BOOTLEG RUNNERS…CHICAGO STYLE

FRONT

BACK

I find myself bored. You know what happens when I’m bored? Stuff happens. Don’t ask me what. I don’t know, I don’t care to know and I don’t suppose it really matters, as long as no one else suffers because of it. Am I right or what?

So, stuff. Something like this, perhaps. Me, just sitting down in front of my computer, Aesma Daeva blaring. I fire up the first thing I think of when I think I want to write something and now here I am. I’ve no idea what I’m trying to say here. Hells, I’ve no idea what I’m writing at all. Guess there’s no harm in writing about whatever comes to mind.

Ancient Verses is one of their best songs, I think. It’s pretty much bang on their style. It’s haunting. Like, seriously haunting. Has this weird etheral feeling to it. Not as strong as Darkness (which lies a little lower on the playlist), but the vibe is there.  The Eros Of Frigid Beauty is a monster, though. 18 minutes long and also beautifully showing off the AD style. I went through the trouble of looking up the song’s lyrics, cause they’re pretty awesome. I figure I might as well post ‘em here. So, here goes.

Frozen beauty lies blind in ice, no eyes to see
What’s always been and always it shall be

Yup, that’s the whole song.  No, they don’t repeat it over and over again. It’s 17 minutes and 41 seconds of instrumental magnificence and then, in 5 seconds, miss Ferlaak speaks the only words in the entire song. I didn’t know that at first. When I was going through my mp3s I’d missed that the first time around. Seriously, the thing is nearly 20 minutes long. Maybe I have a short attention span, but I just can’t see myself sitting in a chair (or lying in bed), listening to a song without a single word (as far as I can tell) and not find my mind drifting. I only realized that the song had lyrics when I was on the bus and my mp3 player cycled around to it. And I was like “The hells? This thing has words? How come no one told me that?”

Moving on, Artemis. The chorus reminds me of how I used to be. Full of bitterness and resentment at mankind and everything that came with it. The lone wolf who slinks deeper into the woods when he sees a pack nearby. What an idiot I was. Can’t believe I was that stupid not that long ago. Not that I’m much smarter these days, mind you. I’m usually the first to admit that I really know nothing. I don’t make good decisions. I don’t make wise decisions. I don’t make stupid decisions either, mind. I make decisions, period. There’s nothing special about them. But I’m rambling.

Right, Doctor Who. Just finished watching the season 4 two-parter finale. I’ll be damned if Davros didn’t have an awesome plan. I mean, seriously. Rip 27 planets out of time and space, gather them in a crack in the fabric of all reality and turn them into the power source for a weapon designed to destroy all matter throughout every single universe, wiping out almost all existence and leaving the Daleks and their Crucible as the last coherent bundle of atoms in all creation. Of course, the Doctor wasn’t gonna have any of that. He was gonna wipe the galaxy with Dalek asses. And then he got his Time Lord ass busted. Davros was gloating and giggling and giving out exposition left and right. Basically, acting like a cliché bad guy should. And then the Doctor’s dismembered hand grew a new Doctor. He was gonna wipe the galaxy with Dalek asses as well. Of course, Davros fucked his shit up too. So Donna showed up. That’s right, Donna. Turns out that in fondling the Doctor’s dismembered hand, she picked up all his knowledge. I’m sure you all know how that could happen. And in case you don’t, well, here’s the short explanation.

When the Doctor was about to regenerate, he used part of the energy to heal himself, then transferred the rest into his dismemebered hand, which got chopped off during the Sycorax invasion. The hand retained the regenerative energy and when Donna touched it, the energy got all excited and built a new Doctor, but not before dumping all his knowledge into her. At first, the info lay dormant. That is, until Davros fried her with his Force Lightning and getting her all excited and toasting her brain. Then the Doctor’s knowledge kicked in, creating a Time Lord-Human biological metacrisis. Geez, you’d think everyone would know that.

So anyway, now that Donna, the Doctor and his hand are in business, they start fucking the Daleks up. The asplode them, they take the planets back where they’re supposed to be and then they make the Crucible go boom. Everyone’s safe, everyone’s happy, the end. Not so fast, Bucko! The Doctor drops everyone off, stuffing poor Rose (who went about breaking down the walls of reality to get back to him) back into the parallel universe where she didn’t come from and leaving his hand with her. The hand confesses his love for Rose, they kiss, the Doctor runs back into the TARDIS and takes off.

