Jump to content
Registering As A Forum User? Read This Important Message!
Help Keep AwesomeDude Online! Donate Here.

DesDownunder

AD Author
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Posts

    6,081

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won

    1

 Content Type 

Blog Entries posted by DesDownunder

  1. DesDownunder
    Fellow Blogarians, or is that Blogites?
    I am suffering from some computer malfunctions...err what I mean is, that the computer is misbehaving in quite dramatic ways never before seen by man or boy.
    Win XP has determined that my programs need to be installed whilst I am in the middle of using them??? On top of that the file associations are all dropping back to the command line mode, which looks like DOS, but isn't because Micro$oft said that XP doesn't have any DOS.
    So if I seem to be not here, I am busy fixing it so I can return as quickly as possible.
    I think it is okay now but just in case... you know that I have not run off or been run over by a bus.
  2. DesDownunder

    (11) My turn

    By DesDownunder,

    First the computer plays up, now I feel like a zac's (5 cents) worth of shit.
    Actually a Zac was a threepenny piece in the old days before decimal currency.
    Yep, Australia had a silver coin worth three pennies. (I told you, we were a bit strange.)
    It was about 5/16 inch that's 8mm in diameter. That's the size of the coin people. (Jeez, I can't say anything can I?
    We used to lose them all the time. I almost lost as many of those coins as the number of times my partners thought I lost my virginity. (It was the 1960s after all. We didn't have much else to do back then.)
    Anyway I think I have some flu bug or something. Wait, I feel better since I logged into the web.
    Must be the Awesome powers of the Dude.
    Tune into my next entry when I will reveal the secrets of my experience with a farthing. A what?
    Check out the great stories in A Writer's Challenge at the Codey's World Forum
    All entries are now in and awaiting your vote.
    Ronyx has posted chapter 9 of The Mask at The Mustard Jar
    Do read it and email him with your thoughts.
    In fact don't forget that all the authors really like to hear from their readers.
    It only takes a moment do. Come on do it now. Hit the comment button and let me know how much you love me. You don't love me? ok ,tell me that too.
  3. DesDownunder
    I just washed the floor in the bathroom and laundry. I try to do it every year whether it needs or not.
    We are having a drought. The Govt. has put us all on restrictions. Water is very scarce.
    I thought I might do a naked rain dance in the street to help. How would that help, I hear you ask?
    Well it would scare the neighbours into leaving the state which would mean more water for those of us who remain.
    Things are so serious with the water that pretty soon I will have to make the coffee with bodily fluids.
    Won't need to add milk or cream.
    Any way I was going to tell you about farthings. Hands up all those who know what a farthing is?
    A farthing was a quarter of a penny. My grandparents told me they could buy quite a bit with one.
    I saw one once, it had Queen Victoria on it...well her likeness anyway. I'm really not that old. She was dead before I was born.
    Remember the Zac from my last blog entry? I was wrong. I have just realised that a zac was sixpence or 5 cents.
    The slang for the threepenny piece was a "tray". I wonder if it was spelt tray could have been trey?
    Well my mom use to get a tray for her lunch money.
    It bought her an orange, a pastie or pie with tomato sauce, a cream bun and a drink of cordial.
    That lot would cost $10 today.
    I'm rambling aren't I?
  4. DesDownunder
    I am certain I have been suffering an URTI, an upper respiratory infection. Of course being a hypochondriac I was certain it was my dismal end until I started to feel better. Better enjoyed me feeling him too. I call him Better because he is better than me at coping with mild complaints. (I'm better at major surgical interventions.)
    So convinced was I, of my fate, I began a dismal poem about "The End."
    I may of course have to wait until I am dead to finish it as I want it to be accurate.
    I made a big batch of what I call my Lentil stew. It cost less than $10 for 14 meals.
    I deep freeze it and when ready just reheat it and do other things to it, like curry it or put it on noodles or both.
    We eat it in the dark whilst we watch a movie so we don't have to look at it.
    Now I can afford to buy next week's cheese and coffee.
  5. DesDownunder
    So there I am bored off my face waiting for a customer to come in to our video store. It's my partner's store really, I just give him coffee breaks.
    Finally a middle aged woman comes in, briskly walking to to the counter.
    "Hi," says I.
    "I am after a video.' she says.
    "We have those.'" I say.
    She looks at me quizzically, but decides to press on, giving my sanity the benefit of her doubt.
    "It's a special video," she announces.
    "You're in the right place. All our videos are special." I tell her.
    Her eyes widen. "It has Michael Caine in it."
    I look at her blankly.
    "And Sean Connery." she adds.
    "I want to hire, "The Man Who Would Be King." she says.
    "I want the man who would be a Queen," I say.
    She waits a moment, raises her left eyebrow with disdain and asks, "This is not a Blockbuster store is it?"
    "No it isn't and they don't have the movie," I tell her as I pull the DVD off the shelf and hand it to her.
    "Oh you have it." she says , looking at the cover.
    "So I have been told." say I.
    "How much is it?' she asks.
    "I don't charge," I tell her, "Oh you mean the movie? To buy or rent?"
    "To rent." she says but I am not a member here.
    "Well you have to join up to rent it." I say.
    "I'm a member at Blockbuster." She says.
    "I guessed that." I say, "You will need to fill out the application form. Do You have your driver's licence for identification?"
    "Yes," she says.
    "We will need a cheque for ten thousand dollars along with your details of tonight's dinner menu."
    She looks at me, then bursts out laughing hysterically, just as my partner returns from his coffee break.
    He takes over, looking daggers at me.
    He is much quicker at this sort of thing than I am.
  6. DesDownunder
    Okay this is a blatant plug for a great set of endings.
    You all like a good end don't you?
    Have you all read the Story at Codey's World that Codey started and no less than four authors all wrote different endings.
    Whose did you like most?
    Well you can let them know by reading them and voting for the one you like.
    Vote at: http://www.codeysworld.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=436
    No you don't have to vote for mine, vote for the one you like by 30th April. Do it now, then vote.
    Go on Now. Off you go.
  7. DesDownunder
    I clicked on the computer link and it began its down-loading
    I okayed this and that and read it was all installing
    So now do I sit and wait or do I go a-calling?
    What am I supposed to be doing
    With this Yahoo Messaging?
    It is very puzzling,
    This YIM-ing,
    Thing.


