding us how could anything live, let alone the man-made idols of technology.
There must have been a 20 degree drop in temperature within the last hour alone. The frozen rain was heating my face with sharp stings and nettles. The cold frozen night had a thousand insults to throw in our faces. Our bodies were thread bare by now, barely holding onto life.
There was no town left to bail out, all was submerged under a sledge of ice, and the rain turned to cover my face with a shroud of ice from the cold, cold grave. Death was beginning to win.
Over the captain's frozen blue lips and over the outer layers of every surface on the earth the element of a frozen blue orb pursued us."Why did I get into the boat?" I asked myself in desperate anger. There was no one alive who could help us now. We were being ripped apart by wind, rain and the approaching sea swells.
( group...what should happen next?)With the Flood by Jane Jones c2008
The faulty powerboats' motor was about ready to call it
quits, the last attempt to save us from a freezing cold
death. The water below was beginning to set into a solid
frozen mass reminescent of the last iceage. The wind would
complete our fate.
The Captain had continued to forward this creaking vessel
as best he could, but now the hand on the wheel was not his
own. As he tried to command the guileless craft, wave after
relentless wave hit the sides of the boat. We were drifting
sideways down the wide flooded streets of the northern
town, once dry as a bone.
My frozen face, a contorted grimace of pain and fear. The
bone-chill had made it difficult to move or listen to
the captains' orders. "Why couldnt he just expire now and
forget trying to save our souls? I dont want heroic measures!" I
thought to myself trying hard to fight my mind's negative thoughts.
If I could only I could save my hands from freezing and hold onto
some desperate hope for survival, we might live.
Why did the engine begin to stall right when we needed it
the most? Certainly fate has a sense of humour, if not a
dry one. The sad engine began to choke from the plummeting
temperatures. There must have been a 20 degree drop in temperature
within the last hour alone.
When we needed it the most the frozen rain was heating my face with
stings and nettles of a thousand insults. There was no town left to
bail out, all was submerged under a sledge of ice, unmoveable in my
mind's analytic conclusions. The rain turned to ice on my face and
over the captain's frozen blue lips and over the outer
layers of every surface.
"Why did I get into the boat?" I asked myself in desperate
anger. There was no one alive who could help us now.We were
being ripped apart by wind, rain and the approaching sea
swells.
This night had enveloped my mind, making it seem like this
has happened to me before, endless times. Dreaming this
dream over and over again. I could feel the wind sweeping
around my bare ankles and sore achilles tendon. I had cut
the back of my ankle getting into the boat, and now I just
felt the pain. My sockless feet were wet and numb in my
favourite leather clogs. This sensation felt very errie, like a
ghost of the sea coveting my skin and trying to claim its
human prize. Who would be the victor tonight?
( group...what should happen next?)
With The Flood (group please critique!) ty!!! Message List
Reply | Forward | Delete Message #36143 of 36148 < Prev | Next >
With the Flood by Jane Jones c2008
The faulty powerboats' motor was about ready to call it
quits, the last attempt to save us from a freezing cold
death. The water below was beginning to set into a solid
frozen mass reminescent of the last iceage. The wind would
complete our fate.
The Captain had continued to forward this creaking vessel
as best he could, but now the hand on the wheel was not his
own. As he tried to command the guileless craft, wave after
relentless wave hit the sides of the boat. We were drifting
sideways down the wide flooded streets of the northern
town, once dry as a bone.
My frozen face, a contorted grimace of pain and fear. The
bone-chill had made it difficult to move or listen to
the captains' orders. "Why couldnt he just expire now and
forget trying to save our souls? I dont want heroic measures!" I
thought to myself trying hard to fight my mind's negative thoughts.
If I could only I could save my hands from freezing and hold onto
some desperate hope for survival, we might live.
Why did the engine begin to stall right when we needed it
the most? Certainly fate has a sense of humour, if not a
dry one. The sad engine began to choke from the plummeting
temperatures. There must have been a 20 degree drop in temperature
within the last hour alone.
When we needed it the most the frozen rain was heating my face with
stings and nettles of a thousand insults. There was no town left to
bail out, all was submerged under a sledge of ice, unmoveable in my
mind's analytic conclusions. The rain turned to ice on my face and
over the captain's frozen blue lips and over the outer
layers of every surface.
"Why did I get into the boat?" I asked myself in desperate
anger. There was no one alive who could help us now.We were
being ripped apart by wind, rain and the approaching sea
swells.
This night had enveloped my mind, making it seem like this
has happened to me before, endless times. Dreaming this
dream over and over again. I could feel the wind sweeping
around my bare ankles and sore achilles tendon. I had cut
the back of my ankle getting into the boat, and now I just
felt the pain. My sockless feet were wet and numb in my
favourite leather clogs. This sensation felt very errie, like a
ghost of the sea coveting my skin and trying to claim its
human prize. Who would be the victor tonight?
( group...what should happen next?)
Mon Apr 14, 2008 11:02 am
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"jannneee2121"
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Forward | Delete Message #36143 of 36148 < Prev | Next > repost chicco nov30 08
The faulty powerboats' motor was about ready to call it quits, the last attempt to save us from a freezing cold death. The water below was beginning to set into a solid frozen mass reminescent of the last iceage. The wind would complete our fate.
The Captain had continued to forward this creaking vessel as best he could, but now the hand on the wheel was not his own. As he tried to command the guileless craft, wave after relentless wave hit the sides of the boat. We were drifting sideways down the wide flooded streets of the northern town, once dry as a bone.
My frozen face, a contorted grimace of pain and fear. The bone-chilling had made it difficult to move or listen to the captains'orders "Why couldn't he just expire now and forget trying to save our souls?" I thought to myself trying hard to fight my mind's negative thoughts. If I could only save my hands from freezing and hold onto some desperate hope for survival, we might live.
This night had enveloped my mind, making it seem like this has happened to me before, endless times. Dreaming this dream over and over again. I could feel the wind sweeping around my bare ankles and sore achilles tendon. I had cut the back of my ankle getting into the boat, and now I just felt the pain. My sockless feet were wet and numb in my favourite leather clogs. This eerie sensation felt like a ghost of the sea coveting my skin and trying to claim its human prize. Who would be the victor tonight?
Why did the engine begin to stall right when we needed it the most? Certainly fate has a sense of humour, if not a comforting dry sense of bitter sweet nostalgia. The boat's engine sounded its metallic grating noise, painfully etching my cortex with a thousand regrets. With these plummeting temperatures and frozen ice waters surrounding us how could anything live, let alone the man-made idols of technology.
There must have been a 20 degree drop in temperature within the last hour alone. The frozen rain was heating my face with sharp stings and nettles. The cold frozen night had a thousand insults to throw in our faces. Our bodies were thread bare by now, barely holding onto life.
There was no town left to bail out, all was submerged under a sledge of ice, and the rain turned to cover my face with a shroud of ice from the cold, cold grave. Death was beginning to win.
Over the captain's frozen blue lips and over the outer layers of every surface on the earth the element of a frozen blue orb pursued us."Why did I get into the boat?" I asked myself in desperate anger. There was no one alive who could help us now. We were being ripped apart by wind, rain and the approaching sea swells.
( group...what should happen next?)With the Flood by Jane Jones c2008
The faulty powerboats' motor was about ready to call it
quits, the last attempt to save us from a freezing cold
death. The water below was beginning to set into a solid
frozen mass reminescent of the last iceage. The wind would
complete our fate.
The Captain had continued to forward this creaking vessel
as best he could, but now the hand on the wheel was not his
own. As he tried to command the guileless craft, wave after
relentless wave hit the sides of the boat. We were drifting
sideways down the wide flooded streets of the northern
town, once dry as a bone.
My frozen face, a contorted grimace of pain and fear. The
bone-chill had made it difficult to move or listen to
the captains' orders. "Why couldnt he just expire now and
forget trying to save our souls? I dont want heroic measures!" I
thought to myself trying hard to fight my mind's negative thoughts.
If I could only I could save my hands from freezing and hold onto
some desperate hope for survival, we might live.
Why did the engine begin to stall right when we needed it
the most? Certainly fate has a sense of humour, if not a
dry one. The sad engine began to choke from the plummeting
temperatures. There must have been a 20 degree drop in temperature
within the last hour alone.
When we needed it the most the frozen rain was heating my face with
stings and nettles of a thousand insults. There was no town left to
bail out, all was submerged under a sledge of ice, unmoveable in my
mind's analytic conclusions. The rain turned to ice on my face and
over the captain's frozen blue lips and over the outer
layers of every surface.
"Why did I get into the boat?" I asked myself in desperate
anger. There was no one alive who could help us now.We were
being ripped apart by wind, rain and the approaching sea
swells.
This night had enveloped my mind, making it seem like this
has happened to me before, endless times. Dreaming this
dream over and over again. I could feel the wind sweeping
around my bare ankles and sore achilles tendon. I had cut
the back of my ankle getting into the boat, and now I just
felt the pain. My sockless feet were wet and numb in my
favourite leather clogs. This sensation felt very errie, like a
ghost of the sea coveting my skin and trying to claim its
human prize. Who would be the victor tonight?
( group...what should happen next?)
With The Flood (group please critique!) ty!!! Message List
Reply | Forward | Delete Message #36143 of 36148 < Prev | Next >
With the Flood by Jane Jones c2008
The faulty powerboats' motor was about ready to call it
quits, the last attempt to save us from a freezing cold
death. The water below was beginning to set into a solid
frozen mass reminescent of the last iceage. The wind would
complete our fate.
The Captain had continued to forward this creaking vessel
as best he could, but now the hand on the wheel was not his
own. As he tried to command the guileless craft, wave after
relentless wave hit the sides of the boat. We were drifting
sideways down the wide flooded streets of the northern
town, once dry as a bone.
My frozen face, a contorted grimace of pain and fear. The
bone-chill had made it difficult to move or listen to
the captains' orders. "Why couldnt he just expire now and
forget trying to save our souls? I dont want heroic measures!" I
thought to myself trying hard to fight my mind's negative thoughts.
If I could only I could save my hands from freezing and hold onto
some desperate hope for survival, we might live.
Why did the engine begin to stall right when we needed it
the most? Certainly fate has a sense of humour, if not a
dry one. The sad engine began to choke from the plummeting
temperatures. There must have been a 20 degree drop in temperature
within the last hour alone.
When we needed it the most the frozen rain was heating my face with
stings and nettles of a thousand insults. There was no town left to
bail out, all was submerged under a sledge of ice, unmoveable in my
mind's analytic conclusions. The rain turned to ice on my face and
over the captain's frozen blue lips and over the outer
layers of every surface.
"Why did I get into the boat?" I asked myself in desperate
anger. There was no one alive who could help us now.We were
being ripped apart by wind, rain and the approaching sea
swells.
This night had enveloped my mind, making it seem like this
has happened to me before, endless times. Dreaming this
dream over and over again. I could feel the wind sweeping
around my bare ankles and sore achilles tendon. I had cut
the back of my ankle getting into the boat, and now I just
felt the pain. My sockless feet were wet and numb in my
favourite leather clogs. This sensation felt very errie, like a
ghost of the sea coveting my skin and trying to claim its
human prize. Who would be the victor tonight?
( group...what should happen next?)
Mon Apr 14, 2008 11:02 am
Show Message Option
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
View Source
Use Fixed Width Font
Unwrap Lines
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"jannneee2121"
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Forward | Delete Message #36143 of 36148 < Prev | Next > repost chicco nov30 08
In politics up is down and down is up. The only way to discern the truth could damage our safety. The debate is on; could we as humans ever live truth? We would be stamped under foot like an ant. Too bad that is the state of the nation. Truth may only exist on Orion. So how do we find our way back home? The first step, accept our inherent weakness, and try to be honest. How can it hurt? Things get very, very complicated in politics. Could politics ever simplify strategy? I seriously doubt politics being honestly simple. Could you imagine a simple chess game? The simpleton often looses. We cannot afford to loose, thus we lie. Survival comes as a first priority perhaps. Can anyone find a way around this simple, honest truth?\\
Your Dell Laptop Test and Keep A DELL Laptop Computer Fri Jan 18, 2036 2k jj cr doc nov 30 08 repost
Your Dell Laptop Test and Keep A DELL Laptop Computer Fri Jan 18, 2036 2k jj cr doc nov 30 08 repost
id discussions
dear michele; it was really nice chatting with you and today i believe i would like to continue the conversation about...self fufilling prophesy. Yes, if a person has a negative attitude that attitude comes from somewhere, and what else can it this odd behaviour, attitude or acting be and where does it come from? The id desires to right wrong and is very objective. I call it the God-eye, or if i were speaking to my Jewish friends "the G-d's eye".
The id is the all powerful being within us! Just asl ive breathe and go about our daily conscious lives the id, the subconscious is aware of all that is going on in the outside world and the inside world. The id wants to usurp, or take over and control the three layers of consciousness. This is why i feel hypnosis is good for id related problems or angst, which may be rooted in free floating anxiety. The id as the subconscious delves into the unknown or subconsious irealm of the id. This realm is somewhat like a salvadore dali painting, very surreal, and odd to us. Because the id, for the most part, in most humans, is repressed, it is not often acting out or crying to be recognized.
When a person has deep rooted or complicated psychological problems, these problems stem from unresolved emotional issues or tramas which have been stored away, making the only one interested in the problem, the id. if the id is in fact an entity unto it's self has yet to be proved. some believe the id to be the God part of the brain. Wierd isn't it. But life is wierd too! So to clear ones mind and to begin functioning unobstructed by the id's need to right the wrongs of the past, the id must be talked to by logically giving the id the necessary reasons for the illogical abuse of the subject for example.
In this subconcious therapy, the therapist is able to reestablish the connectedness between the three layers of consciousness (the id, ego and super ego). A therapist must examine the motivations and other particulars, if there are subtle personality changes in the primary personality. To change this new behaviour is not easy. Probably the personality has been altered by traumatic events in the past. These traumatic life events can seriously effect a person being able to deal with real life situations. Sometimes life coaches can work through the "shit" left behind from past abuses of the individual, or perceived abuses, sometimes not
.. It is my contention that Primal Therapy does the best to bring the three levels of consciousness into a balanced state. This is a good point of reference. However, Primal Therapy is only to be taught by those skilled by persons aware of the dangers associated with opening up the old wounds of the past. Persons have been known to commit suicide because the opened id is too painful for the conscious mind to deal with. Without Primal Therapy training by the Arthur Janov foundation, the patient would be subjected to further trauma, and without capping the id the person could act out worse than ever and the episodes of psychosis could increase to serious levels.
Most people are not aware of this, and do not understand how the mind functions. It is necessary to approach the real issue of id suppression and heal the primary source of psychosis. Otherwise most therapies scratch the surface only and do not work. I mentioned hypnotherapy. Again, one must be adequately trained in the three levels of consciousness before attempting to practice hypnotherapy or they could be doing more harm than good to the patient.
The whole person must be integrated and dealt with. When one wants to change a destiny as we were discussing, but cannot, this is due to the fact that subconsious drives are over-riding the basic conscious will and the only remedy is psychotherapy, hypnotherapy or regression therapy or maybe behavioural. However, i think getting at the root id need is imperative. It is the id acting out when odd behaviour is noticed in a patient. It is the mind's way of saying, "pay attention to these repressed needs, because I wont stop acting out until I feel satisfied that this problem(s) issue is resolved!" The id is wierd in itself and as to what the id actually is. To me the id is the unconscious mind or the "mind's eye" a primitive feature in man. something akin to the reptilian brain or God's eye. The id always seems to correct illogical situations, as if we are all on a path and we must not stray from the predestiny. Alpha and Omega are already here. That is the id's job, to keep humanity on the right course! The id could be like Jungian Collective Unconscious and we all possess the same brain. Scary thought, eh? lol, mapa loves you...stay in touch ..more to follow chat soon!
How was work? How much are the Art Books??? lol, mapa xox we will call you at a decent hour from now on!!! lol, mapa xox
The id is the all powerful being within us! Just asl ive breathe and go about our daily conscious lives the id, the subconscious is aware of all that is going on in the outside world and the inside world. The id wants to usurp, or take over and control the three layers of consciousness. This is why i feel hypnosis is good for id related problems or angst, which may be rooted in free floating anxiety. The id as the subconscious delves into the unknown or subconsious irealm of the id. This realm is somewhat like a salvadore dali painting, very surreal, and odd to us. Because the id, for the most part, in most humans, is repressed, it is not often acting out or crying to be recognized.
When a person has deep rooted or complicated psychological problems, these problems stem from unresolved emotional issues or tramas which have been stored away, making the only one interested in the problem, the id. if the id is in fact an entity unto it's self has yet to be proved. some believe the id to be the God part of the brain. Wierd isn't it. But life is wierd too! So to clear ones mind and to begin functioning unobstructed by the id's need to right the wrongs of the past, the id must be talked to by logically giving the id the necessary reasons for the illogical abuse of the subject for example.
In this subconcious therapy, the therapist is able to reestablish the connectedness between the three layers of consciousness (the id, ego and super ego). A therapist must examine the motivations and other particulars, if there are subtle personality changes in the primary personality. To change this new behaviour is not easy. Probably the personality has been altered by traumatic events in the past. These traumatic life events can seriously effect a person being able to deal with real life situations. Sometimes life coaches can work through the "shit" left behind from past abuses of the individual, or perceived abuses, sometimes not
.. It is my contention that Primal Therapy does the best to bring the three levels of consciousness into a balanced state. This is a good point of reference. However, Primal Therapy is only to be taught by those skilled by persons aware of the dangers associated with opening up the old wounds of the past. Persons have been known to commit suicide because the opened id is too painful for the conscious mind to deal with. Without Primal Therapy training by the Arthur Janov foundation, the patient would be subjected to further trauma, and without capping the id the person could act out worse than ever and the episodes of psychosis could increase to serious levels.
Most people are not aware of this, and do not understand how the mind functions. It is necessary to approach the real issue of id suppression and heal the primary source of psychosis. Otherwise most therapies scratch the surface only and do not work. I mentioned hypnotherapy. Again, one must be adequately trained in the three levels of consciousness before attempting to practice hypnotherapy or they could be doing more harm than good to the patient.
The whole person must be integrated and dealt with. When one wants to change a destiny as we were discussing, but cannot, this is due to the fact that subconsious drives are over-riding the basic conscious will and the only remedy is psychotherapy, hypnotherapy or regression therapy or maybe behavioural. However, i think getting at the root id need is imperative. It is the id acting out when odd behaviour is noticed in a patient. It is the mind's way of saying, "pay attention to these repressed needs, because I wont stop acting out until I feel satisfied that this problem(s) issue is resolved!" The id is wierd in itself and as to what the id actually is. To me the id is the unconscious mind or the "mind's eye" a primitive feature in man. something akin to the reptilian brain or God's eye. The id always seems to correct illogical situations, as if we are all on a path and we must not stray from the predestiny. Alpha and Omega are already here. That is the id's job, to keep humanity on the right course! The id could be like Jungian Collective Unconscious and we all possess the same brain. Scary thought, eh? lol, mapa loves you...stay in touch ..more to follow chat soon!
How was work? How much are the Art Books??? lol, mapa xox we will call you at a decent hour from now on!!! lol, mapa xox
THE sHOCKED mOON FACE
THE sHOCKED mOON FACE
tHE MOON WAS TURNED FULL FACED ON IT'S SIDE LIKE IT WAS SLEEPING BLISSFULLY. STILL THE MOON'S MOUTH IS AGAPE LIKE IT HAS A SHOCKED EXPRESSION. THE MOON'S FULLY EXPRESSIVO AND VIOLENTLY EMOTIONAL PRESENCE IS IN STRIKING CONTRAST TO THE MOON'S OVERALL ETERNAL PRESENCE OF SAMENESS. THE MOON IS SEEMINGLY INERT AND THIS IMPOSING INERTNESS DELUDES THE SHOCKING FACE ON THE MOON. HOW CAN THINGS BE SO CALM YET THE MOON IS SCREAMING A FATEFUL SCREAM FOR ALL ETERNITY? IT IS A JUXTAPOSITION OF COMPOSITION OF LIFE. THE MOON'S NEMISIS IS THE EARTH AND WHILE THE EARTH LOOKS CALM WHAT HAPPENS HERE IS NOT THAT PEACEFUL. VIOLENCE HAS UPSET THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES AND GIVEN WAY TO DISCOPNY. (SP?)
