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

Camy

AD Author
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Posts

    4,202

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won

    3

 Content Type 

Blog Entries posted by Camy

  1. Camy

    The Car Boot

    By Camy,

    Sunday car boot (trunk for those with a different vocabulary) sales have taken over from church as the place to congregate. Not only do we all worship the great God Mammon, but we either get a bargain or two, or make a few quid - depending if you're buying or selling. I've been both, but today I was selling.
    I HATE it. Hate, hate, hate it! Got the idea? It's so damn embarrassing having total strangers trawling through your tat.... But needs must when the devil drives, so suffer I did, with cheesy grins to all and sundry. Mindless gossip with penurious proletarian peasants. Not that I'm hoity toity by any stretch of the imagination, it's just that I FUCKING HATE IT!
    Then there's the guilt. Selling 'things' that my father gave to me.
    It was strange: there was an old (pre 2nd world war) small two drawer wooden filling cabinet. One person wanted to buy it, and yet if he'd offered me a fortune I wouldn't have sold it to him. The chap who eventually bought it 'felt right'.
    So here I am, back home. I'm not rich, but not poor. I guess it's better to make a few quid rather than chucking it all away, but I still hate it. There's another one next Sunday!
  2. Camy

    The Cats 'n' all.

    By Camy,

    We've been here now for three weeks, and the Cats have just started to get to go out. They love the garden, and especially the 'patio' which heats up in the sun. They seem to like lying on their backs and wait for their tummy's to be rubbed. Jolly sensible I think, and I'm going to do the same the next time M comes over ... provided the neighbours are out.
    The angst involved in letting them out was almost too much. The road at the front of the house, though not a main road, is not Cat friendly - unlike the last place we lived. I've suddenly realized how much I care for their welfare. But the bottom line is that they are not indoor cats, and pragmatically: what will be will be.
    As for me, I'm chilled, and starting to enjoy life again. I've even started to write a new short story - though in my darker moments I wondered if I'd ever write again. The thing is I'm almost sure that writing and music were the only things that kept me sane for the last year or so. And now the stress is over and done with I'm wondering if perhaps I don't need to write or howl ....
    Naaaaa. I like it far too much to give up.
    Oh yeah, we've got a festival gig in July!
    Oh YEAH! I've got a mac! W00T!
  3. Camy

    Sunday babbling.

    By Camy,

    Sunday. Sunday, Sunday, oh tranquil ol' Sunday.
    The day of rest, so sayeth the wise.
    Unless, of course, you've decided - in a moment of skint fiscal madness (and not my own, I hasten to add) - to 'do' a car boot sale.
    "Must I?"
    "Oh yes, it's fun, and we'll make money!" It's not that we ever do make money - or enough to write home about, anyway - but generally we have a laugh.
    "Oh okay then. But you have to get me up." (minds out of gutter please).
    So ... on Sunday morning I wake up, glare at the cat - who can sleep on, and stumble downstairs for coffee. Finally I phone him. It rings and rings. Eventually:
    "Mmmm ... uh ... what time is it?"
    "You were supposed to call ME!"
    "Oh ... so, uh ...."
    I relent and almost laugh. After all, I've had coffee. "I'll pick you up in half an hour, it's a beautiful day."
    "Umm ... do you still want to, then?" Unfortunately, I adore going back to bed: especially when I shouldn't. And even more so when I can get up later and watch Formula 1! Yay! W00T!
    A few hours later, during a commercial break, I get an email:
    Dearest Emu, I should be taken outside and horsewhipped.
    If you don't hear from me again, you can have all my equipment,
    (maybe you'll get a tenner for it).
    I am now going to disappear into the sea with some sad music playing,
    (some of my own, of course).
    Don't mourn for me, I don't deserve it.
    Goodbye cruel world.
    Lots of love, M.
    Guffawing, I turn off the TV and drive over - thus missing the conclusion of, probably, the best race of the season.
    Ain't love strange?
    Sebastian Vettel won. At 21, the youngest ever winner of Formula 1.
  4. Camy

    A rawky day!