  8. DesDownunder
    So I am surfing away on the web at midnight when the browser announces that the WWW may be having problems.
    "Did you type the site address properly?" it insolently asks me.
    "Perhaps the site you are trying to connect is down." it rudely suggests.
    "Yeah and maybe you are a *%^@$&!x*& of a browser," I yell at it.
    My partner appears at the door looking very concerned, "Are you all right?" he asks.
    "The net has gone down on me," I tell him.
    "I wish I could get someone to go down on me," he says dejectedly as he turns and heads back to the bedroom.
    He doesn't understand the Internet at all.
    I look at the blank screen of the browser, " Now look what you have done," I curse at it through gritted teeth.
    I inspect the modem lights, all on; DSL is functioning. "Oh why won't you work?" I thump on the key board.
    "It's tired and wants a rest," says the voice of my darling from the bedroom.
    "Yeah right. I pay enough for it not to want to rest," I shout back.
    "Forget about it and come to bed," he wantonly replies.
    Switching off the computer , I yell back to him, "I'm coming."
    "I'm glad someone is," mutters the voice of my beloved.
    It's going to be one of those nights.
    I just hope I have enough strength.

  9. DesDownunder
    So what is it like to be 3x21?
    What can be said that will give hope that there is life after 30?
    Is there a moment in life where it all comes together?
    Well lets put it this way, I ain't saying because I don't want to depress the young amongst you.
    Joke for ppl who have had too many birthdays:
    Stop me if you have heard it.
    Why are young people so beautiful and pretty and lovely to look at?
    So that old people will talk to them whilst waiting for them to grow the F*** up.
    Okay so that wasn't very nice. Anyone who wants to whip me for my indiscretions please form two lines, one at my front and one at my back.
  10. DesDownunder
    We have our fair share of road rage. Nothing out of the ordinary, you understand, just the usual clubbing to near death with a tyre iron. Today I had the opportunity to witness a road rage event (sounds exciting doesn't it?) myself.
    I must explain, owing to the bloke who sets the timing for Adelaide's numerous traffic lights thinking that 3 seconds is sufficient to enable cars to move across an intersection, we end up with cars banking up for quite a while.
    The traffic today duly came to stop. The car alongside in the other lane screeched to halt as if he was late for an asshole anonymous meeting, with fists pounding on the steering wheel and then punching his dashboard. I couldn't tell what the dashboard had done wrong to receive such grievous blows from its owner. He gnashed his teeth at me as he gave me the finger. What had I done?
    I watched as the lights changed to green and the traffic slowly (its Adelaide) started to move when, the lights changed to red. I stopped my car as did everyone else, except the dashboard basher. He put his foot down, accelerating until he rammed the car in front. He had "lost it" and was patently venting his rage, without due care.
    Quickly he flew open his car door and then jumped onto the bonnet of his own car, bouncing up and down like an orangutan visiting a harem, shouting obscenities that could only be described as upsetting to the poor young lady in the car he had rammed. She wisely stayed inside her car.
    The lights changed and I had to drive off. The thing was he had done little damage to her four-wheel drive but his old sedan was steaming and looking quite crumpled if not upset.
    I watched from the rear view mirror as several people were attempting to restrain the man from his malicious wounding of his own vehicle.
    It was surreal to say the least.
  11. DesDownunder

    (20) Twenty

    By DesDownunder,

    Ok so I have nothing to say today (yet) other than this is the 20th entry in my blog on the 20th day of May 2007.
    How cool is that? You don't have to answer, I know it is lame.
    I just didn't think I would have so much to prattle on about.
    Future historians will wonder incredulously at the keen observation that inspired this entry I am sure.
  12. DesDownunder
    I opened my email and there was an email from a reader who told me he enjoyed reading one of my stories.
    Hallelujah!
    Apart from my beloved co-inhabitants at Codey's World and Awesome Dude, that means I now have two readers who sufficiently liked my story to email me.
    (dances merrily around the room.)
  13. DesDownunder
    So did y'all miss me? Did ya?
    Didn't even know I was gone, I bet.
