Good Evening Frazzlers!
Though I may sound like a weather man, remarking on the weather in each post, today it really can’t be helped ha-ha. The weather outside is beautiful, it’s quite hot even now but the breeze that accompanies it really does ignite that summer holiday feeling. Is the weather as wonderful where you all are too? I truly hope so.
Tonight’s post is likely to be rather general in its nature, though I will try to stick to specific secularities, for the benefit of all of us ha-ha. Looking back at my day’s activities, for example, I can safely say that I’ve had fun. I walked with my little brother to his job interview, fingers crossed for him, I’ve purchased three more cook-books, of which I simply cannot wait to crack on with, and I’ve managed to catch up with some relatives of which I haven’t seen in a while. Although I have been busy throughout the day however, my mind is constantly elsewhere with regards to both my inspiration and aspirations alike, I feel that my writing is in need of a Lucozade ha-ha.
It would seem that my entire compulsion to be inspired by the world around me is struggling to overcome a longing to revert to times previous – A personal comfort zone. Truth be told, the adventures of my life are unfolding far slower than they used to. This will be short lived, there’s too many exciting things to come. As each day passes we move closer to our next adventure, and, I simply cannot wait. Less than two weeks from now, we’ll be sat comfortably in a beer garden in York. I’ll be toasting the summer with a refreshing glass of Pimms in hand. Our tales of our adventures in York will invoke conversation for many months to come. My optimism dictates that I should embrace each moment and ‘live for the minute’ and my enthusiasm dictates that I can turn this dry spell around, so, let’s get to it. Starting tomorrow, I have made it my personal goal to go outside in search of an interesting story or observation to tell you all, as will be tradition until we arrive in York. What good is being a Frazzler if I haven’t given you a reason to visit Frazzle Town? Ha-ha.
In other news, Tasha is making serious progress with regards to her artwork; it won’t be long until we can get that page fully functional and invigorative. Likewise, Dan’s Music Room is set up and only in need of a few more additions and tweaks too. Things are starting to make real progress here in Frazzle Town, and, soon we’ll have some wonderful tales to share, it won’t be long now and I can’t wait. Until tomorrow, stay iced, keep laughing and don’t take anything too seriously,
Murder mysteries are about the rights of the individual versus the rights of the community, the battle between good and evil, and the triumph of justice. While, in general, murder mysteries follow the traditional dramatic arc, with the protagonist’s fortunes rising, climaxing, and resolving, there are a few more twists and turns in a mystery arc.A = a body is discovered. The book’s events are set in motion.B = suspects, clues, and red herrings are investigated. The protagonist makes a tentative and often impersonal commitment, as in she’s a police officer. It’s her job to investigate; or, for the amateur, her best friend is in trouble, so naturally she’ll help out. Note that during this stage the protagonist’s ups and downs are shallower than they will be later.C = a second body is found. The protagonist has failed to prevent this subsequent crime.D = the protagonist makes a second, more personal commitment to see that justice is done. At this point her personal fortune becomes tied to the greater group good, and she makes a promise, at least to herself and perhaps to others, that she will carry through to the end no matter what the cost.E = the clues and red herrings become more significant, with a greater impact on both the personal and public stakes.F = the protagonist confronts a personal threat in bringing the killer to justice.G = resolution. The protagonist doesn’t return to the original starting point — except perhaps in farces, see below. She has been irrevocably changed by the search for justice.The above arc deals with the murder resolution. There are also one or more personal arcs that deal with the private fortunes of individual characters. Personal arcs include romance and relationships, danger to family members, danger to the personal community, personal fortunes, and living conditions (house, salary, possessions, etc.).The personal community is a small part of the larger community. It includes those people with whom the protagonist had day-to-day contact: friends, co-workers, and maybe a special interest that the protagonist has, such as rescuing abandoned dogs or running a store. It is terribly important to the protagonist, but isn’t important to the larger public community in the same way. For example, a police abuse scandal might enrage public opinion, but the police officer involved is concerned about how the scandal affects her partner, who is one of the people accused.The personal stakes are played out in contrast to or in synchronization with the public stakes of righting of wrong and the triumph of justice. Mysteries from North America and England usually ground themselves in the need for justice to triumph. Mysteries by writers from other parts of the world may have a different view of justice or may reflect a society where justice is not possible or is not common.Here are four ways that this interplay of public and private stakes can play out.
Public Stakes Public Stakes Private Stakes Both the public stakes and the private stakes rise in synchronization. Justice is done and everyone lives happily—or relatively happily—until the next book in the series. Usually found in traditional (cozy) mysteries, but also quite common in many mysteries. The public stakes and the private stakes operate in contrast. Justice is done, but the private stakes fall. The characters sacrifice personal happiness for the good of the community. When well done, can lead to an award-winning book. Private Stakes The private stakes rise, but justice is not done. Very rare in North American mysteries because it leaves the reader dissatisfied that the world is not put right. Not so rare in the rest of the world, particularly in countries that have a recent history of civil wars, dictatorships, or civil rights issues. Both the public stakes and the private stakes fall. Justice is incomplete or is not achieved and there is a personal loss. Characteristic of mean streets, noir, and the suspended tragedies written in the past 15 to 20 years. Suspended tragedies often involve serial killers who escape, only to return in subsequent stories.
Get the rest of the story at POE’S DEADLY DAUGHTERS: The Murder Mystery Arc.
- We Have A Murder Mystery! (villainousedition.wordpress.com)
- It’s a (Murder) Mystery! (anediblequest.wordpress.com)
- !:Lybra:! Limited Edition Men’s Outfit – Murder Mystery Charity Hunt (theoinsl.wordpress.com)
Poetry and Poems
i see those
puppy-lovers of the
i see the when of
a calendar year round
that’s true to
the lips of fact
that’s true to
the rain and
that’s true when
the mind is
to the world
that’s true when
all things are
if only close to you
but i try to be closer
to the one closest to you
then to get at you
and you have
the better half
and i can’t be
your significant other
floating on a
space where i
sweetly laid my
thoughts of you
myself and wishing
that i am the other half
as kisses blow
on this cheek
the blue facade
of internet shops
and dressed the
streets with China
lanterns and make
the voyage not
these very rude
while all the
look at us
it’s not our
we can’t stop
as you and I
and love traffics
La La Rapariga
A funny girl with a bubby personality and a love for all creative things.