    By Camy,

    I've been feeling really meh recently. Miserable weather does me in, and so far August has been a bleedin' awful month as far as weather is concerned. I'd thought that was it: another poxy English summer crawls to its grotty end ... and then today arrived.
    Today was magical! Today was shorts and t-shirt weather, with a long, long walk on the beach. Of course I should have been sorting out the container, but no chance. The sun pulled me elsewhere.
    The tide was so far out that bones of the wreck of the Amsterdam - a Dutch East Indiaman that sank in 1749 - were visible. This is a rare event, and pulled a large audience of gawpers, including M and me. It was odd to think of the people that lost their lives all those years ago. I think I was expecting to feel something. A frisson, maybe. But no: nothing. Obviously I'm as psychic as a brick.
  6. Camy

    How hard can it be?

    By Camy,

    I've always lived with the idea in the back of my mind (don't laugh) that, if push came to shove I'd be able to walk out of the door with a pack on my back, and start a new life without worrying about what I'd left behind.
    Ha! Fat chance. I'm selling this thing called house (can't afford the mental anguish any more) and have been trying to get rid of my 'things', but it's proving a lot, A LOT harder than I thought it would.
    Take photographs. I have a lot of them, both from home and from work, and video too. I also have all my father's negs. If I were to start now I'd probably not be done digitising until Christmas - and I'd be lucky if it was Christmas this year. Diaries: I have years of the buggers - some with only a few entries, but every time I put them in the bin, this other 'me' pulls them out again.
    T-shirts. I like t-shirts
    The list goes on and on, and I don't really want to throw any of it away.... *sighs*
  7. Camy

    And all is well - mostly.

    By Camy,

    After a fractious and car-less weekend, all is now well. My baby's back, though now her front brake discs are beginning to rub. :(
    It's most strange that not having transport readily available - even if you aren't going to use it - is stressful. I live out in the country and although there is a bus a couple of times a day, and I could walk if needs must, I really did keep looking out of the window and pouting at her empty parking spot. Still, never mind eh, all is back to the way it was ... except for the world's economy, which seems to be rushing ever faster down the pan. Hmm. I hope the two aren't related.
    Oh, and I've discovered mechanics can be quite eye-candilicious!
    Camy
  8. Camy
    I've added a new category 'Claptrapish' This is for claptrap that has marginally more ... erm ... possibilities than straight common or garden Claptrap.
    Here's an example: Astrology. Believe? No. No proof; but it can be entertaining.
    http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/aries.html
    Aries March 21st - April 19th
    '"If you hold your dreams too tightly, you'll crush their little ribs," was the message scrawled on the wall of a public restroom I visited today. I immediately recognized that as excellent advice for you. While I'm usually all in favor of cultivating a ferocious devotion towards one's goals and desires, I've noticed lately that your grasp on yours has turned into a manic clench. Please let them breathe better. Give them some slack. Maybe tell yourself a joke about how funny you look applying that death-grip.'
    Totally meaningless, but entertaining = Claptrapish.
  9. Camy

    Tooooooooooo much

    By Camy,

    WAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
    too much to do
    too much bleedin' everything and not enough (read none at all) "how's your father"
    can't be bothered with capitals or punctu-blinkin'-ation
    must get back to it
    don't want to
    want to play
    squark!
    WAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

  10. Camy

    Me ... me me me.

    By Camy,

    I'm beginning to feel chilled and happy. The stress of the last year has finally vanished over the horizon - never to return - and it's summer! What more could a chap want? Oh yeah, that. ;)
    That's being worked on. *coughs and blushes*
    Ooops. I'm late.
  11. Camy

    Happy Valentine!

