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This made my day.

How NOT to handle a bad review 101.

I know this is already making the rounds of twitter, facebook, etc. but its good…uhm bad… enough to deserve further notice.

~Bb

P.S. If I ever take the next step with my writing I promise to use an editor. I *know* my spelling and grammar can crush the spirit & intimidate the soul.

P.P.S For the delight of my readership of 1 I even took the time to edit this post 3 times – and its really just a link!!! See? I try for you, I do.

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Published in: on March 30, 2011 at 8:20 am  Comments (2)  

Transformative

Word O’ Yesterday

Biwrixle – to change, transform.

Today’s word

Weather-wiseacre – a weather prophet.

A warm wind blew the hat from Madelline, a renowned weather-wiseacre & her hair did biwrixle about her head.

Published in: on March 29, 2011 at 8:40 am  Comments (2)  

1 month free trial

Well…that’s my thirty days of blogging.

I’m a little less than pleased. I didn’t make any startling revelations…the floodgates of my imagination did not burst forth and produce wonderment…

I have attracted only one reasonably faithful follower – hats off you to Mrs. C.

But over all I feel like this prattle may be just a silly sort of published vanity.

*Dulldrums*

Published in: on March 24, 2011 at 9:03 pm  Comments (2)  

Broozle

Word of the day: Broozle – to sweat violently due to toil.

Niiiiice. I hope never to broozle again.

Published in: on March 21, 2011 at 7:00 pm  Comments (3)  

Angela

Hello I love you wont you tell me which way we can go to find a bag of potato chilling grains? Hello, I love you, please answer the phone sweetheart. Can we please stop all the pain, take a day from the pouring rain of our hearts bleeding out onto the floor. Our souls are sore and bare, worn thin and held together by shaky prayers. Please stop the constant struggle to get through a day in agony without you. I need you here by my side I’m tired of this hide and seek relationship. I just want to trust that You’ll be here with me, near to me. Stop locking yourself away, untouchable, a man in a box. Your own lonely prison, a glass room with no air to breathe. Aren’t you drowning in your tears? Chilling silenced by your fears. I need you in my dreams, it seems we’ve wasted all these years. Please stop the pain.

“Angela? Annngela? Are you coming down now? We want to go to the café. I could bring you something back if you aren’t ready to go. But we’re going now. Angela?” She looked at her husband with worried eyes.
“I don’t know why she doesn’t respond, that’s not like her. Steven, would you mind? Just go up and? Yeah, we’ll wait in the car for you.” She said. They left the foyer and headed out onto the porch. Steven headed towards the staircase and worked his way up the oak steps with his hand sliding on the bannister. When he reached his neice’s room he knocked softly.
“Angela sweetheart? Honey we’ve been asking for you downstairs. Could you open up please? Angela? This isn’t funny, why aren’t you answering me?” Steven called through the door. Putting his hand on the knob he gently twisted. The door wouldn’t open, the lock keeping the distance. Angrily he called thru the wood.
“Angie, what the hell is going on in there. Unlock this door. We haven’t heard from you all day. You weren’t down at breakfast, now I want to know what is going on.”
Listening carefully at the door, Steven heard nothing from within the girls room. Breathing deep he stepped back and prepared to shove his shoulder into the obstacle, intending to break thru the door, panic nibling at the back of his neck as he considered the possibilities on the other side.

Published in: on March 20, 2011 at 12:04 pm  Leave a Comment  

Art Contest

OMG!!!! I entered a small contest to design a heraldic device for this book – and I WON!!! When it comes out I’ll have to show everyone I know! LOL

Published in: on March 16, 2011 at 7:28 am  Comments (1)  

Slurs & Epithets

Two great words today!

Friday’s word = Hortyard: a garden or orchard.

Into the hortyard I wander, the leaves of my garden to ponder. Awake and alive it is here that I thrive amongst all my growing mistakes.

Saturday/Sunday’s word = Blasphematour: a blasphemor.

REALLY?!!! Fantastic!

You’re such a blasphematour!

This is my new favorite slur- I can’t wait to use it randomly & out of context!

Published in: on March 12, 2011 at 9:08 am  Comments (1)  

Imagining the Fantastic

More details coming soon….but save the date and plan to join us in Mount Pleasant, Michigan!

