Una cosa está clara, Luna Nueva es, sin lugar a dudas, una de las películas más esperadas de este año. La segunda parte de la saga Crepúsculo llegó este jueves a las salas mexicanas y su estreno estuvo acompañado de cientos de colas de fans enloquecidas por los vampiros y lobos adolescentes. Eso sí, ¿va acompañada la cantidad de fans con la calidad de las películas? De este fenómeno se podría hablar largo y tendido.
 

Luna Nueva, dirigida por el estadounidense Chris Weitz y adaptada de la novela de idéntico nombre, está, técnicamente, a años luz de la primera parte de la saga (algo que era de esperar teniendo en cuenta sus casi 400 millones de espectadores). Sin embargo, a pesar de su aventajada técnica, el argumento sigue siendo muy pobre y mantiene los fallos de su predecesora. Aquí lo interesante es señalar que los errores de ambas historias parten de la novela, que carece de innovaciones narrativas .

La película comienza totalmente focalizada en la relación entre Bella y Edward, con un simil a la obra "Romeo y Julieta", obra en la que claramente está inspirada la relación de los jóvenes protagonistas. Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson) decide abandonar a Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) para mantenerla alejada de los peligros del mundo vampírico. Con la ayuda de Jacob Black (Taylor Lautner), su amigo de la infancia y miembro de la misteriosa tribu quileute, Bella intentará superar el abandono de Edward.

A partir de aquí todo lo que se nos ofrece es una repetición de la primera parte, cuya única diferencia es la presencia de los hombres lobo sustituyendo a los vampiros. Nos encontramos ante una casi calcada repetición de escenas en las que Jacob Black pasa por las mismas fases por las que pasó Edward Cullen cuando se enamoró de Bella, tratando de alejarla de él por miedo a herirla pero acabando por atraerla más aun a su entorno.

En cuanto a su elenco principal, los mundialmente famosos Robert Pattinson, Kristen Stewart y Taylor Lautner, destacando la presencia casi protagonista del hombre lobo ante la prácticamente nula aparición del vampiro. Sobre sus capacidades artísticas no hay mucho que decir: ninguno destaca por estos dotes, sin embargo, sí han sabido destacar el nuevo físico que luce el hombre lobo en plena pubertad, y se ha querido aprovechar esta atracción de cara al público más hormonado (podrían contarse con los dedos las escenas en las que Jacob Black aparece con la camiseta puesta).

"Luna nueva" incorpora cambios sustanciales respecto a su primera parte: cambio en la dirección, una fotografía diferente (como ya intuimos en la portada),un score mesurado por parte del gran Alexandre Desplat, incorporación de nuevos personajes a la trama y unos efectos especiales más destacables (aunque, por suerte, no llegan a comerse la película ya que no se abusa de los mismos).

El principal defecto de esta entrega es la falta de ritmo en múltiples momentos y que se va haciendo más evidente conforme avanza la historia, lo que no ayuda, precisamente, a hacer llevaderas sus más de dos horas de metraje. Rematamos con ese seco final, muy decepcionante y orientado a que nadie se pierda la tercera parte de la saga, "Eclipse", que ya se encuentra completamente rodada, por lo que no tardará mucho en volver a reventar taquillas.

Estamos, por lo tanto, ante una película técnicamente muy aceptable, pero con un argumento muy pobre y, de cara al espectador que no ha leído los libros, un factor sorpresa prácticamente nulo, pudiendo adivinar en todo momento por dónde van a ir los tiros. Sin embargo, puedo asegurar, sin equivocarme, que será un exitazo de taquilla y que hará las delicias de cientos de miles de fans de esta historia de amor en todo el mundo.

It’s the last quarter of the year, and that means it’s time for the RWA Golden Hearts contest. The purpose of the Golden Heart contest, according to the RWA website, is to promote excellence in the romance genre by recognizing outstanding unpublished romance fiction manuscripts. It is open to works of original fictional narrative prose of 20,000 words or more, which have been contracted by a by a publisher by the contest deadline.

Last year I felt it was time to move a step beyond online forums, so I entered my two completed manuscripts in the Golden Hearts. By definition, both qualified as romance stories, but were they good enough? While one entry, Most Eligible Bachelor (MEB), is unquestionably a Category Romance story, I wasn’t sure about the other, Forest Girl (FG), which happens to be my first ever completed novel. The style and content are a little unique, as compared to what’s out there now. Due to this, I’ve found it a challenge to choose the right publisher for it. I thought going through an agent might be easier, since agents know the market and are better positioned to sell it to publishers. All I’ve received so far were rejections.

Not to digress. I was eager to find out if FG actually made the cut. My entries didn’t reach the finals, but I was happy I entered for two reasons. First, no judge declared FG to not be a romance story. That makes me happy, of course, because I can be more confident when I send it off to romance publishers. Secondly, it also placed in the third quartile among 1200 entries.

MEB, which I expected to go over better with the target audience of romance readers, writers and editors placed in the second quartile.

Here’s what it all means. The Golden Hearts accepts 1,200 entries every year. Assuming my entries were the last place in their respective quartiles, then FG placed higher than at least 300 entries, while MEB beat at least 600 others. Those are pretty good odds if you ask me, considering that the contest is open to unpublished manuscripts and not unpublished authors.

So this year, I am entering another completed, uncontracted manuscript, Changing Faith (CF). If it sounds familiar, that’s because I mentioned it an earlier post about pitching to The Wild Rose Press in October. CF is a sweet and tender contemporary romance set in Ghana, West Africa, featuring an interracial couple. I’ve worked long and hard on this and hope it will do better than the other two entries. How well it does depends, of course, on what other writers enter this year.

Deadline is 2nd December, I have my work cut out for me polishing and sending it in within the next few days.

Wish me luck …

Empi

The world is full of broken people,
living in their ways
They conquer it with many methods
But it’s all just a display

Some will say that they are not broken
Because they have found sucess
And some will say that life is broken
But inside they are not depressed

Some will say that they are not broken
In love they will trust their mate
But some will be completely broken
As their love was not their fate

Some will say that life is meangingless
Just mindless chasing after the sun
So they kill themselves slowly
Into depression they will run

But I say we as Christian is to find the broken
To give them hope and peace
Because at the end of the day we are all broken
But we have the Prince of peace.

