Wahey!
This is incomparably splendid. We now have four (count 'em … FOUR) stories for this month's 500 Words assignment. I was only really expecting one. Hoorah for people with … er … "vivid" imaginations.
Vanda's 'Tuesday'
This explains so much about life.
While Vanda has been lying on the couch and dozing something strange and wonderful has crept from the nether regions of her mind to regale us with a gloriously entertaining tale.
Brew up a coffee and join us in her fevered imaginings.
You know you want to.
Here are the other stories so far, in case your coffee is one of those American "bucket" sizes:
Lulu's 'This One's For Dive'
Katherine's 'Ivate's Private Lot'
Dive's 'Parking For G'
Enjoy!
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Duck! Here Comes Another Day …
Last week our hopelessly innumerate Tory chancellor, the noxious, plastic-faced smarm-pig and unashamed bankers' apologist oily Osborne, opened his arse cheeks and shat woe upon the country in what he attempted to call "a budget for growth."
Growth, it would appear - other than the facial goitre he so richly deserves - means simply the fattening of bankers' wallets and the lengthening of dole queues.
I would indulge in one of my classic sweary rants but the day after the budget this appeared on a wall in Norwich and I don't think it can be bettered as an economic critique of Tory fiscal policy.
Growth, it would appear - other than the facial goitre he so richly deserves - means simply the fattening of bankers' wallets and the lengthening of dole queues.
I would indulge in one of my classic sweary rants but the day after the budget this appeared on a wall in Norwich and I don't think it can be bettered as an economic critique of Tory fiscal policy.
Friday, March 25, 2011
500 Words XLVI - Story Time - Extra
I needed cheering up this week (a friend I had known since we were kids dropped dead earlier and just as we were on our way to his funeral we heard that my much-loved uncle had also passed away), and so I must pass on a huge thank you to our lovely Lulu for breaking the pall of misery and making me grin and chuckle all morning.
Lulu's 'This One's For Dive'
… is an R-rated, sexed-up beast of a tale that dredges the fœtid depths of pornographic euphemism and comes up laughing its socks off.
Believe me: Lulu's erotic 'Jarvis' stories only scratched the surface; this one goes balls deep … ahem.
Katherine's and my own 500 Words tales can be found here if anyone hasn't indulged already, and there may be yet more stories to come before the end of the month and your new assignment.
Anyhoo, big hugs of thanks to Lulu for making this most awful week bearable.
Lulu's 'This One's For Dive'
… is an R-rated, sexed-up beast of a tale that dredges the fœtid depths of pornographic euphemism and comes up laughing its socks off.
Believe me: Lulu's erotic 'Jarvis' stories only scratched the surface; this one goes balls deep … ahem.
Katherine's and my own 500 Words tales can be found here if anyone hasn't indulged already, and there may be yet more stories to come before the end of the month and your new assignment.
Anyhoo, big hugs of thanks to Lulu for making this most awful week bearable.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Cocks
This cheered me right up this morning.
For those Colonials who don't know him, the delicious young man in this video is Brian Cox, television's worst dressed sentient being, unfeasibly youthful professor of particle physics at Manchester University and author of some of my favourite books on quantum theory (you know physics gets me horny).
He has a reputation for being "nice" on TV so hearing this spoof soundtrack made particles of physics come out my nose at breakfast today.
My favourite lines:
"Imagine that the world is ROUND!"
and "Everywhere's covered in shit."
For those Colonials who don't know him, the delicious young man in this video is Brian Cox, television's worst dressed sentient being, unfeasibly youthful professor of particle physics at Manchester University and author of some of my favourite books on quantum theory (you know physics gets me horny).
He has a reputation for being "nice" on TV so hearing this spoof soundtrack made particles of physics come out my nose at breakfast today.
My favourite lines:
"Imagine that the world is ROUND!"
and "Everywhere's covered in shit."
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
500 Words XLVI - Story Time
I know I gave you a month to write the stories this time around, but we already have two in so I shall post them here for the non-writers to enjoy, and post up any others as they come in.
Your mission this month (and don't worry if you haven't started yet - there's almost a month left before the deadline) is to produce 500 words inspired by and featuring the scene in Petrea's photograph in yesterday's post.
So far this time we have:
Katherine's 'Ivate's Private Lot'
Utterly delicious, dark and twisted and accidentally featuring the most hilariously inaccurate description of British teatime decorum I've ever read.
Wonderful! I am so glad we started this up again.
Dive's 'Parking For G'
I had a nice sentence to start this one, but after a dozen or so attempts to work a plot around it I just said "screw it" and wrote another Bartleby story. Pulp is easy and I am lazy, but I shall try to buck my ideas up for the next assignment.