WHAT HAD HAPPENED IN THE DISTANT PASt TO GIVE THE MOON THE FROZEN EXPRESSION OF ETERNAL PAIN? THE MOON NEED TO GET OVER IT'S SHOCKED EXPRESSION, AND FEEL LIKE THE SEDATED BEING IT HAS EMOTED IN HUMANS FOR MILLENIA. WOULD THE MOON EVER BE FREE TO BE SOPHORIC AGAIN? MAY THE MOON REST IN PEACE FROM IT'S HARRIED EXPRESSION OF NEVER-ENDING SHOCK AND AWE!jane jones/doc/repost chiccoreal nov 30 08
tHE MOON WAS TURNED FULL FACED ON IT'S SIDE LIKE IT WAS SLEEPING BLISSFULLY. STILL THE MOON'S MOUTH IS AGAPE LIKE IT HAS A SHOCKED EXPRESSION. THE MOON'S FULLY EXPRESSIVO AND VIOLENTLY EMOTIONAL PRESENCE IS IN STRIKING CONTRAST TO THE MOON'S OVERALL ETERNAL PRESENCE OF SAMENESS. THE MOON IS SEEMINGLY INERT AND THIS IMPOSING INERTNESS DELUDES THE SHOCKING FACE ON THE MOON. HOW CAN THINGS BE SO CALM YET THE MOON IS SCREAMING A FATEFUL SCREAM FOR ALL ETERNITY? IT IS A JUXTAPOSITION OF COMPOSITION OF LIFE. THE MOON'S NEMISIS IS THE EARTH AND WHILE THE EARTH LOOKS CALM WHAT HAPPENS HERE IS NOT THAT PEACEFUL. VIOLENCE HAS UPSET THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES AND GIVEN WAY TO DISCOPNY. (SP?)
WHAT HAD HAPPENED IN THE DISTANT PASt TO GIVE THE MOON THE FROZEN EXPRESSION OF ETERNAL PAIN? THE MOON NEED TO GET OVER IT'S SHOCKED EXPRESSION, AND FEEL LIKE THE SEDATED BEING IT HAS EMOTED IN HUMANS FOR MILLENIA. WOULD THE MOON EVER BE FREE TO BE SOPHORIC AGAIN? MAY THE MOON REST IN PEACE FROM IT'S HARRIED EXPRESSION OF NEVER-ENDING SHOCK AND AWE!jane jones/doc/repost chiccoreal nov 30 08
The Human Butterfly
FTER WE HAVE FINISHED OXIDIZATION ON THIS PLANET? (RUST BASICALLY) AND THEN WE METAMORPHIZE INTO THE NECESSARY LIGHT OBJECT TO TAKE US THRU WHAT WE CALL DEATH. WHAT, DONT TELL ME YOU DIDNT KNOW WE ARE ALL BUTTERFLIES?
Genius Entity
The Genius Living Within Me
Good morning Kudos!I have a beautiful spirit and am ready for the day!
Good morning Kudos!I have a beautiful spirit and am ready for the day!
The Big Bad Wolf
The Big Bad Wolf
I may look terribly Big, awfully Bad and frightfully Scary, but I am not such a Big Bad Wolf afterall! Look into my Big Brown sparkling eyes and you you will see I am a kind, gentle and generous wolf in sheep's clothing. Actually, I am quite a gentlewolf! I have had a lot of bad press lately, and I take it to mean I have a lot of admirers! After all, flattery will get you everywhere with me! I am man's best friend, well actually, my cousin the domestic dog is my first cousin on my mother's side who is man's best friend, but you see what i mean!
I may look terribly Big, awfully Bad and frightfully Scary, but I am not such a Big Bad Wolf afterall! Look into my Big Brown sparkling eyes and you you will see I am a kind, gentle and generous wolf in sheep's clothing. Actually, I am quite a gentlewolf! I have had a lot of bad press lately, and I take it to mean I have a lot of admirers! After all, flattery will get you everywhere with me! I am man's best friend, well actually, my cousin the domestic dog is my first cousin on my mother's side who is man's best friend, but you see what i mean!
Tensegrity
Dear Tensegrity Practitioners: Could you please tell me where I could find out further information regarding these luminosity energy fields and are there any lasar devices enabling a person to achieve a powerful state of health and wellbeing? Are there any healing methods for persons who are ill? Thank-you! Jane Jones Canada ps been a fan a long time
Synchronicity events record
READING ABOUT DOMINION AND DOMINION WAS ON THE RADIO AT SAME TIME! SYNCHRO MOMENT 3:19 PM 16 09 06
syncronicity again...with tv. guy saying something after i JUST SAID IT!!! LOL!!!
synchronicity today- i will be keeping track of this now!!! lol!!!
mar 16/06 thurs. dad is turning 60, miche puts in 60 bucks.
whenever i say a word, the word is repeated one second later on the tv. often common words. strange this!
extremely exhausted today. although i dont know why. maybe gray day and still snowy. feb blahs turning into the march cabin madness? whatever but i hear everyone feels blah today mar 22/06
Iran has said Bushehr, the country's first nuclear reactor, will begin operating in the summer of 2008, producing half its 1,000-megawatt capacity of electricity.
SYNCHRONICITY II multi-dimensional radiational (radius) array nuclear/magnetic fusion of multi-universal and multi-dimensionality of differiatational array via central flux constant/m-d array of N (1000000000000+)= BIGBANG 2010 7
SUN 0CT 26 08
YNCHRONICITY
EVENT; 27 07 07 WILL'S BDAY. ANDREW DROPPED OFF D/T. WE THEN HAD PIZZA AT PEPE'S. THEN WE HEADED TOWARDS FOOD CHOPPERS FOR FOOD. THE NEXT THING THAT HAPPENED, JACOB CROSSING STREET IN FRONT ANDREW ON CORNER BY FIRST AND HURON (OPPOSITE GAYETY THEATRE). HE SAYS I GOT A RIDE. WE DIDNT HAVE TO WAIT FOR CALL...COOL! JACOB WALKED RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR VAN!!!HHA! THAT IS WIERD SYNCHRO.
syncronicity again...with tv. guy saying something after i JUST SAID IT!!! LOL!!!
synchronicity today- i will be keeping track of this now!!! lol!!!
mar 16/06 thurs. dad is turning 60, miche puts in 60 bucks.
whenever i say a word, the word is repeated one second later on the tv. often common words. strange this!
extremely exhausted today. although i dont know why. maybe gray day and still snowy. feb blahs turning into the march cabin madness? whatever but i hear everyone feels blah today mar 22/06
Iran has said Bushehr, the country's first nuclear reactor, will begin operating in the summer of 2008, producing half its 1,000-megawatt capacity of electricity.
SYNCHRONICITY II multi-dimensional radiational (radius) array nuclear/magnetic fusion of multi-universal and multi-dimensionality of differiatational array via central flux constant/m-d array of N (1000000000000+)= BIGBANG 2010 7
SUN 0CT 26 08
YNCHRONICITY
EVENT; 27 07 07 WILL'S BDAY. ANDREW DROPPED OFF D/T. WE THEN HAD PIZZA AT PEPE'S. THEN WE HEADED TOWARDS FOOD CHOPPERS FOR FOOD. THE NEXT THING THAT HAPPENED, JACOB CROSSING STREET IN FRONT ANDREW ON CORNER BY FIRST AND HURON (OPPOSITE GAYETY THEATRE). HE SAYS I GOT A RIDE. WE DIDNT HAVE TO WAIT FOR CALL...COOL! JACOB WALKED RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR VAN!!!HHA! THAT IS WIERD SYNCHRO.
Scottie Kisses Me!
Today I am reminescing about the Star Trek convention in London, Ontario back in l978 at the University. I remember Scottie (James Doohan) talking about the new Star Trek movie (Star Trek One; Wrath of Khan), The best part of this convention (one of the first) was Scottie kissing me on my cheek! I think I will always remember that moment. I also can remember dressing up as the Green Orion woman. Green makeup is difficult to remove! ps Does anyone know when the new movie with George Takai (pronounced TaKAY)will be in movie theatres? Thanks fellow Trekkies! From the land of James Doohan and William Shatner
http://underground.yahoo.com/feature/7/aq:fandom/jc:id-13/pm:id-11/rp:id-17/ss:id-12/sb:id-16/vi:id-15/pl:23788/viewpoll#post
http://underground.yahoo.com/feature/7/aq:fandom/jc:id-13/pm:id-11/rp:id-17/ss:id-12/sb:id-16/vi:id-15/pl:23788/viewpoll#post
Solar Flares
sun info for solarflarechick...aka jane jones dont freak out the sun is flat...not round and the sunspots are either dark matter or dense antimatter that are eating the sun. dont freak out we will all come out the other end, but we will be transformed into light beings in the process! (wierd theory but life is like that!)...hahah!
Probe to study mighty explosions
Probe to study mighty explosions
Multiverses
Rod: Gosh I love this poem! It evokes in me so many spacial mysteries and endless rants of a flat versus multi-dimensional, micro versus macro Universe Y-niverse? Black hole versus red Giants, with the ensuingly powerful white dwarf stars, always binary, always reflecting back the mirror of our soul. The mote in God's eye is huge but not unfathomable in scope to our understanding of all the celestial anthologies in between; or as the National Geographic people say; The world and all that is in it, within it and without it. We could not do without it, so that does not make much sense either!
The ring of diamonds? Is this the sun reflecting from the earth's atmosphere creating a diamond to die for? And what about the ring in the earth? The ring of fire? What about the LOTR's? What is with that huge eye anyway?Is that a reference to God's eye (doesnt God have two eyes, we are in His likeness? Why are we split in two, the dna change, the ancient mitochondria dna. Where did that come from? Why are celestial objects so perfectly spherical? Why would Einstein be able to draw a perfect circle? Did the Jesuits teach him that once drawn it is difficult to know where the beginning starts or the end ends? Alpha and Omega by circle description. A circle route around the Great Lakes. Oh how I would love to discover Green Door Wisconsin! Why? There are too many deers crossing the highway to a land I will never see, unless in my dreams, perchance...
And of course the moon. I have always thought that the moon has a horror expession since it appears to have an open mouth shock and awe look about it. As if it has seen something horribly shocking. What could that have been? Buzz Aldrin stated that the moon smelled of sulphur, like matchsticks when extinguished.
Where exactly is the place where the fireball moon escaped from the still-forming earth countless millenia ago? And the visitors slipping in and out of time the day the earth stood still. But the earth moved too, and sometimes it shakes. But not always consistently. Sometimes it shakes like a carpet being shaken by a sultan. Othertimes the earth is shaken like a prospector's gold nugget-finding pan. When the earth quakes there are odd sounds emaniating from the bowels of the earth. Horrible grating sounds like transport trucks speeding up my long driveway. Or collapsing sounds like terraced caves underneath our feet giving way to a domino effect collisions of granite and limestone. Our earth, our mother needs tending and understanding.
We are overheating from the UV rays, cosmic rays and greenhouse fossil fuel. Even though I love the heat we could flash freeze in the same moment and never understand that we did not see that one coming. We want to find the truth, yet it always eludes us. And then all of a sudden in an instant we are totally cosmically conscious and one with the Universe. Or multiverse or is it a fan-like array of very little light versus huge amounts of so called space. Space could be denser than matter. Go figure!
Peculiar synchronicities which happen to me every day. The glitches that do not make logical sense. How I want to make sense of it all but it slips like that diamond ring from my fingers never to hold onto forever. Unless there is something in me that really is eternal and cannot die or ever lie. This I know to be true. There is a constant in the Universe. Touch it if you can, it is your touchstone to where you are now. You are here.
I wish upon a star that I could sedate the frightened moon. And make all fear go away, once and for all, for all! The moon would give us not only that lovely blue tonality at times cold light is errie and produces in me an intensely lonely feeling, like I am the last person alive. Could be those 50's sci-fi movies like the Day the Earth Stood Still which gave me my first feeling of that transpo machine called missing time. Not that I will ever miss time. Time defines us far too much! We need to say to time; you will not make us old, you will not grey our hair, you will not condemn us to die, but you do! Time is an enemy, yet it doesn't exist! The moon's opened mouth shocked expression of the moon today would be erased and replaced with that dear, sweet angelic, peaceful archiac smile of the young ancient Greek Kourris boy. Fear replaced with a knowing Mona Lisa smile. How Renaissance the man for all seasons. Centre Stage - The Moon!
Another history lesson to follow across the endless miles of space and time which do not really exist. When does it stop getting so confusing? When will it all of a sudden makes complete sense? I do not mean these contemptible brief epithanies either! Truth at Long Last! That's what we all need! And more mysteries revealed for the Last Time!GIBJ 1 Aug 08 -- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse wrote:
>
The ring of diamonds? Is this the sun reflecting from the earth's atmosphere creating a diamond to die for? And what about the ring in the earth? The ring of fire? What about the LOTR's? What is with that huge eye anyway?Is that a reference to God's eye (doesnt God have two eyes, we are in His likeness? Why are we split in two, the dna change, the ancient mitochondria dna. Where did that come from? Why are celestial objects so perfectly spherical? Why would Einstein be able to draw a perfect circle? Did the Jesuits teach him that once drawn it is difficult to know where the beginning starts or the end ends? Alpha and Omega by circle description. A circle route around the Great Lakes. Oh how I would love to discover Green Door Wisconsin! Why? There are too many deers crossing the highway to a land I will never see, unless in my dreams, perchance...
And of course the moon. I have always thought that the moon has a horror expession since it appears to have an open mouth shock and awe look about it. As if it has seen something horribly shocking. What could that have been? Buzz Aldrin stated that the moon smelled of sulphur, like matchsticks when extinguished.
Where exactly is the place where the fireball moon escaped from the still-forming earth countless millenia ago? And the visitors slipping in and out of time the day the earth stood still. But the earth moved too, and sometimes it shakes. But not always consistently. Sometimes it shakes like a carpet being shaken by a sultan. Othertimes the earth is shaken like a prospector's gold nugget-finding pan. When the earth quakes there are odd sounds emaniating from the bowels of the earth. Horrible grating sounds like transport trucks speeding up my long driveway. Or collapsing sounds like terraced caves underneath our feet giving way to a domino effect collisions of granite and limestone. Our earth, our mother needs tending and understanding.
We are overheating from the UV rays, cosmic rays and greenhouse fossil fuel. Even though I love the heat we could flash freeze in the same moment and never understand that we did not see that one coming. We want to find the truth, yet it always eludes us. And then all of a sudden in an instant we are totally cosmically conscious and one with the Universe. Or multiverse or is it a fan-like array of very little light versus huge amounts of so called space. Space could be denser than matter. Go figure!
Peculiar synchronicities which happen to me every day. The glitches that do not make logical sense. How I want to make sense of it all but it slips like that diamond ring from my fingers never to hold onto forever. Unless there is something in me that really is eternal and cannot die or ever lie. This I know to be true. There is a constant in the Universe. Touch it if you can, it is your touchstone to where you are now. You are here.
I wish upon a star that I could sedate the frightened moon. And make all fear go away, once and for all, for all! The moon would give us not only that lovely blue tonality at times cold light is errie and produces in me an intensely lonely feeling, like I am the last person alive. Could be those 50's sci-fi movies like the Day the Earth Stood Still which gave me my first feeling of that transpo machine called missing time. Not that I will ever miss time. Time defines us far too much! We need to say to time; you will not make us old, you will not grey our hair, you will not condemn us to die, but you do! Time is an enemy, yet it doesn't exist! The moon's opened mouth shocked expression of the moon today would be erased and replaced with that dear, sweet angelic, peaceful archiac smile of the young ancient Greek Kourris boy. Fear replaced with a knowing Mona Lisa smile. How Renaissance the man for all seasons. Centre Stage - The Moon!
Another history lesson to follow across the endless miles of space and time which do not really exist. When does it stop getting so confusing? When will it all of a sudden makes complete sense? I do not mean these contemptible brief epithanies either! Truth at Long Last! That's what we all need! And more mysteries revealed for the Last Time!GIBJ 1 Aug 08 -- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse
>
sex talk (tame)
Dear Jan: Sex sells. But that is not the only thing for most people
interested in sex scenes of novels (i still remember page 73 of The
Godfather by Mario Puzo) The public, or people in general want
intimacy, beg for it. I have never heard bunnies screaming in ectasy.
Maybe the screams of pleasured bunnies are in the sonic wave length
beyond human range. Or maybe we haven't study that kinky Kinsey sex
survey enough either! Yes, people are starving for the intimate
connection with one another so missing in our less than honest world
today.
I do believe people want a sense of belonging to a community and the
sex scenes in novels could relieve this want. Today there is huge
success with Harry Potter and other books in that vein. Why? These
books allow the reader, many lonely readers, the chance to have a
sense of belonging. It is similar to joining a country club or
religious organization. Cash in on this trend today!
Another trend of sex in the novel? A bit of voyeurism in all of us?
There is that nascent imbibing of the tactile found so fervently in
the decriptive word. The sensual pleasures of the written word can
be "better than sex" and stimulate the mind in ways the body cannot.
The body/mind interaction is intregally entwined like lover's legs
and combines the best interactions to take to those higher planes of
consciousness.
If sex is just about being a biochemical release it is a release of
the biochemical and the need to feel another's soul and once again
regenerate the creative life process and reboot the body, mind and
spirit. Although bunnies do not appear to be that complicated they
may be trying to conjoin souls as lovers do. Humans tend to over-
analyze the event!GIBJ --- In MotivatedWritersLif e@yahoogroups. com,
Jan Whitaker wrote:
>
> At 10:31 PM 3/08/2008, you wrote:
> >Toni McGee Causey has posted a great summary of our
> >conclusions/ thoughts on Murderati today, so if you struggle with
> >writing sex scenes (how much, how often, which words, etc) check
it out:
> >http://murderati. typepad.com/ murderati/ 2008/08/sex- action-conf. html
>
> Good post, CJ. She must have just put it up -- no comments yet. Or
> else everyone is too shy!
>
> Jan
>
>
interested in sex scenes of novels (i still remember page 73 of The
Godfather by Mario Puzo) The public, or people in general want
intimacy, beg for it. I have never heard bunnies screaming in ectasy.
Maybe the screams of pleasured bunnies are in the sonic wave length
beyond human range. Or maybe we haven't study that kinky Kinsey sex
survey enough either! Yes, people are starving for the intimate
connection with one another so missing in our less than honest world
today.
I do believe people want a sense of belonging to a community and the
sex scenes in novels could relieve this want. Today there is huge
success with Harry Potter and other books in that vein. Why? These
books allow the reader, many lonely readers, the chance to have a
sense of belonging. It is similar to joining a country club or
religious organization. Cash in on this trend today!
Another trend of sex in the novel? A bit of voyeurism in all of us?
There is that nascent imbibing of the tactile found so fervently in
the decriptive word. The sensual pleasures of the written word can
be "better than sex" and stimulate the mind in ways the body cannot.
The body/mind interaction is intregally entwined like lover's legs
and combines the best interactions to take to those higher planes of
consciousness.
If sex is just about being a biochemical release it is a release of
the biochemical and the need to feel another's soul and once again
regenerate the creative life process and reboot the body, mind and
spirit. Although bunnies do not appear to be that complicated they
may be trying to conjoin souls as lovers do. Humans tend to over-
analyze the event!GIBJ --- In MotivatedWritersLif e@yahoogroups. com,
Jan Whitaker
>
> At 10:31 PM 3/08/2008, you wrote:
> >Toni McGee Causey has posted a great summary of our
> >conclusions/ thoughts on Murderati today, so if you struggle with
> >writing sex scenes (how much, how often, which words, etc) check
it out:
> >http://murderati. typepad.com/ murderati/ 2008/08/sex- action-conf. html
>
> Good post, CJ. She must have just put it up -- no comments yet. Or
> else everyone is too shy!