    By Camy,

    I wrote a 'poem' ... it seemed the thing to do.
    There are those I admire who live who far away
    Across Oceans and lands vast and stark
    Whose wit and friendship oft make my day
    And pull me from moods deep and dark
    So on Saint Valentine's day I'd like them to know
    Their friendship and love matters muchly
    To this English prole who would like to bestow
    A Lordship at least ... or a Duchy!
  12. Camy

    Cat problems + Red House

    By Camy,

    The vet said (not verbatim) 'As the nights are now drawing in she won't go on heat again until spring.'
    Stupid vet. I woke in the middle of the night as Sassy (said cat) yowled in my ear. Luckily, I avoided a heart attack.
    Sassy talks a lot. Siamese always do. But when she's on heat it's excruciatingly loud. Luckily, we live in a cottage with a very thick wall between us and the neighbour, and a stream on the other side. So no complaints... yet.
    She's not big enough for kittens yet. Next spring she'll be two and hopefully, if she's big enough, we'll find a suitably stunning stud poss and she'll have one lot of babies and then be snipped.
    Which brings me to 'Red House.' It's difficult, with a cat lying supine on your keyboard waggling her lady parts in your face, to write, let alone write the required daily amount. There are the odd occasions when there's complete silence, and it's wondrous! So wondrous, and peaceful, it becomes time for a quick kip.
    It's not been a productive few days....
  14. Camy

    16 - should be 25

    By Camy,

    Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!
    Get the idea? I do. It means buckle down and get bleedin' writin' in some obscure dialect of lesser Engrish.
    Mmmm goody, will do, then.
    C x
  15. Camy

    Me, Myself, I pt XXVI

    By Camy,

    Umm. I had a reason to blog, but it seems to be escaping me at the moment. Most odd.
    Anyway ... so I found a box of Cassettes that had - once I dug an old cassette machine out of the loft and found a lead to attach it to the computer - some amazing AMAZING stuff on them. Like the rehearsal at Solid Light where I fell asleep over the drum kit in the middle of a song. Hmm, I suppose gouched out is closer to the truth: it was a long time ago. Then there are the first few recordings I made with M. Before we erm ... well, before he told me he umm ... loved me.
    Times and places are wonderful. I only wish I'd made a few more sensible decisions. Arse I am.
    When we were in Germany I recorded everything. I'd set up the desk, fire up the Atari and keyboards, plug in the guitar and ... what a load of crap!
    Though there are a few tracks I'm inordinately proud of. A few that have stood the test of time.

  16. Camy
    Today, I've spent a lot of time berating the cat. She seems to get great pleasure out of waltzing over the keyboard. She also sits on it when I'm making coffee - which means removing rows and rows of odd letters. H seems to be popular, as is K.
    Other than that it's going well. I'm almost at 8,000 words. I'm hoping they might make sense, too. Who knows?
    Later.
  17. Camy
    Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck!
    I should be at 23k words and I'm only at 15k. This does not bode well. Not well at all. Still, one has to try and be positive... it's almost dark, it's cold, I need coffee but can't be arsed to go downstairs and make it. Dear lord, send an angel, fastest.
    I suppose I should resort to a picture of the cat:

     
  18. Camy

    Cheer up Shelley.