Now Donna’s freaking out. She sounds like a broken record and the Doctor haitians her. Wipes every memory of him out of her mind. Basically he undoes an entire season’s worth of character development. What a dick. He drops her off at her mom’s place and is basically like “Yeah, she was awesome, but she can never know, cause if she finds out what she did, her head’s conna explode.” And then he takes off in the TARDIS, all alone. *tear*

So bascially that’s the Doctor Who season 4 finale. I should also probably mention that the above text contains quite a few spoilers, so if you were gonna watch that and didn’t want to be spoiled, then I guess you shouldn’t read all that. I suppose I could’ve said that earlier..

Anyway!

I’m still bored. A little ways down on my playlist, Firefox crashed on me while I was writing about the metacrisis. Good thing this thing automatically saves drafts, huh? Would suck to write all that shit again. Damnit, I already passed Darkness. Wanted to write about that song too. It’s an awesome song.

Hark you shadows that in darkness dwell.

Hark you shadows that in darkness dwell.

Exiled forever, let me mourn.

And some seriously haunting music. I mean we’re talking awesome metal horror movie soundtrack here. If I ever find myself making a ghost flick with the main characters all being awesome metalheads, I’m gonna ask Aesma Daeva to make the soundtrack. You know what that would be? Awesome!

I just realized something. This is, quite possibly, already the longest post on this entire blog. And I’m not even writing about anything! I’m just rambling. I don’t usually find myself saying much, but when the dam breaks, apparently it really makes a huge boom and lets everything go. To quote the ever-eloquent Keanu Reeves, whoa.

Dumplings. Food of the kings. That is all.

Gods damn it! I’m trying to catch an old friend on msn and keep missing him. This sucks. I wanna talk to him, see if he’s got some free time coming up in December. My lady wanted to meet some of my old friends and I sorta do miss them, so it’d be good for both of us to see them. Last time I saw him I think was in April. It’s been quite a while. Of course, I have been busy and all.

To bright palace of gold sun
I fly on flaming steed
to steer my father’s god wings.
O please, fulfill my dream.

My queen is the bright-haired sun.
Herald young horse master;
crescendo the dawn chorus;
bow to bronzen pilot;
as Pantheon blessed sky father, fly to the gods:
few mortals have flown on wings.

Fierce idols drive blood sun
through black heavens
so how shall I dream?
I’ll weave a new verse
each dawn for you.

I fear I follow illusion.
Is this my final veil?
The mirage of the phoenix
from ash daily arises.

Hymn To The Sun. Don’t worry, they don’t make sense to me either. Although I would like to see a blood sun in a black sky. With some angry totem poles behind the wheel.

Had a talk with a guy I used to work with (in a manner of speaking). He was pissed that some snotty brat was copying his style. So I took the time out of my completely empty schedule to explain to him that he left an impression on the community, one that it would never forget. That he was now a legend and legends always had someone trying to mimic them. Idiots, the lot of them.

Also, Firefox -almost- crashed on me again. I wonder what’s wrong with it.

This is now officially the longest post in the blog. I won’t go through the trouble of finding out when the usurpation actually took place, but I figure it’s safe to call it the longest. Behold, your brand new king!

Playboy went fwop. Guess they weren’t as popular as they thought. So now the men of these lands are without a men’s magazine, the sort that isn’t porn. First went FHM, then Playboy. Fuck. I had a subscription to Playboy. 5 months still to go and they go bankrupt. Nice.

Holy shit, Conan’s on tv! Tuesday! I gotta watch that shit. I love fantasy movies, be they however cheesy. Seriously, give me a movie with swords and monsters and guys and wenches and guys hacking  monsters into pieces with swords, then celebrating their victory in a tavern with some wenches. How is that not awesome? Okay, Eragon sucked balls, as did the first Dungeons & Dragons movie (the second one was only marginally better, but watchable). I’m not even going to mention Lord of the Rings, cause everyone knows how that went.

Luceat Eis is next. I have no idea what to expect. Although I have a feeling it’s gonna be awesome. Aesma Daeva tends to be.

Been reading Not Always Right. It’s a site where people who work in customer service can post stories of all the people they meet. Mostly the clients that are either incredibly clueless, lying and failing or just simply stupid. It’s an amusing read, I must say. And I find myself smiling rather often. Usually because I think back to my customer service days and thank all the gods that I never ran into anyone completely and utterly daft.

I should do something with my tablet. It’s sitting on one of the speakers, flashing its blue light at me, as if saying “Come, Man Who Writes. Take me. Use me. Draw on me. Do something with me. You know you want to.” and making puppy eyes.

There’s some tearjerker movie on tv right now. I wasn’t following it. Glanced up right now and some chick was weeping on the ground, telling someone she’s got something to tell them. Well, yeah, you just did. Fuck if I know what’s going on. Damned if I care.