A poem by Mitchell Cheung

Thank you thank you – I think only 1 or 2 people will read this.  LoL

I think if i wanted more hits, i should use more key search words that people search about and they will get my site. haha

Something about the Twilight films (I haven’t read the books) gets around my defenses somehow. Not being a teenage girl, I’m at a loss to explain my response. But here’s a guess. I have a soft spot for gloom and angst in music — Morrissey songs, any Polish composer you could name — and the first Twilight film and the new one, New Moon, somehow communicate some of that tone and flavor. These films are a callback to a time when love, or what teenagers think is love, is all-encompassing and anything that stands in its way is the most horrible thing ever, and the only possible reaction to heartbreak is sitting in one’s room numbly watching the seasons pass. And listening to depressing music.

There’s a scene like that in New Moon, wherein our fumbly heroine Bella (Kristen Stewart) has just been dumped by her sparkly vampire boyfriend Edward (Robert Pattinson). He’s leaving, of course, for her own sake — he fears she’ll get hurt if he stays. She doesn’t see it that way, and for months on end she simply shuts down. Then she figures out that if she endangers herself, Edward will appear to her as a forbidding apparition (“Don’t ride that motorcycle,” “Don’t eat Pop Rocks and drink Coke,” etc.). So Bella spends half the movie being reckless, even though Edward made her promise not to. She also strikes up a tentative thing with local Native American boy Jacob (Taylor Lautner), who is also afraid she’ll get hurt if she gets involved with him, because he’s a werewolf.

Stephenie Meyer, who wrote the Twilight books, is sort of a Laurell K. Hamilton for teenagers. Hamilton writes the Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series, which began well enough but eventually tipped into porno wish-fulfillment as Anita found herself madly desired by pretty vampires and hunky werewolves. Meyer does the opposite: the mad desire is there, but the fulfillment isn’t. Edward and Jacob, put plainly, can’t have sex with Bella or they might break her. The self-repressed Meyer stumbled onto a key secret of pulp-romance success: Always leave them wanting more, and keep the lovebirds from getting what they want for as long as possible.

New Moon features vampires — even nasty ones — and roaring werewolves, but is not a horror movie; it’s barely even a supernatural movie. It’s a starcrossed romance with creatures of the night. Its emphasis is far from gothic — it takes its cue from the drizzly grays of the Pacific Northwest. It is essentially a fable that a lonely, bored, imaginative girl living with her stoic dad in Washington state might tell herself. The whole Twilight saga is a special-snowflake daydream of being pursued by exotic monsters while still keeping one’s virtue. As before, Kristen Stewart underplays, which allows the teenage female audience to project onto her blankness, and Robert Pattinson’s Edward is insipidly noble and non-threatening (he gets his growl on far less here than he did in Twilight). Taylor Lautner’s hot-blooded Jacob is a change of pace, if a bit of a drip. I was happy to welcome a playfully overacting Michael Sheen (as a sort of executive vampire) and a red-eyed, dead-affect Dakota Fanning (as another fancy vamp) into the film; for a few scenes, we almost seem to be watching a real movie.

Which it isn’t, really. New Moon doesn’t have much of a plot; the bulk of it is Bella moping around. But director Chris Weitz knows a thing or two about love, as anyone who saw About a Boy can attest, and he almost makes something moving out of Bella’s heartsick stasis. Bella does a lot of stupid things in the movie, and we don’t really question them, because nobody’s in a particularly logical state of mind when their first love has gone off somewhere forever. The longing is palpable, and when Bella and Edward finally reunite the rare smile on Edward’s face says it all. But we’ve still got two movies to go, and more agonizing over whether Bella will become a vampire and whether Edward will allow that and what Jacob might have to say about that, and I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I’ll be watching.

See also: Twilight

Microtrends states that there are 109,000,000 heterosexual women and 98,000,000 heterosexual men. The author suggests that when we take into account the black men in prison or who die young due drugs, crime, etc. Black Women are at an even greater disadvantage. Bottom line is that some women will never get married and men never had it so good with all of these women chasing them.

For the sake of maintaining my speaking/writing decorum, I’ll simply say…’whatever’ to these statistics.   There are stats that  state the presence of more black men in HIGHER EDUCATION institutions than in jail—depends on who’s doing the math…and how.

Consider also the ‘one sidedness’ of these numbers:

When there is a large number of black women experiencing the very same fate as some of these black men, the data begs to be both qualified and quantified times over. My point is that LOVE has more to do with the matter/condition of the heart—and not perceived numbers. I am already excited for ANY woman’s next ‘growth spurt’ who has made a conscious decision to lay fear aside when it comes to finding their soul mate.

Many women fear the feelings of loniless when in truth it should not be feared at all, but embraced completely.  All of our lives [men included] are nothing than a growth experience, and how we process life’s lessons.   That is ALL any of us were put here to do.   As you loose some of the leaves of a broken relationship or marriage, new ones are going to take its place.  And chances are high that YOU already possess the tools you need during the process of their unfolding. So when you decide to get comfortable with accepting the emotional ‘you’, you will realize all the more your truest power and essence of your femininity.

…How I love black women!

Absoluta Falta de Química entre Matthew McConaughey e Jennifer Garner…

Em Cartaz

Gênero: Comédia Romântica
Censura: 12 Anos
Duração: 101 min
Direção: Mark Waters
Com: Matthew McConaughey, Jennifer Garner, Lacey Chabert, Michael Douglas, Emma Stone, Noureen DeWulf.
Local de Filmagem: Boston, Massachusetts, USA; Castle Hill, Crane Estate – 280 Argilla Road, Ipswich, Massachusetts, USA e Needham, Massachusetts, USA – (high school basement party).
Produção: Brad Epstein, Jonathan Shestack
Roteiro: Jon Lucas, Scott Moore
Fotografia: Daryn Okada
Trilha Sonora: Rolfe Kent
Distribuidora: Playarte
Estúdio: New Line Cinema

 

…

…

…

SINOPSE

Durante os ensaios da cerimônia de casamento de seu irmão mais novo Paul, interpretado por Breckin Meyer [Garfield (2004), Kate & Leopold (2001) e Clueless (1995)], Connor, interpretado por  Matthew McConaughey [Fool's Gold (2008/I), Surfer, Dude (2008) e Sahara (2005)], fotógrafo de celebridades e personificação da cafajestagem masculina, recebe a visita do fantasma de seu tio Wayne, interpretado por Michael Douglas [Traffic (2000), Fatal Attraction (1987) e Basic Instinct (1992)], do fantasma de sua ex-namorada do passado, Allison, interpretada por Emma Stone [The House Bunny (2008), Superbad (2007) e Paper Man (2009)] e do fantasma de sua ex-namorada do futuro, que o levam a uma hilariante e reveladora odisséia, visitando seus desastrosos relacionamentos do passado, presente e futuro.