>
> Jan
>
>
SCOOTER CITY THE REAL POST I WANTED
SCOOTER CITY IDEA
A COMMUNITY (LIKE A SENIOR COMPLEX) FOR PERSONS IN SCOOTERS. ALL AMENITIES FITTED 110% FOR THE SCOOTER COMMUNITY, WITH ALL ACCESSIBLE AMENITIES WITH TRAILS AND INSTEAD OF ROADS, TRAILS, TUNNELS, POOLS, POOL TABLES, SAUNA, ETC ALL GEARED FOR THE ACCESSIBLE SCOOTER COMMUNITY FUN COMMUNITY CENTRE WITH LOADS OF GAMES FOR SCOOTER PEEPS
AND WIDE WALKWAYS, HALLWAYS, OPEN CONCEPT, SCOOTER DANCE HALLS, MOVIE THEATRE, BOATING, SWIMMING AND SKI HILLS. YOU NAME SCOOTER CITY HAS IT ALL! APRIL 07
A COMMUNITY (LIKE A SENIOR COMPLEX) FOR PERSONS IN SCOOTERS. ALL AMENITIES FITTED 110% FOR THE SCOOTER COMMUNITY, WITH ALL ACCESSIBLE AMENITIES WITH TRAILS AND INSTEAD OF ROADS, TRAILS, TUNNELS, POOLS, POOL TABLES, SAUNA, ETC ALL GEARED FOR THE ACCESSIBLE SCOOTER COMMUNITY FUN COMMUNITY CENTRE WITH LOADS OF GAMES FOR SCOOTER PEEPS
AND WIDE WALKWAYS, HALLWAYS, OPEN CONCEPT, SCOOTER DANCE HALLS, MOVIE THEATRE, BOATING, SWIMMING AND SKI HILLS. YOU NAME SCOOTER CITY HAS IT ALL! APRIL 07
sexism and the media
any sexist commercials on tv
best buy...girls watching a movie with a woman 4 star general. the guys switch the channel so the guy make fun of the women
chev commercial johnny.ca where the man calls the woman a hussy. very bad for women's image of self
selfimage bad casino niagara (fallsview) poker.com commercial of woman with a mole. very bad self image for woman both the woman staring and the woman being stared at. also comments on holding a pair of queens. sexist.
best buy...girls watching a movie with a woman 4 star general. the guys switch the channel so the guy make fun of the women
chev commercial johnny.ca where the man calls the woman a hussy. very bad for women's image of self
selfimage bad casino niagara (fallsview) poker.com commercial of woman with a mole. very bad self image for woman both the woman staring and the woman being stared at. also comments on holding a pair of queens. sexist.
SCOOTER CITY and new ideas for whatever blog
The fact that you're psychologically and emotionally stable and better able than most people to tolerate even the roughest situations really draws people to you! But that's not the only thing. Your answers on the test indicate you're a smart person who is more able to understand complex concepts than many other people are. You are a caring and considerate person who is typically very loving, as well, too.
In all, there are 15 qualities that help define you when you're at your best. Those are the traits potential employers, friends, and partners look for in you. What makes you unique is your particular distribution of those 15 qualities.
We've found that your particular combination of qualities is rare — only 6 in 10,000 people share the same general mix of traits. Those are great odds if you're trying to show a potential employer, colleague, friend, or date why you're exactly the right person for them.jj 08
In all, there are 15 qualities that help define you when you're at your best. Those are the traits potential employers, friends, and partners look for in you. What makes you unique is your particular distribution of those 15 qualities.
We've found that your particular combination of qualities is rare — only 6 in 10,000 people share the same general mix of traits. Those are great odds if you're trying to show a potential employer, colleague, friend, or date why you're exactly the right person for them.jj 08
Jane Is Stable...proof in pudding
The fact that you're psychologically and emotionally stable and better able than most people to tolerate even the roughest situations really draws people to you! But that's not the only thing. Your answers on the test indicate you're a smart person who is more able to understand complex concepts than many other people are. You are a caring and considerate person who is typically very loving, as well, too.
In all, there are 15 qualities that help define you when you're at your best. Those are the traits potential employers, friends, and partners look for in you. What makes you unique is your particular distribution of those 15 qualities.
We've found that your particular combination of qualities is rare — only 6 in 10,000 people share the same general mix of traits. Those are great odds if you're trying to show a potential employer, colleague, friend, or date why you're exactly the right person for them.
In all, there are 15 qualities that help define you when you're at your best. Those are the traits potential employers, friends, and partners look for in you. What makes you unique is your particular distribution of those 15 qualities.
We've found that your particular combination of qualities is rare — only 6 in 10,000 people share the same general mix of traits. Those are great odds if you're trying to show a potential employer, colleague, friend, or date why you're exactly the right person for them.
Jane is Stable
Jane, your best quality shines through in how Stable you are Tickle Tests ARE accurate!
A Prayer A Day
A Prayer for Today
Father in Heaven, thank You for choosing to bless me. I invite You to work in my life today. Show me how to walk in Your love so that Your power will flow through me today. In Jesus’ Name. Amen.
Father in Heaven, thank You for choosing to bless me. I invite You to work in my life today. Show me how to walk in Your love so that Your power will flow through me today. In Jesus’ Name. Amen.
Diary Jane odd health probs
past due
There comes a time
when time runs out
and we run afoul
of the law
We turn around
and look back
at the fallen city
Our Hearts cry out
"All for a lack of trying"
we have succumbed to this
miserable fate
"Mediocrity"
Can we change sameness
Into newness
once again
Restore our defaults
Enliven Our souls
Oh shit my bill is past due
And I have nothing left
in my account
I have given freely
My cup is empty
It is time way
past dueOh shit my bill is past due
And I have nothing left
in my account
I have given freely
My cup is empty
It is time way
past due
Will the Universe
Even the score
Of my excesses
and regrets
Nothing last
past due
sometime 2006 I think
Jane Jones repost doc to chiccoreal
There comes a time
when time runs out
and we run afoul
of the law
We turn around
and look back
at the fallen city
Our Hearts cry out
"All for a lack of trying"
we have succumbed to this
miserable fate
"Mediocrity"
Can we change sameness
Into newness
once again
Restore our defaults
Enliven Our souls
Oh shit my bill is past due
And I have nothing left
in my account
I have given freely
My cup is empty
It is time way
past dueOh shit my bill is past due
And I have nothing left
in my account
I have given freely
My cup is empty
It is time way
past due
Will the Universe
Even the score
Of my excesses
and regrets
Nothing last
past due
sometime 2006 I think
Jane Jones repost doc to chiccoreal
Part Fantasy
PART FANTASY
THE PRESIDENT WANTS TO TALK TO YOU. HOW DID HE KNOW? THEY FINALLY FOUND THE SOURCE OF THE VITAL INFORMATION. AFTER BEING CLOAKED FOR QUITE SOME TIME, IT TOOKS MANY MONTHS SCOURING THE ISP IN THE AREA. THERE HAD BEEN MANY THWARTED ATTEMPTS FOR THE PRESIDENT TO REACH THIS ONE PERSON. HOW MANY PERSONAL PROFILES WERE THERE ON THE NET? MILLIONS? BILLIONS! EVEN AFTER THE IPS HAD BEEN FIREWALLED OUT OF THE SYSTEM. LIKE A NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK. IT HAD BEEN YEARS SINCE THE INFORMATION HAD GRACED THE ELECTRONIC LIGHTSPEED. EVERYONE WANTED TO KNOW; WHO WAS THAT PERSON WHO HAD INFORMED THE MASS ELECTRONIC SPECTRUM (THE WORLD) OF THE DANGERS THAT WERE TO FOLLOW? HOW WOULD THIS PERSON HAVE KNOWN SO MUCH INTRICATE DETAIL ABOUT THE ATTACK PRIOR TO THE ACTION?
i just wanted to panic everyone! what! no way! this could not have been
the way things were going! it was getting wierder every minute. that was long ago...how could i have made that discover. i was just reporting what was happening to me! i had no idea that reporting incidents would have created this riptide! i just thought very strange things were happening to my family and me and there was no way i could just sit back and...let it happen!
every day she had the same dream. of returning to that place where she lived, reliving bitter memories there. every morning she awoke feeling empty, feeling like things didnt make sense, were not resolved. the recurrent dream became like a stark reminder to herself to face her fears and her inner self. how would she be able to do this when so much was oppressed and hidden in clouds of doubt and forgetfulness.
DOG IS BOGGING ME DOWn...PLEASE HOW MANY TIMES A DAY DO U HAVE TO PEE? WHEN IT IS EVERY 15 MINS THIS DOESNT GIVE ME MUCH OF A LIFE TO CONDUCT MY 1200 WORDADAY ESSAYS TO HELP IMPROVE MY CREATIVE WRITING ABILITIES! LORD LOVE A DUCK DOG! PLEASE HELP ME! LOL...2007 jane jones chiccoreal
THE PRESIDENT WANTS TO TALK TO YOU. HOW DID HE KNOW? THEY FINALLY FOUND THE SOURCE OF THE VITAL INFORMATION. AFTER BEING CLOAKED FOR QUITE SOME TIME, IT TOOKS MANY MONTHS SCOURING THE ISP IN THE AREA. THERE HAD BEEN MANY THWARTED ATTEMPTS FOR THE PRESIDENT TO REACH THIS ONE PERSON. HOW MANY PERSONAL PROFILES WERE THERE ON THE NET? MILLIONS? BILLIONS! EVEN AFTER THE IPS HAD BEEN FIREWALLED OUT OF THE SYSTEM. LIKE A NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK. IT HAD BEEN YEARS SINCE THE INFORMATION HAD GRACED THE ELECTRONIC LIGHTSPEED. EVERYONE WANTED TO KNOW; WHO WAS THAT PERSON WHO HAD INFORMED THE MASS ELECTRONIC SPECTRUM (THE WORLD) OF THE DANGERS THAT WERE TO FOLLOW? HOW WOULD THIS PERSON HAVE KNOWN SO MUCH INTRICATE DETAIL ABOUT THE ATTACK PRIOR TO THE ACTION?
i just wanted to panic everyone! what! no way! this could not have been
the way things were going! it was getting wierder every minute. that was long ago...how could i have made that discover. i was just reporting what was happening to me! i had no idea that reporting incidents would have created this riptide! i just thought very strange things were happening to my family and me and there was no way i could just sit back and...let it happen!
every day she had the same dream. of returning to that place where she lived, reliving bitter memories there. every morning she awoke feeling empty, feeling like things didnt make sense, were not resolved. the recurrent dream became like a stark reminder to herself to face her fears and her inner self. how would she be able to do this when so much was oppressed and hidden in clouds of doubt and forgetfulness.
DOG IS BOGGING ME DOWn...PLEASE HOW MANY TIMES A DAY DO U HAVE TO PEE? WHEN IT IS EVERY 15 MINS THIS DOESNT GIVE ME MUCH OF A LIFE TO CONDUCT MY 1200 WORDADAY ESSAYS TO HELP IMPROVE MY CREATIVE WRITING ABILITIES! LORD LOVE A DUCK DOG! PLEASE HELP ME! LOL...2007 jane jones chiccoreal
Dog Stories
The animated covers moved like a dog's piqued ears listening intently for the sound of the intruder. The dog underneath the covers could not cloak the blanket's movements, the silhouette of the blanket resembling one of the beasts on the moor that fateful night in Baskerville. The blanket, appearing nightly in effigy form as the humungous beast quite literally became the obtuse detractor and masterfully camoflager of the wizard behind the sheets, the mite-sized yet often ferocious-as-a-lion-in-training chihauhua.JJ chicco real repost from doc 2007?
YOUniverse
On creativity
and sometimes God will let you create something
that really is, you know,
from God
You feel that you have been priviledged to be given
the rights to the creative expression of God
It is all of the spirit
and when you are able to bring the creative force
to life
You are more alive
You are more You
You become You
You become part of God's design of the YOUniverse
Jane Jones when the heck did i write this? 2007?
and sometimes God will let you create something
that really is, you know,
from God
You feel that you have been priviledged to be given
the rights to the creative expression of God
It is all of the spirit
and when you are able to bring the creative force
to life
You are more alive
You are more You
You become You
You become part of God's design of the YOUniverse
Jane Jones when the heck did i write this? 2007?
Life with Jane
ornings are always chaotic and I really do not enjoy the screaming craziness of mantras such as "Where's this, where's that?" Feelingspun around and dizzy for the next hour or so, I begin to schedule the ten minute only showers due to the high cost of water lately.
Getting the crew out of the house and to their prospective lives is a battle unearthly. Lunches have to made, money for lunches found in a hurry. "Where's the socks?" a common anthem.
Cortisol levels are at the highest during the predawn hours when I have to reboot diurnal sleep patterns and reestablish the status quo of reality beckoning. Sorry, later Tom Selleck.
Out of the peaceful bliss of slumbertime succinct schedules must be administered, making sure all condiments are at the ready.
"Do you want eggs today or cereal?" sounding eerily like GI Mom drill sargeant. The dawn attacks with little sympathy to my own personal needs. There is no time! No one will ever wake up on time! What can I do, pour cold water on them?
Blasting them awake with the Heavy Metal Rock station does the trick, that and turning on the lights, making fragrant coffee in the kitchen which wafts up to their cocoon noses.
When I have reached the point of no return and I am about to break it is time for my breakfast. It is now 8:00 a.m. I have this oh so sweet moment to regroup and recharge.
Then I hear a cry for "Is there any cereal left?". Seems I had forgotten somebody! Oh yes, my man child in the back room! "Do you want another coffee dear?" I tenderly call. H Maybe I could make better memories of my harried mornings, I will try to do that, later.
Questioning myself and my own reaction to this naturally peaceful time of day, I have to wonder how did I get like this, why can't I have those zen-like moments back from my youth? What mechanism created this morning monster? "Ughhh" I cringe in disguist.
I don't hear a request for another coffee and I take leave to rest for an hour. My hour, my sweet hour of quiet reflection, zen breathing, Sitting back in my favourite snuggly chair and grab a coffee and what's left of cold porridge and declare the next hour as "mine". No distrubances, none. The cats are out the dog is sleeping. Alone at last.
This glorious moment where I put myself on the backburner on simmer and breathe a collective consciousness "Ahhhhh" in the key of G. No regrets now, as I sip the morning brew. Jane Jones June 17, 2008
Getting the crew out of the house and to their prospective lives is a battle unearthly. Lunches have to made, money for lunches found in a hurry. "Where's the socks?" a common anthem.
Cortisol levels are at the highest during the predawn hours when I have to reboot diurnal sleep patterns and reestablish the status quo of reality beckoning. Sorry, later Tom Selleck.
Out of the peaceful bliss of slumbertime succinct schedules must be administered, making sure all condiments are at the ready.
"Do you want eggs today or cereal?" sounding eerily like GI Mom drill sargeant. The dawn attacks with little sympathy to my own personal needs. There is no time! No one will ever wake up on time! What can I do, pour cold water on them?
Blasting them awake with the Heavy Metal Rock station does the trick, that and turning on the lights, making fragrant coffee in the kitchen which wafts up to their cocoon noses.
When I have reached the point of no return and I am about to break it is time for my breakfast. It is now 8:00 a.m. I have this oh so sweet moment to regroup and recharge.
Then I hear a cry for "Is there any cereal left?". Seems I had forgotten somebody! Oh yes, my man child in the back room! "Do you want another coffee dear?" I tenderly call. H Maybe I could make better memories of my harried mornings, I will try to do that, later.
Questioning myself and my own reaction to this naturally peaceful time of day, I have to wonder how did I get like this, why can't I have those zen-like moments back from my youth? What mechanism created this morning monster? "Ughhh" I cringe in disguist.
I don't hear a request for another coffee and I take leave to rest for an hour. My hour, my sweet hour of quiet reflection, zen breathing, Sitting back in my favourite snuggly chair and grab a coffee and what's left of cold porridge and declare the next hour as "mine". No distrubances, none. The cats are out the dog is sleeping. Alone at last.
This glorious moment where I put myself on the backburner on simmer and breathe a collective consciousness "Ahhhhh" in the key of G. No regrets now, as I sip the morning brew. Jane Jones June 17, 2008
Merlin and the Curse of the Ocean Deep
ESO: Merlin and The Curse of the Deep Ocean Message List
Reply | Forward | Delete Message #7672 of 7724 < Prev | Next >
It was the Night of All Hallows Eve. Merlin's conjuring rights were
ebbing or more likely waning in this year of the Deep Ocean. Regular
Hallow's Eve phenomena would wait. The moon's cold blue hue had a
chilling and penetrating effect on Merlin's hazel eyes, changing them
to a place never travelled. With the change in the socerer's power,
For the first time Merlin's human fraility could be seen in the
graying skin around his temples and the deep wrinkles in his forehead
once smooth and eternal. Once the epigee of unknown perimeters
Merlin's power were now transfixed in space, limited by the cast of
the Sirian sun. This stagnant burden created by the weighty ocean
bothered the magician and he was found to possess much unwelcomed
emotionality, a trait very unlike Merlin's usual demeanor. Soon, all
doubt would be removed from Merlin's mind; who would be the victor
and who would be the conquered? Merlin did know the outcome being an
ancient master of prophetic wisdom. There would be some difficult
times if all pieces did not magically arrange themselves in any
formulative manner. Merlin would be keep very busy trying to save the
imperilled world once more.
Merlin for the first time in his multiple dimensional reality between
existentia and non-existentia could not find the magic potion to save
his soul. Not in this time of the Deep Ocean. This dreaded time of
power retrograde showed that Merlin, who was otherworldly also
possessed a string of human lineage. Merlin's long lost lineage could
be traced along matrilineal lines. His great grandmother once lived
in Endor with the tribe of Donegal. There the powers of the other
worldly were transcribed, and the Merlin dna became etched with the
other worldly crystaline gene.
Even though Merlin had groundings and a place in this world, his
eyes were often focused on worlds beneath and above the earthly
plain. In these worlds, Merlin was free to be the socerer/entity he
had always known. Powerful evocation of world's to come, how could
mere humans know of such powers? Since the loss of Merlin's conjuring
powers,timedid not effect the mighty wizard. He did not experience
getting old, or feeling any older than 23. Eternal youth made Merlin
the target of other wizards wrath and mimicry. These psuedo -wizards
who prematurely aged and grew long white hair and dawned colourful
capes of shining glory were typical of many socerer's portraits but
not the image of Merlin. Merlin looked similar to Apollo, curly
flaxen haired with perfect skin, colour changing eyes that penetrated
worlds to come.
This time of year when powers were strong and easily obtained, Merlin
would ever-so-lightly touch the crystal cairn with wrist over hand,
turning with palms out. The willow tree branch used now as a cane for
balance rather than it usual designation as a wand. The cauldron
fires extinguished since the last debaucle of Merlin's less than
stellar conjuring skills. Now Merlin's diminishing powers were
ransomed by nature's own design, a design only understood by the
Soltec socerers.
The key to the two worlds successful and harmonious succession was at
hand. Merlin held that key, or at least, knew who played the key
roles to solve this dilema of the millenia. The world and the other
worlds were once again in a most precarious position indeed. It would
take all the sorcerer's conjuring and intellectual wizardry to retain
the world's powerful rings of crystal, cairn-shaped ocean depths of
knowledge and power.
At the best of times, a very difficult feat to command these worldly
powers. Without Merlin finding the Sourcees in the deep Leeds waters,
all would be lost. Merlin and The Knights of the Round Table were
facing an uncertain future and most certain death. Merlin needed to
find the wizard behind the Curse of the Ocean Depths before he could
save his life and the lives of the Camelot court.
Since this aberrant mote first appeared on the face of Sirius' twin
stars, the earth plunged into the other Realm of the Unknown Worlds.
Only once in a millenia could a sorcerer find powers evasive enough
to cast such a shadow on the astrological charts. Much mayhem would
eventually ensue. Wars, the usual outcome of these elusive times.
Only the ancient scrolls translated from the Sourcee's dead language
would revoke this curse. Yet the scrolls were cast into deep ocean
wells where the Lord of the Dead held court. At Leeds river's
estuary The Lord of the Dead held auspicious powers over the world.
Merlin knew this creature well and there are earlier accounts of the
two crossing paths. Yet the Lord of the Dead was not easily animated
from the 5 fathoms deep river bed of the dead during this time of the
Deep Ocean curse.
The Soltecs curse had incurred eons ago and had once been removed.
The curse returned with a vengence. The Lord of the Dead did not
easily give up his powers. The Soltecs knew this and therefore knew
how to fool the Lord of the Dead's channellers. The dead language of
the Soltecs would be key to opening the realm to enter the Land of
the Dead under the Deep Ocean at Leeds.
This transmutable tetrahegonal and dead language of the Soltecs once
evoked would not lay dormant for long. Merlin needed to not only find
the Lord of the Dead's channeller, a beautiful woman named Circe, who
charmed the Snake gods into submission but also the ancient mamouth
papyrus scrolls.
This once ancient and now deadly curse of the Lord of the Dead was
screamed into existence by those ancestral Soltecs, all apparently
drown from the Last Curse of the Deep Ocean. The Lord of the Dead had
won that round from the Soltecs. Yet these two opposing forces had
merged and transmuted into one curse, forever echoing along the River
of the Land of Leeds.Merlin knew the severity of the curse and the
need to find the two sources of their occult power. Would all the
world drown again. Not if Merlin could help it!
