Monthly Archives: July 2014

“Buxton Fringe”

pg1

Buxton Fringe

One in white sundress,
warm sun on smooth shoulders—
three in raucous delight, young gents–
these four friends sauntering– gentry of the day–
killing time
before Anna’s play–
Musing on straw hats–
Onto garden promenade,
into flora fascination weaving minutes into
pavilion hours.
Opera house chatter—and a clatter of a bell–
crossing the square for
Darjeeling at No. 6—not forgetting to
take the waters of Aquae Arnemetiae of old
before heading to the playhouse to while away
decades.

–A.E. Wallace 27/07/2014

Advertisements

# 1 Stephen Kings Top 20 Rules for Writers– First Write For Yourself, And then Worry About The Audience

wpid-IMG_20140204_192323.jpg

Balance Point

“I struggle to remember what it was like being that big bad Buddha—before the hair went. Before the divorce and the kids and that job and the woman…”

“In that order?”

“No, hell no—I can’t even think of the order anymore. But, God-damn those days were something—I remember driving without seatbelts—rolling down that road—scenery just passing by—shoom, shoom, shoom like one of those old movies. The old movies had some kind of movie projector thing behind the actors. This was before green screen and Star Wars and all the new CGI stuff where the superheroes are actually believable. Have you seen that new Superman? If I saw that movie when I was 15—I’ll tell you what, I would have believed that was the real deal, you know?—The real deal.”

“Yeah, I saw that movie. It was good…”

“Yes. It was. But the best thing is, something new will come out that will topple that one—Godzilla. Did you see that one?—Well same shit. I remember when it was some little puppet, clay, stop-animation thing. Whatever it was, it was not CGI. But where was I?—”

“Big bad Buddha.”

“Damned straight. But with a full head of hair—going down to Newquay— surfing, drinking, meeting girls—it was great.”

The Care Worker struggled to follow the conversation so decided just to be carried by it that afternoon. The Service User sat and cheerfully ate the breakfast and went on to talk about how he had it all, lost it all, got something different and then walked away from that. Today the Service User was in a good place and the Care Worker just wanted to enjoy it. There were days when it did not feel like work. Today was that kind of a day—to people getting to know each other and enjoying a day out.

But it had not always been this way. The Service User almost got arrested at the weekend after he tried to kill The Care Worker. It was down to a mixture of prescription pills and ADHD pills that belonged to a Guest of his. The Service User tried to understand what had happened that night but The Care Worker and The Guest were not talking—at least they did not say anything that remotely crystallised what happened that night.

It was a cool morning. The sky was bright but grey clouds seemed to rim the horizon like sheep dogs worrying sheep.

“You think those clothes will be ok on the line today?”

“I hope so. It looks a bit grey over bill’s mother’s but the BBC didn’t give out any rain.”

The Service User looked outside at the cars and people passing by. His eyes began to well up with tears.

“I say! You think I should have had one of those big breakfasts? It looks really good. I can’t believe I didn’t order one when you did!”

The Care Worker had seen this before with his Service User. It did not always go in a negative direction. Sometimes the change was subtle and sensory things often brought him back to a cheerful disposition. Tentatively, the Care Worker started to evaluate the café making note of what he would have to do if it all went terribly wrong.

“Maybe we should go back. Maybe we should bring them back in.”

“If you like—we can go—sure why not? We can have a cup of tea at yours, eh? I can nip down later to that bakers and get us a nice Viennese Whirl—or a vanilla slice. What do you think?”

Together they moved—the steps were familiar. The Service User followed a silent command as The Care Worker fluidly moved to the changing situation. Without touching The Service User, he moved smoothly, crouching—finding the balance point—strong-eyed– directing The Service User to the exit.

Once outside, The Service User smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

“I think you are right. It will be ok.”

“Yes. Where do you want to go now?”

And they headed off down to the post office to buy some envelopes.


#8 Stephen Kings Top 20 Rules for Writers– Don’t worry about making other people happy…

wpid-mntsdcardDCIMCamera2014-02-08-21.05.05.jpg.jpg

After Party

Sitting in a semi-darkened office, the smell of coffee drifted in from somewhere else. Her need for coffee, however, was not as insistent as her need of order and she dutifully sat at her desk creating folders on the hard drive—organizing and re-organizing—drag, drop, save, delete. As focused on the task as she meant to be, transient thoughts of Saturday’s misadventure wafted in and out.