    Yesterday at about 2.30 pm. I was getting ready to go give lover boy his coffee break when there was an almighty rumbling and scraping noise form outside the house. It sounded just like the iceberg cutting into the side of the Titanic.
    I looked out the window, but I couldn't see an iceberg in the street, or even a bulldozer. Did I imagine it?
    So I go outside and the first thing I notice is that the overhead power cables are resting on the lower branches of the trees.
    Then I look around and I see it. A flying saucer has landed on the roof of the house...err scratch that, what I actually saw was the 30 foot power pole bent over at about 35* from perpendicular. This is no light weight power pole. It has three extensions for two sets of high tension cables as well as normal voltage and telephone lines. All the cables dangling or dipping precariously into the trees.
    Off in the distance is a smallish tray-truck. I go over to the truck. The driver is on the mobile phone reporting to the police.
    He is about 25, light brown hair closed cropped. His bottom lip protrudes with a sexy fullness from his dimpled chin; his jaw aching to get off the phone and start nibbling on my...I have an sex attention span difficulty which is not helped by his glowing blue eyes framed by his boyish arched eyebrows and upturned nose. Sigh.
    He hangs up the phone. "Are you okay?" I ask, although I have already determined that he is indeed very okay.
    "I'm fine and I can't see anything wrong with the truck."
    Sure enough, the truck doesn't even seem to have a scratch, but he knows he hit the power pole.
    He walks around the truck, grinning a sexy wide mouthed smile that reveal petite, perfect teeth. I guess the smile is from embarrassment, rather than flirting with me or even thinking that the whole situation is funny.
    I watch the way his khaki overalls flow and follow the contours of his lithe young body, whilst my eyes do their best to X-ray them.
    Finally he stops, his hands on his hips, causing his biceps to expand, "I have to go," he says, "the police said they will have a look later." So he mounts his truck (sigh, lucky truck) and drives off. I note his number plate.
    Knowing our overworked police I go back into the house and ring the electricity supply company who promises to send a crew straight away. I leave to go give the beloved one his coffee break.
    ***Time passes***
    Three hours later, (it was a long coffee break), I return home and find the street is covered in emergency vehicles. On the roof of my house is the young truck driver threatening to jump to his death if I do not marry him...err, oh, alright, that is not quite right. The driver is only in my mind and the electric company workers are very busy with cranes and ladders and lift trucks dismantling the lines so they can replace the pole.
    Wow! I exclaim.
    "It's going to be awhile before we can restore power," one of the workers tells me, "Probably around midnight."
    Okay I think to myself that means I can have a sleep and go online at midnight--no problem. Then he drops the bombshell.
    "Before you can have power back you will need to get an electrician to make some repairs," he tells me, "as your service pipe is snapped off at the base."
    "My service pipe is snapped off at the base? I had better go to the emergency room." He walks off muttering something about everyone being a bloody comedian.
    To cut a long story short, they didn't finish till 5am and my electrician didn't arrive till 7.30am. Then I had to wait till midday for the supply company to plug in the service fuses.
    In the meantime the young truck driver was only visible in my dreams, which meant I did not sleep very well at all.
    I of course, have missed you all very much and am launching civil litigation proceedings against everyone who has caused me to be off line for over 20 hours.
    I would sure like to sue the pants off a certain young truck driver. That would make for a satisfactory compensation.
  14. DesDownunder
    In case anything happens I don't want people to get a shock, so I am herewith advising you all that, being considerate of the beloved one sleeping, I got dressed in the dark this morning. Yeah I know me getting up before the crack of noon is in itself shocking, but hey, I went to bed early at 1.30am.
    To return to the advanced notification, when I got dressed in the dark I put my boxer-briefs on inside out. If that wasn't bad enough they are also on back to front.
    Now, no less an authority than my mum, told me that if you put an article of clothing on inside out, it was good luck; but bad luck if it you corrected it.
    So in case anyone reading this tries to have their way with me, please be forewarned that I am not making some new kind of fashion statement by wearing my undies this way.

