Friday, May 16, 2014
Cool mountain morning.
Sunlight shining in slivers of pale gold,
promising the riches of the day.
Purple on the edges, begging the Dawn Chorus to start.
A rustle of feather on leaf,
A low warbled call,chirping a good morrow to all.
Inviting, warm as the light over head.
"Come feast, come play.", It calls
"Yes, let us break our fast,"
Shrilly echoes the movement in the trees.
Pleading vivaciously for all to join the sun in rising.
"Let us waste the day away in merriment, joy, and love."
And the Chorale grew in volumes as the world awoke to beauty and life.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Between: looking for work, Helping Big V for fee, working for her through an agency,Being asked not to come back(by her), begged to,my Give-a-Damn breaking and being in the repair shop, me saying yes, the cycle starting again,being wore out and stressed from work, slight bit of my bipolar creeping up on me...and just life in general I've been very busy and tired.
However, between Photoshop and Writing I do enjoy my creative streak.Unfortunately Photoshop no longer works on my dying laptop and I can no longer save up for a new computer for it.As far as the writing goes I often,after long-handing a story(or part of one), have trouble transcribing to Word and the like.So not been doing as much as I'd like...I have a few things in the works(always do), but plan to follow them through given time(Blah, Blah, Blah...You've heard it before).
we'll see this time.
Until then,take care...
The Amazing Gimp
Friday, December 6, 2013
“Now, let us begin.” The thespian says a twinkle in his eye as he sips his wine.
“I was on the set of a flop of a movie The Homeward Bound Vagabond, the plot was trite .It was a feel good card company cut out plot, not going to bore you with the details. That’s not why we’re here. The important thing to remember is this was the turning part of my life, the death of the megalomaniac in me; the fall of the False God.
I remember the day; I woke annoyed as every other day on this project. I didn’t want to be there. However, I owed some people favors, after this was over all debts were paid. I just wanted it over, wanted my check, and to start on the next Oscar worthy roll. Having just come off of my role as Cesar (I know somewhat ironic) the year before and being nominated for a golden idol. I wanted another to adorn my shelf… And soon.
Anyway, the day was like another there in Wyoming during winter: cold, wet and busy. I had to be up before the snow was dirtied and mush. To damn early for me I needed my morning caffeine. I remember stepping out of the dressing trailer at a quarter till dawn. I grab the nearest serf looking person and the exchange was something along these lines:
Looking the lady in the eye, ‘you know who I am, right?’ She nodded so violently her glasses fell to the bridge of her nose.
‘Good, I’ll have a 5 shot venti, two-fifths decaf, ristretto shot, one pump vanilla, one pump Hazelnut, breve,1 sugar in the raw, with whip cream and caramel drizzle on top, free poured, 4 pump mocha.’ Her large eyes grow wider as she tries to process this. ‘NOW, WOMAN!’
A grip boy, who at the time was an unknown to me, walked over as the poor woman scuttled off.
‘Oy, ‘er a right git, ya know!’ he says with a hateful look, rolling use some cord as he did.
‘Oh, piss off ginger man!’ I reply, lighting a cigarette, not thinking anymore of it.
He just shook his head as he walked away.”
“So, that was the first time you spoke to Jeff?” I ask, flipping the tape over(yes, dear readers, this reporter can hardly afford cheese and crackers. Let alone a digital recorder)
“Indeed, Miss Molly. My actions were not very laudable, I think.” Our dear Bill replies as he tops off my wine glass.
“Thank you,” I say, taken aback. “But please, continue.”
“Ahhh,” he sighs, “To the meat of the feast, huh? Well, a short while later the poor woman comes back with my coffee. I was not happy.” the once spiteful man says, remorsefully.
“She comes walking in about ten minutes until shoot time, I was irked, eyes still crusty and vision blurred.
‘About damn time, better be right.’ I say as I snatch the drink out of her hand and sip it. ‘Holy Hell, was it really that hard?’ I spit out with the coffee (Which was really just fine in hindsight, I was just a bit of a “Neap” as Jeff likes to say).
The poor girl sobbed as she wiped away the liquid from her glasses and uselessly tried to rub it out of her sweater. I just waved her on.
Five minutes till film’s in the gate people
‘Comm’er, ya bas, let’s have a blether afore we get ta work,ya?’ I hear behind me as a meaty hand digs in my shoulder.
‘Jeffe,no boy, drop it.’ I hear an older voice say
‘Yes, Jeff, don’t want to miss out on those potatoes and whiskey, now do ye?’ I was honestly that bad.
He grips a bit tighter as we lock eyes.