Your mission this month (and don't worry if you haven't started yet - there's almost a month left before the deadline) is to produce 500 words inspired by and featuring the scene in Petrea's photograph in yesterday's post.
So far this time we have:
Katherine's 'Ivate's Private Lot'
Utterly delicious, dark and twisted and accidentally featuring the most hilariously inaccurate description of British teatime decorum I've ever read.
Wonderful! I am so glad we started this up again.
Dive's 'Parking For G'
I had a nice sentence to start this one, but after a dozen or so attempts to work a plot around it I just said "screw it" and wrote another Bartleby story. Pulp is easy and I am lazy, but I shall try to buck my ideas up for the next assignment.
Monday, March 14, 2011
The Return Of 500 Words
Hoorah for Petrea!
I've been itching to restart 500 Words for months now, but until this morning and Petrea's fantastic "Zen Monday" post (already the inspiration behind my old WTF Monday series) my writing mojo had been suffering from erectile dysfunction. No matter how much literary foreplay I stroked it with the damned thing just hung there as limp as a damp sock. It's hard for a man when he can't get his pen up … or perhaps hard is not the best word … er.
Then I saw Petrea's photograph (reproduced with her kind permission):
How brilliant is THAT? My first thought when I saw those feet at the bottom was that you could write a hundred stories based around the picture.
So …
I've already written one (another Bartleby story - surprise, surprise) and it's over at my 500 Words blog.
It would make an old man very happy if more of you would join in and write your own tales of what might have happened in this garage parking lot.
Y'all know the rules.
Or at least you should do by now. If you need a refresher they're down in the sidebar on the 500 Words blog.
I'll make the new series of 500 Words monthly rather than weekly to make it easier this time around.
Let me know when your stories are ready and I'll post them up as usual.
Just to be clear: you can write whatever you like, as long as it is precisely 500 words long (the fun is in the editing) and at some point contains the scene in the photo.
Enjoy!
I've been itching to restart 500 Words for months now, but until this morning and Petrea's fantastic "Zen Monday" post (already the inspiration behind my old WTF Monday series) my writing mojo had been suffering from erectile dysfunction. No matter how much literary foreplay I stroked it with the damned thing just hung there as limp as a damp sock. It's hard for a man when he can't get his pen up … or perhaps hard is not the best word … er.
Then I saw Petrea's photograph (reproduced with her kind permission):
How brilliant is THAT? My first thought when I saw those feet at the bottom was that you could write a hundred stories based around the picture.
So …
I've already written one (another Bartleby story - surprise, surprise) and it's over at my 500 Words blog.
It would make an old man very happy if more of you would join in and write your own tales of what might have happened in this garage parking lot.
Y'all know the rules.
Or at least you should do by now. If you need a refresher they're down in the sidebar on the 500 Words blog.
I'll make the new series of 500 Words monthly rather than weekly to make it easier this time around.
Let me know when your stories are ready and I'll post them up as usual.
Just to be clear: you can write whatever you like, as long as it is precisely 500 words long (the fun is in the editing) and at some point contains the scene in the photo.
Enjoy!
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Short and Totally Fucking Sweet, Dudes
Loath as I am to promote loathesome BookFace stuff over here, I feel I really should recommend Jason's podcasts. Firstly because he works damned hard researching all this stuff and secondly because he's kind of cute.
Here's what I wrote about the current 'cast on BookFace:
"Dudes and dudettes, pray check out the latest episode of my laconic and unfeasibly handsome mate Jase's podcast "The Unsigned Planet."
It's short.
It's sweet.
Every episode features a hand-picked handful of great unsigned bands from around the planet, an eclectic mix of more kinds of music than you probably knew existed.
This show totally deserves your respect and support (and if you know of any unsigned bands in your area, send him their details and they'll love you for ever).
Now click the link and get dancing. You know you want to."
And here is the latest podcast:
Check out the older episodes, too. There's some doozies in there.
Enjoy!
Here's what I wrote about the current 'cast on BookFace:
"Dudes and dudettes, pray check out the latest episode of my laconic and unfeasibly handsome mate Jase's podcast "The Unsigned Planet."
It's short.
It's sweet.
Every episode features a hand-picked handful of great unsigned bands from around the planet, an eclectic mix of more kinds of music than you probably knew existed.
This show totally deserves your respect and support (and if you know of any unsigned bands in your area, send him their details and they'll love you for ever).
Now click the link and get dancing. You know you want to."
And here is the latest podcast:
Check out the older episodes, too. There's some doozies in there.