  15. DesDownunder
    I am really getting a little tired of feeling yucky!
    So bad have I felt that I have not been able to sit for too long at the keyboard.
    All I can do is use one hand to type because the other hand is trying to make me feel better, by wiping my fevered brow.
    (And you thought I was going to be filthy didn't you? Go on admit it.)
    So I lurk around the forums feeling not so good.
    The doctor says I am fine, nothing serious, just getting older, maybe with a "bit of a bug."
    Yikes, getting older! When did this happen?
    What next? Will I start to decay on the spot?
    Rotting flesh falling onto the kitchen floor.
    Perhaps I should get another cat to save me from having to mop up.
    Great clumps of what hair I have left now litters the carpets.
    If I vacuum it up it clogs the vacuum cleaner.
    But then so too do the dead mice.
    A bird of unknown origin died on the driveway overnight.
    I didn't know a thing about it until the boyfriend left to go to the video store and came back into the house screaming about death and dead things all over the yard. I immediately thought of the 'End of Days' and joined him to view this calamitous event in our back yard. I can't really call it the back garden as it is mainly shrivelled weeds.
    I grabbed the shovel and dug a hole and then with great dignity lowered the deceased into the hole.
    Unfortunately it fell off the end of the shovel into the grave hole, causing my darling to shriek in terror.
    "Is it dead?" he screamed. For some reason I thought of John Cleese and the dead Parrot sketch from Fawlty Towers, but I resisted the temptation to pick up the poor dead bird and fling it skyward in the hope that it might take off. This flight had already departed I told him. He is so sensitive.
    I put my arm around him to comfort him. He was shivering. I wondered if he had been meeting this bird behind my back as he drove off in the mornings. I wouldn't haven't minded, I'm not the jealous type.
    We stood silently by the grave uttering our thanks to the gods for the fowls of the air that had fouled up our driveway, and looked carefully to the heavens to see if there were any more dropping down to Earth.
    It was only a small pigeon sized bird. But what had killed it?
    Did it have a heart attack in mid-flight? Was it a suicide?
    Was it bird flu? Well this bird flew no more.
    Bird flu! Bird flu? OMG. We might have bird flu.
    I sterilise the shovel.
    "Quick, quick," I tell the beloved one, " we must wash our hands."
    I ring the council to get the latest news on migrating birds with epidemic diseases.
    They tell me not to worry.
    The boy friend drives off to work muttering something about me being a hypochondriac-drama-queen.
    And he was the one that was screaming!
    I'm going back to bed.