The discovery by Merlin of the heiroglyphic tableta stones by the
River Leeds had been generations ago. Merlin did not know the
complete story of their existence. Must history was lost, an ocean as
deep as the Deep Ocean. These scrolls were made of soft papyrus and
wormwood and prone to decay. They must be deciphered, read and cried
out in the same piercing tone to attone the Lord of the Dead's curse.
It would require Circe's musical talent here. Now Merlin needed more
time and a few gold coins to find the Soltec energy cairn and the
beautiful Circe.
Merlin knew there would be no further attempts to secure the
Arthurian courts supremacy over the Soltecs. Could Arthurian power be
restored and the world saved from drowning?
The high court of Endore were meeting at the Tower Gate without the
request of Merlin's all encompassing presence. An ivory spire of
ancient times, the Tower Gates, stood in neglected ruins. This once-
powerful monument to the past had once held the greatest known wealth
of power than any other place on earth.
Those learned leaders began deliberating on a matter with much
consequence. Many could sense there world unravelling. "Merlin!" "It
is always about Merlin!" begrudgingly commented Ashdoore the Exalted
scribe. "It is all about Merlin because Merlin holds the key to the
lamp" exclaimed Lancelot, the knight in once shining armour. "My
powers have faded to some degree, but I do not believe Merlin is
responsible for the change in the Seeing Crystal." Ashdoore turned
from Lancelot abruptly his high priest robes swishing habitually
over the cold granite floors of the ruin. Piercing the cold night
air, a heart-wrenching sound of tortured souls released from beneath
the altar of the slained saints. The wretched owl-like screetches
originated from the Hidden Worlds of shattered souls. The souls would
not rest on this night which cojoined the living and the dead.
Much discussion had focused on whether or not Merlin deserved a third
chance. The High Court of Endore had to meet in the secret place to
avoid the attention of Merlin and his many minions. The question on
the table would remove all doubt as to what the future would hold for
all those steeped in the Art of Conjuring. Merlin was unaware of the
secret place. He was too busy securing future realms to bother with
such trivia begot by mere mortals.Merlin was learning the importance
of human knowledge.
As to whether or not to allow Merlin to conjure at all, the Arthurian
Court was in much debate. After the last alchemic reactionary
fiasco, those who held the septre sway of power position in Court
were seriously doubting Merlin's once powerful reign. Often frought
with angry displays of power plays, the court jesters humoured
Merlin. Merlin would be scene hovering on his willow branch, embossed
with fanciful gargoyles and magical flowers, puffing away on his
whaletooth's pipe, white/blue clouds of powerfully remedying and
sleep-inducing herbs quelling the often rambunctious court. Many
remember the pleasant scent of Merlin's pipe. It was unforgettable.
Part II to follow...jk jones
yahoo group king arthur mythology
Tue Oct 28, 2008 6:16 pm
repost Nov 30, 2008
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply | Forward | Delete Message #7672 of 7724 < Prev | Next >
It was the Night of All Hallows Eve. Merlin's conjuring rights were
ebbing or more likely waning in this year of the Deep Ocean. Regular
Hallow's Eve phenomena would wait. The moon's cold blue hue had a
chilling and penetrating effect on Merlin's hazel eyes, changing them
to a place never travelled. With the change in the socerer's power,
For the first time Merlin's human fraility could be seen in the
graying skin around his temples and the deep wrinkles in his forehead
once smooth and eternal. Once the epigee of unknown perimeters
Merlin's power were now transfixed in space, limited by the cast of
the Sirian sun. This stagnant burden created by the weighty ocean
bothered the magician and he was found to possess much unwelcomed
emotionality, a trait very unlike Merlin's usual demeanor. Soon, all
doubt would be removed from Merlin's mind; who would be the victor
and who would be the conquered? Merlin did know the outcome being an
ancient master of prophetic wisdom. There would be some difficult
times if all pieces did not magically arrange themselves in any
formulative manner. Merlin would be keep very busy trying to save the
imperilled world once more.
Merlin for the first time in his multiple dimensional reality between
existentia and non-existentia could not find the magic potion to save
his soul. Not in this time of the Deep Ocean. This dreaded time of
power retrograde showed that Merlin, who was otherworldly also
possessed a string of human lineage. Merlin's long lost lineage could
be traced along matrilineal lines. His great grandmother once lived
in Endor with the tribe of Donegal. There the powers of the other
worldly were transcribed, and the Merlin dna became etched with the
other worldly crystaline gene.
Even though Merlin had groundings and a place in this world, his
eyes were often focused on worlds beneath and above the earthly
plain. In these worlds, Merlin was free to be the socerer/entity he
had always known. Powerful evocation of world's to come, how could
mere humans know of such powers? Since the loss of Merlin's conjuring
powers,timedid not effect the mighty wizard. He did not experience
getting old, or feeling any older than 23. Eternal youth made Merlin
the target of other wizards wrath and mimicry. These psuedo -wizards
who prematurely aged and grew long white hair and dawned colourful
capes of shining glory were typical of many socerer's portraits but
not the image of Merlin. Merlin looked similar to Apollo, curly
flaxen haired with perfect skin, colour changing eyes that penetrated
worlds to come.
This time of year when powers were strong and easily obtained, Merlin
would ever-so-lightly touch the crystal cairn with wrist over hand,
turning with palms out. The willow tree branch used now as a cane for
balance rather than it usual designation as a wand. The cauldron
fires extinguished since the last debaucle of Merlin's less than
stellar conjuring skills. Now Merlin's diminishing powers were
ransomed by nature's own design, a design only understood by the
Soltec socerers.
The key to the two worlds successful and harmonious succession was at
hand. Merlin held that key, or at least, knew who played the key
roles to solve this dilema of the millenia. The world and the other
worlds were once again in a most precarious position indeed. It would
take all the sorcerer's conjuring and intellectual wizardry to retain
the world's powerful rings of crystal, cairn-shaped ocean depths of
knowledge and power.
At the best of times, a very difficult feat to command these worldly
powers. Without Merlin finding the Sourcees in the deep Leeds waters,
all would be lost. Merlin and The Knights of the Round Table were
facing an uncertain future and most certain death. Merlin needed to
find the wizard behind the Curse of the Ocean Depths before he could
save his life and the lives of the Camelot court.
Since this aberrant mote first appeared on the face of Sirius' twin
stars, the earth plunged into the other Realm of the Unknown Worlds.
Only once in a millenia could a sorcerer find powers evasive enough
to cast such a shadow on the astrological charts. Much mayhem would
eventually ensue. Wars, the usual outcome of these elusive times.
Only the ancient scrolls translated from the Sourcee's dead language
would revoke this curse. Yet the scrolls were cast into deep ocean
wells where the Lord of the Dead held court. At Leeds river's
estuary The Lord of the Dead held auspicious powers over the world.
Merlin knew this creature well and there are earlier accounts of the
two crossing paths. Yet the Lord of the Dead was not easily animated
from the 5 fathoms deep river bed of the dead during this time of the
Deep Ocean curse.
The Soltecs curse had incurred eons ago and had once been removed.
The curse returned with a vengence. The Lord of the Dead did not
easily give up his powers. The Soltecs knew this and therefore knew
how to fool the Lord of the Dead's channellers. The dead language of
the Soltecs would be key to opening the realm to enter the Land of
the Dead under the Deep Ocean at Leeds.
This transmutable tetrahegonal and dead language of the Soltecs once
evoked would not lay dormant for long. Merlin needed to not only find
the Lord of the Dead's channeller, a beautiful woman named Circe, who
charmed the Snake gods into submission but also the ancient mamouth
papyrus scrolls.
This once ancient and now deadly curse of the Lord of the Dead was
screamed into existence by those ancestral Soltecs, all apparently
drown from the Last Curse of the Deep Ocean. The Lord of the Dead had
won that round from the Soltecs. Yet these two opposing forces had
merged and transmuted into one curse, forever echoing along the River
of the Land of Leeds.Merlin knew the severity of the curse and the
need to find the two sources of their occult power. Would all the
world drown again. Not if Merlin could help it!
The discovery by Merlin of the heiroglyphic tableta stones by the
River Leeds had been generations ago. Merlin did not know the
complete story of their existence. Must history was lost, an ocean as
deep as the Deep Ocean. These scrolls were made of soft papyrus and
wormwood and prone to decay. They must be deciphered, read and cried
out in the same piercing tone to attone the Lord of the Dead's curse.
It would require Circe's musical talent here. Now Merlin needed more
time and a few gold coins to find the Soltec energy cairn and the
beautiful Circe.
Merlin knew there would be no further attempts to secure the
Arthurian courts supremacy over the Soltecs. Could Arthurian power be
restored and the world saved from drowning?
The high court of Endore were meeting at the Tower Gate without the
request of Merlin's all encompassing presence. An ivory spire of
ancient times, the Tower Gates, stood in neglected ruins. This once-
powerful monument to the past had once held the greatest known wealth
of power than any other place on earth.
Those learned leaders began deliberating on a matter with much
consequence. Many could sense there world unravelling. "Merlin!" "It
is always about Merlin!" begrudgingly commented Ashdoore the Exalted
scribe. "It is all about Merlin because Merlin holds the key to the
lamp" exclaimed Lancelot, the knight in once shining armour. "My
powers have faded to some degree, but I do not believe Merlin is
responsible for the change in the Seeing Crystal." Ashdoore turned
from Lancelot abruptly his high priest robes swishing habitually
over the cold granite floors of the ruin. Piercing the cold night
air, a heart-wrenching sound of tortured souls released from beneath
the altar of the slained saints. The wretched owl-like screetches
originated from the Hidden Worlds of shattered souls. The souls would
not rest on this night which cojoined the living and the dead.
Much discussion had focused on whether or not Merlin deserved a third
chance. The High Court of Endore had to meet in the secret place to
avoid the attention of Merlin and his many minions. The question on
the table would remove all doubt as to what the future would hold for
all those steeped in the Art of Conjuring. Merlin was unaware of the
secret place. He was too busy securing future realms to bother with
such trivia begot by mere mortals.Merlin was learning the importance
of human knowledge.
As to whether or not to allow Merlin to conjure at all, the Arthurian
Court was in much debate. After the last alchemic reactionary
fiasco, those who held the septre sway of power position in Court
were seriously doubting Merlin's once powerful reign. Often frought
with angry displays of power plays, the court jesters humoured
Merlin. Merlin would be scene hovering on his willow branch, embossed
with fanciful gargoyles and magical flowers, puffing away on his
whaletooth's pipe, white/blue clouds of powerfully remedying and
sleep-inducing herbs quelling the often rambunctious court. Many
remember the pleasant scent of Merlin's pipe. It was unforgettable.
Part II to follow...jk jones
yahoo group king arthur mythology
Tue Oct 28, 2008 6:16 pm
repost Nov 30, 2008
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
thoughts on journalism with wings and a prayer
Dear Wings et al: This excellent UK non-fictional "Cops and Robbers" or UK Keystone Kops story has the makings of an excellent made-for-tv movie in its fine and dramatic presentation of serial events.
This story exudes much drama, suspense, action, character, setting, etc., typical of any great fictional novel, except it is nonfiction.
The reporter/journalist is a very talented writer who has an excellent skill at understanding the average readers' approach to constructing real life situations in the mind's eye. The mind does not know the difference between what is real and what is not. The reporter took advantage, in some ways of this fact.
There seems to be a melding of these two worlds, the fictional world and the non-fictional world in this story about George Phillips.
The George Phillips story gives the reader more of a cathartic reaction than a usual non-fiction story because it is a real story about real people, but the action is atypical.
This story could be described or arranged in a million and one ways. Yet the writer focused on telling the story in a traditonal storytelling way. By letting the story tell itself as it unfolds, rather than reporting the "key evidence" first, the story becomes much more interesting to the reader. It also becomes far more than typical antidotal writing, it takes on a life of its own.
When the reader has to dig for tidbits of information to make a logical story progress, there is more appeal. It is similar to following a mystery story, with twists and turns and intrigue.
Not often found in real life happenings, mystery writing may have had an influence in the George Phillips storyline.
We all know the truth can be manipulated to a certain extent. Reporters and politician know this to be true. Take "spin doctors" for example, those professional PR (Public Relations)people of the press that turn a "bad" event into a "good" event. This tactic is for the sole purpose of keeping the honour of said corrupt politicans intact. The truth is out there, but who's side of the story? There are two sides to a story, at least!
In the George Phillips example; the reporter did not report the shocking byline first; which would read; "Local Man Falsely Reports Shed Shooting Creates Mayhem in Wigan". I am sure you can come up with a better byline and storyboard!
The writer cum reporter chose not to describe the "shocking" shooting incident first because the reporter was creating a "perfect story" within the subtext of a non-fiction report.
This reporter's keen writing skills are evident by the slow, methodical build-up to the climax; the report of the shooting incident, and then the final denouement, the lack of any gun evidence.
After the reader "ooohs and ahhhs" over the shock of this "Walter Mitty" type story, George Phillips, taking the law into his own hands, commits the atypical act. The reader is now "reader-on-stun" (Trent on Stoke)and basically a "deer in the headlights" waiting for the next tripwire to finally derail all logical reasoning and assumptions to wit.
Readers assume a storyline will progress in a logical progression, and when it does not, this gives evidence to the makings of a great story, fiction or non-fiction alike.
In the George Phillips rendering, what should have progressed in a logical and typical way, did not. George Phillips being the typical nonconformist type who is no doubt middleclass, middleaged conservative sterotype; the quintessential status quo citizen.
The element of surprise by George's action created the juggernaut double ganger found in many fine mystery fictional "Cops and Robbers" accounts (please refer to True Detective novels).
George's apparent lawlessness or what we refer to in the west as outlawism or vigilantism confounded the reader; "how could sweet George Phillips stoop to those 'bad boy' tactics"? It was so atypical of George's stature, to act in this way. Again, the element of surprise, and using the readers sterotypical construct of character was masterfully employed by this writer. George Phillips antihero action become heroic due to his ability to take on the radical anticonformist stance. We need a hero who is a common man who takes uncommon action. What is the saying here? The guarantee of a society failing is to have good men do nothing.
George Phillips as a modern day hero, action which is dressed in subculture countercultural tactics, excluding the current punk rock philosophy of "chaos promotes change" baggage, George Phillips wears his mohawk on the inside. Who's side is George Phillips displaying by his actions?
Similarily, just what the reader was not expecting, he or she received; and "how shocking"!. The shock of the new, the element of surprise creates readers' interest and is a literary device. How did this reporter understand this? After reading literature and being literally literate the reporter displayed his/her obvious skills. Of course a liberal dose of shock effect sprinkled over this story, the writer proved his/her fine ability of telling a good story, whether fiction or nonfiction.
The reporter's choice of letting the story naturally unravel made for a great read, not a usual event for nonfiction journalist writing. With the advent of television, and the fast pace requirement of shock jock writing (gonzo journalism)to sell papers, etc, journalism must also peak the interest of the reader quickly. I love the way this story unfurled.
Do writers create these real(nonfiction)reporting events from fiction (make believe) myths or visa versa? The idea that nonfiction is the chicken and fiction is the egg. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The perfect antidotal story unravels little bits at a time, like life and our minds think one way. All of a sudden, "whamo" the story radically changes and concludes with the surprise denouement. If only all reports were this exciting and humorous, there would be a lot more readers of newspapers. I suppose that is why the Sun is so popular, tacky, but popular. Unless the dry read is for you, these juicy reports are far from nonstop yawn of formula reporting. jk jones --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "wings081" wrote:nov 30 08 repost chiccoreal
>
>
This story exudes much drama, suspense, action, character, setting, etc., typical of any great fictional novel, except it is nonfiction.
The reporter/journalist is a very talented writer who has an excellent skill at understanding the average readers' approach to constructing real life situations in the mind's eye. The mind does not know the difference between what is real and what is not. The reporter took advantage, in some ways of this fact.
There seems to be a melding of these two worlds, the fictional world and the non-fictional world in this story about George Phillips.
The George Phillips story gives the reader more of a cathartic reaction than a usual non-fiction story because it is a real story about real people, but the action is atypical.
This story could be described or arranged in a million and one ways. Yet the writer focused on telling the story in a traditonal storytelling way. By letting the story tell itself as it unfolds, rather than reporting the "key evidence" first, the story becomes much more interesting to the reader. It also becomes far more than typical antidotal writing, it takes on a life of its own.
When the reader has to dig for tidbits of information to make a logical story progress, there is more appeal. It is similar to following a mystery story, with twists and turns and intrigue.
Not often found in real life happenings, mystery writing may have had an influence in the George Phillips storyline.
We all know the truth can be manipulated to a certain extent. Reporters and politician know this to be true. Take "spin doctors" for example, those professional PR (Public Relations)people of the press that turn a "bad" event into a "good" event. This tactic is for the sole purpose of keeping the honour of said corrupt politicans intact. The truth is out there, but who's side of the story? There are two sides to a story, at least!
In the George Phillips example; the reporter did not report the shocking byline first; which would read; "Local Man Falsely Reports Shed Shooting Creates Mayhem in Wigan". I am sure you can come up with a better byline and storyboard!
The writer cum reporter chose not to describe the "shocking" shooting incident first because the reporter was creating a "perfect story" within the subtext of a non-fiction report.
This reporter's keen writing skills are evident by the slow, methodical build-up to the climax; the report of the shooting incident, and then the final denouement, the lack of any gun evidence.
After the reader "ooohs and ahhhs" over the shock of this "Walter Mitty" type story, George Phillips, taking the law into his own hands, commits the atypical act. The reader is now "reader-on-stun" (Trent on Stoke)and basically a "deer in the headlights" waiting for the next tripwire to finally derail all logical reasoning and assumptions to wit.
Readers assume a storyline will progress in a logical progression, and when it does not, this gives evidence to the makings of a great story, fiction or non-fiction alike.
In the George Phillips rendering, what should have progressed in a logical and typical way, did not. George Phillips being the typical nonconformist type who is no doubt middleclass, middleaged conservative sterotype; the quintessential status quo citizen.
The element of surprise by George's action created the juggernaut double ganger found in many fine mystery fictional "Cops and Robbers" accounts (please refer to True Detective novels).
George's apparent lawlessness or what we refer to in the west as outlawism or vigilantism confounded the reader; "how could sweet George Phillips stoop to those 'bad boy' tactics"? It was so atypical of George's stature, to act in this way. Again, the element of surprise, and using the readers sterotypical construct of character was masterfully employed by this writer. George Phillips antihero action become heroic due to his ability to take on the radical anticonformist stance. We need a hero who is a common man who takes uncommon action. What is the saying here? The guarantee of a society failing is to have good men do nothing.
George Phillips as a modern day hero, action which is dressed in subculture countercultural tactics, excluding the current punk rock philosophy of "chaos promotes change" baggage, George Phillips wears his mohawk on the inside. Who's side is George Phillips displaying by his actions?
Similarily, just what the reader was not expecting, he or she received; and "how shocking"!. The shock of the new, the element of surprise creates readers' interest and is a literary device. How did this reporter understand this? After reading literature and being literally literate the reporter displayed his/her obvious skills. Of course a liberal dose of shock effect sprinkled over this story, the writer proved his/her fine ability of telling a good story, whether fiction or nonfiction.
The reporter's choice of letting the story naturally unravel made for a great read, not a usual event for nonfiction journalist writing. With the advent of television, and the fast pace requirement of shock jock writing (gonzo journalism)to sell papers, etc, journalism must also peak the interest of the reader quickly. I love the way this story unfurled.
Do writers create these real(nonfiction)reporting events from fiction (make believe) myths or visa versa? The idea that nonfiction is the chicken and fiction is the egg. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The perfect antidotal story unravels little bits at a time, like life and our minds think one way. All of a sudden, "whamo" the story radically changes and concludes with the surprise denouement. If only all reports were this exciting and humorous, there would be a lot more readers of newspapers. I suppose that is why the Sun is so popular, tacky, but popular. Unless the dry read is for you, these juicy reports are far from nonstop yawn of formula reporting. jk jones --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "wings081"
>
>
Saturday, November 29, 2008
The Crash
THE CRASH Topic List < Prev Topic | Next Topic >
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"CRASH". The sound cut through the air like a knife as the plymouth
duster hit the telephone
pole. For three blocks the sound of metal folding upon itself could
be heard. He knew he took
the curve just a little too sharply as the vehicle spun out of
control and hit the pole. Not
driving for very long, maybe a year, Sammy did not figure out his
excessive speed made him loose his
bearings. His inexperience behind the wheel may be the reason he hit
the pole, or maybe bad
nerves.
Luckily, both Sammy and Steve were going to be ok. They got out of
the mangled
car and accessed the damage. It was a right-off, nothing was left of
the car except Sammy and
Steve's seats. It was no time to talk as the damp humid air hung
thickly around their necks.
