except that the house is a damn mess...
Oh well...
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
(True life stuff) As I type this message...
I am sitting in a hospital room with my Missus waiting for her to be admitted and placed in a bed. I won't go into details but she is alive and well but there are concerns to be addressed and tests to be run.
She's sleeping now and as I sit here watching her rest I can't help but think that after almost twenty years she still means the world to be. I grew up thinking that every relationship turns sour in the end, that every happy couple either ends up divorced or hating each other.
But that never happened, somehow we are still chugging along. Oh there have been bumps in the road, Hell there have been some fucking ravines in that road but we've ridden them out.
Of course now that leaves me here, scared and watching my wife sleep and smiling to myself because between work, our daughter and other disasters this little hospital trip has been like a date night for us. We've laughed and talked just like we used to when we weren't folding laundry and dodging creditors. Of course she's a little scared, we both are. My daughter will probably need some sedation of her own after I pick her up from her grandmas.
The nurse is coming to give her an IV in a few minutes and I will soon find myself back on this roller coaster of worry and boredom.
Well that's it, thanks for sharing this quiet moment with me dear readers, I'm off to a different waiting room where I'll try not to wonder how I'm going to pay for all this and worse yet, how much damage the dogs and cat will have done to the house in our absence.
I want one!!!!!
Sleeping On The Job of the Day: According to the makers of “Ostrich,” the pillow/cushion/bed/garment hybrid sports a “soothing cave-like interior” that “shelters and isolates our head and hands” to create a work-friendly “micro environment in which to take a warm and comfortable power nap at ease.”...
STORIES IN THE KEY OF LOVECRAFT: Trochildae
STORIES IN THE KEY OF LOVECRAFT:
Trochildae
by
Al Bruno III
(for Valerie Jones)
The air was humid and thick with pollen. The path that led through the field was uneven and uphill. The grass that bordered it was thickly flowered with blooms the color of blood. Trees surrounded them, hemlock spruces and white cedars. Occasionally a cicada-like hum would rise up from all around and then fade away.
Joseph hurried after the old man trying to make him sell but the old man just wouldn't listen.
“Creer family moved here in 1806,” the old man said. He was white haired but broad-shouldered and thickly built, “The Protestants in New York hadn’t taken too kindly to them ‘cause they kept to themselves and didn’t worship in the fine respectable churches everyone else did. They bought these acres, it wasn’t farmin’ land you see. Gully’s too deep and the ground’s no good for tillin’.”
“Mr. Fenner my company is more than willing to meet almost any price...” Joseph paused to brush a burr from his slacks, he was sure that by the time this was over his suit would be ruined. Not that he ever wore one of his really good suits when visiting these hick towns, but he still didn’t like the idea of getting grass stains or worse on what he was wearing. Something whizzed past his head, it looked like the biggest, pinkest bumblebee he had ever seen. Joseph had always hated the out of doors. Camping and long walks on the beach were not for him. He preferred the odors and sounds of the city, he’d take subway rats over bunnies and woodchucks any day.
They spied a post nearby, just a bolt of wood standing out in the middle of the tall grass. A milk bottle hung from it. The old man made his way to it and filled it from the watering can he was carrying. The fluid that trickled into the bottle was thick and syrupy. “Now the Creer family was all daughters...” he continued, “well that ain’t really true but they had no luck with the male children. Those that weren’t stillborn or simple ran away from home soon as they could.”
When the old man came back to the path there were a dozen or so ticks on his overalls. Joseph felt his skin crawl, he started brushing at his clothes self-consciously. Was there one crawling up his leg now? Was there more than one?
And why was it the old man just wouldn't listen?
The tree line was growing closer, “Now the Fenner family married into the Creers. The Fenners had made their fortunes in Mexico but they came back up north right before the Alamo fell. Soon enough all the Creer daughters married the Fenner sons. Most of ‘em settled here, they built additions onto the house and made families of their own. Some families moved in to town to make their fortunes,” the old man turned and gave Joseph a ragged grin, “but I’m the last now. Last for miles, wife and kids all gone.”
“So why stay here?” They reached another post with another bottle, the old man filled it. Joseph turned to look back and grimaced at how far they had come. There was a weathered stone wheel lying near the path, there had been writing on it once but it had been reduced to mottled shapes. “All your neighbors have sold to us already. We want to break ground by the fall.”
The old man got back on the path and started walking again, “But ain’t there enough stores in the world already? Besides, if I sell and you plow all this under where will the Trochildae go?”
“Tr- what?”
“Trochildae, least that’s what we Fenners call them. Ain’t got no proper names really but they’re like hummingbirds.”
Joseph groaned inwardly, he had thought the old man was a just a crazy old coot but it was worse than that, he was a tree hugger. “Mr. Fenner there is no record of any endangered species...”
“Well of course not,” the old man replied, “but they're here, been livin' here since before the Creers and the Fenners, since before any man lived at all. Some say the Old Ones brought them down from the stars.”
They followed the path into the woods, Joseph breathed a sigh of relief at the cool shade. He watched the old man fill another bottle. He began “Mr. Fenner I think we have gotten off the subject...” then his words trailed off.