Also, Luceat Eis isn’t as awesome a song as I’d though. Okay, so I don’t know my playlist through and through, sue me.

Screw this, I’m skipping to some Manowar!

Yeah! Achillies, Agony and Ecstasy in Eight Parts! Half an hour of guitar solos.

I managed to get my grubby little hands on the whole of Manowar’s discography. A metric ton of metal to go through. You know, some of their early stuff was seriously crap. But they had some good songs, even back then. Battle Hymns, for example. Or All Men Play on 10. That’s a great song too.

I watched Black Dynamite last night. Or I tried, at least. I kept having flashbacks to when I first tried to watch it. I got.. distracted about a third into the movie. And then I got a bit more distracted, so I had no idea what happened in the second half of the movie.

Anyway, I tried again today. Succeeded. It’s a pretty damn good movie. A witty parody of 70’s and 80’s blaxploitation, made as a perfect example. BD himself is bloody awesome. Also, “kung fu treachery” is among my favorite phrases.

I think I should stop now. I find myself teetering rather precariously on the edge of lunacy here. I think I might have to do something about that. I’ve half a bottle of coke and about a third of Cap Morgan stuffed away, so I might just have a plan. No, I’m not making any of that wussy rum and coke. I’m taking a shot of rum, then throwing the coke on it. And I basically haven’t eaten today, so this ought to be fun. Wish me luck! And pray to whoever it is that you worship that I don’t crack my skull open on the way to the throne.

…

I miss her.

TOON TONE TOMMY…

PROTECTING HIS NEIGHBORHOOD STREETS.

AN OLD SKOOL HOME LAND SECURITY.

Confiram o show que rolou aqui em casa ontem

Old Skool & who’s your Daddy cool?

A SPORTING SHIRT TO WEAR!

RETURN TO  OFFICIAL MEAN MARY WEBSITE (HOME)

Well I had a blast making this video – there was so much to do. The video didn’t include half of the scenes we shot – I think we could have made a full length feature with all the footage! I’d love to tell everybody I was the diva in this video but I have to say the star of the production was my baby Apache – a Tennessee Walker/Thoroughbred mix. He spent most of the shoot munching on marshmallows (he requested the pink ones) and relaxing in his trailer while catching up on the script. I, however, was busy doing the grunt work and spent most of the time shoveling the aftermath of his marshmallow binging. When the time came for Apache to do his part though he came in like a real professional and never missed a cue. Thank you, Apache.

My brother Frank also starred in the video and did in the shoot what most brothers do best—ruining their sister’s life. My mom Jean did the majority of the camera work and co-wrote the script with me, she also did what most Moms do best—making sure everything runs smooth. So thank you, Mom, and you too Frank (I guess).

I also want to take this time to thank everyone who worked on this song with me. My Mom (again) who co-wrote the song with me, Allen Marshall on drums, Gary Jaworski on bass, Jennifer Brown on back-up vocals, and Frank (I guess you again too) who did guitar and back-up vocals.  Jim Brown who mixed the whole mess! And VisionSound for the final mastering. And last but not least I would like to thank my pink paisley Stratocaster – I know I neglect you sometimes while playing around with all those other instruments like banjo and fiddle but you are my guy and someday soon we will spend quality time together. In the meantime, I’m a player and a players gotta play – so my upcoming album (which I now hope to release in Spring 2010) I will be back playing the field with all my acoustic beaus.

Take care everyone and have a happy holiday season! Hope you enjoy the video!

THE NEW URBAN RATS…CHECK IT OUT!

CULTURE SHOCK AT IT’S FINEST, RAT RODDERS, ROCKABILLY FANS, AND HOT RODDERS A RODANT IS RUNNING FREE AMOUNG YOU!

URBAN RATS IS UNLEASHING SOME NEW ON THE BEAT T-SHIRT DESIGNS FOR SALE.

CAN YOU HANDLE THE IDEA OF HAVING YOUR OWN SHIRTS DESIGNED BY AN ARTIST FOR YOUR SHOP OR CLUB? I WILL DESIGN YOUR SHIRTS FOR A FEE YOU CAN SEND THE ARTWORK TO YOUR OWN PRINTER OR WE CAN HAVE THEM DONE FOR YOU.

URBAN RATS WAS A CONCEPT DREAMED UP BY ME A CLUB OF CULTURE SHOCK. NEW DESIGNS TO BRING OUT THE CITY BEAST IN US ALL.