Without the getaway car the two fugitives knew it would difficult on
foot. This was their only
chance. Shaken after the crash, Sammy and Steve hobbled out of the
car and started running away
as best as they could. They went in the opposite direction as the
sirens that were fastly
approaching the accident scene. They both knew the police would get
there first. What about
the money in the trunk? Sammy went back to the accident scene and
pried open the trunk to get
two duffle bags. They were loaded with cash and jewels totalling
quite a hefty sum of money.
The two did not have much time to count the money, as the sounds of
sirens could be heard
getting closer and closer. Sammy and Steve's footsteps could be heard
clearly running away from
the sound of the sirens. In the inky darkness of the night it would
not be long before they fit
into the background with their black clothing.
The siren noise died down and Sammy and Steve breathed a deep breathe
of relief. So far, they
got away, but for how long? They knew if they did not leave the
county line soon, they would
get caught. There would be roadblocks everywhere. There only hope
was to cross the
creek river into the next county, and hopefully, freedom. The only
problem, the river was very
wide and Steve was not a good swimmer, also, how would they float the
money across? It would be
a difficult swim and too heavy to carry. Steve had an idea to take a
few floating logs to hang
onto, and put the duffle bags on top of the logs as not to get wet.
Why did they not think of
buying waterproof bags? They did not have time to think through all
the problems they were
facing, and they grabbed the logs and fell into the water. It was
going to be a cold and long
swim, maybe a twenty minute crossing. This was their last chance to
get away with the crime of
their lives Steve kept telling himself. It would be smooth sailing
after this night, with loads
of cash to make all his friends happy. Sammy and Steve had to keep
focused on the victory
dance, as right now was not a picnic.
Dean Hunter was shaving at the mirror as usual. It would be another
humid day as the sun was
a round red ball of heat at six o'clock a.m. How long would it take
him to arrest those two?
Hunter went through all the fact sheets on Stevie and Sammy and still
came up short. Hunter
knew their patterns. There had been robberies before, in fact four
in the last two months. The
rash of crimes had to stop. Hunter knew he would put an end to Sammy
and Steve's crime spree.
When the police arrived at the crash they could not believe how bad
the damage to the vehicle.
Nobody could have survived this! Yet there were no bodies, so the
suspects got away. Which way
did they go? The forensic team was called out to dust for prints and
to look for any clues
that would lead them to the bank robbers. It may be a long night
though Dean Hunter.
Sammy and Steve woke up on the other side of the creek river. They
made it! But just barely.
Steve took the wet duffle bags out of the underbrush and rifled
through the cash and jewels.
Everything was still there! Wet, but still there! He jumped for joy
grabbing Sammy and hugging
him. It would be another long day of trying to find new clothes and
a new hair style and fit
back into the crowd. Sammy and Steve were headed to another city,
and another bank robbery.
Dean Hunter knew they did not have time to chase on foot the
suspects. He wired the next towns
to alert them to the wanted men. Hopefully they would pick up on
something, and the two would
be behind bars by sundown. Hunter was not so sure if he could catch
these two low lifes as they
had always escaped detection. Hunter nicknamed them the "snakes", as
they slithered and could
pop up somewhere else to continue their crime spree. Hunter had an
idea, a good idea this time!
If they were like snakes he could bait them into a snake trap, and he
would have solved the
crime of the area. He would also, possibly, get a pay raise. Hunter
laid out his plans before
his fellow officers. He would send out a tactical team around all
the banks. They would be in
hidden positions, under trees, in camoflauge, anything. He would send
out rumours that there
would be a museum display of a world famous diamond, the hope diamond
as a matter of fact. Of
course the diamond would be a fake and then they would capture the
two snakes in the snake pit.
Fitting nicely into the background of Creek City, Sammy and Steve
were up to their usual tricks.
They were planning out their next robbery. The Midland First Bank on
the corner of Vine and
Oak. It looked like a winner. Steve and Sammy plotted their
robbery. This was going to be
smooth. Suddenly, listening to the radio Sammy heard a advertisement
for the museum's display
of the Hope diamond at Smithtown. Sammy ran into the livingroom of
the flop house and
told Steve of the robbery of the Hope diamond would be their biggest
robbery yet and they
would go down in history and they would be heroes in the criminal
circles. Steve the mastermind
of all their plots decided this would be the finest robbery ever.
Other criminals heard the
same advertisment on the radio and decided to try their hand at it
too. Pretty soon hundreds
of criminals were holed up around the outskirts of Smithtown. Maybe
Dean Hunter had better
find a pretty big snake pit! GIBJ 3 Aug 08
Sun Aug 3, 2008 3:00 pm
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THE CRASH
"CRASH". The sound cut through the air like a knife as the plymouth duster hit the telephone pole. For three blocks the sound of metal folding upon itself... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 3, 2008
7:56 pm
Re: THE CRASH
Hi! I enjoyed reading your exceprt. I especially liked the way you slowly unfolded the dramma alyer by layer. The car crash, inexpereinced robbers running from... shanitaswaters
Aug 6, 2008
8:15 pm
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The Writing School
Reply | Forward | Delete < Prev Message | Next Message >
"CRASH". The sound cut through the air like a knife as the plymouth
duster hit the telephone
pole. For three blocks the sound of metal folding upon itself could
be heard. He knew he took
the curve just a little too sharply as the vehicle spun out of
control and hit the pole. Not
driving for very long, maybe a year, Sammy did not figure out his
excessive speed made him loose his
bearings. His inexperience behind the wheel may be the reason he hit
the pole, or maybe bad
nerves.
Luckily, both Sammy and Steve were going to be ok. They got out of
the mangled
car and accessed the damage. It was a right-off, nothing was left of
the car except Sammy and
Steve's seats. It was no time to talk as the damp humid air hung
thickly around their necks.
Without the getaway car the two fugitives knew it would difficult on
foot. This was their only
chance. Shaken after the crash, Sammy and Steve hobbled out of the
car and started running away
as best as they could. They went in the opposite direction as the
sirens that were fastly
approaching the accident scene. They both knew the police would get
there first. What about
the money in the trunk? Sammy went back to the accident scene and
pried open the trunk to get
two duffle bags. They were loaded with cash and jewels totalling
quite a hefty sum of money.
The two did not have much time to count the money, as the sounds of
sirens could be heard
getting closer and closer. Sammy and Steve's footsteps could be heard
clearly running away from
the sound of the sirens. In the inky darkness of the night it would
not be long before they fit
into the background with their black clothing.
The siren noise died down and Sammy and Steve breathed a deep breathe
of relief. So far, they
got away, but for how long? They knew if they did not leave the
county line soon, they would
get caught. There would be roadblocks everywhere. There only hope
was to cross the
creek river into the next county, and hopefully, freedom. The only
problem, the river was very
wide and Steve was not a good swimmer, also, how would they float the
money across? It would be
a difficult swim and too heavy to carry. Steve had an idea to take a
few floating logs to hang
onto, and put the duffle bags on top of the logs as not to get wet.
Why did they not think of
buying waterproof bags? They did not have time to think through all
the problems they were
facing, and they grabbed the logs and fell into the water. It was
going to be a cold and long
swim, maybe a twenty minute crossing. This was their last chance to
get away with the crime of
their lives Steve kept telling himself. It would be smooth sailing
after this night, with loads
of cash to make all his friends happy. Sammy and Steve had to keep
focused on the victory
dance, as right now was not a picnic.
Dean Hunter was shaving at the mirror as usual. It would be another
humid day as the sun was
a round red ball of heat at six o'clock a.m. How long would it take
him to arrest those two?
Hunter went through all the fact sheets on Stevie and Sammy and still
came up short. Hunter
knew their patterns. There had been robberies before, in fact four
in the last two months. The
rash of crimes had to stop. Hunter knew he would put an end to Sammy
and Steve's crime spree.
When the police arrived at the crash they could not believe how bad
the damage to the vehicle.
Nobody could have survived this! Yet there were no bodies, so the
suspects got away. Which way
did they go? The forensic team was called out to dust for prints and
to look for any clues
that would lead them to the bank robbers. It may be a long night
though Dean Hunter.
Sammy and Steve woke up on the other side of the creek river. They
made it! But just barely.
Steve took the wet duffle bags out of the underbrush and rifled
through the cash and jewels.
Everything was still there! Wet, but still there! He jumped for joy
grabbing Sammy and hugging
him. It would be another long day of trying to find new clothes and
a new hair style and fit
back into the crowd. Sammy and Steve were headed to another city,
and another bank robbery.
Dean Hunter knew they did not have time to chase on foot the
suspects. He wired the next towns
to alert them to the wanted men. Hopefully they would pick up on
something, and the two would
be behind bars by sundown. Hunter was not so sure if he could catch
these two low lifes as they
had always escaped detection. Hunter nicknamed them the "snakes", as
they slithered and could
pop up somewhere else to continue their crime spree. Hunter had an
idea, a good idea this time!
If they were like snakes he could bait them into a snake trap, and he
would have solved the
crime of the area. He would also, possibly, get a pay raise. Hunter
laid out his plans before
his fellow officers. He would send out a tactical team around all
the banks. They would be in
hidden positions, under trees, in camoflauge, anything. He would send
out rumours that there
would be a museum display of a world famous diamond, the hope diamond
as a matter of fact. Of
course the diamond would be a fake and then they would capture the
two snakes in the snake pit.
Fitting nicely into the background of Creek City, Sammy and Steve
were up to their usual tricks.
They were planning out their next robbery. The Midland First Bank on
the corner of Vine and
Oak. It looked like a winner. Steve and Sammy plotted their
robbery. This was going to be
smooth. Suddenly, listening to the radio Sammy heard a advertisement
for the museum's display
of the Hope diamond at Smithtown. Sammy ran into the livingroom of
the flop house and
told Steve of the robbery of the Hope diamond would be their biggest
robbery yet and they
would go down in history and they would be heroes in the criminal
circles. Steve the mastermind
of all their plots decided this would be the finest robbery ever.
Other criminals heard the
same advertisment on the radio and decided to try their hand at it
too. Pretty soon hundreds
of criminals were holed up around the outskirts of Smithtown. Maybe
Dean Hunter had better
find a pretty big snake pit! GIBJ 3 Aug 08
Sun Aug 3, 2008 3:00 pm
Show Message Info
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
#37197 of 37766
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Unwrap Lines
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"goddessinbluejeans"
goddessinblu...
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Expand Messages Author Sort by Date
THE CRASH
"CRASH". The sound cut through the air like a knife as the plymouth duster hit the telephone pole. For three blocks the sound of metal folding upon itself... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 3, 2008
7:56 pm
Re: THE CRASH
Hi! I enjoyed reading your exceprt. I especially liked the way you slowly unfolded the dramma alyer by layer. The car crash, inexpereinced robbers running from... shanitaswaters
Aug 6, 2008
8:15 pm
< Prev Topic | Next Topic >
Message # Search: Advanced Start Topic
SPONSOR RESULTS
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www.BookSurge.com - Through BookSurge, make your book available to millions of readers.
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The Writing School
Victorian Love Letters
Re: Excerpt from Victorian Love Letters - Please Critique Thank-you
Dear Shanita: Welcome to T2W! Thank-you for your critique, it is most
appreciated! It is amazing how much I am able to absorb here. There
are some very seasoned writers popping in to chat, and I am honoured
to exchange ideas and enjoy others' talented work. Glad to meet your
aquaintance, and I hope you will be here often!gibj
ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "shanitaswaters"
wrote:
>
>
> Hello!
>
> I really liked your descriptive details but (I have a bit of a short
> attention span) I had to keep going back to remember exactly what
was
> happening in the story. Is this how the story began? I'm a little
> lost... But again, very descriptive picture you painted.
>
> Happy Writing,
>
>
> Shanita Waters, CEO
> Author of By His Stripes We Are Healed
> visit my site www.waterplantgrowth.com
>
> Now offering typist/transcription services
>
>
>
>
>
> --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "goddessinbluejeans"
> wrote:
> >
> > Excerpt from Victorian Love Letters
> >
> >
> > "Hold on William, it could be a bumpy ride, dear" Aunt
> >
> > Suzie quietly mentioned to her young charge as the graceful
> >
> > and exquistely adorned gentlewoman swirled around to latch
> >
> > the transom. Her voice was tinged with concerned yet
> >
> > serendipiduous humour inflected as her phalo blue coloured
> >
> > taffeta dress swept and swished on the solid ground below.
> >
> > Aunt Suzie slowly leaned lower towards little William, her
> >
> > strikingly classic female form casting a slip of a
> >
> > silhouette on the garden gate in the high noon stilted sun.
> >
> > Aunt Suzie was the epitome of the Gibson Girl of the
> >
> > 1890's. Lusterous dark hair loosely pulled up in a chignon
> >
> > with tendril curls softening the defined skeletal structure
> >
> > of her strong yet refined facial features. Aunt Suzie
> >
> > always appeared to be much younger than her biologic age,
> >
> > and she could giggle like the younger girls with giddishly
> >
> > silly gleeful cajoles.
> >
> > At this moment, Aunt Suzie needed to appear to be stern so
> >
> > that the young man's world would be lovingly directed in
> >
> > the way it should go. Coquettishly tilting her pensive head
> >
> > ever so slightly to the right to catch what the young man
> >
> > was saying three feet beneath her lofty willow tree height.
> >
> > "William!" she implored. Aunt Suzie had noticed that the
> >
> > young man's attention was far from the transom and leaned
> >
> > over the carriage to hear exactly what the young lad was
> >
> > mumbling. "Oh you mustn't mumble dear, Aunt Suzie can't
> >
> > hear you then..." "Sorry, mam..." the little boy of four quietly
> >
> > appealed with genuine concern and a pouty lower lip and
> >
> > those sad blue eyes that shone like glistening diamonds. If
> >
> > hearts could melt William knew how to turn on the heat,
> >
> > using his captivating smile to seal the deal. William's
> >
> > power of persuasion no doubt had been inherited from his
> >
> > father's side of the family.
> >
> > William's much loved nanny Aunt
> >
> > Suzie had raised William from infancy. Today the two would
> >
> > travel abroad to a new land of fashionable people who spoke
> >
> > with unusal accents. William had never travelled outside
> >
> > his cloistered world of the nursery. With a bobbit of corn
> >
> > coloured hair, and a blue and white sailor suit, Will was
> >
> > the epitome of "cutie pie" innocence.
> >
> > Aunt Suzie protectively moved her lilac silk umbrella to
> >
> > cover from the blazing
> >
> > mid-day sun's rays the sensitive skin of the young lad. That was
> >
> > just like Aunt Suzie, always
> >
> > concerned with other's needs before herself. Certainly she
> >
> > would be considered a fine catch for a special and select
> >
> > young gentleman, some day. Although she was not looking for
> >
> > love just yet, she had in the back of her mind that she
> >
> > would find someone to have and hold and forever romantized
> >
> > about forever love.
> >
> > Aunt Suzie would often be found in the stone gated garden reading
> >
> > the endless poems of the romance poet, John Keats. Little
> >
> > William would be lovingly mentored in this way, and could
> >
> > recite in his childish baby voice the poet's famous lines
> >
> > of love and unrequitted love.
> >
> > Aunt Suzie was keenly aware and knew quite certainly that
> >
> > she would find that hidden gem of a man one day. It had
> >
> > been predicted by a gypsy woman near Picadilly Square. The
> >
> > elderly seer had approached Aunt Suzie nearly a year ago on
> >
> > the same Londonderry square while softly selling bread crumbs to
the
> >
> > passing foreign visitors on the square.
> >
> > Matilde the Gypsy
> >
> > would often read the palms of young lovers inbetween flocks
> >
> > of overstuffed pigeons. The hovering birds would lovingly
> >
> > coo for more breadcrumbs and Suzie would toss the
> >
> > breadcrumbs into the air while making a wish three times.
> >
> > It was long known to bring good luck to feed the birds.
> >
> > What Suzie was after was an abundance of good luck and to
> >
> > catch a man a definitive bonus from the little fairie
> >
> > sprites. Gypsy Matilde had sublimely asked Suzie to make a
> >
> > wish when feeding the lowly pigeons. The pigeons must be
> >
> > "airborne with wings flailed" to have her wish come true.
> >
> > Suzie always believed in magic and fairy tales the notion
> >
> > not being foreign to her adventurous mind.
> >
> > It was that brief encounter with the gypsy Matilde that
> >
> > fomented in her mind the need to travel to Paris. All the
> >
> > many memories of that day were detailed by Gypsy Matilde
> >
> > and Suzie felt her calling to obey the woman's insistent request
to
> >
> > flee England as "soon as the first daffodil flower blooms
> >
> > in the spring, whilst you see you first yellow Forsythia
> >
> > flower, make haste to Paris, you will find your true love
> >
> > there".
> >
> > Suzie was overjoyed to pack up her trousseau and
> >
> > head to the City of Light. She had been there before, albeit
briefly,
> >
> > with
> >
> > her family on a summer vacation.
> >
> > She was but a child then. She could recall going to the Loire
> >
> > district, full of lofty castles and fruity red wine and
cathedrals.
> >
> > She could almost smell the ocean air as the woman spake her words
of
> >
> > wisdom.
> >
> > From the frail lady
> >
> > prophetess Suzie had secured her reason to travel once again to
the
> >
> > fine city of Paris.
> >
> > And who could deny another Mother Shipton with such gifted
prophesy!
> >
> > Suzie was certain of one thing; if she could not find her true
love
> >
> > in England, she would seek her true love where the gypsy
foretold, in
> >
> > Paris, the City of Light and hopefully, Love.
> >
> > Yes definitely in Paris Love would find her once and for all. (to
be
> > continued if you'd like...?)GIBJ 3 Aug 08
> >
>
Wed Aug 6, 2008 10:03 pm
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Excerpt from Victorian Love Letters - Please Critique Thank-you
Excerpt from Victorian Love Letters "Hold on William, it could be a bumpy ride, dear" Aunt Suzie quietly mentioned to her young charge as the graceful and... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 4, 2008
7:31 am
Re: Excerpt from Victorian Love Letters - Please Critique Thank-you
Hello! I really liked your descriptive details but (I have a bit of a short attention span) I had to keep going back to remember exactly what was happening in... shanitaswaters
Aug 6, 2008
8:15 pm
Re: Excerpt from Victorian Love Letters - Please Critique Thank-you
Dear Shanita: Welcome to T2W! Thank-you for your critique, it is most appreciated! It is amazing how much I am able to absorb here. There are some very... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 6, 2008
10:45 pm
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Dear Shanita: Welcome to T2W! Thank-you for your critique, it is most
appreciated! It is amazing how much I am able to absorb here. There
are some very seasoned writers popping in to chat, and I am honoured
to exchange ideas and enjoy others' talented work. Glad to meet your
aquaintance, and I hope you will be here often!gibj
ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "shanitaswaters"
wrote:
>
>
> Hello!
>
> I really liked your descriptive details but (I have a bit of a short
> attention span) I had to keep going back to remember exactly what
was
> happening in the story. Is this how the story began? I'm a little
> lost... But again, very descriptive picture you painted.
>
> Happy Writing,
>
>
> Shanita Waters, CEO
> Author of By His Stripes We Are Healed
> visit my site www.waterplantgrowth.com
>
> Now offering typist/transcription services
>
>
>
>
>
> --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "goddessinbluejeans"
>
> >
> > Excerpt from Victorian Love Letters
> >
> >
> > "Hold on William, it could be a bumpy ride, dear" Aunt
> >
> > Suzie quietly mentioned to her young charge as the graceful
> >
> > and exquistely adorned gentlewoman swirled around to latch
> >
> > the transom. Her voice was tinged with concerned yet
> >
> > serendipiduous humour inflected as her phalo blue coloured
> >
> > taffeta dress swept and swished on the solid ground below.
> >
> > Aunt Suzie slowly leaned lower towards little William, her
> >
> > strikingly classic female form casting a slip of a
> >
> > silhouette on the garden gate in the high noon stilted sun.
> >
> > Aunt Suzie was the epitome of the Gibson Girl of the
> >
> > 1890's. Lusterous dark hair loosely pulled up in a chignon
> >
> > with tendril curls softening the defined skeletal structure
> >
> > of her strong yet refined facial features. Aunt Suzie
> >
> > always appeared to be much younger than her biologic age,
> >
> > and she could giggle like the younger girls with giddishly
> >
> > silly gleeful cajoles.
> >
> > At this moment, Aunt Suzie needed to appear to be stern so
> >
> > that the young man's world would be lovingly directed in
> >
> > the way it should go. Coquettishly tilting her pensive head
> >
> > ever so slightly to the right to catch what the young man
> >
> > was saying three feet beneath her lofty willow tree height.