‘Hold now, let’s see ‘eer. how bad ‘id tha quine feck up.’ The grip said boldly taking my cup and taking a deep gulp. He winced as it went down.
‘Oy, not to my taste.’ Jeff said , with all seriousness, popping the lid and throwing the liquid in my pompous face.
I was taken aback.
Two minutes till roll time, folks.
‘Jeffe, let it be lad…you’ve done enough.’
‘I cannae let it go Pa, no’ yet.’
As I wipe the last bit of lukewarm drink out of my eyes I hear the people around me gasp.
‘Jeff, wait please.’ I try to stop him but I know it’s no use, I pissed the wrong person off.
I see stars then blackness, next thing I know I’m in the back of an ambulance right eye swollen shut
‘Hell’ I say, turning my head and seeing Jeff.
‘No need ta fret,Bill. I got ye here, I’ll get ye home safe.’”
“So, yes, Miss Molly, I think I’ve changed.” The new Mr. Krien says showing me the door and waving as I walk to my car.
Friday, August 16, 2013
“Why hello, my Dear!” Bill Krien greets me. The renowned actor has seemed to change a lot since out last meeting two years ago. He's not so aloft, his smiles more than a veneer, his laughs not hollow. Things really seem odd.
“It's been too long, Molly.” He continues, more jovial than anyone has ever seen him. I'm taken aback. Worried even, has he finally succumbed to the downfall of the majority? What’s his drug of choice I begin to wonder.
As these questions and more run through my head (I do have a job to do after all) I'm lead into his posh home. Nothing here is fake, it never was, from the lion-skin rug to the Victorian wood furnishing, no detail is too small to be overlooked. Yet, that's not why I'm here, nor why you're reading this, my dear fans. You want answers....
“I hope you've been well, and I hope that stain came out, I heard red wine is a bitch to clean. I am sorry.”
“Well,” I begin, getting irked all over again but wanting to move on... “I shouldn't have called your portrayal of Robin Hood chauvinistic.”
“Well, I did play the “frothing loins” attitude up a bit with all that groping...but thank you.”
So, down to why I came here I decide...
“Mister Krien, you know why I'm here, I think.”
“Yes, Molly, I do.” He says nodding toward a photo on the darkly stained mantle, right above the gargoyle head. I look up, training my eye on the most out of place thing in the world.
“I realize I've changed a lot in the past year or so, opened up some...Thanks to my friend, Jeff.”
Looking at the picture I couldn't believe it, there stood Bill Krien with some “Unknown” (sorry, Jeff if you’re reading this), both covered in fresh bruises and blood. It looked like a scene from Fight Club. They may have been banged up and sore but they looked happy.
I bring that point up...
“Oh, we were, but it was a long road to that place. Here, let me give you the story you came here for.”
With the glee squeaking out of me like a dog’s chew toy I grab my recorder and press the big red button....
Friday, July 5, 2013
“Hurry,he's waking!Get the mask” I hear as consciousness grips me.
Wait,where am I? Who are these oddly dressed men?Before I can find out I slip into darkness again.
A terrible hum wakes me.
Oh, the headache! “Look here, the Mage wakes.” I hear a gruff voice say, fake concern oozing out of every syllable. “Gnar, I think you may of struck him too hard” It laughs.
I grown, reaching for my face but all I feel are stone and metal. Then I notice the sounds around me, the marching feet and clanging of objects, are all muffled. And an ebon stillness surrounds me as I try to look out.
“Yea, I though I good scramble would keep his memories where they belong. I'd rather not have to deal with that mess,you know how the caption can get.” Replied the one called Gnar close to my left side.
Gods!I've be captured!I stand hyperventilating,vision turning red-edged.
“Oh, I think he's not happy...” A wild duet of chortles sound off as a tug on the chain brings me to my knees. The sounds of the multitude drowning out my cries of despair.
“W..Wh...Where are we going? I have to yell over the sound of foot on rock. Fearing the answer, knowing why I'm still breathing(as hard as it is in this cage).
“To the land of plenty, Vivir.” Growls the Gnar I can feel his ire even through gem and ore.
Home! I need to stop this, now!I need to warn the Circle...
I remember the storm on the planes, darkly clouds brightly flashing. I recall the smell of warm sea air charged with power. I feel my hair stand on edge...Focus, I need focus!The chain!I reach out feeling iron rings in my palm.
“Uhh, what's he doing Fein?'
“Just watch...” The arrogant peon says.
Yes, stand there!My rage gives me an outlet for the energies building.I yarp as one of these crude Northmen. The world around me stands still.
I hear laughter, then the jolt. My yell of victory turns to screams of pain as the charge backfires and brings me to my knees.