“It has been a week and the phone does not seem to ring. Another boring day dreaming and longing for an opportunity… She sat there, in front of her computer screen, checking her inbox every 5 minutes with the hope someone would reply to any of her applications.
Her work at the Hotel was no longer satisfying, and the thought of having to go back there, made her stomach turn and her mood gloomy.
‘The weather in London is always mood lifting’, she thought.
Being a full-time student, little or nothing helped, in her job search. She sat there wondering in an almost pretentious way, that she had the skills, personality and last but not least, she had knowledge and experience. She would never apply for a job, she knew for a fact, she would not be able to be at her best and perform like a pro.
Since she moved to England, she had applied for more than 200+ jobs. Nevertheless, she was determined to make a name for herself.
Unfortunately for her, University was still 1 year from being over and that Paper… She only needs a Diploma. A paper that seems to carry all the evidence of what she already knows.
‘What a waste of my time’, she whispered while lifting her cup of Tea.
She had by now developed a taste for a milky tea, something unthinkable to her before.
‘Why in the hell would you mix the two of them?’ Never made sense to her and she could not be bother to even try to understand its origins. She enjoyed it now and that was all that matter.
It has been another day at home, in bed, wearing pyjamas and drinking the same tea, made in the same weird milky way, in the same mug she decided as the ‘Lucky one’.
See, that matter here is that she was not your average type of girl.
While most of the young females between 19-25, think about hair, nails, drinking Costa coffees and partying down in Piccadilly with the fresh meat, she would sit and plan her future: Buying her first house, marrying, being a mother and running not only, a great home but a great business. How good that sounded to her only she knew.
‘My Curriculum can’t be that bad! I refuse to believe that know is calling me!’, she walked frenetically back and forward in the room. Than a pause, than a rush, silence, fury and body movement flux.
The room seem to shrink and her heart beat was increasing by the second. She now looked for comfort in her own arms and self-hugging never seemed so appropriate.
It made her feel warm and safe, but lonely and dark.
Her body was now lying there, in the same bed she spent a fair amount of hours procrastinating about the tomorrow. It’s all so tiring, all seems uncertain, all in a blur, like the closing of eyes.
Tomorrow is yet to come. “
Please guys leave feedback
Lots of Love Laurean
We are almost there! The weekend never seemed so close
In case you guys noticed my Post titles, they are bits and pieces of the book I’m writing
Lots of Love Laurean X
New York, 1891. A new breed of cop for a new breed of killer…
The first in a series of hard-boiled New York Victorian mysteries, featuring Finley Jameson & Joseph Argenti.
“One genius criminal profiler. One ruthless, streetwise cop. Both will need all their wits to capture the most notorious killer of all time.”
New York, 1891. A prostitute is found brutally murdered. The victim bears the same hallmarks as a notorious recent killing spree in England. Could it be that killer has crossed the Atlantic to fresh killing grounds? Or is this simply a copycat murder? Fear spreads through a city already rife with cut-throat gangs, corruption and vice. Aristocratic English pathologist, Finley Jameson, is teamed up with Joseph Argenti, a streetwise New York cop, to solve the case. But as the body-count rises and the killer taunts his pursuers in open letters, Jameson & Argenti find themselves fighting not just to prevent yet more victims, but also to save the city’s very soul.
Here’s to the start of some great #laughs, Stay Iced, keep laughing and don’t take anything too seriously, :Welcome to a new friend; Mr. Tom W. Brown
‘There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you’ – Maya Angelou
How this blog came to be:
This Blog was inspired by friends, and is a challenge to myself. Having never completed a diary in my life, I’m hoping to post a new update every day concerning a little bit about anything and everything. This is intended to be a social blog, so please feel free to drop comments, tips, ideas, and have a laugh. Above all though, thank-you for reading!
Frazzlers, Welcome! This is essentially my ‘About Me’ page!
A little about me:
Creative Writer | Poet | Party Liaison | Aspiring Guitarist | Traveller | Food Enthusiast | BA(Hons) English & History Student | Amateur Critical Analyst
How I’ve got this far:
Well, I’m from the north of England originally, I grew up and was schooled there until I was sixteen. Around about the same time, I used the wages I had earned at the local café to travel. At fifteen, for example, I travelled alone and spent some time in Scotland, at sixteen, I travelled down to the south coast for the majority of the summer and at seventeen, I left home entirely for two years. Having finished college in 2011, I returned home and took a gap year. Throughout the year I worked as a barman, a restaurant chef, a waiter and took up a job as a sales assistant before progressing to university in the September of 2012.
Throughout my life, to date, I have tried pretty much anything once, I’ve practiced cooking, taken up the guitar, enjoyed nights at the theatre, published poetry, started creative writing, walked from sunrise to sunset, swam fully clothed for lemonade, travelled to counties I didn’t know existed, walked to ASDA at two in the morning and eaten six cornettos in five minutes all but to name a few. I’ve met some incredible people along the way, and, regardless of how my life has lost some of the spontaneity it used to possess, I still smile knowing that I made the best out of my childhood. The journey doesn’t end there though, as of the 9th of July 2013, I was talked into creating a Blog… and… here we are.
I hope that throughout this blog, and through all of the posts it’ll consist of, you too can be as inspired as I am about making the most out of the cards we get dealt in life.
Here’s to the start of some great laughs,
Stay Iced, keep laughing and don’t take anything too seriously,
Please follow me on twitter (to the right) and / or add me on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/mrtomwbrown
Welcome to Tasha’s Gallery!
This page is a dedication to my friend Tasha, her artwork and photography have always been an inspiration to me and I feel she deserves some serious recognition for her outstanding contribution to The Arts. Modest though Tasha is, I took the liberty, with her consent, to showcase her wonderful artwork for all to see, truly giving Tasha the opportunity to discuss her work, her passions and her inspirations.