ALL DESIGNS ARE DESIGNED BY ME “G” IF YOU WANT TO CONTACT ME ABOUT ORDERING A SHIRT OR HAVING DESIGNS MADE FOR YOUR SHOP CALL 303-905-5790.

I ALSO DO CUSTOM LASER ENGRAVING OF THE DESIGNS ON MAGLITES, KNIVES, AND MIRRORS. CHECK OUT MY OTHER WEB SITE AT WWW.AWARDMIRRORS.COM TO SEE THE THINGS I DO WITH THE LASER.

T-SHIRT DESIGN

LOGO DESIGN

There are new items at the Kuddle Krew Shop just in time for the Holidays! Take a look over at them.

Kuddle Krew Shop

I don’t know who’s reading all this crap, but I know you’re out there. Somewhere. Somewhere I can’t see you. Good. Cause if you were in here with me, I’d probably be a bit creeped out. You know, having someone watching over your shoulder while you’re writing a blog post is not a comfortable feeling. Or.. so I’ve been told.

Anyway!

I find I disgust myself sometimes. Right now is one of those times. Come, sit by the fire and I shall tell you a tale of a weak man.

I stole my woman from another man. And I did so basically right in front of him. I know it was a dick move, I knew it back then and yet I still did it. And when I had to start leaving her regularly to go to school, I found a nasty little voice in the back of my mind. You can probably guess what the voice was telling me.

We talked about it. She made promises and so did I. I promised I would trust her. I promised I wouldn’t be a jealous asshole. And I intend to keep both of those promises. Because I want to. Because I love her. Because I believe in her.

I believe her when she tells me she loves me. I believe her when she tells me how much I excite her. I believe her when she tells me she wants to be with me for the rest of her life. And yet I still hear that fucking bastard in the back of my brain, the low whisper at the very border of consciousness, the sneaky voice that keeps telling me that because I’m far away so often and for so long, because the only people who could know of it wouldn’t tell me, she could cheat on me and I would be none the wiser.

That’s what’s wrong. That’s why I find myself disgusted by myself. I want to trust her, I really do. And I tend to succeed. But sometimes when I’m away from her, I can hear that stupid voice and in those times it just. Won’t. Shut. Up. And you know what? It fucking sucks. It feels sort of like one of those soap opera relationship dramas, y’know? You always have the main couple who are perfect for each other in every conceivable way. Then you have the other characters, who try to get with one half of the mains and make the other look like a tool. In this case, a part of my own brain is playing the role of the dickhead friend who tries to break the mains up so that he could worm up to the chick himself.

Times like this I wish I had some properly emo music on my computer. The kind that makes you wanna sit in a dark corner, pull your knees up to your eyebrows and cry your little eyes out. Linkin Park tends to be great for that kind of shit. And now I miss having it. I deleted all the really emo songs I used to have a long time ago with the idea that if I didn’t have any, then it couldn’t fuck me up even further. It’s like beating some guy up so bad that he can barely twitch on the ground and then kicking him off the cliff, just for shits and giggles.

DISCLAIMER: If any of you readers happens to identify yourselves as an emo, please don’t take my comments to heart. They are in no way meant to be offensive. I completely encourage people to be whoever they want to be and believe that no one has the right to make anyone else feel bad about it. So really, go out there, hold your head high and be yourself. Let no one put you down, not even me. And if you find yourself offended by what I’ve written, then go cry over it.

Hi guys!
The cold snap’s come, but that doesn’t phase us, because there’s a snow party going on in the Ski Village.
First, the snow maze (for members)
You start off here:

I don’t want to show the map, but if you want to, go to the Ski Village and go to the large booth.
Anyway you end up here:

Once you’re finished, enter through the Yeti’s House.

There’s a prize at the end: A Yeti Costume:

You may have seen yetis with furry hands, this confused me too, but bear with me and I’ll show you in the new Sports Catalog:




Now here’s some cheats:

A Green Team Jersey

Green Team Goalie Outfit

THIS is the White Pom-Poms, the so called fuzzy yeti hands
Up in the Ski Mountain is a new sled, the racing sled that is.

Comes in green and pink.
I got a picture of me driving one of these sleds, this is what it looks like:

There is a free item at the Ski Mountain too, the Blue Toque:

Oh yes, the Ice Rink is back out! It seems that the only thing for non-members is the hat. So this is more of a member party…
I have a poll for everyone:

Adoorei esse reutarante, alem de muitoo bem decorado e um adeda cheia de vinhos raros, a comida é maravilhosa !

Vc diz que quer jantar, pato, massa, peixe…. e o chefe te surpreende com o prato, o restaurante não tem cardapio, se não agradar, não paga !