Já Jenny Perotti, interpretada por Jennifer Garner [Valentine's Day (2010), Elektra (2005) e The Kingdom (2007)], é uma ex namorada de Connor que vai deixá-lo na corda bamba. Juntos, tentarão descobrir o que transformou Connor num idiota insensível e se ainda há esperança dele encontrar o verdadeiro amor ou se é uma causa perdida.

CRÍTICA

Sério, o que você esperava desse filme? Meu Deus do céu, é uma comédia romântica, não é uma aventura ou um suspense e também, não é tão ruim como estão dizendo por aí. O filme é bom? Não! Mas não é uma porcaria, é sem dúvida um entretenimento. É chato? Lógico que não! Um filme, cujo elenco é de primeira e um enredo interessante, só pode acabar em um bom divertimento. O problema é que faltou entrosamento do elenco e originalidade no roteiro…

McConaughey banca ele mesmo, o charmoso mulherengo, Garner é a mesma de sempre, apática e sem absolutamente nenhuma química com seu par romântico em cena, e Michael Douglas é quem tentou salvar a pátria, mas não conseguiu, na verdade ele aparece muito pouco e quando o faz é tão sem graça quanto Garner.

Aí vem o festival de clichês, começando com a temática de ex namorados e seus casos mal resolvidos, depois passamos pela tela em velocidade vertiginosa, aí vem o bolo de casamento com várias camadas que está em vias de ser destruído, as damas de honra taradas, o noivo que tenta agradar a noiva e só piora as coisas, as brigas entre os parentes e, é claro, o casal principal com seu vai-não-vai. No entanto, no meio disso tudo – literalmente, no meio mesmo – surgem algumas deliciosas cenas que explicam como Connor se tornou o cafajeste que é e suas "aulas" com o mestre Wayne sobre a arte de levar as mulheres para a cama.

Em contrapartida, eis que surge a extremamente “oitentista” Allison Vandermeersh, que é interpretada por Emma Stone, e que acaba sendo uma surpresa agradável. Não por acaso, é ela quem conduz Connor durante o já citado trecho mais inspirado do filme. Graças à atuação amalucada de Emma Stone, a imprevisível Allison rouba várias cenas durante o tour que proporciona ao seu assombrado, principalmente quando este chega à idade adulta e passamos a ver dois McConaughey na tela para o deleite das mulheres!

Agora, o que surpreende é que, após três comédias excelentes como Freaky Friday ou “Uma Sexta-Feira Muito Louca” (2003), Mean Girls ou “Meninas Malvadas” (2004) e Just Like Heaven ou “E Se Fosse Verdade” (2005), o diretor Mark Waters escorrega feio aqui, com ângulos e cenas pouco inspiradas e sem arrancar boas interpretações de seu elenco.

Fraco mas nem por isso chato, "Minhas Adoráveis Ex-Namoradas" é uma filme que pode e deve ser visto em DVD, pois não vale o investimento da pipoca e do ingresso somado a uma hora em pé na fila com o namorado de cara amarrada a tira-colo!

bom filme!

roberta vieira
www.ghostsofgirlfriendspastmovie.com

 CONFIRA O TRAILER ABAIXO!

capa

Luis Eduardo Matta lança o sétimo livro de uma bela carreira. Ele que é um dos expoentes dos romances de mistério, os chamados thrillers, também é considerado uma das vozes mais criativas e originais da literatura nacional. A cada livro publicado, nesses 17 anos de estrada, Matta vem conquistando cada vez mais leitores enquanto realiza o velho sonho de aliar entretenimento e literatura da melhor qualidade. Luis confere ao thriller nacional uma fisionomia brasileira sem despojá-lo das características fundamentais do gênero universal.

Em seu novo romance, Luis nos leva do Rio de Janeiro a Teerã, passando por Genebra. “O véu” possui uma narrativa eletrizante, na qual os bastidores do rico mercado de arte se cruzam com as sórdidas entranhas da turbulenta política do Irã. O ponto de partida é o leilão, no Brasil, de uma misteriosa tela a óleo, chamada “O Véu”. Condenado por lideranças muçulmanas por retratar uma mulher seminua usando o véu islâmico, o quadro tem uma trajetória marcada por sucesso, polêmica, intriga e tragédia. Resultado de minuciosa pesquisa sobre o Irã, “O véu” é uma obra atual, que transpôs para a ficção a história recente de um país marcado pela polêmica. O autor, inclusive, aborda as eleições presidenciais iranianas realizadas em junho de 2009.

Araci Quintanilha, proprietária da tradicional Casa Quintanilha de Leilões, no Rio de Janeiro, vive dias de expectativa com a aproximação de um concorrido leilão, no qual estará à venda a misteriosa tela a óleo, “O Véu”. A obra, que todos acreditavam ter sido destruída em um incêndio, havia sido condenada por lideranças muçulmanas de todo o mundo por retratar uma mulher seminua, usando o véu islâmico.