On this page you can get to know the real Tasha, see some of her beautiful creations and drop her some comments / recommendations too. Cool huh? Well, you’ve heard enough of what I have to say, I’ll hand you over:
———- ———- ———-
Hello! Well, my name’s Natasha Harding (preferably Tash or Tasha ha-ha), I have kindly been invited by Tom to be a ‘guest blogger’ on this page and showcase my artwork (thanks Tom). However, I’m more used to ‘vlogging’ and keeping a diary of my tarantulas on my YouTube channel, so ‘blogging’ is rather different for me. Now, “Tarantulas?!” – I hear you say? Yep, I keep a lot of tarantulas as a hobby and love ‘em to death, if you’re that curious perhaps Tom will allow me to post a few links to my videos on here sometime. Anyway, without side tracking any more, I am an animal portrait artist. When I say that out loud or in my head it all sounds rather big headed, but I guess it’s just the name you put on the thing I do! One of the only things I can do well ha-ha.
I draw a wide variety of creatures, but I often get asked to paint/draw people’s pets. All I ask is for clear, decent photographs of the animal and then I do the rest. Recently though, I have been working on my own exhibition in which I hope to display a number of artworks in one of my local galleries in Bournemouth. I’m hoping it will be next summer, but we’ll see.
I was stuck for ideas as to how to talk about myself on here, so Tom gave me a few ideas, one of them was to say what inspires me. So I guess I’ll touch on that now. Hmmmm, music is a huge inspiration, but I guess it is for everyone, so to narrow it down I’ll tell you just what kinds of music I listen to. The majority of my music taste is consumed by movie soundtracks, I listen to those more than any other kind of music. Some of my classic favourite composers are of course, the king himself Hans Zimmer, Howard Shore, Steve Jablonsky, Alexander Desplat, James Newton Howard, etc. I also listen to a lot of metal too. My absolute heroes are Nightwish, of course it’s hard to find fellow fans down here in the south of England. Last but certainly not least, my biggest inspiration is nature, animals and the prime creator who magnificently placed them here for us to guard and nurture. If there is one artist that I must look to, to base my ideas and imaginations upon, it is He, as there is no greater inspiration in the universe.
Thanks for taking the time to read this; I hope it gives you an idea of what I do and who I am, despite me not being that interesting ha-ha. If you would like to view some more of my art, or look out for regular updates of what I’m working on, feel free to go over to my Facebook page: Picture Perfect Pets, you can find the link both here and on this Blog’s Home Page.
Welcome to Dan’s Music Room!
On this page you can get to know more about the real Dan Griffiths, grab the links to his great guitar covers and support his YouTube Journey too! Dan’s a great laugh and certainly one to watch, at just fourteen years of age, this musician’s vocals and prestige over the guitar are already beginning to make waves over the web, he’d really appreciate your support. Should you want to get involved, please feel free to follow him on Twitter and subscribe to his YouTube account below. On behalf of Dan and everyone else here on Frazzler’s Travels, thank-you for your support, it well and truly means the world to us!
[Terry: OK, Two Questions: Tom Frazzler seems like a great guy but it would be nice if he didn’t give all the space away to his friends–what does HE write? (Oh, wait, that’s what I do on this blog. Never Mind)
Second, I want to know what a “Party Liaison” is and how I apply!!!]
Posted on July 29, 2013 by jasminekeclipse
Tightly knit quilts woven together with yarn and ribbon, christened with bows and lace, draped over wooden banisters, sunshine bleeds under the doorway. Morning light kisses her cheeks and her tiny mouth forms into a blissful grin, happy to see another day. With the slightest sound, her mother graces the room with her presence and scoops her angel up in her arms, embracing her heartbeat and thanking the heavens that she was granted another morning. Love and laughter only last for so long in this home pained by timid smiles.
Men, women and children fill the home during the early hours of the morning in fear that their angel wouldn’t awaken, and when she was carried into the kitchen by her mother tears fell to the floor and gasps broke the silence, bringing light into the home once more.
In the fall, Jackie runs for the school’s track team and volunteers with the local theater. Her soft skin and black hair have grown with her nearly 18-year-old eyes, her eyes which have seen more pain than the normal human being. Shortly after her birth, her mother disappeared and her father took their family to England where they would spend the rest of her adolescent years until returning home. Jackie’s dark eyes held love and wisdom and thoughts that she chose to share with a select group of people. Blessings and remarks. Traveling to hell and back on numerous occasions, her heart had been torn and mended, friendships made and broken, hair dyed and shoes scuffed, her mind jumbled.
Drastic peace and plastic burdens.
In the summer we lost touch, we hadn’t lost our friendship, though. She had just left everyone and everything, she left herself. Her eyes had closed infinitely, her heart of gold refused to pump blood through those angelic veins. The angel who had brought so much happiness and love into the lives of many had left the earth, ascending, falling in reverse, crashing. Failures do not welcome themselves into the realm of success. Angels belong in heaven. I suppose that is why she had left us.
The Truth – The Half Truth – Nothing Like the Truth
OR put another way:
scholarly musings and ramblings
the afore-mentioned plus a hint of artistic licence
total artistic licence with maybe a smidge of educational truth
Once upon a time, many moons ago but still within living memory, a little boy sat in a classroom corner.
Not so long, pupils who were considered disruptive, or simply stupid because they couldn’t answer the teacher’s questions, were sent to ‘the corner’. Facing the corner, away from the class, the pupil would have a ‘Dunce’s Cap’ with a letter ‘D’ on it, put on his head.
Alone in the corner, mocked by teachers and peers alike, every minute seemed like an hour. The little boy had a lot of time to think because he spent many hours of his educational life there
That little boy grew up to become a lecturer and private English tutor.
The experience of being isolated and ridiculed as a little boy has never left him. Left alone in the corner for many hours, all he had were his ‘thoughts from the corner’.
Today, he uses that expression (‘thoughts from the corner’) to post some of the many thoughts, stories and events that have happened to him throughout his life, on this blog.
Each post is a small, self-contained anecdote leading to a conclusion of where his thoughts have led him during the writing of the piece. Some will be amusing, some will be sad. Hopefully, all will be thoughtful.
‘Too Good to Keep to Myself’, says Private Tutor
What is this life if full of care
We have no time to stand and stare?