Enjoy!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Woids
I know I'm always the last to know about absolutely everything that goes on around me, so it comes as no surprise that I have only just discovered the Noo Yoiker's Fiction Podcasts.
Now I am a total addict.
Being temporarily partially sighted has cut down my daily reading hours so having someone read to me is great.
Go there. Listen. Enjoy.
I feel almost inspired enough to start writing short stories again. Anyone fancy joining me if I restart 500 Words (or should that be 500 Woids now it's Noo Yoiker inspired)?
Now I am a total addict.
Being temporarily partially sighted has cut down my daily reading hours so having someone read to me is great.
Go there. Listen. Enjoy.
I feel almost inspired enough to start writing short stories again. Anyone fancy joining me if I restart 500 Words (or should that be 500 Woids now it's Noo Yoiker inspired)?
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Itchy as Fuck
Well, half-way through the first of my six, partially-sighted, post-cataract weeks before I can get my new prescription sorted and see again, and already my forehead above my right eye is red raw and sore as hell. I have to wear a protective shield over my eye at night for the first three weeks, presumably to stop myself clawing it out in my sleep, but the damned thing has to be taped on with microporous tape and it is irritating the hell out of my face.
The eye itself is fine, just a little sore in the mornings and evenings but the eye drops sort that out. Now I need some advice as to how to keep the stupid eye shield in place without the rest of my face peeling off. The options occur to me of nailing the fucker in place or of staying awake for three weeks on a diet of coffee and benzedrine, but neither of those appeals much.
Any advice gratefully received … stupid advice included as having a good giggle is therapeutic.
The eye itself is fine, just a little sore in the mornings and evenings but the eye drops sort that out. Now I need some advice as to how to keep the stupid eye shield in place without the rest of my face peeling off. The options occur to me of nailing the fucker in place or of staying awake for three weeks on a diet of coffee and benzedrine, but neither of those appeals much.
Any advice gratefully received … stupid advice included as having a good giggle is therapeutic.
Sunday, March 06, 2011
1974
While my eye recovers I've been indulging in a vinyl frenzy with the hi-fi cranked, grateful that I have no adjoining neighbours.
For some time I have been uncomfortably aware that the most played non-classical music on my iPod comes from the murky environs of 1974 and thereabouts, so hitting the ol' vinyl has meant wallowing in wonderful memory soup of Steely Dan, Joni Mitchell, Lennon, Dylan, Bowie, Patti Smith, Tom Waits, Elton, Eno, Zappa, Beefheart, Yes, Genesis, Mike Oldfield (sheesh), the list goes on … Jeff Beck's "Blow By Blow" (the only listenable album of guitar music ever made) and of course, Robert Wyatt's "Rock Bottom."
I was dredging through YouTube to find a version of my favourite Wyatt song ("Sea Song") with nice graphics when I stumbled upon this, a live version from decades later that actually does the original some justice.
Yes, it's an odd song (about alcoholics in love), but odd is good. Now clear the chairs aside and let's dance. Anybody who can dance to this by themselves and not look a complete dork gets my vote.
For some time I have been uncomfortably aware that the most played non-classical music on my iPod comes from the murky environs of 1974 and thereabouts, so hitting the ol' vinyl has meant wallowing in wonderful memory soup of Steely Dan, Joni Mitchell, Lennon, Dylan, Bowie, Patti Smith, Tom Waits, Elton, Eno, Zappa, Beefheart, Yes, Genesis, Mike Oldfield (sheesh), the list goes on … Jeff Beck's "Blow By Blow" (the only listenable album of guitar music ever made) and of course, Robert Wyatt's "Rock Bottom."
I was dredging through YouTube to find a version of my favourite Wyatt song ("Sea Song") with nice graphics when I stumbled upon this, a live version from decades later that actually does the original some justice.
Yes, it's an odd song (about alcoholics in love), but odd is good. Now clear the chairs aside and let's dance. Anybody who can dance to this by themselves and not look a complete dork gets my vote.
Friday, March 04, 2011
Cataract Schmataract
Cataracts … Huh! Who needs the smeggers?
Yesterday Phil drove me to hospital where the lens that had served my right eye faithfully (if defectively) for the past 52 years was destined for the slop bucket.
After a shedload of tests, some unashamedly pathetic middle-aged flirting with the hot nurses and the anointing of my forehead with an enormous magic marker arrow pointing to my right eye (everyone due for a cataract op had one of these … we sat around comparing arrows while we waited as that was more entertaining than the magazines on offer) I was led into the operating theatre.