Com uma trajetória marcada pelo sucesso, polêmica, intriga e tragédia, o quadro é associado a inúmeras mortes, inclusive a do pintor, Lourenço Monte Mor. Obscuros segredos ligam o quadro ao assassinato de Abu al-Horiah, em 2005, na Arábia Saudita, líder de uma organização extremista iraniana conhecida por Azadi – responsável por atentados terroristas nas décadas de 1980 e 1990. Com a morte de Abu al-Horiah e de seu filho Arsalan, tido como sucessor na organização, acreditava-se que a atuação da Azadi estivesse definitivamente extinta. No entanto, a organização se rearticula sob o comando de uma mulher, Umm al-Hakika. Sinistros rumores sobre o ressurgimento da Azadi coincidem com a chegada ao Brasil de Mohsen Khajepour, conceituado intelectual iraniano radicado na Suíça. Às vésperas das polêmicas eleições presidenciais iranianas de junho de 2009, Mohsen Khajepour é barbaramente assassinado em circunstâncias misteriosas.

Quando o leilão é anunciado e a opinião pública toma conhecimento de que a polêmica obra “O Véu” não sucumbiu ao incêndio, Araci Quintanilha se vê arrastada para um redemoinho vertiginoso de acontecimentos nos quais sua segurança está em risco. Ameaçada por terroristas, Araci é tragada por uma conspiração de proporções internacionais, na qual o misterioso quadro se torna a chave de um segredo que pode mudar tragicamente a geopolítica do mundo. Nesse vigoroso thriller de mistério que desafia todas as previsões, todos são suspeitos; nem mesmo as obras de arte são inocentes.

Lançamentos:

* Dia 02 de dezembro, às 18h30,
na Livraria da Vila (SP)

* Dia 04 de dezembro, às 19h00,
na Livraria Travessa, do Shopping Leblon

Mais…

- Leia o perfil do autor aqui no Sobrecapa;
- Acesse o site do autor;
- Acompanhe o autor pelo Twitter;
- Acesse o blog que o autor criou para debater aspectos da trama;
- Leia divulgação no site Verdes Trigos;
- Leia entrevista do autor para o site Tecnologia & Cinema;
- Leia sobre o debate do qual Luis participou a respeito do tema “Literatura e Entretenimento”, na XIV Bienal do RJ;
- Leia entrevista a Julio Daio Borges, publicada no Portal Digestivo Cultural, na qual ele fala sobre seu novo romance;
- Leia entrevista do autor à Primavera Editorial, pode onde sai seu novo romance.

O véu
Luis Eduardo Matta
Primavera Editorial, 528 págs., R$ 52,40

They gathered around the television after cleaning up from dinner. The pizza had been slightly undercooked, but no one complained. There was not a word said as they all pretended to pay very close attention to the news on the television that kept going in and out of service until, finally, it turned off.

There was about two minutes of awkward silence as the three of them waited to see if it would come back on. If it would save them from trying to socialize. It didn’t.

Chad was the first to speak. “You still have Monopoly in the closet, right Rach?”

He had addressed her but hadn’t waited for her reply to make his way to the closet and grab the board game. Mark moved his chair to face the coffee table and Rachel got up to light the candles placed around her house for such an occasion as well as for decoration. By the time she had lit all the ones she could find, the board was set up and the guys waiting for her. She took a seat on the couch, across from Chad, who seemed just fine sitting on the floor.

“You remembered!” She said, picking up the top hat, her usual piece.

“Of Course.” Chad replied. It wasn’t until he said something that she realized she hadn’t known who she had been talking to.

“What did you used to say? Something about musicals?” He prompted.

“It reminds me of Broadway.” She smiled at him. She had wanted to run away to Broadway their Sophomore year after being in the chorus of Oklahoma. Chad had sent her flowers. Mark had come to every performance.

As they played, they seemed to fall into the normal rhythm of friendship. That is until Rachel and Mark bought all of Chad’s property.

“Yes!” Mark exclaimed, lifting his hand to give Rachel a high five. She reached for his hand and lost her balance. Before she knew it she was in Mark’s lap. She struggled to get up but he trapped her there and planted a kiss on top of her head. She brushed him off and managed to get back on the couch just in time to see Chad face turn red.

She giggled and threw Chad a “sorry” to try and diffuse the whole situation. It didn’t work.

“You said it was over.” Chad barked through his teeth to Mark.

“Yeah, well it’s not. What are you going to do about it?” Mark teased back.

“C’mon guys, it’s nothing. Nothing is going on between any of us. Let’s just play the game.” Rachel’s voice was trembling just a little bit, but she covered it with a smile.

Chad stood up and clenched his fists by his side. Mark reciprocated.

“Are we really going to do this now, Chad?” Mark prompted. “You know who’s going to get her in the end. Just give up now. Maybe save yourself some pride.”

That had been it. Chad was a prideful person, and to have Mark say something so out of character, so antagonizing, was the limit. Chad leapt at Mark and tackled him to the ground, knocking the recliner out of the way. Rachel hopped up to try and get out of the way before she became collateral damage.

Chad threw a few punched before Mark caught him off guard with an upper cut. That knocked Chad off of him and Mark was able to take the place on top.

It wasn’t Rachel or even a win that broke the fight up. It was the sound of shattering glass with wind and rain right behind it. All three heads looked at the front window at the same time. The boys got up and Mark grabbed a large piece of wood that hadn’t been used. Chad grabbed the hammer and nails, and together they managed to somewhat brace the window again from the inside.

Rachel grabbed a few blankets and ran upstairs, with the guys quick on her trail. After making their way into her room they stood and panted for a good couple of minutes, try to catch their breath and the fact of what had just happened.

“Are you okay?” Chad finally asked Rachel.

She took a quick inventory. Nothing was scratched, broken or bruised. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She wrapped a blanket around herself. “What about you guys, are you-“ She stopped as she looked over their faces, the recent points of war already showing and stopped at a scrap gushing blood across the side of Mark’s face.

“Sit down!” She grabbed Mark’s arm and yanked him onto her bed. “I’ll be right back.” She shot Chad a Be good look as she left the room and went to the bathroom across the hall. She grabbed the first aide kit and ran back before any more testosterone could do worse damage. She sat next to Mark and opened the case on the bed, searching for the rubbing alcohol and bandages.

“Here.” She handed him a towel. “Hold this on your head.”

“Guess we know who won.” Chad proclaimed, crossing his arms.

“Leave!” Rachel yelled at him.