She was married. She had children. She baked at the weekends and made sure the laundry was all done through the week. She hung out clothing on the line in the morning and set the washing machine on a timer so that it would start to wash just as she was able to bring the clothes in when she got home from work.

Meals were planned. Homework was charted and checked off. Her husband never had holes in his socks. She was happy going to bed before him to wake up before him and have a quiet cup of coffee—and then she would do the weekday before-work-chores. Sheets were changed on Mondays, Windows were cleaned on Tuesdays, Surfaces were polished on Wednesday, floors were swept on Thursdays and Fridays were dependant on what she and her husband had planned for the Friday night. If people were coming over, she would make sure all the good crockery was ready to set out. If they were going out, she made sure that the babysitter would have everything to hand that she could prepare for the children.

This morning, Cecilia had her cup of coffee—luxuriated in front of the mirror and applied her make up as she had when she had been at the party on Saturday night—she changed her outfit half a dozen times—she wore perfume to work. She left dishes in the sink and made the school lunches in the morning because she did not prepare anything the night before. Her morning had a chaotic feel to it that unnerved her as much as energised her. She could not remember being this distracted since the days when she was newlywed.

Saturday was very much a dream. There had been food and alcohol and people that she did not know. It was meant to be a girl’s night starting at the pub and then ending up at an Ann Summer’s party. There had been men walking in and out of her field of vision at the pub– A few ventured into close proximity. She enjoyed their conversations—she enjoyed rebuffing them as well. She waved around the gold on her finger like some kind of talisman against evil. Later, at the party, she met a circle of women that had come at the invitation of one of her best friends. They were a glamourous lot. Their hair and make-up were perfectly arranged as to give the effect that they belonged on a glossy magazine rather than in this suburban get-together.

She had struck up a conversation with Toni—ivory skin, violet eyes, auburn hair. They laughed. They talked about their children. They drank and ate and modelled the lingerie. They laughed some more. Toni rang for a taxi. She ordered it for 2pm. They stood outside waiting for it. Toni hugged Cecilia. They made plans to meet up for coffee. Cecilia promised to put in a holiday to meet her after the school run. They would go shopping, perhaps. Toni teetered on her heels as she stumbled to the taxi. Cecilia put her arm around her to help her in. Toni kissed her. Cecilia kissed her back.

“Call me,” said Toni.

“Yes,” said Cecilia.

It was Monday. The linen had not been changed. But her mind felt fresh. She texted Toni.


Games Night: Try Chupacabra

http://eleventhlegion.com/


Found this photo for you on Tumblr

http://existential-jedi.tumblr.com/post/90965507342/player-two-oooh-i-cannot-go-on-he-has-defeated


Of Level 20 Dragons and Goats- (excerpt)

wpid-img-20140601-wa0000.jpg

The room was filled with a coterie of game aficionados. They all had the same look about them—arrogant and unconcerned about mainstream subjects of fancy. Their blithe demeanour seemingly imbued the air with an ever-so-slightly-unwashed pong. Within the sea of black t-shirts, backpacks and beards, there were a few females attached here and there to some of the men who came out to the opening of the new shop called Games Afoot. Somewhere I could hear the spumescent sounds of a cappuccino maker. I made my way through the crowd to get a cup of coffee and to find Doug.

Doug had sent me a text earlier in the day that simply read: It’s the store opening tonight. She won’t be there. She’s gone. Please come. We had been friends for over twenty years so I cancelled my squash game, dug out my d20 t-shirt and headed out into town without question. It had been ages since I saw him.

I met Doug one summer in 1990 when a friend of a friend invited me to play D&D. Doug was someone’s cousin and was not originally invited to play but there had been a drop out and he was keen to learn something new having just moved to town. Within five minutes of rolling out our characters, I knew this guy would one day be best-man at my wedding—or at least talking about it. Over the years we would have a share of dips and peaks. Failures and successes in our everyday lives would never hold as much weight as to in-game minutes that siphoned off our realities. Everything we ever did revolved around table top games, dice, miniatures and complicated systems until the day we were forced to find ways to fund our paper and plastic addiction. We needed jobs. Doug got one in a pub and I decided to go to the University of Edinburgh.