Bem interessante o conceito

Para quem gosta de culinária vale a pena conferir ZUMA.

1.The new DNKY is here, but you can’t see it in the shop, just under the ‘New Section’. So, hurry and buy the stuff on sale!!&more is on page 1,3 and 4!

2.Remember the DNKY scenery and those amazing stuff? Well, you can get them as a gift, if you spend a lot(by a lot I mean 200 sd for the best gift) of stardollars. Well, this is really hard, because some people can spend only 5 per day! But it’s pretty cool!

I want the 4th dress! It looks so Viviane Tam-ish…

xoxo, Bridget

Preşedintele Comisiei Europene, Jose Barroso, a anunţat azi dimineaţă lista viitorilor comisari europeni, cu portofoliile aferente. Dacian Cioloş a fost nominalizat în cele din urmă la Agricultură.

Am scris de două ori în ultimele două luni (aici şi aici) faptul că şansele lui Cioloş sunt minime, mai ales după ce sprijinul iniţial al Franţei părea să se fi reorientat treptat către Irlanda. În plus, spuneam că România are toate şansele să piardă Agricultura din cauza dezastrului care există în fruntea României.

Nu cred că am fost foarte departe de adevăr şi susţin în continuare că singurele motive pentru care Cioloş a obţinut până la urmă portofoliul dorit sunt competenţa lui, recunoscută peste tot în Europa, şi faptul că Irlanda s-a orientat către un alt portofoliu, pe care l-a şi obţinut – Cercetare şi Inovare. Poate că şi zâzania dintre Franţa şi Irlanda de după meciul de calificare pentru CM şi henţul lui Henry a avut rolul lui, cine ştie…

Sper din suflet (dar ştiu că sper degeaba) că măreţul nostru Guvern, minunatul prim-ministru şi preacuratul preşedinte nu vor ieşi la televizor cu bine-cunoscutele lor figuri triumfătoare, pentru a anunţa o mare victorie a diplomaţiei româneşti, care arată cât de credibilă e România în UE, mai ales sub conducerea glorioasă din ultimele două luni, respectiv din ultimii 5 ani. Sunt convins că exact asta vor face, dar NU AU NICI UN MERIT!

Pentru Cioloş şi ceilalţi viitori comisari vor urma audierile din Parlamentul European, unde cu siguranţă nu vor exista probleme. Putem spune că România are o şansă mare să arate că e în stare să ţină în frâu un domeniu de maximă importanţă, cu un mega-buget. Din fericire, Cioloş e capabil să facă asta.

On this day of thanks

I find myself

Thankful

For a small woman

Sitting thousands of miles

Away

From me

On a small island,

Visiting her family

And sending messages

Of her love

Across the miles-

The texts

Reminding me

Of my blessings

As I think of her

And miss her toes

Under the table

Touching mine.

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 26, 2009

EP: Young American Primitive – Young American Primitive
Track: B1
Label: ZoëMagik Records
Catalog#: ZM 003
Format: Vinyl, 12″
Country: US
Released: 1992
Genre: Electronic
Style: Breakbeat, Trance, Downtempo
Notes: Written and produced by Greg Scanavino.
Executive producers Vince Thomas and Patti Thomas.

These Waves contains samples from The Outer Limits 1×04 “The Man with the Power”.

You better get a 6×6inch acrylic block if you haven’t already got one …

Look what’s on offer over on the EI blog!

Available on the website from December 1st and offer of the month for Graphicus Guild members, this is one seriously gorgeous butterfly plate with a stunning flower stamp too.

Andrew’s first full day in the home was the shining bonding experience one has with opening their old belongings and placing them into new locations. Like little slices of Christmas. Andrew had lived in Atlanta so long he forgot about the calming excitement that came with rediscovering the little things that made the new place home. As he cut back tape and ripped open boxes, Andrew could feel the place growing warm around him in an extension of himself and his lifetime. It was also the first time in nearly three decades that he was the one managing the interior design instead of Eileen. She pretty much had command over what went where in their two homes together and now Andrew felt like a kid in a candy store. Most of the day had burned away and Andrew had barely noticed. The calming effect of the sitting work had him in a trance.

You should be spending more time getting the place fixed up. Eileen didn’t have much to say while he worked, but it was loud when she did. Your sisters will help unpack if needed. You have to get the place comfortable for Mother.