“Wha-?!” Chad tried to say.

“Just leave. If you can’t believe me when I say we’re over, or that there is nothing going on between Mark and I, then believe me when I say I will personally give you a gash twice as bad if you don’t leave now.”

Chad reluctantly opened the door, shrunk off behind it and shut it quietly. There was a loud BANG as the guest room across the hall had its door slammed.

She rolled her eyes and looked back at Mark. He was smiling.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” She told him.

“Of course not.” He said, trying unsuccessfully not to smile at her.

“Just let me see the cut.” He took the towel off, revealing a long but superficial cut next to his brow. She coated a cotton ball with some of the alcohol and began wiping the blood away. He placed one hand on her waist as she worked.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” She repeated. “I’m not very happy with Chad for starting that fight, but I’m not very happy with you for provoking him. Or for what you said.”

“What did I say?” He almost sounded innocent.

“That whole ‘I’m the one who’s going to get the girl’ crap. Oh, you didn’t think I heard that?”

“I didn’t think it would be so bad, speaking the truth and all.”

She rolled her eyes and opened the band-aid package. She stuck one side down then, running it over the cut, stuck the other side down. Throwing the trash away, she turned towards him.

“What makes you think I want either of you? How do you know I don’t have a boyfriend waiting for me in Virginia?” She wished after they words came out that she had put more confidence behind them. It sounds like she didn’t even believe what she was saying, which she didn’t.

He just looked back at her, seeing straight through her convictions. “I can’t really say what I think about Virginia. I can only say that I believe in you, and in us. And I believe that we belong together.”

“Why are you saying all this now? What brought this on?”

“You mean why am I not just conceding to Chad, yet again.” He grabbed a blanket and threw it over his legs, leaning back against the headboard of her bed. “When I realized I love you, Rach, it was too much for me. It was too much to see you run off with him again, only to see you hurt. It was too much to think you were just using me for convenience, only to see how much more we were than that. And so, I’m not taking a backseat any more, I won’t wait for Chad to be finished with you to get my shot. I want you, Rachel. I want all of you, forever. Because I love you.”

The words stopped meaning anything after that. She only heard the pounding of a migraine setting on, and the pain in her legs that wanted her to run, to run as far away as possible. She started breathing short shallow breathes and her heart raced as she remembered they were stuck in a storm, that she was trapped.

She ran for the door and found herself in the bathroom, throwing up the frozen pizza into the toilet and laying on the bathroom floor, trying to let it’s coolness wake her up from this nightmare.

She couldn’t have anyone love her. It wasn’t just that she didn’t know whether she loved him or not, whether she even wanted to love him or not, but that she was unlovable, unworthy. She was a mess, she knew that, but she figured that by the time she was thirty-something, all that would be worked out. She would want to love, want to get married, want to have children and a future with someone who wanted her. She would be able to find the courage to be loved. That time was not now and she had no intention of being rushed into it by old flames.

The memory of her old friends in the medicene cabinet awoke her from the panic attack and she had swallowed four white pills before lying down again on the cold tile.

Drifting away in the high was easy, she even found she was able to sleep, and the colors kept her company. Everything melted away like ice cream on a summer day, all that was relevant was here and now and her. The present, the only constant in her life. There was a horrible past that she rejected and a future as uncertain as her mom’s natural hair color. So she clung to the present, to what she could feel and do now.

And that was enough for her as she fell asleep swiftly, and the rain pounded in her ears. That was enough.

i did know about the catacombs of paris, but i didn´t know about the walls of bones…this is beautiful scary …

some info about how and why there are all these bones in the underground of paris from wikipedia:

The Catacombs of Paris or Catacombes de Paris are a famous underground ossuary in Paris, France. Located south of the city’s former “Barrière d’Enfer” city gate (at today’s Denfert-Rochereau), the ossuary fills a renovated section of caverns and tunnels that are the remains of Paris’ stone mines. Opened in the late 18^th century, the underground cemetery became a tourist attraction on a small scale from the early 19^th century, and has been open to the public on a regular basis from 1867. Following an incident of vandalism, they were closed to the public for an indefinite amount of time in September, 2009.^[1]

The official name for the catacombs is l’Ossuaire Municipal. Although this cemetery covers only a small section of underground tunnels comprising “les carrières de Paris” (“the quarries of Paris”), Parisians today often refer to the entire tunnel network as “the catacombs”.

Paris since Roman times buried its dead to the outskirts of the city, but this changed with the rise of Christianity and its practice of burying its faithful deceased in consecrated ground in and adjoining its churches. By the 10th century, because of the city’s expansion over the centuries, there were many parish cemeteries within city limits, even in central locations. When Paris’ population began to rise rapidly in the following centuries, some of these cemeteries became overcrowded where expansion was impossible. Soon only the most wealthy could afford church burials, which led to the opening in the early 12th century of a central burial ground for more common burials: initially dependant upon the St. Opportune church, this cemetery near Paris’ central Les Halles district was renamed as the ‘Saints-Innocents cemetery’ under its own church and parish towards the end of the same century.

The practice common then for burying the lesser-wealthy dead was mass inhumation. Once an excavation in one section of the cemetery was full, it would be covered over and another opened. Few of the dead buried in this way had the privilege of coffins; often the casket used for a burial ceremony would be re-used for the next. Thus the residues resulting from the decaying of organic matter, a process often chemically accelerated with the use of lime, entered directly into the earth, creating a situation quite unacceptable for a city whose then principle source of liquid sustenance was well-water.

By the 17th century the sanitary conditions around Saints-Innocents cemetery was unbearable. As it was one of Paris’ most sought-after cemeteries and a large source of revenue for the parish and church, the clergy had continued burials there even when its grounds were filled to overflowing. By then the cemetery was lined on all four sides with “charniers” reserved for the bones of the dead exhumed from mass graves that had “lain” long enough for all the flesh they contained to decompose. Once emptied, a mass sepulture would be used again, but even then the earth was already filled beyond saturation with decomposable human remains.