For several years I have been a member of ‘Staffordshire Wildlife Trust‘. A fabulous organisation that safe guards some of precious open spaces here in Staffordshire, England. Even this private English tutor needs the occasional break from marking examination papers, so I took myself off to the trust’s HQ. Only thirty five minutes drive from home, it sits on the River Trent in twenty two wonderful acres that puts the ‘human’ back into human being.
This beautiful little piece of middle England is too good to keep to myself, so I thought I would share it with you.
There are greens and reds and yellows and blues and whites and pinks.
There are squirrels and birds and ducks and swans.
There are noises of birds and of running water and. . . Sshhh! Don’t move. There’s a robing watching me as I write this.
Much More at ‘Too Good to Keep to Myself’, says Private Tutor
- ‘Working Like a Mule’, Bemoans Private English Tutor. (experiencedtutors.wordpress.com)
- Why Opt For A Private Tutor Brisbane (freynoldsacademy.wordpress.com)
- Cows+Artificial Insemination = a Good Job – ‘No’ Smiles Private Tutor. (experiencedtutors.wordpress.com)
- Parents get help to weed out bad private tutors (schoolsimprovement.net)
- Is it time to keep tabs on private tutors? (schoolsimprovement.net)
Life Through A Lens
Helloo and welcome to my blog. I have never done this before so you will have to bear with me.My name is Amina Abu-El-Hawa and i am a wannabe photographer. On this blog will basically be my attempt at photography, so any comments, criticisms and thoughts to make me perfect my craft are all welcome. Thanks for dropping by
[Terry: “wannabe” photographer. Bullshit. These photos are total pro – and unlike far too many pro shots, they have a soul. ]
A repost I guarantee almost none of you have read……..from the June 2010 blog archives and my Rotary Friendship excursion to England.
Okay. So. On this trip to England, I realized that Charleston blue bloods have nothing on the English aristocracy. While at my current host, I was treated to shaking a hand that touched the Queen (not carnally – that I know of.)
Prior to his arrival, my hosts were all a-twitter, explaining that he’d lived in the local pile for years before abandoning it in favor of his son. One of England’s best examples of inbreeding run amok, they crowed. I imagined a cross between Jesus Christ and the Beast with Seven Heads and Ten Horns.
Aristocrat arrived, with American wife and dog in tow. He was tall, thin and about 75 years old, with old fashioned coke bottle glasses, greased unnaturally colored hair and an inside complexion. Russet corduroys, striped shetland wool jumper and tweed rounded out his couture. He shambled up and sat down across from an unprepared and unwitting me, innocently cutting up peppers for salad.
He mumbled unintelligible things, occasionally making clear a “sheep’s intestines are fine eating” or “pigs really do squeal most when they die.” I chopped my peppers and kept my expression neutral.
Until he asked me “Can I gnaw on that?”
I didn’t know whether he wanted to chomp on my leg after all the talk of butchering and killing animals, or whether he was referring to something else. Who asks someone if they can gnaw on anything? Gnaw? On? That?
He rooted through the pile of vegetable refuse I’d created and tucked into a stray sliver of pepper with copious seeds attached. He continued to mumble about dead and dying animals as he spat seeds and saliva in my direction, cleaning up every single shard of garbage in the process.
A hand that shakes the Queen’s also gnaws on trash.
The English pleaded, the Scots pled
I’ve been meaning to write a post on ‘hung’ and ‘hanged’, ‘sung’ and ‘sang’, ‘lighted’ and ‘lit’, and other treacherous conjugations. Stay tuned for more on this murky subject of the past tense …
The English pleaded, the Scots pled
As she watched a televised account of the Casey Anthony trial, Katherine Lawrence, of Edmond, heard a reporter say, “She pleaded guilty to the charge of lying to officers on the whereabouts of her child.”
“I would have said, ‘She pled guilty to the charge,’” said Katherine, as Buck bled her brake lines at Curly’s Soonerco. “I’ve noticed this same thing for other irregular verbs. What do you think?”
The question is whether “plead” is a “weak” verb or a “strong” verb. Weak verbs form their past tenses and past participles by adding the suffix “-ed.” Strong verbs form theirs by making internal spelling changes. So the past tense of the weak verb “walk” is “walked,” and the past tense of the strong verb “think” is “thought.”
In American practice, “plead” is used as both a strong and a weak verb. Most standard American dictionaries lead off with the weak version: pleaded. But they also allow the strong version, “pled.” The Associated Press Stylebook, the usage bible for most American newspapers, regards “pled” as colloquial and directs AP writers to use “pleaded” instead.
“Pleaded” became established usage in England centuries ago, but the independent-minded Scots adopted “pled,” and it became standard in their dialect. The Scots-Irish settlers who populated so much of the United States brought “pled” with them, and Americans tended to like it. It is, after all, one syllable shorter, and it follows the standard pattern of “bleed-bled,” “feed-fed” and “lead-led.”
- Past Tense (learnenglishinsimpleway.wordpress.com)
Miss Lou Aquiring Lore
Gallery of Life…
I enjoy learning about life and the way people work through their stuff(s)!
I also have stuff, and sometimes I write about it too.
I really like shoes and I have lots of them!
If you have made it here, then you have used your time to read my blog. Thanks for that. Time is the most precious gift, something we can never get back. Please take some time to comment too.
About me is the toughest for me to write about. Simply, coz until now I haven’t discovered the much of me. But still since this helps YOU to know about ME, I will give an honest try.
Lived all my life in Mumbai and now am checking the world thanks to the job I do.
I’m a weirdo who imagines a lot and all my imagination needs some place to sit. So here I am blogging trying to make sense out of what I think. I can write pretty much on any topic that interests me – from politics to movies to social issues spare me the economy, lets leave that to economists who have spent their life earning those huge degrees : I am an avid serial watcher and my all time favorite is ok!
let me make it clear until Salman Khan hosts it Bigg Boss, and there are others in the kitty too. Mind you, I watch only Hindi serials spare the discovery or history channel which I can even watch with sound mute :You got it right!
I just love Salman Khan and his movies, my favorite being Maine Pyaar Kiya. So that’s pretty much about me.
You can know me better through my blogs. I might not be helpful to you in solving your problems but I can surely read you and help you out through my blogs which will definitely deal with societal issues and norms that society forces on us.See ya friends and hope you like my blogs! Chao….
via About | bagofbrains.