Doug killed off my 10th level paladin in the summer of ’96 ceremoniously when my character, Khodin, fell to a level 20 dragon the night before I left for Uni. That dragon came up widdershins on our party and smoked me like a kipper. I remember being so angry with him that night. I had plans of going out on an epic storyline that would take me through my days at Edinburgh University. Instead, I sat there eating pizza and drinking ale as I watched as the other PCs rolled and devised and played through one of the best campaigns ever run.

Doug met Linda when I was at Uni. He would send me emails waxing lyrical about how she was the one and how he could not wait until I met her. I remember thinking she looked like some kind of a grimalkin curled up in his arms in the pictures he would email. I thought she was beautiful and cursed his luck. Over the months and years, he looked more and more like she did. He began wearing his hair like some kind of boy-band escapee and he looked more and more serious in his photographs. When I came home and finally met her, she surveyed me and it was obvious that I was not what she expected. I opened up my first ever conversation to her with memoirs of happy goats I encountered on my gap year in China. Her eyes scintillated with each new random topic I brought up and I thought things went well. But I never did get an invitation back to their place again. I would see Doug when she allowed it. I also inherited a lot of his old games and miniatures when they moved into their new place.

My friendship with Doug became more of an online, social network and Xbox one. He had become a businessman. He was even into politics. He had been in the local paper more than once and always with her by his side. As an academic, I could only read about him since I was not the kind that would travel in his circle. The greatest news he ever sent me was his announcement that he was opening a games store. He asked if I would be at the grand opening and I had given him my congratulations and regrets. I said that I had prior commitments but that I would send him a bottle of champagne and a box of ale. When I got his text message, I was all at once nonplussed and elated.

I walked up to him and he beamed at me.

“Mate!” he shouted.

“Hey! Are you ok?”

“I am now, matey,” he said. “Look at all this! This is great!”

“Ah, yes. I meant about Linda. When did she leave? I mean, when I got your message—well, I thought you were upset but you seem ok.”

“Linda. Yes. I’m afraid my relationship reached that level of effloresce that we all hoped would never come. But what did I expect, really. She was not into all this. I am surprised that she stayed with me as long as she did,” he said and raised his cappuccino in the air. “This was her idea. She wanted a barista. I wanted a games parlour. She wanted a business. I wanted a community.”

“She did not like this, I take it?”

“Meeting her was simply an obliquity. I think she was that level 20 dragon I sent to kill you off because I was so upset that you were going away,” said Doug.

“You asshole. Still have not forgiven you for that.”

“I know. But I could not forgive her for not liking your goats,” said Doug. He took out his phone showed me his wallpaper. He had taken my photo and put text on it that read THE BRO GOAT. I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, man,” said Doug. “I should have stood my ground. I knew you before I met her. I have no idea what I was thinking. I’m really sorry.”

“No need.”

“We got a Magic tourney going on later. Shall we play?”

“I brought a deck.”


The Godly Chic Diaries

BY GRACE THROUGH FAITH

Learning to write

Just your average PhD student using the internet to enhance their CV

elleguyence

New content every Sunday.

Written Word

My thoughts, my words and the story of my life.

Lonely Blue Boy

The Boy Who Cries Wolf

Wonder Diary

spilling ink...

A Writer's Soul

"Diving into a writers soul is discovering the broken treasure and beautiful mysteries that make you gasp for air."

INFJ PHD

Valuing quiet and solitude in academe.

Phoebe, MD: Medicine & Poetry

Health | Inspiration | Life

keithgarrettpoetry

Smile! You’re at the best WordPress.com site ever

emotionspassion.com

Emotional musings- emotionspassion@gmail.com

My Spirals

• Hugs and Infinities

...

love each other like you are the lyric and they are the music

How I Lost My Chains

I've Learned The Most Unlearning Everything I've Ever Known

MEDICINE FOR ALL

medicine for all