“You just don’t want me doing the decorating.” Andrew sneered quietly to himself and kept digging. He had reexamined the necessary repairs in the morning over coffee and found that maybe there wasn’t as much to do as he had thought. Plaster and paint didn’t look nearly as bad to him as it had last night, and Andrew was beginning to think he had made Old Grey out to be older and greyer than it actually was. He could easily spend the first whole day getting things organized and then, if items had to be moved later for cleaning or repairs so be it. His sisters could help with that just as well. They may not like it much, but they’d survive. It was all for Mother anyway, right?

“Bitches.” Andrew didn’t hear the word, didn’t feel the thought.

The sun began to fall a little later, flooding the home with that sweet orange light that only the throes of dusk could bring. Andrew decided a long overdue shower was in order. Old Grey had no air conditioning as of yet and even sitting still all day brought the sweat. Despite his years living in the south, Texas felt hotter to him. At least, the house sure did. Probably from being closed up for so long.

He lit a cigarette before heading for the stairs and upon reaching them, heard the train again.

He stopped in front of the first step and cocked his head to the side, feeling a quizzical look on his face. The train was real. he thought. Where the Hell is there a train?

Andrew headed out the front door and into the still evening air. As a logical person, Andrew couldn’t help himself from looking into this train business. The horn seemed louder than it was last night, and he had to know if he had bought a home near a railway. Soundproofing the doors and windows may be needed if he had. No way was he willing to listen to his Mom whine about the air horn every time it went by.

He opened his truck and snatched the map off of the dashboard. Andrew spread it out over the truck’s hood and trained his fingers over the single black line that represented Country Road 5710 until he was near the vicinity of his home. He moved his hand off the paper and let his eyes circle the space that was Devine. There appeared to be no doubt. Not only was there not a railroad near CR-5710, but according to this map there wasn’t a railroad for at least forty miles.

“Then explain me.” the horn seemed to say. Andrew checked the publishing date on the back of the map and it was most certainly current. It had to be accurate. Sure this was deep country and all, but railroads were pretty important to anyone that needed an old school map…

Lest they cross one while reading it and get splattered by a train. Andrew looked away at the thought, turning his lip up in disgust. It was uncharacteristically morbid for him.

He tossed the map back into the truck and grabbed the GPS out of the console. He had unpacked the car and wall chargers earlier and decided to plug it in. Maybe the folks at Garmin knew about a railroad that the Rand McNally people had missed.

Andrew cursed the horn and headed back into the house. He saw the porch and steps were less chipped and cracked than he remembered, but quickly forgot once he went in through the door. He dismissed the train’s low blare and headed up to the shower.

*        *        *        *        *        *

During the shower, Andrew didn’t find himself thinking about the house, or his mother, or even Eileen. Andrew instead was lost in thought about the previous owner, Mr. Ronald Deschain.

Andrew’s realtor had told him about the home’s last owner. Ron was clinically insane. The bank had to process untold amounts of paperwork to get the home taken away from him and get it on their books. Devine, it seemed was a particularly high point of value in the suffering housing market, and Old Grey had been important enough to pursue. Too many affluent buyers like Andrew that couldn’t even look at the home, despite Ron Deschain’s presence in a mental facility in Houston. Ron had no family, no friends, and no one that could act as executor on his behalf. Ancient loopholes on homestead ownership in Devine made the house sit for two years, owned outright and payment free, by a schizophrenic.

Deschain had lost his mind while residing in the home. It was only by chance that he was found before he could do harm to anyone. On Memorial Day the man had walked his naked, seventy-something living carcass right down CR-5710 with an old Spanish Armada edition Winchester rifle. A state trooper was lucky enough to have driven by and spotted the old man. He went peacefully, was committed without incident, and the rest of the story was glossed over by Andrew’s realtors. The only fact that they did mention was by far the most interesting part.

Ron Deschain had done several things before that holiday stroll. He torched most of his belongings in the giant fireplace. He defecated in his bed. Doctors found that he had physically torn most of his hair out. There were other bizarre details too, but Andrew couldn’t remember them all. The weirdest part was the writing. Ron had written pages and pages of notes and left them throughout the home. Notes about slaves and witches. Notes about human trafficking. All of which were written in Spanish, a language Mr. Deschain refused to learn. Some of the writings that were left behind were kept in the home’s file by Rudy, the bank’s agent in the sale.

Rudy was a bit strange in a lot of ways, and the keeping of the notes didn’t surprise Andrew. It was Rudy that had told most of the home’s strange and sometimes violent history anyway, and to Andrew it seemed that the most outspoken member of the realty team fancied himself a story teller. He had brought an entire file box full of copied and scanned documents, deeds, news articles and pictures. He used it all as an example of the home and the area’s “complex and rich history.” Likely figured it helped him to generate some interest and sell the home quicker.