All events (which will include panels, Q&A, book signings, a film screening, readings, and a harp concert) are FREE TO STUDENTS AND THE GENERAL PUBLIC

Published in: on March 10, 2011 at 8:02 pm  Comments (1)  

On Again, Off Again, Something or other Finnigan

Sometimes my 10 minute free writes are quite coherent, other times it comes in fits & starts. I like parts 3 & 4 here, the other 2 bits are “meh.”

I’ve waited so long to meet you. Perhaps this evening we can get that quality time you always spoke of, or maybe just learn to trust a little again. Your screen name never made complete sense to me. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. No. Oh, I do apologize. Well perhaps another time. I see. Thank you. Again, I’m sorry. Please, no. Nothing personal right? Internet dating, I guess this sort of thing happens to a lot of folk. Alright. Have a nice evening. Yes, you too. Goodbye, Jellostone, I mean, Henry. Goodbye.

What in the word is this place coming to. No I don’t want none of your fingerlickin finger foods. What the hell is this shit. I can’t believe they took my dive bar, my place of ill repute and turned it into this tight ass shit. Mother fuck, I think I done turned over in my own grave, except I’m not dead. Wish I was though, seeing what this place has become. Makes me sad man, real sad.

Evening falls on fainting footsteps as lovers walk the spring bloomed paths. Flowers wave heavy heads over the silver trumpets of vine and concrete. Never have I ever seen a place so stunning, never have I ever held a hand so fair. Never have I ever felt like flying, fly away with you somewhere.

It takes a special man to understand the worth of a dollar. To see the potential of the smallest denomination. The power it represents in the right hands. Get that dollar bill into the fist of a driven man and you have started something you won’t want to have to see to believe. Give that driven man a year and he will hand you back a fistful of dollars so thick you’ll think you handed him Jack’s magic beans the way those dollars have grown. Tens and twenties, a hundred bill in there just laughing at its own success. Yes, there are still magic men, men that can take an honest dollar and make a dishonest fortune from it. I’ve seen it happen, and I’ll see it again if ever someone gave that Genevieve boy a buck.

No such luck Killer, all the dog biscuits dun been et. Sorry son, guess the kibbles gonna have to be it for now.

Published in: on March 10, 2011 at 7:27 am  Leave a Comment  

Technical Difficulties

I can’t figure out how to get this thing to post the correct time…*le sigh*

10 Minute Free Write…keep on till the end – I think that there is a bit at the bottom actually worth the time and effort.

I took a look down the road towards the rook’s nest. The hens were all laying eggs this time of year, and the roosters were keeping a keen eye about for anything they felt seemed suspicious. No one in the dell really thought much about the rookery, but I enjoyed a slow sort of morning walk their most days, and so I noticed immediately all the ruckus being kicked up by the birds this sunny summer morning as the wind lightly tossed my hair. And the first thought of the day that I could remember would haunt me the rest of my life- maybe the rooks had heard of the body found under Mr. Edelstein’s porch this past Sunday. I wish now I didn’t know just how much the rooks had heard, or how little they cared about the human ideal of humanity towards all.

Igloos igloos, tooka igloo tooka. And all around the mulberry bush the monkey chased the weasel. Seriously, do weasels and monkeys even live in the same area of the world? I’ve never heard of no jungle weasels. What kind of weasel would that even be huh? They’re not going to go swinging on vines. Where do weasels and ferrets and things come from? They seem common enough, but you never hear of wild or indigenous ferret populations. Are they South American? I dunno.

Ely? Why don’t you run over to Chester’s and ask his mum for a bowl of cream? I haven’t enough to finish up my custard tarts and they’ll be wanting to set soon.

In the long ago intriguing past, people lead these haphazard sorts of journeys we quaintly refer to as “lives.” “Having a life” as it was referred to then, was often times a slang term for free time wasted on individual or social pursuits. These “lives” lead so many astray from their families and the Work Force that educated statesmen smartly banned them and instituted the 24/7 Labor Provider society we are currently fortunate enough to enjoy. We owe our thanks and gratitude to those

HAH! Time!

Published in: on March 7, 2011 at 7:09 pm  Comments (1)