A girl is screaming on top of her voice, “Can you for the sake of cleanliness take bath?”
A boy who is screaming equally loud to match the girl’s pitch, “Now how does that bother you?”
Girl is now at the end of her wits, “How unhygienic can you get? You’ve just had a haircut and you refuse to take a bath! That’s disgusting beyond thoughts.”
Boy, who is now equally disgusted due to this interference of girl in his personal hygiene, “Why the hell can’t you mind your own agenda? You have no right, I repeat, no right, to interfere in my life, my bathing capabilities specifically.”
Girl (G) : (screaming) Are you insane? I mean, who doesn’t take bath after having a haircut? If you gotta stay with me, you gotta take a bath. Else leave this place NOW.
The boy gets fed up due to this continuous nagging of the girl. He gets irritated and feels like slapping the girl. But there is little that he can do. Almost at the same time, he feels an urgent need to relieve himself. Nature’s call hardly takes liking to timing. He goes to the bathroom for relieving himself and in desperate attempt to find some relief but the girl is too intelligent to let go. As soon as the boy goes inside the bathroom, she slyly locks the door of the bathroom waiting patiently for the chap to turn back.
After about 5 minutes, the boy screams, “AARATRIKA!!”
The girl doesn’t responds. He shouts her name again. This time too, she doesn’t respond. He shouts her name again, this time with full might but all he hears is a loud strenuous laugh. He gets frustrated and says, “Aaratrika, can you please open the door?”
Aaratrika (A) : Of course I can Mohan! But you will have to do a little effort for that.
Mohan (M) : (biting his teeth in frustration) And what is that?
A : Can you see the towel hanging there?
M : Yes
A : Use it!
M : What do you mean use it? Are you expecting me to do some best out of waste activity here?
A : I always knew that I was living with a duffer. What I mean is, you take a bath and use the towel to dry yourself and of course cover your modesty and I open the door. Simple, isn’t it?
M : (blurting out with anger) You…. I always knew, always that you are shrewd, shrewd….
A : (bursting out with laughter) Bitch. Yes, that I am and you can call me a few more names. It doesn’t bother me. The door will open only once you’ve taken a bath. Tata!
M : (desperately) Wait, where are you going? I paid the barber a 100 bucks extra to give me a head wash… Wait, listen, listen….
Mohan knew that it was a sheer waste of time to beg Aaratrika to open the door. She was a strict, adamant woman who listened to none and in matters of hygiene, she was worst than Hitler. She was a cleanliness freak and here he was, stuck in the middle of the bathroom, having no option left other than to take a bath, something which he hated doing on a weekend.
Mohan’s idea of an ideal weekend was getting up late in the morning, it would be better to say afternoon, drifting around aimlessly, eating something and then hitting the bed again. He hated to work on a weekend, even on his body and if he ever got a chance he would even dodge taking a bath but Aaratrika always got better of him. Bathing for him was such a futile exercise done to please others and not oneself. On the other hand Aaratrika always thought that weekends meant cleaning. She hated lying lazy on a weekend. She was one of those early to bed, early to rise persons, who are a pain to their partners. But that didn’t dissuade her from getting up early and even pushing Mohan out of the bed. And then starting the frightening schedule of cleaning the room, the clothes, the upholstery, bed sheet, covers, cushion covers and every single item that she could lay her hands on. She just wouldn’t stop here. Next she would push Mohan to do weekly grocery shopping with her. A Saturday which God had gifted to humanity for relaxing would become more tiring than a weekday. And by the time Saturday would end, Sunday would begin with the dreaded fear of an impending Monday. But Aaratrika never understood this and Mohan never understood her obsession with cleanliness. He sighed and started the shower. Aaratrika heard the sound of the water gushing out of the shower and unbolted the door from outside but not before shouting, “Assuming that you are bathing now, I have unbolted the door and please don’t disturb me further as I am busy noting down a recipe.” She didn’t wait to hear Mohan’s reply and jumped on the couch with a paper and a pen to note down the recipe from a cookery show that got aired on the television.
After about 15 minutes, Mohan came out draped in a towel. He looked angry, very angry. Aaratrika knew that she was going to hear the music but that didn’t bother her, she had finally achieved what she wanted to and was pretty pleased with the result – Mohan had taken bath. Mission accomplished!
Mohan : (angrily) What did you do just now?
Aaratrika : (innocently) What did I do?
M : These charms aren’t working on me anymore.
A : (seductively) Then on whom should I try, sweetheart!
M : (angrily) Listen Aaratrika, you aren’t my wife to dictate terms on me.
A : (equally angry) Listen Mohan, if you gotta live with me, you gotta follow my terms.
M : (shaking in anger and increasing his volume) Your terms? What do you mean by that? We aren’t in a contract.
A : (raising her tone to match Mohan’s) We definitely are not in a contract but we certainly are bound by rules. Before moving in with you, I had told you that I am a cleanliness freak and you will have to adjust with that. If you can’t adjust that’s your problem; deal with it and solve it else I will move out.
M : (frustrated and angry at the same time) What the hell do you mean you will move out? Stop threatening me every single time. And if you wish to move out, please do so. I am more than happy to part with you.
Instead of retaliating back, Aaratrika this time started laughing uncontrollably. This sudden change of action perplexed Mohan. He couldn’t understand why she was laughing like a maniac. Finally Aaratrika managed to have control over her laughter and said, “Dearest Mohana, first save your modesty and then fight with me. Your towel has fallen down.”
Mohan grew red out of embarrassment. He didn’t know what to answer and just draped his towel around and went towards the closet to quickly grab some clothes. Mohan was too abashed to face Aaratrika and left the room immediately after dressing up. But this behavior of Mohan didn’t seem to bother Aaratrika, she continued watching television, noting down the recipe that she was going to make for dinner today.
When Amsu reached the slum area, he found Mohan lying on the street. Hurriedly Amsu reached towards Mohan’s benumbed body and he found it drenched in blood. Amsu went in a state of shock and couldn’t respond properly for first few seconds. The strong metallic smell of blood with undertones of salt and minerals made him nauseate. He couldn’t stand properly and was shivering because of trepidation. The sheer amount of blood spilled on the street made him uneasy and shaky. Finally after few seconds, he was able to subdue his anxiety and called Malvika with shaky hands.