A series of ineffective decrees limiting the use of the cemetery did little to remedy the situation, and it wasn’t until the late 18th century that it was decided to create three new large-scale suburban burial grounds to the outskirts of the city, and to condemn all existing parish cemeteries within city limits.

read more here

buahhh…i think the city of love lost a bit od it´s romance for me now…

Numa rua por aí, numa cidade dali, onde o Sol passeia e a Lua espreguiça, pessoas graciosas -hm – cheias de charme e colônia, conversavam. E entre elas – glória – o Rei!

- Olá Senhorita Coquelicot, como vai você, senhorita enplumada senhorita?

- Muito bem, obrigada Vossa Alteza, ando muito bem, só a pé. E o senhor? Vai bem obrigado?

- Sim senhora, sim senhora, eu ando no meu velociclo modernoso, vou até a Lua pegar flores para florear vossas madeixas tão belas e ‘dorée’ madeixas. Madeixas que deixas assim para florear algum qualquer?

- Nããão meu Senhor… apenas e talvez, muito quem saberá dizer senão eu mesma, serão minhas madeixas donas de uma esperança afoita que – ai, ai – nada mais é que um par de mãos ante o mar azul e horizontal.

- Então suba na minha máquina, com essas duas rodas, nossas pernas enlaçadas e um pouco de boa chance, quiçá, as viagens não mais nos importarão…

- Como assim minha Alteza?

- As mais belas, viagens, são feitas no olhar da amada. No mergulhar dos cachos e no perfume que exalam as flores de vosso pescoço, minha querida.

- Ah, tudo bem. Vou. Apenas colocar-me-ei, meu mais belo chapéu e vestido; dali então, para qualquer lugar do Espaço.

Ring Ring!

Her date with Chuck Pearson was a disaster almost from the moment he picked her up the next evening. They’d gone out once previously—a blind date set up by some mutual friends from the University, and although Caryn had not had a particularly good time that evening, she’d agreed to go out with him again… mostly because he’d been so insistent when he’d called her.

He took her to a bar near campus, and Caryn was thankful for the constant flow of music as she found she had little in common with him. All he seemed interested in talking about were the parties he’d been to recently and escapades inspired by too much alcohol. Caryn found her mind wandering to Jerry, remembering the wonderful evening they’d shared and his genuine interest in getting to know her. She felt that he cared for her as a person, not as someone he was trying to impress—as Pearson seemed to be trying to do.  She tried to be good company, but when ten o’clock finally approached, she pretended to be exhausted, claiming little sleep the night before, studying for an exam that day.

“I’m sorry, Chuck,” she said softly. “I’m just not up to a late night tonight.”

“That’s all right,” he replied with a grin. “We’ll just go back to your place and relax.”

He invited himself in for a drink and nodded toward her empty hand as he accepted the glass she handed to him.

“Aren’t you having anything?” he asked.

“No, I really am too tired. It’d just put me to sleep.”

He set the glass on the table, then pulled her close to him. “In that case, let’s not waste any time.” He pressed his lips against hers, kissing her thoroughly as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as he touched her familiarly. She broke the kiss off angrily, jerking away. Her cheeks flushed and her hands shaking, she nodded toward the door. “I think you’d better go.”

He reached to touch her cheek, but she pulled away from his hand.

“What’s the matter?” he murmured. He tried to close his arms around her again, but she stepped back, avoiding his lips.

“What’s the matter with you?” he demanded angrily.

“C’mon, Chuck, I hardly know you,” Caryn protested in a shaky voice.

“And you’re not that kind of girl, is that it, Caryn Stevens?” he retorted sarcastically. He grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You sure put out the signals tonight, sweetie. Any guy in that bar knew what you wanted.” His eyes spotted the bruise hidden by the hair that fell across her temple. “Or are you one of those girls who like it rough?” He shoved her backwards and she stumbled against the coffee table in front of the couch, tripping and falling across the table to floor. Her shoulder hit the side of the sofa heavily, and shaking off the pain, Caryn scrambled to her feet, her heart thumping in her ears.

She grabbed the phone, her voice surprising her with its steadiness “Get out of here or I’m calling the police.”

Pearson laughed coldly as he stared at her a long moment, then shook his head in disgust. “Thanks for nothing, sweetheart.”

He slammed the door behind him, and she quickly ran to the door and locked it securely. Grasping a pillow, Caryn sank to the couch in relief. She rubbed her chin where he’d grabbed her, then bit her lip as the tears forced their way from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She thought about the evening, not understanding how he could have thought she wanted to go to bed with him, his cruel words echoing in her ears. She pressed her face against the pillow, suddenly wishing that Jerry were with her… but not understanding why he should seem so important to her… so soon.

Caryn and Jerry played tennis the next evening, and Caryn surprised him with her ability, beating him 6-4 and 8-6 in two sets. He shook his head as he wiped his face with the towel.

“You didn’t tell me you were a pro,” he accused her with a grin.

Caryn flushed as she shook her head. “I was just lucky.”

“Takes more than luck to play like that, Caryn,” Jerry retorted. “You’re really good.”

“Thank you,” she said softly as she put her racquet back into the cover and handed the balls to him so he could put them in the can.

“How long have you been playing?”

“Since I was five… My parents sent me to camp every summer, and tennis was the main activity. By the time I was 15, I was able to teach… Then I worked at camp all summer instead of being a camper.” She shrugged in embarrassment. “I haven’t played in so long…”

“Lucky for me,” Jerry grinned. “From now on, we’ll play doubles and find another couple to humiliate. You’re too good for me.”

“No, I’m not, Jerry!” she protested. “I bet you could have beaten me if you’d wanted to.”

“I wish,” he pretended to moan. “No, you’re really good — and you had me fooled. I’d have never believed that someone as little as you could hit the ball that hard… Maybe I should get you to give me lessons?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” she retorted mischievously as she started toward the townhouse. “C’mon, you said the loser had to cook the steaks.”

Jerry started the grill on her patio while Caryn quickly showered and changed, then she prepared the salad and put the potatoes in the oven while he took his turn in the shower. She made a batch of frozen margaritas and relaxed on a chaise lounge on the patio and sipped one while she waited for him. She felt so comfortable with Jerry, as if she’d known him for months instead of just days, and she realized again how differently he treated her than had Chuck Pearson or some of the other guys she’d dated.