> >
> > "William!" she implored. Aunt Suzie had noticed that the
> >
> > young man's attention was far from the transom and leaned
> >
> > over the carriage to hear exactly what the young lad was
> >
> > mumbling. "Oh you mustn't mumble dear, Aunt Suzie can't
> >
> > hear you then..." "Sorry, mam..." the little boy of four quietly
> >
> > appealed with genuine concern and a pouty lower lip and
> >
> > those sad blue eyes that shone like glistening diamonds. If
> >
> > hearts could melt William knew how to turn on the heat,
> >
> > using his captivating smile to seal the deal. William's
> >
> > power of persuasion no doubt had been inherited from his
> >
> > father's side of the family.
> >
> > William's much loved nanny Aunt
> >
> > Suzie had raised William from infancy. Today the two would
> >
> > travel abroad to a new land of fashionable people who spoke
> >
> > with unusal accents. William had never travelled outside
> >
> > his cloistered world of the nursery. With a bobbit of corn
> >
> > coloured hair, and a blue and white sailor suit, Will was
> >
> > the epitome of "cutie pie" innocence.
> >
> > Aunt Suzie protectively moved her lilac silk umbrella to
> >
> > cover from the blazing
> >
> > mid-day sun's rays the sensitive skin of the young lad. That was
> >
> > just like Aunt Suzie, always
> >
> > concerned with other's needs before herself. Certainly she
> >
> > would be considered a fine catch for a special and select
> >
> > young gentleman, some day. Although she was not looking for
> >
> > love just yet, she had in the back of her mind that she
> >
> > would find someone to have and hold and forever romantized
> >
> > about forever love.
> >
> > Aunt Suzie would often be found in the stone gated garden reading
> >
> > the endless poems of the romance poet, John Keats. Little
> >
> > William would be lovingly mentored in this way, and could
> >
> > recite in his childish baby voice the poet's famous lines
> >
> > of love and unrequitted love.
> >
> > Aunt Suzie was keenly aware and knew quite certainly that
> >
> > she would find that hidden gem of a man one day. It had
> >
> > been predicted by a gypsy woman near Picadilly Square. The
> >
> > elderly seer had approached Aunt Suzie nearly a year ago on
> >
> > the same Londonderry square while softly selling bread crumbs to
the
> >
> > passing foreign visitors on the square.
> >
> > Matilde the Gypsy
> >
> > would often read the palms of young lovers inbetween flocks
> >
> > of overstuffed pigeons. The hovering birds would lovingly
> >
> > coo for more breadcrumbs and Suzie would toss the
> >
> > breadcrumbs into the air while making a wish three times.
> >
> > It was long known to bring good luck to feed the birds.
> >
> > What Suzie was after was an abundance of good luck and to
> >
> > catch a man a definitive bonus from the little fairie
> >
> > sprites. Gypsy Matilde had sublimely asked Suzie to make a
> >
> > wish when feeding the lowly pigeons. The pigeons must be
> >
> > "airborne with wings flailed" to have her wish come true.
> >
> > Suzie always believed in magic and fairy tales the notion
> >
> > not being foreign to her adventurous mind.
> >
> > It was that brief encounter with the gypsy Matilde that
> >
> > fomented in her mind the need to travel to Paris. All the
> >
> > many memories of that day were detailed by Gypsy Matilde
> >
> > and Suzie felt her calling to obey the woman's insistent request
to
> >
> > flee England as "soon as the first daffodil flower blooms
> >
> > in the spring, whilst you see you first yellow Forsythia
> >
> > flower, make haste to Paris, you will find your true love
> >
> > there".
> >
> > Suzie was overjoyed to pack up her trousseau and
> >
> > head to the City of Light. She had been there before, albeit
briefly,
> >
> > with
> >
> > her family on a summer vacation.
> >
> > She was but a child then. She could recall going to the Loire
> >
> > district, full of lofty castles and fruity red wine and
cathedrals.
> >
> > She could almost smell the ocean air as the woman spake her words
of
> >
> > wisdom.
> >
> > From the frail lady
> >
> > prophetess Suzie had secured her reason to travel once again to
the
> >
> > fine city of Paris.
> >
> > And who could deny another Mother Shipton with such gifted
prophesy!
> >
> > Suzie was certain of one thing; if she could not find her true
love
> >
> > in England, she would seek her true love where the gypsy
foretold, in
> >
> > Paris, the City of Light and hopefully, Love.
> >
> > Yes definitely in Paris Love would find her once and for all. (to
be
> > continued if you'd like...?)GIBJ 3 Aug 08
> >
>
Wed Aug 6, 2008 10:03 pm
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Excerpt from Victorian Love Letters - Please Critique Thank-you
Excerpt from Victorian Love Letters "Hold on William, it could be a bumpy ride, dear" Aunt Suzie quietly mentioned to her young charge as the graceful and... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 4, 2008
7:31 am
Re: Excerpt from Victorian Love Letters - Please Critique Thank-you
Hello! I really liked your descriptive details but (I have a bit of a short attention span) I had to keep going back to remember exactly what was happening in... shanitaswaters
Aug 6, 2008
8:15 pm
Re: Excerpt from Victorian Love Letters - Please Critique Thank-you
Dear Shanita: Welcome to T2W! Thank-you for your critique, it is most appreciated! It is amazing how much I am able to absorb here. There are some very... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 6, 2008
10:45 pm
< Prev Topic | Next Topic >
Message # Search: Advanced Start Topic
SPONSOR RESULTS
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Daughters of the Confederacy poem
Suzi: An Ode to Susan - I hope you like this!
To the Brave Women, Daughters of Confederacy: The Legacy Continues
As Betsy Ross a simple flag did sew
To remind the soldiers whence
Of that dawn's early light
coming so suddenly hence
The banner did fly high, against a hellish night sky
Colours tried and true
The flapping of wings the flag did sound
Keeping the soldiers thoughts focused on the ground
Soon revelling cries could be heard
Halleuia sung sweet and low from choirs afar
resounded echoes of heaven all 'round
Opening the celestial door; the flag was still there
An angel did stand by the battlement that eve
Only to find a tear and much grief
She held up the flag
Soldiers gathered 'round
Freedom knows no bound
like Old Glory
The Women of the Confederacy
Are the Angel of the Field
Keeping the homefires burning and today it is still
For soldiers returning could of their wounds heal
Love is the gift, the flag's glory bound
Freedom is the treasured world
The Daughters Of Confederacy
We all hold so dear
gibj 10 08 08
To the Brave Women, Daughters of Confederacy: The Legacy Continues
As Betsy Ross a simple flag did sew
To remind the soldiers whence
Of that dawn's early light
coming so suddenly hence
The banner did fly high, against a hellish night sky
Colours tried and true
The flapping of wings the flag did sound
Keeping the soldiers thoughts focused on the ground
Soon revelling cries could be heard
Halleuia sung sweet and low from choirs afar
resounded echoes of heaven all 'round
Opening the celestial door; the flag was still there
An angel did stand by the battlement that eve
Only to find a tear and much grief
She held up the flag
Soldiers gathered 'round
Freedom knows no bound
like Old Glory
The Women of the Confederacy
Are the Angel of the Field
Keeping the homefires burning and today it is still
For soldiers returning could of their wounds heal
Love is the gift, the flag's glory bound
Freedom is the treasured world
The Daughters Of Confederacy
We all hold so dear
gibj 10 08 08
Roll of the Dice
Re: The Role of The Dice
gibj,
The title you are looking for is:
{drum roll...or is it drum role?}
"Know Dice"
Rod
aka albi
http://www.geocities.com/neocoda/
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/jumpingstones/
--- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "goddessinbluejeans"
wrote:
>
> Dear Rod: Thank-you for the crit, and I do appreciate the rewrite at
> the end. It does make more sense to change the last line. What would
> be the title then? Wondering and pondering myself to death; do many
> poets do that (the title being the punchline). Thank goodness this
> room doesn't have polls. :)gibj--- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com,
> albiaicehouse wrote:
> >
> > gibj,
> >
> > I like the length and the organization of this poem, but I
> > particularly appreciate the ruminating penetrating insights of this
> poem.
> >
> > Still, I have to say I'd like more hard edged images. Perhaps
> > instances that illustrate the points, rather than being told in
> > generalizations.
> >
> > Do you think this:
> >
> > "We all make plans
> > and they go astray
> > leaves in the celestial ashtray"
> >
> > is so clever as to be distracting? Especially in the middle of the
> verse?
> >
> > I do appreciate the cleverness of the title, but I wonder if you
> > should give it away there, up front. I'd like to see the pun used
> to
> > nail the ending.
> >
> > And speaking of the ending, why not finish with that bang of a pun
> (?)
> > by switching the order to something like:
> >
> > "It is not our Fate but...
> > my friend
> > the role of the dice."
> >
> > Rod
> > aka albi
> > http://www.geocities.com/neocoda/
> > http://groups.yahoo.com/group/jumpingstones/
> >
> >
> > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "goddessinbluejeans"
> > wrote:
> > >
> > > The Role of the Dice
> > >
> > > Today we wake up and wonder
> > > what would it have been like
> > > if we were another
> > > What if...
> > >
> > > The persons we should have been
> > > more lightfilled than shadow
> > > the persons in the picture
> > > much more photogenic than gold
> > >
> > > And yet we are so much more
> > > than the negatives
> > > perfected in every way,
> > > wait...
> > >
> > > yet to be born...
> > > the cosmic egg cracked
> > > the mirror shattered
> > > blueprints asunder
> > > chaos...
> > >
> > > now our lives
> > > look back again
> > > at the expansive sea
> > > the vanishing point...
> > >
> > > .....................Of Eternity
> > >
> > > As we are getting smaller
> > > so we are enlarging
> > > our understanding
> > > of our hopelessness
> > >
> > > We all make plans
> > > and they go astray
> > > leaves in the celestial ashtray
> > > burnished and burnt
> > > pity and shame
> > > our only friends
> > > on life's highway
> > >
> > > It makes one wonder and ponder
> > > where would we have been if...
> > >
> > > we had taken the road less travelled
> > > we had that fateful break
> > > we had married beyond our class
> > > we had won the brass ring
> > > we stayed young forever
> > >
> > > if only we had not gotten
> > > so sick of all this my Sun
> > > we may have realized much earlier
> > > It is not our Fate but...
> > >
> > > the role of the dice
> > > my friend.
> > >
> > > gibj Aug 2008
> > >
> >
>
Tue Aug 19, 2008 2:15 am
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The Role of The Dice
The Role of the Dice Today we wake up and wonder what would it have been like if we were another What if... The persons we should have been more lightfilled... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 15, 2008
5:30 pm
Re: The Role of The Dice
gibj, I like the length and the organization of this poem, but I particularly appreciate the ruminating penetrating insights of this poem. Still, I have to say... albiaicehouse
Aug 16, 2008
7:50 pm
Re: The Role of The Dice
Dear Rod: Thank-you for the crit, and I do appreciate the rewrite at the end. It does make more sense to change the last line. What would be the title then?... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 18, 2008
5:15 pm
Re: The Role of The Dice
gibj, The title you are looking for is: {drum roll...or is it drum role?} "Know Dice" Rod aka albi http://www.geocities.com/neocoda/ ... albiaicehouse
Aug 19, 2008
9:35 am
Re: The Role of The Dice
Dear Rod: TaTaDa! You're a musician! I get the pun. Why not The Role of The Dinner Rolls, Or Rock N' Role? Reminds me of another short story I will post here... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 21, 2008 gibj repost chicco real nov 29 08
9:21 pm
< Prev Topic | Next Topic >
gibj,
The title you are looking for is:
{drum roll...or is it drum role?}
"Know Dice"
Rod
aka albi
http://www.geocities.com/neocoda/
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/jumpingstones/
--- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "goddessinbluejeans"
>
> Dear Rod: Thank-you for the crit, and I do appreciate the rewrite at
> the end. It does make more sense to change the last line. What would
> be the title then? Wondering and pondering myself to death; do many
> poets do that (the title being the punchline). Thank goodness this
> room doesn't have polls. :)gibj--- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com,
> albiaicehouse
> >
> > gibj,
> >
> > I like the length and the organization of this poem, but I
> > particularly appreciate the ruminating penetrating insights of this
> poem.
> >
> > Still, I have to say I'd like more hard edged images. Perhaps
> > instances that illustrate the points, rather than being told in
> > generalizations.
> >
> > Do you think this:
> >
> > "We all make plans
> > and they go astray
> > leaves in the celestial ashtray"
> >
> > is so clever as to be distracting? Especially in the middle of the
> verse?
> >
> > I do appreciate the cleverness of the title, but I wonder if you
> > should give it away there, up front. I'd like to see the pun used
> to
> > nail the ending.
> >
> > And speaking of the ending, why not finish with that bang of a pun
> (?)
> > by switching the order to something like:
> >
> > "It is not our Fate but...
> > my friend
> > the role of the dice."
> >
> > Rod
> > aka albi
> > http://www.geocities.com/neocoda/
> > http://groups.yahoo.com/group/jumpingstones/
> >
> >
> > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "goddessinbluejeans"
> >
> > >
> > > The Role of the Dice
> > >
> > > Today we wake up and wonder
> > > what would it have been like
> > > if we were another
> > > What if...
> > >
> > > The persons we should have been
> > > more lightfilled than shadow
> > > the persons in the picture
> > > much more photogenic than gold
> > >
> > > And yet we are so much more
> > > than the negatives
> > > perfected in every way,
> > > wait...
> > >
> > > yet to be born...
> > > the cosmic egg cracked
> > > the mirror shattered
> > > blueprints asunder
> > > chaos...
> > >
> > > now our lives
> > > look back again
> > > at the expansive sea
> > > the vanishing point...
> > >
> > > .....................Of Eternity
> > >
> > > As we are getting smaller
> > > so we are enlarging
> > > our understanding
> > > of our hopelessness
> > >
> > > We all make plans
> > > and they go astray
> > > leaves in the celestial ashtray
> > > burnished and burnt
> > > pity and shame
> > > our only friends
> > > on life's highway
> > >
> > > It makes one wonder and ponder
> > > where would we have been if...
> > >
> > > we had taken the road less travelled
> > > we had that fateful break
> > > we had married beyond our class
> > > we had won the brass ring
> > > we stayed young forever
> > >
> > > if only we had not gotten
> > > so sick of all this my Sun
> > > we may have realized much earlier
> > > It is not our Fate but...
> > >
> > > the role of the dice
> > > my friend.
> > >
> > > gibj Aug 2008
> > >
> >
>
Tue Aug 19, 2008 2:15 am
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albiaicehouse
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The Role of The Dice
The Role of the Dice Today we wake up and wonder what would it have been like if we were another What if... The persons we should have been more lightfilled... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 15, 2008
5:30 pm
Re: The Role of The Dice
gibj, I like the length and the organization of this poem, but I particularly appreciate the ruminating penetrating insights of this poem. Still, I have to say... albiaicehouse
Aug 16, 2008
7:50 pm
Re: The Role of The Dice
Dear Rod: Thank-you for the crit, and I do appreciate the rewrite at the end. It does make more sense to change the last line. What would be the title then?... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 18, 2008
5:15 pm
Re: The Role of The Dice
gibj, The title you are looking for is: {drum roll...or is it drum role?} "Know Dice" Rod aka albi http://www.geocities.com/neocoda/ ... albiaicehouse
Aug 19, 2008
9:35 am
Re: The Role of The Dice
Dear Rod: TaTaDa! You're a musician! I get the pun. Why not The Role of The Dinner Rolls, Or Rock N' Role? Reminds me of another short story I will post here... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 21, 2008 gibj repost chicco real nov 29 08
9:21 pm
< Prev Topic | Next Topic >
Backstage Murder Mysteries
Re: Backstage Murder Mystery (light summer reading for teens)
gidp,
Sorry, I should have been more specific.
"means of dispatch" was meant to be how the prior murders took
place, what was the murder instrument, where was the location, etc.
"content of the prior notes" was meant to mean what words did the
murderer leave on the notes left at the prior murders.
Part of the fun for the reader is to speculate during the story on
who committed the murders. In your story, you don't introduce too
many characters, so, if we assume you, dear author, are not unkind
enough to bring in a murderer from "left field", we pretty much know
who did it, don't we? If you are unwilling to introduce decoy
culprits, the reader might still be concerned with how and in seeing
how the clues in the notes pertain to each murder.
I strongly recommend that you add these details, as I think this
type of murder mystery demands this process and these features.
Rod
--- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "goddessinbluejeans"
wrote:
>
> Dear Rod: Thank-you for your critique. Could you please explain
> something further? I am not sure what is meant by;
>
> "the means of dispatch and the content of the
> > prior notes would be nice to have."
>
> What exactly do you mean by "means of dispatch"? Do you mean the
> narration, who is narrating? I think a reporter? First Person
> Omniscent Narrator.
> Prior notes? Do you mean my creative thought bubble blurbs? I
don't
> have any prenotes for this work. Are you suppose to keep the
drafts?
> Honestly, I fly by hy the "seat of my pants" most days, just my
> style.
> The work just formulates, usually. Although sometimes when I am
> writing a longer work (novel) I am will write down all the
various
> intricacies necessary for a detailed format. I sometimes like to
make
> it up as I go along. Is this wrong? Do many other writers do this?
I
> sort of like the organic creation of a piece. It is so formula
> anyway, the detective/mystery short story and is easy to do, like
> telling a campfire story.
>
> You're right as rain about the word exclaimed, although the
character
> is so cool in his rockstar character as to be understated.
Twiggman
> in that "I'm too cool for school" rock star personae probably can
> turn on the cool ipso facto (after the fact). Although
logisitcally
> it does make more sense to have Twiggman appear more animated, as
> in "Let's Party, Let's R-O-C-K!!! ecitement of the event. Thanks
for
> pointing this out, I will have to think more about this, as it is
> early and I need my cup of Java.
>
> I also felt that the junior detectives hiding in the closet could
> have been more described with a comedy routine, but oh
well...maybe
> later
>
> ps. Thanks again, the imput is very much appreciated and will be
> appropriated in the published work. gibj
>
> --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse
> wrote:
> >
> > gibj,
> >
> > Very organized, although the means of dispatch and the content
of
> the
> > prior notes would be nice to have.
> >
> > Also, the clue or clues in the note that leads to the expected
place
> > and time doesn't shine through.
> >
> > Finally, I would substitute "exclaimed" for "expressed" in:
> >
> > "You're right on Dean Matters!" expressed Twiggman.
> >
> > Rod
> > aka albi
> > http://www.geocities.com/neocoda/
> > http://groups.yahoo.com/group/jumpingstones/
> >
> > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "goddessinbluejeans"
> > wrote:
> > >
> > > Backstage Murder Mystery
> > >
> > > Recently, there had been an alarming amount of rockstar
> > > murders, five in the last three years. The tabloids had
> > > been full of gossip and gory news concerning who could have
> > > committed these ghastly crimes. The only similiarity to the
> > > murders was the note left behind on the mirror of the rock
> > > stars dressing room. This note had been the only clue to
> > > tie in the five murders. Everything else about the murders
> > > was different. The time, place and choice of weapon were
> > > never the same. This had been a very difficult case to
> > > crack.
> > >
> > > This "Whodunit" was not solved yet, and the authorities
> > > were anxious to find the suspect or suspects as soon as
> > > possible. There were rumours that another Backstage Murder
> > > would be committed soon as the sixth month gap was closing
> > > in and fans were becoming edgy.
> > > Recently, the rockstar Twiggman had been receiving
> > > threatening phone calls on his cellphone, calls that never
> > > stated who they were, and with no recognizable voice and
> > > no call display on the phone either.
> > >
> > > Twiggman, a down-under Aussie Rockstar had been becoming
> > > very nervous about the "backstage murders" and the
> > > possibility of him being the next victim. This had caused
> > > Twiggman to drink a lot more heavily than usual. "When are
> > > they going to call Matters?" said Twiggman to Alfred B.
> > > Smeedly, his promoter and publicist. Smeedly, looked over
> > > his bifocals and stated, "Probably when the rain falls on
> > > the plain in Spain". "What does that mean Smeedly? Twiggman
> > > stated. "You take this Backstage Murders abit too lightly,
> > > Smeedly!".Smeedly said,"What's the point in worrying about
> > > it? I am sure they will find the culprit soon enough. He or
> > > she cannot be that smart to outfox Dean Matters of Scotland
> > > Yard and the Interpol police unit."