I feel the memory settling back into place...Why didn't it work?I beat on my prison like a wild animal.
“Oh Great and Powerful One, your tricks won't work here. You're just a man now!” I hear through the nasally laugh of my captor.
I'm drug along for miles fighting every step. They WILL not use MY blood to open the Coral Gates!I WILL NOT let my people suffer! What to do, come on think! I need this damned headpiece off!
I grab my head in frustration, in pain.This Null field causes so much pain...I stop.A seam! It can be broken, this thing of man! Gods be praised!How....
I take a deep breath as I think on this...I smell salt and sand, the landscape is flatter here.Have we really traveled so far already? I also realize I have slack in the chain. Either they've grown too confident or I too resigned to the situation. Time to fix that!
With all my might I yank the iron chain. I feel it go taught then slack again as the soldier falls. There's a snap and a scream. I pay no heed,I just run.
“YOU SON OF A WHORE!”I hear entirely too close. I need to get this off!I try pulling up, hoping that the blood from my wound will be enough to help me slide out.I'm unable to find out, being knocked sideways. Seeing stars.
“We only need your blood mage-dog, not you!”A sharp pain at my ribs makes me roll over to suck in air.
I laugh at the luck,an insane and entirely too loud gleeful cackle from my dry lips.
“ What are you laughing at?” Gnar ask with hate behind his deep voice.
I say nothing as I recall the memory.
Right before I left for my tour of duty I spent the night with my love ,Yvian and our little redhead Zoie.Yvian and I had put the wee on to bed hours ago, I tucked her in and told her I'd be away for a while. She was sad but understood. Gods sometimes she's too smart...
Even a stomp on my back cannot break the hold the memory has!
...We had finished our last bottle of vintage hours ago, but that was fine. We were content holding each other. Neither saying, but fearing it could be the last time. Besides the suns were coming up.
So beautiful! Both all shades of golds and reds and purples. Being bathed in their light and holding her was the most glorious feeling in the world .I swore then and there to do all in my power to protect my land and my loved ones...
It didn't matter that the blow was coming for me. The light of the Twins was flowing through me, growing hotter, growing brighter every second.
“YVIAN!” I scream as the golden light engulfs the plain.
Monday, June 17, 2013
So, it occurs to me I leave this blog unattended too often and just use it for my Friday Flash.I need to change that I think.
I need to write more, and whats more creative than Poems? I started way back when with my Lyrical Life,a poem for the week on how I feel.I haven't been doing that simple because I find them too dark and brooding.I Like the name but am changing the format...And I need your help folks!
I want you to come up with the subject.
A vote if you will.Write down what You would like to see me try for the week,if you agree with someone who's already posted your idea, comment their name(full name please). I'll try to post Sunday/Mondays with the final product after voting is done on Friday!
I hope to hear your thoughts and have some fun along the way....
Vote Away Folks!
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Sorry this is late guys...but here it is:
“But why?” George asked. As only a child can; honestly and full of awe at the coming answer. Never stopping the round-a-bout path his cycle was going by Grandmother's wheelchair.
“Because, dear, it's a special book...and it's already filled besides.” She replied in a matter of fact way only a loving adult can to a child, hoping he understood.
Stomping his dirty,calloused feet on the concrete George stopped his tricycle and looked down at his brightly colored orange copy of the New Testament. “Oh,” he began, as if learning something for the first time(they've been through this several times. From yellow, to blue to green to black.) “That why there scribbles on it?” He finished pointing to the Words written, not knowing the importance Grandmother held in them. As the words left his mouth the pen in his hand was flicking across the pages.
There go the Warnings of Paul, a three year old cares not for the ravings on an old, dead man. The Wrath of God thrown to the side, written over as if it wasn't there. Nothing Intelligible left except for the doodles of a toddler and no one could read that but him (and maybe a Schizophrenic).
“Oh, dear Lord!” Grandmother exclaims, reaching down and nearly falling out of her chair “George, No!”
But The Child is intent...
Warning after warning, ways to make peace with God.All lost under pen strokes. Circles, and lines overlapping...all nonsense, gibberish.
“That you, me...” he began drawing away as a boy possessed,page after page gone forever. “...Mommy, Sissy, Dada!”
“NO!!!” ,yelled Grandmother, fingers reaching closer to the Book. George knew what to do, he just twisted away from her, but it wasn't quiet enough. She got a hold of an orange flap and pulled. That's when George found the strength of four small boys.
Holy or not, the book was of the mortal realm and couldn't hold up to the twisting and pulling and stretching. It broke.
“Damn it!” Grandmother swore.
Around and around George went, laughing all the while...