They had reached a clearing in the woods, a rough circle where no plant grew and slabs of stone protruded from the ground. There were figures tied to the stones, men, women and children all bound and gagged with strips of leather. Their flesh was pockmarked and torn. To Joseph's widening eyes they looked like mummies.
But some of those mummies were writhing in place.
A sharp sting of pain made him cry out. Joseph snatched at his cheek and found his fingers warm with blood. There was something flitting around his head, moving fast and filling his ears with a heavy droning buzz.
The thing- the Trochildae- moved too quickly to be seen clearly but Joseph could see it was only bird-like in the vaguest sense of the word. The body was frail-looking and devoid of feathers, dark veins ran through its flesh and its wings moved so quickly that it was impossible to judge how many of them there were. Joseph screamed and swatted at it, backing away and in to the old man's waiting arms. The old man was strong, impossibly strong.
The forest came alive with the sound of the Trochildae as Joseph was expertly bound to a stone. Dozens of the creatures flew this way and that in anticipation.
Over and over again Joseph begged for mercy, but the old man just wouldn't listen.
(Recommended Review) THE HORROR DIGEST recommends the often-recommended TOURIST TRAP! (I recommend it too!)
And then....something funny happened. I suddenly realized that Tourist Trap was possibly a little too creepy for comfort. Creepy is good yes, but in some cases, like when you watch The Exorcist at age seven while hiding behind a couch at your older sister's sleepover, the creepy is too much to handle and before you know it you're staying up until 5 in the morning because you think that a moth flew into your eyeball and is going to possesses you. Not that I speak from experience or anything like that....
click here to read the rest at THE HORROR DIGEST
Oh and also.. they article contains a scene from the movie... what I think is one of the creepiest scenes in cinema...
MAD MAD MAD MAD MOVIES poses a cinematic dilemma.
...Whether you will enjoy director flick The Red Headed Corpse (aka The Sensuous Doll, dir. Renzo Russo, 1972) will depend on the results of your own personal cost-benefit analysis. Are you willing to spend a great deal of your movie-watching time staring straight into the haggard, leathery, alcohol-ravaged face of Farley Granger--his watery, bloodshot eyes filled with self-loathing, his lips foam-flecked with the hateful venom they spew whenever they're not wrapped around the neck of a liquor bottle--if every now and then, as your reward, you get to see Erika Blanc naked?
Don't answer right away. This one bears serious thought...
click here to read the rest at MAD MAD MAD MAD MOVIES
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
(Insane News) Man falls on nipple, inflates like balloon through buttocks
A Bay of Plenty truck driver "blew up like a football" after a freak accident where compressed air was forced into his body through his left buttock.
Steven McCormack was standing on the plate between the cab of his truck and semi-trailer at Waiotahi Contractors on Saturday when his foot slipped.
As he fell, he broke the hose off a brass nipple connected to the compressed air reservoir powering the truck’s brakes, and the nipple pierced the flesh of his left buttock.
As the air, compressed to 100 pounds per square inch, rushed into Mr McCormack’s body he said he felt like he was diving and had the bends...
(Cool News) People are starting to notice #FridayFlash !
From The London Evening Standard
Blink and you miss it. Those of you with your eyes closed will have let week 50 of Friday Flash pass you by on Friday.
Short, snappy and over by the weekend, it is the latest way to tell stories - and it's spreading all over the world via Twitter.
Friday Flash (fridayflash.org) is a web-based project set up by one writer to spread short stories - getting more people to write and to read them. Based on the concept of "flash fiction" - which Friday Flash defines as a story of 1,000 words or fewer - anybody who fancies a go can bash out a short piece of fiction on a Friday, post it to their blog and tweet it using the hashtag #FridayFlash.
"Don't be afraid to share your work," founder Jon M Strother encourages participants. "You need feedback, both to sustain the desire to write and to improve your craft."...
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
(Insane News) Man accused of attacking woman with swim noodle over watermelon dispute at Lowdermilk Park
According to the arrest report:
A woman who was at the beach with a friend observed a rotting watermelon that had been carved and shaped into a head sitting on the sand. The watermelon seemed to have been abandoned so she placed it in the ocean in hopes that it would disintegrate and not attract any bugs.
Eichner retrieved the watermelon from the ocean and placed it back on the beach.
The woman placed the watermelon in the ocean once again.
Eichner approached the woman with his swim noodle full of water and dumped the water on her as she was sitting on her towel. He then punched her in the cheek...
What happened to IN THE SHADOW OF HIS NEMESIS?????
Don't worry folks it is still here. I've moved it into the COMPLETED SERIAL NOVELS section of the page .
A new serial novel FULLY VESTED will start next week.
(Insane News) Harold Camping now says the world will end in October
A California preacher who foretold of the world's end only to see the appointed day pass with no extraordinarily cataclysmic event has revised his apocalyptic prophecy, saying he was off by five months and the Earth actually will be obliterated on Oct. 21.
Harold Camping, who predicted that 200 million Christians would be taken to heaven Saturday before catastrophe struck the planet, apologized Monday evening for not having the dates "worked out as accurately as I could have."...
And my personal message to Mr. Camping?
Sunday, May 22, 2011
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