> > >
> > > Smeedly replied with his best Alfred Hitchcock accent .
> > > "That's true enough, man" replied Twiggman downing his
> > > scotch whiskey. "Care for a swig, Smeedly?", "Oh no thanks,
> > > Twiggman! I prefer Cognac, after 10 pm only. I have to
> > > watch the waste!". It had seemed to Twiggman that Smeedly
> > > had been acting very sketchy lately. "I suppose he is
> > > really freaked out about all his rockstars croaking like
> > > this", Twiggman said to himself. "I guess we are all really
> > > freaked out about it". And with that Twiggman rolled back
> > > and passed out on his dressing room sofa.
> > >
> > > Enter Dean Matters, the best inspector in Scotland Yard.
> > > Although there had been no real suspects to date, Matters
> > > was certain he was onto something. Twiggman had millions of
> > > loyal fans, any of them could have committed the crimes.
> > > Dean Matters was going to make sure that Twiggman was not
> > > going to be the next intended victim of the Backstage
> > > Murderer. Matters had an ace up his sleeve, or two.
> > >
> > > Twiggman had been on a scheduled world tour for the past
> > > six months. After his concert in Tokoyo, during his
> > > intermission of fifteen minutes were he changes costume,
> > > Twiggman noticed a familiar and frightening sight; the
> > > note. The note which was taped to the centre of Twiggman's
> > > makeup mirror above his desk read;
> > >
> > > One, Two,
> > > Three, Four,
> > > Five
> > > Who is the next Rockstar to Die?
> > > Watch yer back, TWIGGMAN!!!!!
> > >
> > > Twiggman looked at the note and turned twenty shades of
> > > pale. "I think I need a drink". He immediately called 9-11
> > > as he was expecting this and was told by Dean Matters to
> > > call him if anything should happen. All rockstars had been
> > > alerted to the notes and knew who to call right away.
> > > When Dean Matters arrived on the 6:00 pm to Tokoyo he went
> > > straight over to the Twiggman Concert. After pushing his
> > > way through the many Japanese fans of Twiggman's he knocked
> > > three times on the rockstar's dressing room door. Twiggman
> > > answered, "Come in Matters". Dean opened the door to see
> > > Twiggman totally wasted. "What happened, am I on?" No,
> > > Twiggman, your cover-band is playing, I think you will be
> > > out of commission for awhile until we figure this out". "No
> > > way, man, I can't do that! I have fans that need me. I am
> > > not letting some vicious backstage murderer destroy my rock
> > > career!". Dean said "Well if you would prefer to go out in
> > > a box, you let me know, and I will be heading back to
> > > Britian presently". "No, no, man you stay, do you have any
> > > leads on this thing? It's killing me one way or another".
> > > "Don't worry, Twiggman, I think I have found out how this
> > > person thinks, and I can guarantee you will not be the next
> > > victim. Let me show you something".
> > >
> > > Dean Matters had brought a blackboard with him and began
> > > describing in detail the five previous notes left behind by
> > > the murderer. It had been very hard to break the case
> > > until Dean Matters found out that the notes were all
> > > encoded in mathematical equations. The notes could be
> > > decoded to find out when, where and how the next murder
> > > would take place.
> > >
> > > Dean had noticed that the criminal or criminals seemed to
> > > be a very intelligent person or persons, and perhaps liked
> > > playing the boardgame Clue. Similar to finding Colonel
> > > Mustard in the Drawing Room with the Noose, the murders
> > > were never the same. Due to the fact that all of the
> > > persons although rockstars, the places and murder weapons
> > > were different. Luckily, Dean Matters found this out
> > > quickly. This time, time would not run out for Twiggman,
> > > Dean Matters was certain of this fact.
> > >
> > > The new note on Twiggman's dressing room mirror was
> > > interpreted by Dean as taking place in Brisbane Australia
> > > concert hall, July 12 concert date, time 11:33 pm. The
> > > formula for the notes was very specific in detail. 11:33 pm
> > > represented the scheduled intermission time of Twiggman's
> > > he would change outfits in his dressing room for the next
> > > set. Dean Matters also figured out that through deductive
> > > reasoning, the murder weapon would be a knife. Dean figured
> > > out the weapon of choice for this murder would be a knife
> > > because the note had read; "watch yer back", a reference to
> > > being knifed in the back. After this analysis, Dean and
> > > Twiggman worked out a plan to catch the would-be backstage
> > > murderer once and for all.
> > >
> > > Brisbane, Australia, July 12th, Twiggman Rocks Concert
> > > Tour. This day Dean Matters had Twiggman's dressing room
> > > rigged with videocams from every angle, and taperecorders
> > > recording every sound. This had been a good thing because
> > > today was the Brisbane Concert and Twiggman was just going
> > > onstage. "Good evening ladies and gents, tonight we are
> > > going to R-O-C-K!!!" Twiggman then began playing his usual
> > > chart-topping hit, with his guitar solos and Elvis-like
> > > movements. It was difficult to disguise his fear tonight
> > > but being the entertainer of such high caliber nobody
> > > really noticed his drunken swagger around the stage, it was
> > > his usual act anyway, being out of it. Twiggman kept
> > > looking at the back of the stage to see what time it read.
> > > "Oh great, almost 11:30 pm, it takes me three minutes to
> > > get to my dressing room".
> > >
> > > Dean Matters had his surveillance team setup outside in a
> > > white unmarked van. Two undercover police officers were
> > > waiting or rather, hiding in Twiggman's dressing room
> > > closet listening for the word "now" from Dean Matters to
> > > take down the stealthy backstage murderer.
> > >
> > > The lights went down onstage and Twiggman excited stage
> > > left and bounced down the stairs and into his dressing
> > > room. All of a sudden the lights went out and a loud
> > > scream came from the dressing room. When the lights came
> > > on again Twiggman had a knife sticking out of his back and
> > > was silenced. "Man down, call 9-ll" stated the shocked
> > > undercover agents into their microphones and who then
> > > emerged from the closet.
> > >
> > > Dean Matters showed up quickly on the scene and had a large
> > > cat-like grin on his face. The two undercover officers
> > > looked back and forth at one another. "Oh Dean, we are
> > > really glad you are here, I am afraid the backstage
> > > murderer got the better of Twiggman, may he rest in peace".
> > >
> > > At this point, Twiggman moans and rolls over and stands up
> > > and pulls the rubber knife from his back. "I guess I won't
> > > be needing this anymore!" And tosses the rubber knife to
> > > the undercover policemen. "I guess it is time to ask
> > > 'Whodunit', eh?"Dean grinned shyly.
> > >
> > > "You will never guess in a million years, Twiggman" stated
> > > Dean Matters factually. "It was your promoter, Alfred B.
> > > Smeedly! Apparently, he was interested in a career as a
suspense
> > > novelist and needed a lot of cash for his new job. So he
> > > was cashing in on his rockstars' insurance policies.
> > > Pretty smart of him, until we figured out how he did it!
> > > It always pays to know what you are signing before signing
> > > any contract. These tricky promoters get you in the fine
> > > print. Best to use a trusted lawyer too. Rock stars have
> > > been signing over their life insurance policy to a very
> > > greedy promoter for a long time but not anymore! Alfred B.
> > > Smeedly is now captured once and for all. His little 'game'
> > > is over." Twiggman stated, "Yah, I guess he got just a
> > > little bit too greedy, that's always the way! Too bad, I
> > > kinda liked Smeedly, but an 'Alfred Hitchcock' he certainly
> > > will never be!"." Probably not an 'Agatha Christie' either!"
> stated
> > > Dean Matters.
> > > "You're right on Dean Matters!" expressed Twiggman.
> > >
> > > The End
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > ---------------------------------------------------------------
---
> ----
> > > ----------
> > > Fine Dining & Fancy Food. Check Out This Collection Of
> Restaurants
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > Backstage Murder Mystery
> > >
> > > Recently, there had been an alarming amount of rockstar
murders,
> five
> > > in the last three years. The tabloids had been full of gossip
and
> > > gory news concerning who could have committed these ghastly
> crimes.
> > > The only similiarity to the murders was the note left behind
on
> the
> > > mirror of the rock stars dressing room. This note had been
the
> only
> > > clue to tie in the five murders. Everything else about the
> murders
> > > was different. The time, place and choice of weapon were never
> the
> > > same. This had been a very difficult case to crack.
> > >
> > > This "Whodunit" was not solved yet, and the authorities were
> anxious
> > > to find the suspect or suspects as soon as possible. There
were
> > > rumours that another Backstage Murder would be committed soon
as
> the
> > > sixth month gap was closing in and fans were becoming edgy.
> > >
> > > Recently, the rockstar Twiggman had been receiving threatening
> phone
> > > calls on his cellphone, calls that never stated who they were,
> and
> > > with no recognizable voice and no call display on the phone
> either.
> > >
> > > Twiggman, a down-under Aussie Rockstar had been becoming very
> nervous
> > > about the "backstage murders" and the possibility of him being
> the
> > > next victim. This had caused Twiggman to drink a lot more
heavily
> > > than usual. "When are they going to call Matters?" said
Twiggman
> to
> > > Alfred B. Smeeth, his promoter and publicist. Smeeth, looked
> over
> > > his bifocals and stated, "Probably when the rain falls on the
> plain
> > > in spain". "What does that mean Smeeth? Twiggman stated. "You
> take
> > > this Backstage Murders abit too lightly, Smeeth!".Smeeth
> said,"What's
> > > the point in worrying about it? I am sure they will find the
> culprit
> > > soon enough. He or she cannot be that smart to outfox Dean
> Matters of
> > > Scotland Yard and the Interpol police unit."
> > >
> > > Smeeth replied with his best Alfred Hitchcock
accent . "That's
> true
> > > enough, man" replied Twiggman downing his scotch
whiskey. "Care
> for a
> > > swig, Smeeth?", "Oh no thanks, Twiggman! I prefer Cognac,
after
> 10 pm
> > > only. I have to watch the waste!". It had seemed to Twiggman
that
> > > Smeeth had been acting very sketchy lately. "I suppose he is
> really
> > > freaked out about all his rockstars croaking like this",
Twiggman
> > > said to himself. "I guess we are all really freaked out about
> it".
> > > And with that Twiggman rolled back and passed out on his
dressing
> > > room sofa.
> > >
> > > Enter Dean Matters, the best inspector in Scotland Yard.
Although
> > > there had been no real suspects to date, Matters was certain
he
> was
> > > onto something. Twiggman had millions of loyal fans, any of
them
> > > could have committed the crimes. Dean Matters was going to
make
> sure
> > > that Twiggman was not going to be the next intended victim of
the
> > > Backstage Murderer. Matters had an ace up his sleeve, or two.
> > >
> > > Twiggman had been on a scheduled world tour for the past six
> months.
> > > After his concert in Tokoyo, during his intermission of
fifteen
> > > minutes were he changes costume, Twiggman noticed a familiar
and
> > > frightening sight; the note. The note which was taped to the
> centre
> > > of Twiggman's makeup mirror above his desk read;
> > >
> > > One, Two,
> > > Three, Four,
> > > Five
> > > Who is the next Rockstar to Die?
> > > Watch yer back, TWIGGMAN!!!!!
> > >
> > > Twiggman looked at the note and turned twenty shades of
pale. "I
> > > think I need a drink". He immediately called 9-11 as he was
> > > expecting this and was told by Dean Matters to call him if
> anything
> > > should happen. All rockstars had been alerted to the notes and
> knew
> > > who to call right away.
> > >
> > > When Dean Matters arrived on the 6:00 pm to Tokoyo he went
> straight
> > > over to the Twiggman Concert. After pushing his way through
the
> many
> > > Japanese fans of Twiggman's he knocked three times on the
> rockstar's
> > > dressing room door. Twiggman answered, "Come in Matters".
Dean
> > > opened the door to see Twiggman totally plastered. "What
> happened,
> > > am I on?" No, Twiggman, your cover-band is playing, I think
you
> will
> > > be out of commission for awhile until we figure this out". "No
> way,
> > > man, I can't do that! I have fans that need me. I am not
letting
> some
> > > vicious backstage murderer destroy my rock career!". Dean
> said "Well
> > > if you would prefer to go out in a box, you let me know, and I
> will
> > > be heading back to Britian presently". "No, no, man you stay,
do
> you
> > > have any leads on this thing? It's killing me one way or
> > > another". "Don't worry, Twiggman, I think I have found out how
> this
> > > person thinks, and I can guarantee you will not be the next
> victim.
> > > Let me show you something".
> > >
> > > Dean Matters had brought a blackboard with him and began
> describing
> > > in detail the five previous notes left behind by the
murderer.
> It
> > > had been very hard to break the case until Dean Matters found
out
> > > that the notes were all encoded in mathematical equations.
The
> notes
> > > could be decoded to find out when, where and how the next
murder
> > > would take place.
> > >
> > > Dean had noticed that the criminal or criminals seemed to be
a
> very
> > > intelligent person or persons, and perhaps liked playing the
> > > boardgame Clue. Similar to finding Colonel Mustard in the
Drawing
> > > Room with the Noose, the murders were never the same. Due to
the
> > > fact that all of the persons although rockstars, the places
and
> > > murder weapons were different. Luckily, Dean Matters found
this
> out
> > > quickly. This time, time would not run out for Twiggman, Dean
> Matters
> > > was certain of this fact.
> > >
> > > The new note on Twiggman's dressing room mirror was
interpreted
> by
> > > Dean as taking place in Brisbane Australia concert hall, July
12
> > > concert date, time 11:33 pm. The formula for the notes was
very
> > > specific in detail. 11:33 pm represented the scheduled
> intermission
> > > time of Twiggman's he would change outfits in his dressing
room
> for
> > > the next set. Dean Matters also figured out that through
> deductive
> > > reasoning, the murder weapon would be a knife. Dean figured
out
> the
> > > weapon of choice for this murder would be a knife because the
> note
> > > had read; "watch yer back", a reference to being knifed in the
> back.
> > > After this analysis, Dean and Twiggman worked out a plan to
catch
> the
> > > would-be backstage murderer once and for all.
> > >
> > > Brisbane, Australia, July 12th, Twiggman Rocks Concert Tour.
This
> day
> > > Dean Matters had Twiggman's dressing room rigged with
videocams
> from
> > > every angle, and taperecorders recording every sound. This had
> been a
> > > good thing because today was the Brisbane Concert and
Twiggman
> was
> > > just going onstage. "Good evening ladies and gents, tonight we
> are
> > > going to R-O-C-K!!!" Twiggman then began playing his usual
chart-
> > > topping hit, with his guitar solos and Elvis-like movements.
It
> was
> > > difficult to disguise his fear tonight but being the
entertainer
> of
> > > such high caliber nobody really noticed his drunken swagger
> around
> > > the stage, it was his usual act anyway, being out of it.
> Twiggman
> > > kept looking at the back of the stage to see what time it
> read. "Oh
> > > great, almost 11:30 pm, it takes me three minutes to get to my
> > > dressing room".
> > >
> > > Dean Matters had his surveillance team setup outside in a
white
> > > unmarked van. Two undercover police officers were waiting or
> rather,
> > > hiding in Twiggman's dressing room closet listening for the
> > > word "now" from Dean Matters to take down the stealthy
backstage
> > > murderer.
> > >
> > > The lights went down onstage and Twiggman excited stage left
and
> > > bounced down the stairs and into his dressing room. All of a
> sudden
> > > the lights went out and a loud scream came from the dressing
> room.
> > > When the lights came on again Twiggman had a knife sticking
out
> of
> > > his back and was silenced. "Man down, call 9-ll" stated the
> shocked
> > > undercover agents into their microphones and who then emerged
> from
> > > the closet.
> > >
> > > Dean Matters showed up quickly on the scene and had a large
cat-
> like
> > > grin on his face. The two undercover officers looked back and
> forth
> > > at one another. "Oh Dean, we are really glad you are here, I
am
> > > afraid the backstage murderer got the better of Twiggman, may
he
> rest
> > > in peace".
> > > At this point, Twiggman moans and rolls over and stands up and
> pulls
> > > the rubber knife from his back. "I guess I won't be needing
this
> > > anymore!" And tosses the rubber knife to the undercover
> policemen. "I
> > > guess it is time to ask 'Whodunit', eh?"Dean grinned shyly.
> > >
> > > "You will never guess in a million years, Twiggman" stated
Dean
> > > Matters factually. "It was your promoter, Alfred B. Smeedly".
He
> was
> > > interested in a career as a suspense novelist and needed a lot
of
> > > cash for his new job. So he was cashing in on his rockstars'
> > > insurance policies. Pretty smart of him, until we figured out
> how he
> > > did it! It always pays to know what you are signing before
> signing
> > > any contract. These tricky promoters get you in the fine
print.
> Best
> > > to use a trusted lawyer too. Rock stars have been signing over
> their
> > > life insurance policy to a very greedy promoter for a long
time
> but
> > > not anymore! Alfred B. Smeedly is now captured once and for
all.
> His
> > > little 'game' is over. Twiggman stated, "Yah, I guess he got
just
> a
> > > little bit too greedy, that's always the way! Too bad, I kinda
> liked
> > > Smeedly, but an Alfred Hitchcock he certainly will never
> be!"."Right
> > > on!" stated Dean Matters. gibj 07
> > >
> >
>
Sat Aug 23, 2008 1:25 pm
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Backstage Murder Mystery (light summer reading for teens)
Backstage Murder Mystery Recently, there had been an alarming amount of rockstar murders, five in the last three years. The tabloids had been full of gossip... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 21, 2008
10:57 pm
Re: Backstage Murder Mystery (light summer reading for teens)
gibj, Very organized, although the means of dispatch and the content of the prior notes would be nice to have. Also, the clue or clues in the note that leads... albiaicehouse
Aug 22, 2008
1:59 am
Re: Backstage Murder Mystery (light summer reading for teens)
Dear Rod: Thank-you for your critique. Could you please explain something further? I am not sure what is meant by; "the means of dispatch and the content of... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 22, 2008
1:30 pm
Re: Backstage Murder Mystery (light summer reading for teens)
gidp, Sorry, I should have been more specific. "means of dispatch" was meant to be how the prior murders took place, what was the murder instrument, where was... albiaicehouse
Aug 23, 2008 repost chiccoreal nov 29 08
7:29 pm
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gidp,
Sorry, I should have been more specific.
"means of dispatch" was meant to be how the prior murders took
place, what was the murder instrument, where was the location, etc.
"content of the prior notes" was meant to mean what words did the
murderer leave on the notes left at the prior murders.
Part of the fun for the reader is to speculate during the story on
who committed the murders. In your story, you don't introduce too
many characters, so, if we assume you, dear author, are not unkind
enough to bring in a murderer from "left field", we pretty much know
who did it, don't we? If you are unwilling to introduce decoy
culprits, the reader might still be concerned with how and in seeing
how the clues in the notes pertain to each murder.
I strongly recommend that you add these details, as I think this
type of murder mystery demands this process and these features.
Rod
--- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "goddessinbluejeans"
>
> Dear Rod: Thank-you for your critique. Could you please explain
> something further? I am not sure what is meant by;
>
> "the means of dispatch and the content of the
> > prior notes would be nice to have."
>
> What exactly do you mean by "means of dispatch"? Do you mean the
> narration, who is narrating? I think a reporter? First Person
> Omniscent Narrator.
> Prior notes? Do you mean my creative thought bubble blurbs? I
don't
> have any prenotes for this work. Are you suppose to keep the
drafts?
> Honestly, I fly by hy the "seat of my pants" most days, just my
> style.
> The work just formulates, usually. Although sometimes when I am
> writing a longer work (novel) I am will write down all the
various
> intricacies necessary for a detailed format. I sometimes like to
make
> it up as I go along. Is this wrong? Do many other writers do this?
I
> sort of like the organic creation of a piece. It is so formula
> anyway, the detective/mystery short story and is easy to do, like
> telling a campfire story.
>
> You're right as rain about the word exclaimed, although the
character
> is so cool in his rockstar character as to be understated.
Twiggman
> in that "I'm too cool for school" rock star personae probably can
> turn on the cool ipso facto (after the fact). Although
logisitcally
> it does make more sense to have Twiggman appear more animated, as
> in "Let's Party, Let's R-O-C-K!!! ecitement of the event. Thanks
for
> pointing this out, I will have to think more about this, as it is
> early and I need my cup of Java.
>
> I also felt that the junior detectives hiding in the closet could
> have been more described with a comedy routine, but oh
well...maybe
> later
>
> ps. Thanks again, the imput is very much appreciated and will be
> appropriated in the published work. gibj
>
> --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse
> wrote:
> >
> > gibj,
> >
> > Very organized, although the means of dispatch and the content
of
> the
> > prior notes would be nice to have.