Andrew cranked the valves of the shower faucets off and stepped out. He didn’t realize the water that came from the tap didn’t provide its initial brownness like before. In fact, the water came out crystal clear and even smelled better, but these facts were lost on him. Same as the tile regaining its shiny luster and the ceramic tub returning its brilliant smile. The shower itself had provided him with an almost hypnotizing relaxation and Andrew was floating away in it.

He first decided that he needed some dinner before realizing that he wasn’t really all that hungry. The heat in this place was getting absurd and it had ruined his appetite. Even now with the sun fading into slivers of amber deep on the horizon, the heat remained. Had it been this hot yesterday? Andrew felt that it must have been eighty degrees or more inside. He dressed halfway and headed downstairs to grab a smoke. Fresh air sounded good too.

Stay in. Eileen whispered from the back of his mind. There’s plenty you could be doing.

Andrew supposed she was right. As he headed into the kitchen, walking past the place in the floor where the wood had been rotted yesterday, he snatched his cigarettes off of the counter and leaned against the door wall, peering out among the last rays of daylight.

The train horn came again, this time loud enough to be coming from right down the street.

“Goddammit.” He threw the patio door open and stepped out, trying to listen to the direction of the horn. Andrew now could hear not only the horn, but could hear the rumble of the rolling beast on the tracks. The clak-cle-clak was riding the still air and presenting itself very clearly to him.

Andrew decided he was going to have to call the city office, if Devine had one. There had to be someone in a commerce department somewhere that could tell him where the train was and how often it ran. He walked to the edge of the porch and leaned his hand onto one of the pillars under the roofline, shaking his head in irritation as the freight train lumbered along somewhere in the not-so-distant land.

Andrew’s thought was interrupted by his hand. He had shifted it against the pillar and noticed the smooth surface against his skin. He stepped down to the bottom step and turned toward the home, feeling his jaw hang at what he saw.

This time, there was no confusion, and he simply wasn’t that tired. The house had changed, he was sure of it. The shutters were clean and all hanging upright in their inviting stance flanking the windows. The glass was clear, the gutters were clean. The bulbs in the porch lights were glaring LED’s instead of the soft yellow from the bug-bulbs. The siding was a flat, clean coat of painted blue-grey and didn’t have any of the chips or scuffs from weathering. The wood of the pillars and porch was not only smooth, but it looked…varnished.

“This is impossible.” Andrew stood frozen. Lighter in one hand, Marlboro in the other. He couldn’t understand what he was looking at, let alone even attempt to believe it. Had someone done this last night while he slept? “It…there’s no way.”

His voice was muffled by the pounding of his heart. Even if some crazy home improvement maniacs were getting their thrills by stripping, sanding and painting old farm houses, they never could have done it in one night. It would have to have been twenty guys. The idea was preposterous. But if that wasn’t the explanation…

Adrenaline was speeding through his veins and Andrew suddenly felt very, very scared. He unconsciously stagger-stepped away from Old Grey several feet, cigarette and lighter falling from his hands.

Go inside Andrew. Eileen, quietly offering her advice.

“But…but how could it…? What’s happening?” Andrew could feel his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

Go inside.

The snarl from behind him made Andrew physically jump back toward the home. Gooseflesh erupted on his exposed chest and arms and robbed him of the warmth of his skin.

The coyote was back. And it was bigger.

Andrew remained with his bare feet glued to the dead, dusty grass. The coyote stood no more than five feet away from him and it held the same locked stare from the night before. He thought at first it had to be a different animal entirely, but Andrew remembered its eyes and knew this was the same one. Despite its apparent growth to almost the size of a large dog, he knew it. Andrew thought remorsefully of the .38 in his bedroom.

You left the patio door open. You could run for it.

Eileen was right, but he would have to be quick. For a second Andrew felt an icy stab of terror at the thought of returning to the house, then reminded himself that he didn’t have much choice.

The coyote yipped and growled, glaring at Andrew. He took one step back and it shook its head, snarling again. Threads of slobber cascaded from its mouth.

GO!

That wasn’t Eileen, but it got him moving. Andrew was up the steps before he had even fully turned around and was sprinting for the doorway. The coyote let out a short howl as it gave chase. He could hear its clawed pads hit the smooth wood deck and knew it was way too close. There were only a few steps to go and yet the safety of his living room felt to be years away.

He could feel the snorting breaths of the clearly rabid coyote disrupting the air behind him. Andrew planted his right foot and drove off of it, diving for the door. He thought for a second his foot would slip but it stuck firm and he was able to launch himself through the doorway. His left hand flailed out for the handle, as his only chance was to slide the door shut in mid air.