  16. DesDownunder
    I haven't been blogging,
    Because I've been logging,
    A few sick days in bed,
    With a cough and sore head
    And no, I haven't had fun, flogging.
    Right so much for the poetry.
    I feel better now. Have you ever noticed how much better you feel after you visit the doctor.
    I have a great doctor.
    I turned up at the doctor's rooms ten minutes early.
    He sees me straight away. It pays to get the first appointment after lunch.
    I tell him all my woes outlining a plethora of symptoms.
    I hand him a sheet of paper I have typed up on the computer listing the degradations of my bodily functions with times and places of their occurrences.
    He glances at it and throws it aside on the desk. -Just throws it aside as if it was unnecessary!
    Doesn't he realise that the clues to making me alive and well again are contained in the detailed analysis I spent hours typing up for him.
    I could have been resting, sleeping in bed, but no, I am aware that his time is precious so I spent all of the previous night on the computer looking up my symptoms on the Internet; all to help him diagnose the hour of my demise and he just throws it aside like a piece of junk mail.
    He takes my temperature and blood pressure. He listens to my chest and then my lungs.
    "Say Ahhh," he commands, and he looks down my mouth, probably looking for tell tale signs of my sex life.
    "Aha!" he says.
    "What?" I ask.
    "You have a chest infection."
    "And?"
    "Rest up a few days and you will be fine."
    "That's it? I'm not at death's door?"
    "Not as far as I can tell," he says.
    I wonder about getting a second opinion. "As far as you can tell? Should I be concerned?"
    He laughs a boyish giggle and raises an eyebrow with an impish grin, "Just go home and rest. You'll be fine. Trust me I'm a doctor." We both burst out laughing at that remark.
    "Thanks Doc I feel better already."
    "Of course you do." He smiles as he holds the door open for me.
    I sign the medicare papers and walk outside. The sun is shining. I feel great.
    He is such a good doctor.
  17. DesDownunder
    I was looking through the illustrious blogs here at AwesomeDude, when I had a terrible thought.
    I wasn't struck by the number of people all having various traumatic moments, myself included, as I was by the way we all rushed in, keyboard at the ready, to offer help, assistance and just plain good wishes to all of us who were suffering, having a down moment.
    Then I thought about the real world outside of AwesomeDude and Codey's World. The raging car drivers, the insane profiteers, the elite socialites fussing over inanities, the mindless robberies, thuggings, muggings and various other horrors of existence on Earth, all made me think an even more terrifying thought. What if we, few in number that we are, what if we are all that is left of the nice , the good, and caring human beings on the planet.
    Has it come to this that we are all that remains of what is good about human existence?
    Now that is a scary thought.
    Okay, I know it is not true. I know there lots of good people all over the globe, but we only get reports of the bad guys doing horrible things. Acts of violence and mayhem are everywhere.
    So I have decided to turn off the computer for few hours and go out there and see if I can be nice to someone, whether they want me to or not. Damn it, I'm going to go and love someone just for being on the planet at the same time as me.
    Or is that another scary thought?
    Peace and love, my brothers and sisters, are not scary thoughts.

    This hippie moment brought to you by DesDownUnder.
  18. DesDownunder

    (27) My Land

    By DesDownunder,

    I don't know how long this newspaper link will be available, but thought you might like to see some shots of my state of South Australia. I am tempted to say the photos make it look better than it is, but that could just be that living here we tend to take it all for granted.
    http://www.news.com.au/adelaidenow/story/0...from=public_rss
    Photo Number 3 is not my house.