> >
> > Also, the clue or clues in the note that leads to the expected
place
> > and time doesn't shine through.
> >
> > Finally, I would substitute "exclaimed" for "expressed" in:
> >
> > "You're right on Dean Matters!" expressed Twiggman.
> >
> > Rod
> > aka albi
> > http://www.geocities.com/neocoda/
> > http://groups.yahoo.com/group/jumpingstones/
> >
> > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "goddessinbluejeans"
> >
> > >
> > > Backstage Murder Mystery
> > >
> > > Recently, there had been an alarming amount of rockstar
> > > murders, five in the last three years. The tabloids had
> > > been full of gossip and gory news concerning who could have
> > > committed these ghastly crimes. The only similiarity to the
> > > murders was the note left behind on the mirror of the rock
> > > stars dressing room. This note had been the only clue to
> > > tie in the five murders. Everything else about the murders
> > > was different. The time, place and choice of weapon were
> > > never the same. This had been a very difficult case to
> > > crack.
> > >
> > > This "Whodunit" was not solved yet, and the authorities
> > > were anxious to find the suspect or suspects as soon as
> > > possible. There were rumours that another Backstage Murder
> > > would be committed soon as the sixth month gap was closing
> > > in and fans were becoming edgy.
> > > Recently, the rockstar Twiggman had been receiving
> > > threatening phone calls on his cellphone, calls that never
> > > stated who they were, and with no recognizable voice and
> > > no call display on the phone either.
> > >
> > > Twiggman, a down-under Aussie Rockstar had been becoming
> > > very nervous about the "backstage murders" and the
> > > possibility of him being the next victim. This had caused
> > > Twiggman to drink a lot more heavily than usual. "When are
> > > they going to call Matters?" said Twiggman to Alfred B.
> > > Smeedly, his promoter and publicist. Smeedly, looked over
> > > his bifocals and stated, "Probably when the rain falls on
> > > the plain in Spain". "What does that mean Smeedly? Twiggman
> > > stated. "You take this Backstage Murders abit too lightly,
> > > Smeedly!".Smeedly said,"What's the point in worrying about
> > > it? I am sure they will find the culprit soon enough. He or
> > > she cannot be that smart to outfox Dean Matters of Scotland
> > > Yard and the Interpol police unit."
> > >
> > > Smeedly replied with his best Alfred Hitchcock accent .
> > > "That's true enough, man" replied Twiggman downing his
> > > scotch whiskey. "Care for a swig, Smeedly?", "Oh no thanks,
> > > Twiggman! I prefer Cognac, after 10 pm only. I have to
> > > watch the waste!". It had seemed to Twiggman that Smeedly
> > > had been acting very sketchy lately. "I suppose he is
> > > really freaked out about all his rockstars croaking like
> > > this", Twiggman said to himself. "I guess we are all really
> > > freaked out about it". And with that Twiggman rolled back
> > > and passed out on his dressing room sofa.
> > >
> > > Enter Dean Matters, the best inspector in Scotland Yard.
> > > Although there had been no real suspects to date, Matters
> > > was certain he was onto something. Twiggman had millions of
> > > loyal fans, any of them could have committed the crimes.
> > > Dean Matters was going to make sure that Twiggman was not
> > > going to be the next intended victim of the Backstage
> > > Murderer. Matters had an ace up his sleeve, or two.
> > >
> > > Twiggman had been on a scheduled world tour for the past
> > > six months. After his concert in Tokoyo, during his
> > > intermission of fifteen minutes were he changes costume,
> > > Twiggman noticed a familiar and frightening sight; the
> > > note. The note which was taped to the centre of Twiggman's
> > > makeup mirror above his desk read;
> > >
> > > One, Two,
> > > Three, Four,
> > > Five
> > > Who is the next Rockstar to Die?
> > > Watch yer back, TWIGGMAN!!!!!
> > >
> > > Twiggman looked at the note and turned twenty shades of
> > > pale. "I think I need a drink". He immediately called 9-11
> > > as he was expecting this and was told by Dean Matters to
> > > call him if anything should happen. All rockstars had been
> > > alerted to the notes and knew who to call right away.
> > > When Dean Matters arrived on the 6:00 pm to Tokoyo he went
> > > straight over to the Twiggman Concert. After pushing his
> > > way through the many Japanese fans of Twiggman's he knocked
> > > three times on the rockstar's dressing room door. Twiggman
> > > answered, "Come in Matters". Dean opened the door to see
> > > Twiggman totally wasted. "What happened, am I on?" No,
> > > Twiggman, your cover-band is playing, I think you will be
> > > out of commission for awhile until we figure this out". "No
> > > way, man, I can't do that! I have fans that need me. I am
> > > not letting some vicious backstage murderer destroy my rock
> > > career!". Dean said "Well if you would prefer to go out in
> > > a box, you let me know, and I will be heading back to
> > > Britian presently". "No, no, man you stay, do you have any
> > > leads on this thing? It's killing me one way or another".
> > > "Don't worry, Twiggman, I think I have found out how this
> > > person thinks, and I can guarantee you will not be the next
> > > victim. Let me show you something".
> > >
> > > Dean Matters had brought a blackboard with him and began
> > > describing in detail the five previous notes left behind by
> > > the murderer. It had been very hard to break the case
> > > until Dean Matters found out that the notes were all
> > > encoded in mathematical equations. The notes could be
> > > decoded to find out when, where and how the next murder
> > > would take place.
> > >
> > > Dean had noticed that the criminal or criminals seemed to
> > > be a very intelligent person or persons, and perhaps liked
> > > playing the boardgame Clue. Similar to finding Colonel
> > > Mustard in the Drawing Room with the Noose, the murders
> > > were never the same. Due to the fact that all of the
> > > persons although rockstars, the places and murder weapons
> > > were different. Luckily, Dean Matters found this out
> > > quickly. This time, time would not run out for Twiggman,
> > > Dean Matters was certain of this fact.
> > >
> > > The new note on Twiggman's dressing room mirror was
> > > interpreted by Dean as taking place in Brisbane Australia
> > > concert hall, July 12 concert date, time 11:33 pm. The
> > > formula for the notes was very specific in detail. 11:33 pm
> > > represented the scheduled intermission time of Twiggman's
> > > he would change outfits in his dressing room for the next
> > > set. Dean Matters also figured out that through deductive
> > > reasoning, the murder weapon would be a knife. Dean figured
> > > out the weapon of choice for this murder would be a knife
> > > because the note had read; "watch yer back", a reference to
> > > being knifed in the back. After this analysis, Dean and
> > > Twiggman worked out a plan to catch the would-be backstage
> > > murderer once and for all.
> > >
> > > Brisbane, Australia, July 12th, Twiggman Rocks Concert
> > > Tour. This day Dean Matters had Twiggman's dressing room
> > > rigged with videocams from every angle, and taperecorders
> > > recording every sound. This had been a good thing because
> > > today was the Brisbane Concert and Twiggman was just going
> > > onstage. "Good evening ladies and gents, tonight we are
> > > going to R-O-C-K!!!" Twiggman then began playing his usual
> > > chart-topping hit, with his guitar solos and Elvis-like
> > > movements. It was difficult to disguise his fear tonight
> > > but being the entertainer of such high caliber nobody
> > > really noticed his drunken swagger around the stage, it was
> > > his usual act anyway, being out of it. Twiggman kept
> > > looking at the back of the stage to see what time it read.
> > > "Oh great, almost 11:30 pm, it takes me three minutes to
> > > get to my dressing room".
> > >
> > > Dean Matters had his surveillance team setup outside in a
> > > white unmarked van. Two undercover police officers were
> > > waiting or rather, hiding in Twiggman's dressing room
> > > closet listening for the word "now" from Dean Matters to
> > > take down the stealthy backstage murderer.
> > >
> > > The lights went down onstage and Twiggman excited stage
> > > left and bounced down the stairs and into his dressing
> > > room. All of a sudden the lights went out and a loud
> > > scream came from the dressing room. When the lights came
> > > on again Twiggman had a knife sticking out of his back and
> > > was silenced. "Man down, call 9-ll" stated the shocked
> > > undercover agents into their microphones and who then
> > > emerged from the closet.
> > >
> > > Dean Matters showed up quickly on the scene and had a large
> > > cat-like grin on his face. The two undercover officers
> > > looked back and forth at one another. "Oh Dean, we are
> > > really glad you are here, I am afraid the backstage
> > > murderer got the better of Twiggman, may he rest in peace".
> > >
> > > At this point, Twiggman moans and rolls over and stands up
> > > and pulls the rubber knife from his back. "I guess I won't
> > > be needing this anymore!" And tosses the rubber knife to
> > > the undercover policemen. "I guess it is time to ask
> > > 'Whodunit', eh?"Dean grinned shyly.
> > >
> > > "You will never guess in a million years, Twiggman" stated
> > > Dean Matters factually. "It was your promoter, Alfred B.
> > > Smeedly! Apparently, he was interested in a career as a
suspense
> > > novelist and needed a lot of cash for his new job. So he
> > > was cashing in on his rockstars' insurance policies.
> > > Pretty smart of him, until we figured out how he did it!
> > > It always pays to know what you are signing before signing
> > > any contract. These tricky promoters get you in the fine
> > > print. Best to use a trusted lawyer too. Rock stars have
> > > been signing over their life insurance policy to a very
> > > greedy promoter for a long time but not anymore! Alfred B.
> > > Smeedly is now captured once and for all. His little 'game'
> > > is over." Twiggman stated, "Yah, I guess he got just a
> > > little bit too greedy, that's always the way! Too bad, I
> > > kinda liked Smeedly, but an 'Alfred Hitchcock' he certainly
> > > will never be!"." Probably not an 'Agatha Christie' either!"
> stated
> > > Dean Matters.
> > > "You're right on Dean Matters!" expressed Twiggman.
> > >
> > > The End
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > ---------------------------------------------------------------
---
> ----
> > > ----------
> > > Fine Dining & Fancy Food. Check Out This Collection Of
> Restaurants
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > Backstage Murder Mystery
> > >
> > > Recently, there had been an alarming amount of rockstar
murders,
> five
> > > in the last three years. The tabloids had been full of gossip
and
> > > gory news concerning who could have committed these ghastly
> crimes.
> > > The only similiarity to the murders was the note left behind
on
> the
> > > mirror of the rock stars dressing room. This note had been
the
> only
> > > clue to tie in the five murders. Everything else about the
> murders
> > > was different. The time, place and choice of weapon were never
> the
> > > same. This had been a very difficult case to crack.
> > >
> > > This "Whodunit" was not solved yet, and the authorities were
> anxious
> > > to find the suspect or suspects as soon as possible. There
were
> > > rumours that another Backstage Murder would be committed soon
as
> the
> > > sixth month gap was closing in and fans were becoming edgy.
> > >
> > > Recently, the rockstar Twiggman had been receiving threatening
> phone
> > > calls on his cellphone, calls that never stated who they were,
> and
> > > with no recognizable voice and no call display on the phone
> either.
> > >
> > > Twiggman, a down-under Aussie Rockstar had been becoming very
> nervous
> > > about the "backstage murders" and the possibility of him being
> the
> > > next victim. This had caused Twiggman to drink a lot more
heavily
> > > than usual. "When are they going to call Matters?" said
Twiggman
> to
> > > Alfred B. Smeeth, his promoter and publicist. Smeeth, looked
> over
> > > his bifocals and stated, "Probably when the rain falls on the
> plain
> > > in spain". "What does that mean Smeeth? Twiggman stated. "You
> take
> > > this Backstage Murders abit too lightly, Smeeth!".Smeeth
> said,"What's
> > > the point in worrying about it? I am sure they will find the
> culprit
> > > soon enough. He or she cannot be that smart to outfox Dean
> Matters of
> > > Scotland Yard and the Interpol police unit."
> > >
> > > Smeeth replied with his best Alfred Hitchcock
accent . "That's
> true
> > > enough, man" replied Twiggman downing his scotch
whiskey. "Care
> for a
> > > swig, Smeeth?", "Oh no thanks, Twiggman! I prefer Cognac,
after
> 10 pm
> > > only. I have to watch the waste!". It had seemed to Twiggman
that
> > > Smeeth had been acting very sketchy lately. "I suppose he is
> really
> > > freaked out about all his rockstars croaking like this",
Twiggman
> > > said to himself. "I guess we are all really freaked out about
> it".
> > > And with that Twiggman rolled back and passed out on his
dressing
> > > room sofa.
> > >
> > > Enter Dean Matters, the best inspector in Scotland Yard.
Although
> > > there had been no real suspects to date, Matters was certain
he
> was
> > > onto something. Twiggman had millions of loyal fans, any of
them
> > > could have committed the crimes. Dean Matters was going to
make
> sure
> > > that Twiggman was not going to be the next intended victim of
the
> > > Backstage Murderer. Matters had an ace up his sleeve, or two.
> > >
> > > Twiggman had been on a scheduled world tour for the past six
> months.
> > > After his concert in Tokoyo, during his intermission of
fifteen
> > > minutes were he changes costume, Twiggman noticed a familiar
and
> > > frightening sight; the note. The note which was taped to the
> centre
> > > of Twiggman's makeup mirror above his desk read;
> > >
> > > One, Two,
> > > Three, Four,
> > > Five
> > > Who is the next Rockstar to Die?
> > > Watch yer back, TWIGGMAN!!!!!
> > >
> > > Twiggman looked at the note and turned twenty shades of
pale. "I
> > > think I need a drink". He immediately called 9-11 as he was
> > > expecting this and was told by Dean Matters to call him if
> anything
> > > should happen. All rockstars had been alerted to the notes and
> knew
> > > who to call right away.
> > >
> > > When Dean Matters arrived on the 6:00 pm to Tokoyo he went
> straight
> > > over to the Twiggman Concert. After pushing his way through
the
> many
> > > Japanese fans of Twiggman's he knocked three times on the
> rockstar's
> > > dressing room door. Twiggman answered, "Come in Matters".
Dean
> > > opened the door to see Twiggman totally plastered. "What
> happened,
> > > am I on?" No, Twiggman, your cover-band is playing, I think
you
> will
> > > be out of commission for awhile until we figure this out". "No
> way,
> > > man, I can't do that! I have fans that need me. I am not
letting
> some
> > > vicious backstage murderer destroy my rock career!". Dean
> said "Well
> > > if you would prefer to go out in a box, you let me know, and I
> will
> > > be heading back to Britian presently". "No, no, man you stay,
do
> you
> > > have any leads on this thing? It's killing me one way or
> > > another". "Don't worry, Twiggman, I think I have found out how
> this
> > > person thinks, and I can guarantee you will not be the next
> victim.
> > > Let me show you something".
> > >
> > > Dean Matters had brought a blackboard with him and began
> describing
> > > in detail the five previous notes left behind by the
murderer.
> It
> > > had been very hard to break the case until Dean Matters found
out
> > > that the notes were all encoded in mathematical equations.
The
> notes
> > > could be decoded to find out when, where and how the next
murder
> > > would take place.
> > >
> > > Dean had noticed that the criminal or criminals seemed to be
a
> very
> > > intelligent person or persons, and perhaps liked playing the
> > > boardgame Clue. Similar to finding Colonel Mustard in the
Drawing
> > > Room with the Noose, the murders were never the same. Due to
the
> > > fact that all of the persons although rockstars, the places
and
> > > murder weapons were different. Luckily, Dean Matters found
this
> out
> > > quickly. This time, time would not run out for Twiggman, Dean
> Matters
> > > was certain of this fact.
> > >
> > > The new note on Twiggman's dressing room mirror was
interpreted
> by
> > > Dean as taking place in Brisbane Australia concert hall, July
12
> > > concert date, time 11:33 pm. The formula for the notes was
very
> > > specific in detail. 11:33 pm represented the scheduled
> intermission
> > > time of Twiggman's he would change outfits in his dressing
room
> for
> > > the next set. Dean Matters also figured out that through
> deductive
> > > reasoning, the murder weapon would be a knife. Dean figured
out
> the
> > > weapon of choice for this murder would be a knife because the
> note
> > > had read; "watch yer back", a reference to being knifed in the
> back.
> > > After this analysis, Dean and Twiggman worked out a plan to
catch
> the
> > > would-be backstage murderer once and for all.
> > >
> > > Brisbane, Australia, July 12th, Twiggman Rocks Concert Tour.
This
> day
> > > Dean Matters had Twiggman's dressing room rigged with
videocams
> from
> > > every angle, and taperecorders recording every sound. This had
> been a
> > > good thing because today was the Brisbane Concert and
Twiggman
> was
> > > just going onstage. "Good evening ladies and gents, tonight we
> are
> > > going to R-O-C-K!!!" Twiggman then began playing his usual
chart-
> > > topping hit, with his guitar solos and Elvis-like movements.
It
> was
> > > difficult to disguise his fear tonight but being the
entertainer
> of
> > > such high caliber nobody really noticed his drunken swagger
> around
> > > the stage, it was his usual act anyway, being out of it.
> Twiggman
> > > kept looking at the back of the stage to see what time it
> read. "Oh
> > > great, almost 11:30 pm, it takes me three minutes to get to my
> > > dressing room".
> > >
> > > Dean Matters had his surveillance team setup outside in a
white
> > > unmarked van. Two undercover police officers were waiting or
> rather,
> > > hiding in Twiggman's dressing room closet listening for the
> > > word "now" from Dean Matters to take down the stealthy
backstage
> > > murderer.
> > >
> > > The lights went down onstage and Twiggman excited stage left
and
> > > bounced down the stairs and into his dressing room. All of a
> sudden
> > > the lights went out and a loud scream came from the dressing
> room.
> > > When the lights came on again Twiggman had a knife sticking
out
> of
> > > his back and was silenced. "Man down, call 9-ll" stated the
> shocked
> > > undercover agents into their microphones and who then emerged
> from
> > > the closet.
> > >
> > > Dean Matters showed up quickly on the scene and had a large
cat-
> like
> > > grin on his face. The two undercover officers looked back and
> forth
> > > at one another. "Oh Dean, we are really glad you are here, I
am
> > > afraid the backstage murderer got the better of Twiggman, may
he
> rest
> > > in peace".
> > > At this point, Twiggman moans and rolls over and stands up and
> pulls
> > > the rubber knife from his back. "I guess I won't be needing
this
> > > anymore!" And tosses the rubber knife to the undercover
> policemen. "I
> > > guess it is time to ask 'Whodunit', eh?"Dean grinned shyly.
> > >
> > > "You will never guess in a million years, Twiggman" stated
Dean
> > > Matters factually. "It was your promoter, Alfred B. Smeedly".
He
> was
> > > interested in a career as a suspense novelist and needed a lot
of
> > > cash for his new job. So he was cashing in on his rockstars'
> > > insurance policies. Pretty smart of him, until we figured out
> how he
> > > did it! It always pays to know what you are signing before
> signing
> > > any contract. These tricky promoters get you in the fine
print.
> Best
> > > to use a trusted lawyer too. Rock stars have been signing over
> their
> > > life insurance policy to a very greedy promoter for a long
time
> but
> > > not anymore! Alfred B. Smeedly is now captured once and for
all.
> His
> > > little 'game' is over. Twiggman stated, "Yah, I guess he got
just
> a
> > > little bit too greedy, that's always the way! Too bad, I kinda
> liked
> > > Smeedly, but an Alfred Hitchcock he certainly will never
> be!"."Right
> > > on!" stated Dean Matters. gibj 07
> > >
> >
>
Sat Aug 23, 2008 1:25 pm
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Backstage Murder Mystery (light summer reading for teens)
Backstage Murder Mystery Recently, there had been an alarming amount of rockstar murders, five in the last three years. The tabloids had been full of gossip... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 21, 2008
10:57 pm
Re: Backstage Murder Mystery (light summer reading for teens)
gibj, Very organized, although the means of dispatch and the content of the prior notes would be nice to have. Also, the clue or clues in the note that leads... albiaicehouse
Aug 22, 2008
1:59 am
Re: Backstage Murder Mystery (light summer reading for teens)
Dear Rod: Thank-you for your critique. Could you please explain something further? I am not sure what is meant by; "the means of dispatch and the content of... goddessinbluejeans
goddessinblu...
Aug 22, 2008
1:30 pm
Re: Backstage Murder Mystery (light summer reading for teens)
gidp, Sorry, I should have been more specific. "means of dispatch" was meant to be how the prior murders took place, what was the murder instrument, where was... albiaicehouse
Aug 23, 2008 repost chiccoreal nov 29 08
7:29 pm
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