Alas, this was no action movie and Andrew missed completely, the swing of his arm throwing him of balance to the floor. He was certain the coyote would be sinking its pink-yellow teeth into his body any second. He rolled back towards the door wall and landed both of his hands quickly on the handle, but didn’t slam it shut.

The coyote had stopped. It stood in the same place from last night, just inside the steps, but there it stayed, panting and glaring.

He wasted no more time, and quickly slid the door shut, turning the lock. After several deep breaths, Andrew was much more calm. He felt hot again, but calm. Before he even really knew he was off the floor, Andrew was heading up the stairs intending on bed. Another split-second and he was in the bedroom. Briefly he felt his heart race again, and thought he should be…moving…leaving?

Don’t be ridiculous, honey. Just get some sleep. Eileen comforted him and he was again calm.

Old Grey wanted him that way.

The new stuff is a little expensive! But it’s pretty cool!:)

I love the blue mascara!!!

xoxo,Bridget

This post is credited to: The Stardoll Insiders

Hey guys, take a look at these amazing spoilers:

I think that it’s a new interior…or a scenery?!

New DNKY clothes! I can’t wait!

And new clothes! I like that bag:)

xoxo, Bridget

Sleep

Sits across the room

From me

And taunts me-

Staring quietly,

But refusing to

Speak to me.

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 25, 2009

Some time has passed since I last wrote something but oh well here we go again .

The clock keeps ticking

Time goes on fast

The room still spinning

Hope this doesn’t last

The cold sets in

Darkness creeps slow

Nowhere left to begin

My thoughts don’t know

The circle almost complete

I’m lying to myself

My hopes lay at my feet

Loneliness is what’s left

Still, I won’t put out this fire

Even if it’s cruel and mean

My heart knows of desire

Its feelings pure and clean

Piece by piece they fall in

The broken shards of this

This I cannot live with

This I cannot live without

©Wanda Berrios 2009

Label:Sim
Catalog#:SIM 01
Format:Vinyl, 12″

Country:Netherlands
Released:1995
Genre:Electronic

Style:Trance, Experimental

Rusty inspect the merchandise.

We recently made “arrangements” to become deeelers of the Louis Garneau product lines. If you don’t know what it takes for a bike shop to become an authorized dealer of such-and-such brands, let me tell you, it can be an experience. It has to do with all sorts of forms, background checks, strangers with  collapsable showcases of ruffled clothing telling you what women really want to buy next year and sometimes we get free socks. Our experience getting started with LG was scary good and a welcome change to the typical runaround. After a generic email to their website, I was impressed by a series of reps doing their jobs really well.

All that being said, the product is now in the store. Mostly winter stuff. Now’s the time to get it, yaknow. (those bozos are calling for snow tonight…)

LG makes a dizzying array of clothing and they have a nice selection of winter gear. We brought in some toasty jerseys, jackets, a boatload of gloves and assorted shoe covers. The T-Covers are slick little toe covers that are perfect for those days that are too cold for toe warmers but not cold enough to merit the ol booties. i am a nerd…

Here’s a test to see if anyone actually reads this blog. If you come in this weekend (Fri or Sat) and buy a LG product, mention this post to get 10% off and a free NCC mug.

Devendra Banhart played the music hall of Williamsburgh on Monday 11/23 and these pictures prove I was there! These photos also make me want to get a digital camera because disposable- not so hot not to mention the obnoxious flash I had going on.

When i first heard Banhart’s stuff I was blown away ,not because it was that best stuff I had ever heard but because it was exactly what I was in the mood for at that time of my life. His style was different and it had a rough sound that made me believe him. Then all of a sudden there was a wave of musicians that had the same style as Banhart and he became the poster child for this so called “freak folk” movement. When I heard  Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon I was disappointed because to me it just lacked the realness of his previous albums. When I heard he was signed to Warner Brothers  I didn’t even bother to give a good listen to his most recent album What Will We Be. So basically i walked into this show expecting to be disappointed. To my surprise the show didn’t suck at all- it was awesome. Devendra played some new stuff YES but he also played all of the songs I wanted to hear which included acoustic performances of Little Yellow Spider,Sight to Behold, and Hows about telling a story. He also played Long haired Child,Chinese Children and closed off with Just like a Child , alot of children references-weird. I am still not a huge fan of the new album but i will always have a place for Devendra in my  music heart and I will see him perform when ever i get the chance.

I love this preformance from Danish T.V.