Amsu : (in a voice trembling and panting because of fear and panic) H..H…H…Hello… Mal.. Mal…Malvika?
Malvs : (at her chirpy best) No, it’s not Mal, Mal, Malvika. It’s just Malvika.
Amsu : (unable to control his anger, said in a very forceful tone) : SHUT UP AND COME OVER HERE AT ONCE. I’m at the slums near the office. COME NOW.
And he disconnected the phone. Malvika had never heard Amsu shouting and this was her first time. She found it rather strange and could hear the panic in his voice. “Perhaps something has gone terribly wrong and I must go and see him now,” she thought. Malvika’s place was hardly a stone’s throw from the office and it wouldn’t have taken more than five minutes for her to reach there. She came down in her pajamas and went directly towards the slum area where something even more disastrous than she had ever imagined, was waiting for her.
She saw Amsu lifting a body with help from some locals and placing it inside the car. “Oh my God! Amsu has hit someone. He has done an accident. Perhaps that’s why he was so tensed. What if that person is dead? No, No, No. What am I thinking? Lord, please keep that person alive. What have you done Amsu? Why can’t you drive safely? I hope you weren’t drunk when you did this accident,” such and many more thoughts came and went by Malvika’s mind. She started running towards Amsu’s car, praying fervently to God for the well-being of the person Amsu had hit. As she approached towards the car, Amsu told her, “Get inside quick.”
She sat directly besides the driver’s seat when Amsu shouted at her again, “Not here you duffer. Go back. Check whether Mohan is breathing properly or not. Try if you can stop the bleeding. Inform the police also. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
Malvika couldn’t believe her ears. Did Amsu said ‘Mohan’ ? She looked at that person. It was Mohan, indeed. She felt as if someone had pulled the rug from under her feet. Her world came crashing down. At the back seat of the car was lying an unconscious Mohan, the man she loved. Malvika loved Mohan not from today or tomorrow but ever since she realized what love was, ever since she understood what attraction between two people was, ever since she dreamed to elope on the white horse with her prince. Mohan had always been her prince charming, even his falling for Aaratrika couldn’t stop Malvika from loving him. Malvika’s life revolved around him. She went wherever he went, she lived wherever he lived, she ate whatever he ate, she breathed the same air like him, whether he cared or not, she worshiped only him. And today, that same Mohan was lying in front of her, holding the thinnest thread to life, each time his breath would fall, her heart would sink further. Malvika was crying continuously but very gently, dousing the already blood soaked shirt of Mohan.
She got pulled back to reality by Amsu who had by now started the car and was driving towards the city hospital. He told her in a distraught tone, “Malvs, can you see Mohan’s chest rising and falling?”
Malvs : (wiping her tears and nodding her head in agreement said in a very frail voice which suddenly saw some hope) Yes, yes, yes.
Amsu : (a bit relaxed but the tension in his voice was clear) That’s nice that he is still breathing. I am driving very fast, hopefully we can reach the hospital on time. I don’t know. Pray Malvika, pray that Mohan survives this.
Malvs : (in a very tensed tone) But the bleeding, it’s not stopping Amsu. Mohan is still bleeding heavily.
Amsu : (very tensed) Do something. I don’t know try covering the area with your hand, apply some pressure to stop the bleeding. Do something.
Malvs : (clueless and worried) OK. OK. I am trying. I am trying, trying…… (and the words fade away)
Amsu : (suddenly remembers something)Shucks. Malvika, this is a police case. I don’t know what the hospital authorities will do. I am not sure how we can handle this.
Malvs : (dismissively) Don’t worry about that. Let’s first reach the hospital. I will call my father and get this sorted.
In next 45 minutes Amsu and Malvika had reached hospital along with Mohan. The emergency section of the hospital got alerted and the doctors informed the police to investigate the case while they took Mohan inside the operation theater.
The police arrived at the hospital and questioned Amsu about the incident. It is then when Amsu remembered that he hadn’t informed Aaratrika yet about Mohan’s condition. He worriedly looked at the time, it was 12 in the night. Amsu explained police whatever had happened that night. The police now wanted to talk to Aaratrika. Amsu asked the police whether he could tell Aaratrika about this, since it is a very sensitive news to share. The police agreed on the grounds that Aaratrika would be available for questioning within an hour. Amsu promised the police that he will be back within an hour. He left Malvika in the hospital to look after Mohan and tell his parents.
It was a strange night. Malvika was sitting outside the operation theater, praying for Mohan’s life. She had informed her father about the incident and he was to bring Mohan’s father there. Meanwhile, Amsu was driving towards Aaratrika’s place, unsure about how he would share this news with her. Life at times is so tough. It never prepares for death or an accident, it always gives you an extempore. It is then when you realize what you’ve actually learnt in your life. Mohan was struggling on the operation table for life, Malvika was struggling with her God for Mohan’s life, Amsu was struggling with himself on how to share this news with Aaratrika and at the same time, Aaratrika was struggling with all the evil thoughts that were coming in her mind….. Life indeed is a struggle, a struggle to survive, a struggle to live, a struggle to stay positive, a struggle to succeed…..
Thoughts Float Just As I Do…
You Know How Thoughts Go…
Anything Goes! I’m Just Saying….
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee
‘This picture’ used to be ‘me’ at a younger age! :))) I always drew ‘myself’, everyone would recognize it. Now… I would have to figure out how to make my girl appear ‘older’… :)))
I floated around in the pool on a hot-pink float. I let my mind ‘float’, also. Whatever thoughts wanted to go through it… I let them. Just because I said ‘hot-pink’ doesn’t mean ‘it’s a beautiful sight’! :))) I’m just saying…..
I’m at least 2-3 feet, or more… off the ground. Only a thin, vinyl wall separates me from the space that would make me fall onto the ground! The thin, vinyl wall holds the water that makes it possible for me… to float around on the space that normally… I could only walk on. Think about it… amazing! I mean… have you really ‘thought about it’? I’m in ‘this clear liquid that allows me to ‘float’ around… in the air!