  19. DesDownunder
    I made some scones tonight.
    The supermarket donuts have taken a turn for the worse,
    So I made the scones.
    I used the oven to bake them.
    The boyfriend said the donuts were making him feel ill,
    So I made scones.
    Now I suppose the scones will make him feel ill too.
    He has been eating donuts for breakfast for ten years.
    He suddenly blames them for making him feel ill.
    Personally I think he has caught my cold.
    But the donuts got the blame for him feeling ill.
    I made scones.
    This blog entry will be entered into the most inane blog entry competition.
    The first prize will probably be a plate of scones,
    or donuts.

  20. DesDownunder
    My sense of smell has returned; I can smell the donuts again.
    I can always tell when I am getting better after a bout of the flu' or a cold etc,
    I start to feel myself again. - (You people have one track minds!)
    I also start to feel like feeling the boyfriend again.
    So I told him at breakfast I was feeling better.
    "Anyone I know?" he asked.
    I looked at him. This was unusual, the b/f cracked a joke in the morning, before he finished eating his donuts too.
    It usually takes him all day to work up to a joke.
    Wait a minute, that's the clue, he's not making a joke.
    "Oh I am sorry," I say, "but I have been sick, and I didn't want to give you my cold.
    erm...How long is it since we..."
    "Nearly two weeks," he says looking down at the donut on his plate with almost a lusty stare.
    "Two weeks? Two weeks! oh you poor dear, you must be ready for experimenting with inanimate objects."
    "Oh No. It is alright, I have you." he says with just the faintest flicker of humour in his gorgeous brown eyes.
    "I'll make it up to you, or you can make it up..."
    "That would be nice," he says.
    Nice, nice? Since when has our unbridled excursions into celebrating the meaning of love, been nothing more than "nice?"
    I have my work cut out for me. I'll do the romantic dinner thing tonight, and then a hot tub followed by a lot of cuddling while we watch a movie and then..."

    Okay it is the next morning.
    We both fell asleep in front of a very boring movie.
    Breakfast is looking back at us again. Hot donuts look very tempting at the moment.
    "Tonight?' I ask.
    "Tonight!" he affirms.
    "Tonight, tonight
    I'll see my love tonight.."
    I love the smell of donuts in the morning.

  21. DesDownunder
    Why do I do these things to myself?
    I am obsessed with sound and music and drama...don't say it...I know what you are thinking...drama-queen! Right? I suppose it sounds better than music-Queen.
    So I decided I would record my poems for posterity. "Why Butterfly" was a test post.
    Just posted at Codey's World is my poem called, "A Scent of Love."
    This was not easy. I wanted to do something a bit different. I gave much thought to what I could do with the poem.
    I began rehearsing the lines while driving across the city of Adelaide to the Video store.
    Have you ever noticed that other drivers think you are a little weird when you talk out loud whilst driving the car?
    One fellow circled his finger around his ear to signify that he thought I had bats in the belfry.
    I smiled at him, but he put his foot to the floor and drove off in a huff.
    I continued reciting my poem out loud in the car. Just as I recited the line, "I loved him and forever I could tell..." at the traffic lights a woman looked at me from the safety of her car and smiled at me. If I read her lips correctly she either said, "It's alright dear" or "He's not worth it."
    On top of all that I caught a cold or flu or something and my voice went hoarse. I was neighing and hacking everywhere all over the poem, all over the house and all over me.
    The car was the only place I didn't cough. Maybe I have found a cure for coughing, drive the car.
    Determined like the trooper I am I pressed on and after weeks of cursing the beta of Audacity (great program) and auditioning a great cast of character ideas, rehearsing the musicians, and consulting with my doctor, who stupidly told me to go home to bed, I finally finished the epic.
    It is now available to hear for your amusement at Codey's World sound page:
    http://www.codeysworld.com/audio.html
    You decide if I am a drama queen or not.
  22. DesDownunder
    So it's going to be one of those winters is it?
    Freezing one week, warm and balmy the next.
    Things happen in threes it is said. I hope they're right.
    First the inkjet printers blew up or stopped working, both of them.
    Nothing lasts forever. They had only printed about 30000 pages between them.
    And that was using refill ink. na na to the manufacturer.
    Second the scanner decided to insert vertical lines in every scan. Not just thin unobtrusive lines but bold broad sweeps of dark lines. So I get a new scanner and a new laser printer.
    Then last night I am having a wonderful shower. (Not THAT wonderful, you bad boys.) I was happily shampooing my hair, or what remains of my hair, making mad passionate love to the water, embracing the streams of pulsating liquid warmth whilst icy winds blow outside the house, when without any warning, the water goes frigid.
    Now I know how a man feels on his wedding night, when his wife suddenly loses all interest in making him hot. I felt jilted in the shower. All frothed and foamed up with no hot water to lovingly caress me.
    So after cursing all the taps in the bathroom a trickle of lukewarm water runs out the shower which is just sufficient to rinse off my soapy toned wrinkled aged body and most of my hair on the ends of which, icicles are forming.
    Sixteen hours later a dwarf appears in my back yard. No it is not a garden gnome. It is the hot water plumber. He is one of those small stocky built men. You know the type with a thick neck and short legs set wide apart. I stand watching him from behind as he leans into his tool box, wondering if anyone else has ever had this view of his back. He is very jovial, just happy to do his job at the rate of $110 for the first half-HOUR, plus $25 for each 15 minutes thereafter until my hot water is gassed backed into life, or I faint with financial apoplexy. Oh plus parts. $190. Oh well its cheaper than the $850 for a new heater.
    Aren't overdrafts wonderful? If the bank is as lazy about me paying as it is about giving low interest rates, I shall be in an old folks home in a trance before they realise I have no visible means of support.
    So I jump back into the shower to finish my shampoo, "I'm gonna wash that gnome right out of my head..."