    By Camy,

    I spend a lot of time bemoaning the fact that I'm not doing what I should be doing; cursing the mistakes I've made, my bone idleness ... and then wondering what it actually is that I should have been doing in the first place. Daft, huh?
    Anyway, when I get in one of those frames of mind I read this poem: which knocks sense back into my thick skull. After all: we only have the one shot. We might as well enjoy it, no matter what. ;)
    Ozymandias
    by Percy Byshe Shelley (1792-1822)
    I met a traveller from an antique land
    Who said:?Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
    Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
    Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
    And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
    Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
    Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
    The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
    And on the pedestal these words appear:
    "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
    Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
    Nothing beside remains: round the decay
    Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
    The lone and level sands stretch far away.
    ---
  20. Camy
    I love my car, I really do. She's a little silver-grey Renault Clio and goes for miles on very little petrol - which is a boon with petrol at nearly ?5 ($9) a gallon. Yes, she's done me proud ... until late Friday afternoon when her clutch cable snapped. I won't repeat the words we had as I drove her (double de-clutching is a doddle if you don't value your gears) in first and second all the way to M's. Sighing, he then drove me home in a borrowed 3.5 litre BMW that was built when petrol was A LOT cheaper. Comfy? Yes. Expensive? You better believe it!
    It's odd that garages don't like to work on Friday afternoons. Or saturday mornings, either. So tomorrow I have to get up at the crack of sparrows and schlep into town. Bollocks.
    ---
    My first story in an age and a half is up. It's called Dearly Beloved, and I hope you like it!
    ---
    'Fringe' Rawks! Kinda like The X Files on speed with Pacey. A good first offering - though I haven't seen J.J. Abrams signature Polar Bear, yet. 😞
    Ave,
    Camy
  21. Camy
    You wander along thinking life is almost perfect (I say almost, as perfection is really impossible) and then ... shit happens.
    One of my oldest and dearest on-line friends has just left the net, and I'm gutted. Gutted because they've gone, and also because I had no inkling - not the vaguest idea - that anything was wrong ... and I don't like it. The foundations of my 'world' have been rocked: there's been an on-line earthquake.
    But, as has been pointed out, change is inevitable. I might not like it, but 'that's life'. In the words of Gloria Gaynor "I will survive!"
    The net is a weird place, and investing too much of yourself in it is unhealthy.
    Hey ho. In other news: I've started writing again!
  22. Camy

    NiaD XI - away with the fairies

    By Camy,


    NiaD
    ...and so, in less than an hour, I'm off for another insane bout of writing a novel in 24 hours.
    The cat's prepared - I've told her to help herself to food. I have beer and wine in the fridge and a tub of hummus for those urgent snack breaks.
    Now all I'm waiting for is the midnight delivery of my chapter brief!
    W00T!
  23. Camy
    One of my all time favourite films is 1980's 'Airplane', which is now considered such an old chestnut that you can hear the groans of disapprobation from miles away every time they announce it'll be played; Still, I like it. There are two classic running gags. The first is the Peter Graves' Captain Clarence Oveur to Joey, the little boy: "Joey, do you like movies about gladiators?" "Joey, have you ever seen a grown man naked?" etc. The second, Lloyd Bridges as Steve McCroskey, the frustrated controller: "I guess I picked the wrong week to quit..."
    Well, so did I.
    ... um ... you probably had to be there ... or should that be here...
  24. Camy

    Bickering with other half

    By Camy,

    Having nothing better to do - it's not that I don't 'cause I do, but hell, if I don't make time for some plaintive whining, where would I be?
    So, yeah. M. The one I love. The one, this afternoon, I wanted to beat about the head with a wet kipper. We were rehearsing, as you do, and .... Oh, poop. What's the point. I'll find a fish monger in the morning.
    Night.
    Camy
  25. Camy
    So ... CERN's Large Hydron Collider has been switched on, and amazingly, the world is still here, and still in one piece.
    Having recovered from cowering in the corner and attempting to kiss my bottom goodbye (why anyone would want to kiss their own bottom is beyond me) I find that a lot of people were really, Really worried about it.
    I guess if my Dad had told me the world might be ending I'd have been worried, too. Though I'd probably have tried to use it as an excuse to not do homework.
    Admittedly they haven't got to the real experiments yet, and as they won't be starting until next year, I'll have time to practise my bottom kissing technique ... hmm.
    Anyway, here is a link to the 'turn on'. Do watch the movie, it's ... well, riveting.
    This is well worth watching. It's Steven Hawking. Will he or won't he win his $100 bet?
    Reassuring children about the world's end

PayPal

Help Keep

AwesomeDude Online

Scan to donate

QR code
×
×
  • Create New...