After a few eye drops, including an iodine one ("Oooh! It's all gone yellow! Trippy!") they sat me down in a big ol' dentist chair thang and wound it down until I was laying flat on my back with my head clamped in a rather comfortable set of pads. Then they slapped a mask over my face and ripped open an eyehole in it before sticking my eyelids open so I couldn't blink.
After that, a nurse held my hand (you have to squeeze their hand if you feel you're gonna sneeze - not a wise option when someone is cutting your eyeball open). Unfortunately I got Nurse Tim rather than hot nurses Emma and Judith. Hey ho.
And then they shone a bright light in my eye and this is all I saw for the next twenty minutes. Actually, this is a photo of a lightbulb that I dicked around with in Photoshop but it's pretty close to what you actually see during a cataract op if anyone's interested. I'm rather proud of how accurate it is (the darker smudge in the lower left is the surgeon's hand ).
There was one unnerving moment when the whole thing blossomed red but they washed the blood off and carried on.
What happens is the doctor slices into your eyeball (try not to sneeze) and inserts an ultrasound doohickey that sounds like a speeded up dentist's drill. This gradually breaks up your lens and they flush it all away. While that was happening the white light got more and more blurry until at last all I could see was white.
Then the doctor inserts a new lens and things get seriously weird for a few seconds while your brain tries to adjust. And suddenly it's all over and you can see a ring of grinning faces and a big ol' lamp.
Luckily they washed the arrow off my forehead, otherwise I'd have looked even more dorky than this. Many thanks to Phil for picking me up and driving me home as it's a ten mile walk otherwise.
So anyhoo … Here I am trying to cope with the fact that my right eye cannot see through my glasses any more and I cannot have a new prescription made up for six weeks: the time it takes for my new lens to fully settle in. But at least after that period I'll be able to see again. Woohoo!
The computer screen is glary as hell so I'll post this and turn the damned thing off
Yesterday Phil drove me to hospital where the lens that had served my right eye faithfully (if defectively) for the past 52 years was destined for the slop bucket.
After a shedload of tests, some unashamedly pathetic middle-aged flirting with the hot nurses and the anointing of my forehead with an enormous magic marker arrow pointing to my right eye (everyone due for a cataract op had one of these … we sat around comparing arrows while we waited as that was more entertaining than the magazines on offer) I was led into the operating theatre.
After a few eye drops, including an iodine one ("Oooh! It's all gone yellow! Trippy!") they sat me down in a big ol' dentist chair thang and wound it down until I was laying flat on my back with my head clamped in a rather comfortable set of pads. Then they slapped a mask over my face and ripped open an eyehole in it before sticking my eyelids open so I couldn't blink.
After that, a nurse held my hand (you have to squeeze their hand if you feel you're gonna sneeze - not a wise option when someone is cutting your eyeball open). Unfortunately I got Nurse Tim rather than hot nurses Emma and Judith. Hey ho.
And then they shone a bright light in my eye and this is all I saw for the next twenty minutes. Actually, this is a photo of a lightbulb that I dicked around with in Photoshop but it's pretty close to what you actually see during a cataract op if anyone's interested. I'm rather proud of how accurate it is (the darker smudge in the lower left is the surgeon's hand ).
There was one unnerving moment when the whole thing blossomed red but they washed the blood off and carried on.
What happens is the doctor slices into your eyeball (try not to sneeze) and inserts an ultrasound doohickey that sounds like a speeded up dentist's drill. This gradually breaks up your lens and they flush it all away. While that was happening the white light got more and more blurry until at last all I could see was white.
Then the doctor inserts a new lens and things get seriously weird for a few seconds while your brain tries to adjust. And suddenly it's all over and you can see a ring of grinning faces and a big ol' lamp.
So anyhoo … Here I am trying to cope with the fact that my right eye cannot see through my glasses any more and I cannot have a new prescription made up for six weeks: the time it takes for my new lens to fully settle in. But at least after that period I'll be able to see again. Woohoo!
The computer screen is glary as hell so I'll post this and turn the damned thing off
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
March?
I woke up today and all of a sudden it was March. Holy crap, how did that happen?
Those three missing days docked off the tail end of February really mess me up now that I've reached the age when I need to write a list before getting dressed in the mornings.
Yesterday was the 28th (I checked) and the fuzzy logic circuits in my frazzled old brain told me the milk in my fridge had four days before "use-by." Today it's almost out of date. What the fuck?
A pox on this calendular perversity!
Those three missing days docked off the tail end of February really mess me up now that I've reached the age when I need to write a list before getting dressed in the mornings.
Yesterday was the 28th (I checked) and the fuzzy logic circuits in my frazzled old brain told me the milk in my fridge had four days before "use-by." Today it's almost out of date. What the fuck?
A pox on this calendular perversity!
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