I see a bug floating around, his little legs kicking hard. I care about this little bug; yet, I would kill a spider, fly; and battle a ‘kiddiddle hopper’! I help it by pushing a leaf up to him… I think he is very happy to climb up on it. I’m happy for him. I forget about the bug…
My eyes enjoy the very hot-pink of the float I’m holding onto, then… as I pass by the neon green float… I feel pleasure at seeing such ‘happy colors’… especially when all comes into focus along side the beach ball with its yellow, white, blue, hot pink colors. Happy colors do make me happy… they keep the ‘darkness’ away from me. I’m afraid of the … dark.
I love colors… I was thinking even the ‘ugliest’ person in the world could have on happy colors… they would be beautiful; especially… if their personality was just as beautiful. Don’t you agree? Can you see that ‘I agree with myself’… as my photo below… does a ‘happy dance’?
I need more happy colors in my life again… when Tommy died… through time since… I notice I wear a lot of black, dark colors. My happy colors seem to be all ‘inside’ now. I am trying to make them ‘show’, again. A little color here… a little color, there…
My funny, happy-moving photo… Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee… I still haven’t figured out ‘how’ I made some of my photos move!!! My friend, Prenin, in England said my camera probably has the ability to make photos animated. I have some I would like to see animated… but, ‘how’? :)))
I closed my eyes, feeling relaxed. I could hear the drone of a plane so high up in the sky… behind fluffy, white clouds. I couldn’t see it, so… I closed my eyes once again.
I listened to a black bird as he kept saying ‘caw’! He said it many times… I wondered if it was communicating with the dog across the road. The dog would bark, the black bird would ‘caw’…
I opened my eyes, feeling…. sensing my swimming pool. It felt ‘safe’, I studied the sides of it, I didn’t ‘feel’ as if it would ‘all of a sudden’… collapse! If it did… I worried for a moment about going out with all the water… in front of God, and whoever happened to be looking.
I wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone by riding a wave of water as the pool collapsed! Much less getting more… sand burns! I still have a couple of places that are still healing.
I looked at the privacy screen (3 sections that fold). It stood nearby… I’m thinking about painting a beach scene on it. I don’t paint for anyone now… I can’t put my heart into it… I thought I might not can be inspired enough to paint for myself.
The privacy screen is made of wicker… white. I was thinking of refreshing the ‘white’ with more white. As I look at it, I can imagine the sand; ocean disappearing into the sky in the far-off distance… the sky blue; big puffy white clouds…. and several white sea gulls flying in the wind. I imagine several breaking waves on the shore… then, my mind goes to … Tommy.
Tommy was at the ocean when he died… he was happy. He and Taban, his little 3 year old son… were running, playing. Their happy sounds blended with the music of the sea gulls, waves washing ashore… I know it was a beautiful sound his ears heard… just ‘before’…
Artwork by Gloria Faye Brown Bates… a poster I did for a business some time ago. I love this… I wish I could become inspired to paint, draw again………..
I floated around, deep in thought, as I imagined a big guy, a little guy running, squealing, laughing. It was the big guy’s first time to play at the ocean with his little son. I let myself… hear them in my mind. This time… I didn’t cry. I let go of my ‘Tommy’ thoughts…
The motor of a big truck sounded… the neighbor just came home. I don’t know him, nor his wife. I heard they were nice people. I think maybe someone’s been repairing their roof… a tree fell during a storm. I’ve been hearing the sound of a hammer, lately…
I hear a sound outside the pool… why, it’s Kissy walking by. He looks at me, probably wondering how I can be in the air like that. If I were a Pup… I would wonder many things, too. His sweet face… another sweet face appears.
Chadwick, our other Pup… just walked by… neither Pup tries to get on the pool… I like that. It has a inflated ring that goes all the way around it… it could lose air… if a toenail punctured it.
My mind is coming back to reality… it ‘seems like the pool is going to be… alright’. I’m hoping it will; it means the world to me to have it. I think about all the money Skip earned to make the pool possible for me… all he goes through. My heart… it touches my heart. Thank-you, Skip.
I decide to get out as I cast my eyes around the inside wall, the water… I compare what I see with what I saw on the outside wall… I ‘think’ everything’s going to be alright.
I don’t feel ‘gun-shy’ now, about getting into the pool. I look forward to the next time, when… I can let my mind float around just as I float on my hot-pink float! Free as the wind…
I want to float ‘free as the wind’… a soft wind. Not one that will throw my a___ out on the sand in a torrent of violent waves of water!!! I’m just saying… :)))
You know how one thinks… anything goes!
Zen of Northampton
Posted on May 30, 2013 by A Cup of Tia
The other night we went to one of my favorite little towns, Northampton.
It’s one of my favorite places to walk around and shuffle through the eclectic shops.
They have a great rooftop with tons of seating, perfect for sunny days like these.
After we plumped around a bit more we started getting hungry again and ready for the main meal.
No, of course nachos weren’t enough.
We headed over to Zen of Northampton, a pan-asian cuisine restaurant.
Much More at Zen of Northampton | A Caffeinated Brunette.
- Welcome to a new friend: a cup of Tia | A Caffeinated Brunette (getmerewrite.me)
It is not like we had broke up so I guess it is not exactly “reunited” but when I saw him for the first time in a while, it was really exciting because our heart was reunited with stronger bond. When you are apart, your heart grow fonder and I guess it is very true for us. But even if we weren’t apart for a week, we’d still have strong bond because it’s M and I. Our friends say we are “ラブラブ” (love,love) which in Japanese pretty much means crazy in love with each other. I guess we are but we are not trying hard to be that way because we are both being our selves. We just express our love in the same way that it is not tiring for us to be together as a couple. We don’t have to talk to each other 24 hours 7 days a week but we tend to keep in touch as much as we can because we both want to.