He joined her before long, accepting the drink she held out to him as he perched beside her on the edge of the chair. “This is just what I needed,” he grinned as he sipped the frosty liquid. “Might even make me forget the whipping I took out on the court.”

“Well, maybe you can take tennis for P.E.,” she joked impishly.

Jerry shook his head as he met her eyes briefly. “I’m not in school, Caryn,” he said softly.

“You mean not this semester?” she asked quickly.

“No, I mean I’m not going to the university.” He glanced at the grill, then took a deep breath. “I play hockey, Caryn… for the Maple Leafs.” He seemed almost embarrassed by the revelation.

“That’s exciting!” Caryn exclaimed sincerely. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d be interested in going out with a hockey player,” he admitted quietly. “A professional athlete,” he shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I kinda put my foot in my mouth the other night, didn’t I?”

Jerry shrugged. “A lot of the guys can be jerks,” he told her. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to get involved with an athlete.”

“I haven’t noticed that you’re a jerk,” she retorted. “Or have you just been on your best behavior?” she added with a teasing smile.

Jerry shook his head. “No, what you see is what you get.”

“How long have you been playing?”

“My whole life.”

“When did you start playing for the Maple Leafs?”

“This will be my third season. I went from Juniors into the Leafs’ organization.”

“I think it’s wonderful—and exciting!”

His blue eyes searched her amber ones carefully. Finding nothing but sincerity and warmth, he lowered his lips on hers and kissed her gently, his fingers lightly brushing the hair that fell across her temple.

“Sorry that I let you think I was a student. I was going to tell you the other night at dinner, then after Norris acted like such an ass, I figured it wasn’t exactly the right moment.”

Caryn looked at him, smiling at the sheepish grin on his face. “Aren’t you doing what you planned to? Isn’t that what you wanted for your career—to play professional hockey?”

“Sure, it’s a dream come true.”

“Then don’t apologize for it,” she reproached him. She ran her fingers lightly against his broad shoulders, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath the knit shirt. She lightly caressed the hair that brushed against his collar, then slipping her hand behind his neck, she pulled him toward her. “Besides,” she murmured as his lips approached, “I think I like hockey players.”

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umm help. please. dont know what to do?
Okay there is this guy in my 4th block.
His name is Dustin.
Me and him were the best of friends like a month ago and I could talk to him about anything.
And he told me everything and anything.
Just the other day he broke up with his girlfriend and told me he really liked me!
I was starting to like him some what but not really because I only really considered him as a friend.
For the past two days he has been telling me he loves me and that he wants to be with me and that I’m so hot and blah blah blah.
Anyways getting to the point.
He’s been BITING me!! wtf?
He bit me the other day for the first time and it really hurt.
He bit me on the neck!
Then he bit me twice on the arm and I have a huge bruise on my arm now,
it looks horrible.
I have told him to stop several of times and no matter what I do he wont stop.
I have acually even hit him and he still wont stop.
I told my sister about it and showed her the bruise and she showed my parents and they threatned to call the school and get him into trouble for it.
I told them that I could handle it on my own and they said okay.
Problem is that I really don’t know what to do.
I already beg him to stop and he won’t.
I really don’t want to tell on him because we were such close friends and I dont want to get him into trouble.
I will feel bad.
But that seems like my only option at this point.
Any advise?
Along with the whole biting situation with Dustin.
i told him that i was transfering schools soon (because i am supposed too) and he told me if i did that then he would sneak into my room every night and rape me..but started laughing right after he said it.
I told him yah sure you will and you will meet my dad and his shot gun too.
But he just kept repeating it over and over again followed by a laugh.
should i take it seriously or just consider it as a joke?
(he does know where i live though)
what should i do about that?

This morning I spoke to my son about his girlfriend. He told me that he is the nicest person in the world when he is around her. I told him that was because he still has not gotten what he wants from her. Didn’t mean it to sound jaded, but it is true, we act differently towards people who we still want something from. This triggered a romantic thought – what happens to someone who never gets what they want from a relationship? Do they become the nicest person in the world for the rest of their life – stuck in niceness? I’d like to think so. At least for now, this is how I feel. So much has changed, I now have a hunger for anything emotional- books, movies, music, etc. I find myself dreading the thought of killing a deer, or killing anything for that matter. I wonder if this will ever change? I hope not. Only time will tell…..

^^ só pra deixar claro as diferenças pra começar a escrever!

Gosto muito da explicação do © Airo Zamoner

Crônica
A crônica se destina a publicação em jornal ou revista. Por isso mesmo, já se pode deduzir que deve estar relacionada com acontecimentos diários. Se diferencia evidentemente da notícia, pois não é feita por um jornalista e sim por um escritor, mas se aproxima de sua forma. É o acontecimento diário sob a visão criativa do escritor. Seus personagens podem ser reais ou imaginários. Não é mera transcrição da realidade, mas sim uma visão recriada dessa realidade por parte da capacidade lírica e ficcional do autor. Normalmente, por se basear em fatos do cotidiano, ela tende a se desatualizar com o passar do tempo. Nem por isso deixa de perder seu sabor literário quando agrupamos um conjunto delas em um livro.
O cronista é essencialmente um observador, um espectador que narra literariamente a visão da sociedade em que vive, através dos fatos do dia-a-dia.