  24. DesDownunder
    I don't understand it. I am snowed under with work galore.
    I have a dozen things to do all by tomorrow or next Thursday.
    I have just made a snack and sit down at the computer to read and eat,
    when without warning a phrase goes pop, into my head.
    I have to write that down.
    Fifteen minutes later I have a poem.
    A wretched silly poem!
    I also have a cold bowl of rice with hot-sauce,
    and none of my work even started.
    An hour later I am happy with the tweaking of said poem,
    but realise that some people are not going to cope with it at all.
    Why me? Why did the muse attack me at this time?
    Why was I selected to bring this vision to fruition?
    Did everyone else turn it down?
    That must be it.
    I got the left-overs.
    Everyone else had the good sense to not get involved in such a poetic travesty.
    Not me though, oh no.
    I had to go and let myself be used by the dark side to write and post the poem.
    I should have signed it as Darth Downunder. No too obvious.
    A poem for bedtime...
    "Safe As Houses" now at Codey's World

  25. DesDownunder
    Are Blogs Draining? The title for this entry occurred to me whilst I was putting the finishing touches to my new short story soon to be released at a Codey's World near you. (don't hold your breath it needs editing yet.)
    It seemed to me that just maybe, blog writing may drain the creative impulses away from the writing of a good story, or a bad one for that matter.
    If we put in a lot effort in the short term to make sure our cute insightful blogs are fun, interesting or just plain readable, does that deplete our creative energy? Does it concentrate our resources into the blog when they should be going into our stories?
    On the other hand, yes I have two of them, does writing anything, even a blog keep the impetus to write, alive? Is there a line of demarcation one should watch, just to make sure that the literary prize is not being hi-jacked by some frivolous but clever blog remark?
    Are our darkest moments revealed in our blogs actually the stuff upon which our novella dreams thrive?
    So perhaps the blogs should be simple statements of fact devoid of creative writing.
    How can an author lower himself to do that? We write and must write as best we can.
    So if the blog bogs down the creative drain
    then the blog shall be first to block the bog
    and we authors will need to be plumbers
    to unblock the bogs of our minds so that
    the s**t can flow freely once again.
    Or am I missing the toilet paper here?
    Goodness me, after all that, I feel quite flushed.

PayPal

Help Keep

AwesomeDude Online

Scan to donate

QR code
×
×
  • Create New...