When I saw M for the first time in a week, he was just smiling and he was concerned for my health since I have a fever. It is unfortunate but I had been sick since the last day in Norway and I still have not recovered. It was really nice to see M today because I was able to give him his souvenir. From UK, I got him a little model of London Taxi, which he loved because he collect numbers of little cars. He told me he has over 50+ cars in his room and more outside of his room. From Norway, I got him a matching heart shaped mug with Norway flags and word “Norway” written all over it. He asked me how he should use it and I said you can put pens or something. He said that he just want to showcase it and when we get married we can put two cups side by side and display it. Aww.. it was so sweet of him to say that and I hope we can do that very soon. For his family, I got heart shaped milk chocolate from Norwegian chocolate company. I felt little guilty because he gets A LOT of pimples from chocolate but it is for his family so oh well… he can suck it up and live with it.
Today he picked me up from work and we ate dinner together and that was it because while I was meeting him, my temperature went up so…. I had to say goodbye. M told me casually that today’s AKB’s election and his friend, H (yes the one that I …. cannot stand at all) would most likely be watching it all day. M used to like AKB but I am not sure if he still likes them but it was interesting how he mentioned it as if he wanted to see the TV show. It doesn’t really matter if he likes them or not to me but you know… it was interesting how he casually mentioned it. I told him that he should watch it because I may be in the election as a joke and nicely saying I don’t mind him watching AKB’s election but… I hope he knows that I am okay with him liking idols. Beside, I don’t want him to change just because we are going out you know ?
Over all… M seemed worried about my health and he said I should give virus to him and hopefully I will be able to recover soon from it. I think M is such a sweetheart. He is just perfect to me. You know cause he’s the one and only.
Check out Girl-With-a-Pen Illustration !
I started shortly after winning 3rd place in an all school book cover contest at Buntingthorp Air Force Base, England. That was my first work publicized, base newspaper, picture and all. I don’t think I have a copy of that picture anywhere but I still have my prize…a How to Draw book with inscription! That was my first taste, besides mom & dad, of public approval for my efforts. From then on ART has never been too far from my life. Classes in college/Art major, free-lance for City of Topeka, side line at several factories (came in very handy) I worked in during my business career, and occasionally sharing the joy with my wife and 4 children as they grew up. But until 3 years ago I really didn’t pursue what I could do with my talent to create finished pieces. To think I got started again by doing shoes and 15 pairs later I was back covering blank rectangles with my ideas/visions. Since then I’ve had the pleasure of showing at a local art fair with my son, got into my first gallery, and will have my first show/display soon.
As for my style…at present it is brite rich colors with a lean towards organic (maybe whimsy at times) and abstract in nature. I was the kid that had to have that box of 72 crayons and anything else that caught my eye when it came to applying color. The list of artist that influenced myself to be fair is quite long, I would have to list a couple of dozen. . . even in that list it would seem very eclectic. If my style seems very controlled at times I owe that … did I mention I have a A.S. in Architecture? Architecture was so black & white, and my early art teachers in college had us only working with limited color pallets. I think that is why I love color so much, it makes the creating process using rich colors so enjoyable…to the point I am always adding/buying a new paint, marker, or pencil when they catch my eye! Some of my pieces do have a deeper meaning to them, but let’s be honest some just happen and they work for me. The way I work, the effort I put in, the layer upon layer I spread out, the piece is almost like shaping clay, wood, or stone…I stay at it until it looks and feels the way I want it. I am so sure that when I created that Curious George cover so many years ago I felt the same way I do today…QUICK LET ME DO ANOTHER!
This is my gallery to share with you, my hope is that something will catch your eye…I appreciate the time you took regardless.
via About | Art by Ken.
Had to use another way to add “featured image pic” but i think its going to work…this really allows me to have nice portability with my gallery pics and from a blogging standpoint it would be great, to say the least…wouldn’t replace using a camera for gallery files but when i am out and about…one stop shopping, plus a wi-fi connection to post…i am too cheap to pay for connectivity anywhere USA Few more tests and we will see if this will be a keeper…other than it doesn’t run abode flash (no free hulu , i have been impressed especially with picture quality…stay tuned…
…Well the last hurdle I couldn’t clear, connecting to our printer, I am sure there might be work arounds but that starts taking away the value of this tool…i must say it is easy to get hooked on touch screens, course why wouldn’t an artist love that feature <…so I will continue the hunt.
Claire Atkinson is a 0 award winning, sparsely exhibited photographer based in Manchester, England.
“Quite often, street photography pays attention to extraordinary occurrences within a city. In contrast to the unusual and sometimes fantastical, Claire Atkinson manages to capture the more realistic, everyday perspective of the daily life of Manchester.
Atkinson’s ever-changing ‘Manc’ characters and backdrops show Manchester for its true self. The delightful personalities to be found on public transport, the caffeine-addicts through steamy café windows and the rushing feet of business along rainy pavements. We are not only given a taste of Manchester, but a rushing, blurry, reflection of Britain as a grumpy, ageing, multicultural nation.”
Nothing special. Spring is finally here after a long, hard winter (I’m proper nesh these days) and I’ve just received a tonne of film this morning to shoot with. ‘Street photography’ is bloody hard, especially when you lose momentum, but I’m ready to dig myself back in. It’s almost a year now since I’ve given this work anywhere near enough attention. Time to channel my inner street urchin – if she still exists!
seem to have this ability to express myself through writing and I rather enjoy it. I learned from a very young age that if I were to write about how I was feeling or thinking it would be well received, often more so than any attempts at verbalizing the same thoughts.
I want to write. Not only about the things that come easily and naturally for me but I want to expand and broaden my areas of confidence when it comes to writing. I have never given it time or attention. I’m not sure how or about what or why but I feel pulled, drawn (that the universe is calling if you will), that it’s time to begin the journey. It is my hope and dream that I get fulfillment from this mecca of mine.
I want to learn and grow as a writer. I want to learn and grow as a listener. I want to learn to engage the reader, stir the reader and most of all connect with the reader.
I would rather save the details of the ‘about’ to my writing. Let it unravel, to let you experience and get to know me through revelations in my writing. I want our relationship to be unique. Have your idea of who I am and what I am about blossom from with in you.
All that being said to help you know about me, I am first generation born Canadian (family from England) I am in my 30′s, married, with children. I care about community, volunteerism, education, knowledge and enlightenment.
- 8,000 Views in 24 days. 1,400 followers (820 Word Press followers). I want to Pay it Forward, Let’s collaborate! (writingsofamrs.wordpress.com)