Conto, novela, romance
Acho que a primeira coisa que devemos tirar da cabeça é aquela história de que a diferença entre esses três gêneros é a quantidade, ou seja, o conto é curto, a novela, mais ou menos, e o romance é longo. Nada disso é verdadeiro. Existem novelas maiores que romances e contos maiores que novelas.
Onde está a diferença?
Gosto muito do conceito de unidade dramática, ensinado pelo eminente doutor em literatura, Professor Vicente Ataíde, que denominamos de “Célula Dramática” e que passo a utilizar para uma boa compreensão do assunto.
O Conto contém apenas um único drama, um só conflito. Esse drama único pode ser chamado de “célula dramática”. Uma célula dramática contém uma só ação, uma só história. Um conto é um relâmpago na vida dos personagens. Não importa muito seu passado, nem seu futuro, pois isso é irrelevante para o contexto do drama, objeto do conto. O espaço da ação é restrito. A ação não muda de lugar e quando eventualmente muda, perde dramaticidade. O objetivo do conto é proporcionar uma impressão única no leitor.
Podemos, pois, resumir em quatro os ingredientes que caracterizam o conto:
Uma ação
Um lugar
Um tempo
Um tom.
Em outras palavras, um conto contém uma única Célula Dramática.
Cabe aqui ressaltar alguns tipos específicos de contos como a fábula, o apólogo e a parábola.
Fábula – Protagonizada geralmente por animais, pretende encerrar em sua estrutura dramática alguma “moral” implícita ou explícita.
Apólogo – Protagonizado geralmente por objetos que falam, também como a fábula, pretende conter uma “moral”, implícita ou explícita.
Parábola – Narrativa curta, pretendendo conter alguma lição ética, moral, implícita ou explícita, diferenciando-se da fábula e do apólogo, por ser protagonizada por pessoas.
Voltando, contudo, ao Conto em geral, e entendido esse conceito de Célula Dramática, podemos mais facilmente compreender o que é uma novela. Uma novela nada mais é que uma sucessão de Células Dramáticas, como se fossem arrumadas em uma linha reta infinita. Face a essa estrutura é sempre possível, acrescentar mais uma Célula Dramática, mesmo depois de terminada a novela.
Com esse conceito de “arrumação”, podemos compreender a diferença entre uma novela e um romance. Essa diferença está na forma como as células estão dispostas. Num romance, elas estão concatenadas, formando um círculo. Uma estrutura fechada. Uma sucessão lógica com um encerramento definitivo. Seria impossível acrescentar mais uma Célula Dramática, depois de terminado um romance.

———————–

Dá pra entender as diferenças de forma resumida ^^

claro que é muito mais complexo que isso! Mas não acho que importe muito, sabe… não importa o gênero o importante é se divertir (e viajar com o conteúdo!)

Crônica e conto é o que mais se confude, não é??!

Para mim a crônica é mais focada na ação. Sem caracterizar muito os personagens que muitas vezes nem tem nome… quando tem é só pra citar o nome mesmo… e o conto desenvolve mais os personagens, o que eles sentem e pensam importa mais no conto… sei lá… é confuso mesmo… ^^

Cover for The Prescription Playboy

Using every weapon in her PR arsenal, Hunny battles her way through focus groups, the paparazzi, and old flames to rescue the reformed playboy who rescues her heart.

And so I introduce to you The Prescription Playboy my December 21 Lyrical Press release. Here have a tease:

Excerpt:

As she walked out of the airport newsstand, her cellphone rang Rule Britannia! She grimaced but managed to wrestle the phone out of the handbag just in time. “This is Huntington.”

“Good evening, Ms. Lewis. It’s Arthur.”

Hunny could read his voice as well as she could the magazine in her lap. Something had her boss tense. “It’s already been planes, trains, and automobiles, but it’s all right. I’m sure I’ll make it into the office for the meeting on time tomorrow. You know I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“Did you have an opportunity to peruse the file?” he prompted.

“Peruse? Yes.” When the other end remained silent, she continued. “I think I’m ready to do mock ups for the television and magazine campaign. I’ve also got some ideas for the web design. The only sticking point I have so far is the CEO. Normally not a big deal with a pharmaceutical company as long as he plays golf, gets his wife to head up a charity, and stays discreet with lobbying, but this guy…” Hunny took up her seat next to the older woman and thanked her with a quick winning smile. She set her drink and crackers down and started to thumb through the magazine as she talked. Arthur had a habit of wanting to talk to her non-stop when she was on large projects. She wondered absently if he did this to everyone else. Yes, probably. Hopefully he would get around to telling her what he really wanted.

She lost her train of thought, though, as what she was seeing began to register. Her mouth lolled open in a horrifying silent scream. A heartbeat passed, then two as she desperately skimmed the article. “You have got to be kidding me,” she said. Well, that’s what she meant to say, although she was pretty sure there had been some other not-so-nice words spliced into the sentence. She clapped her hand over her mouth and shot an apologetic look at the older woman who had watched her suitcase. Bad habit, that. Something about being away from the office gave her a foul sailor’s mouth. Her mama would have a heart attack if she knew.

“Arthur?”

“Yes, Ms. Lewis, I can only assume by your outburst that you’ve discovered our slight situation.”

“Slight?” Her tone was dry, incredulous. Arthur was uncharacteristically stalling. “Arthur Adam.”

“Yes, Ms. Lewis?”

“Did you call to discuss our slight situation?” For a moment he was silent. Her heart started to race in anticipation.

“I was hoping to get in touch with you before you found out,” he began. “However, you are—as usual—advanced in your information.”

“Not as advanced as I’d like to be, I assure you. For example, I don’t care that he’s featured in four photos with four different women. But, I’d like to have been there to tell that jackass to keep it in his pants before he got involved with someone who worked for the Food and Drug Administration and was, at the time of the indiscretion, the girlfriend of star running back, Devon McAteer.”

So much for keeping a low profile, golfing, giving to charity, showing a staid, conservative image. Hunny couldn’t stop staring at the picture of the gorgeous man with brilliant white smile and the elegant beauty pictured beside him. She was tall and rail thin with thin lips, brows, nose and brown eyes. She wore a champagne-colored dress that melted against her cinnamon kissed peaches and cream complexion. She wore her straight black hair in a fashionable, tidy French roll making her look like Lena Horne in her prime. The woman was looking at him with such longing in her eyes.

He, all bulky and charismatic, was looking at the camera. Hunny almost felt like his eyes were right on her. He was dark-skinned, clean cut in his fastidious black tuxedo. That he was tall and his body thick and muscled was undeniable even in print. And that smile, that face. His jaw was square to frame full, soft-looking lips parted over strong white teeth. His black eyes were large and expressive. She breathed once, twice. She would stay quiet until she trusted herself to speak again. He was probably the most handsome man she had ever seen.

She reread the caption beneath the picture of him and Nicole Davidson. Two weeks ago, this picture was taken only two weeks ago. “What was he thinking?”

“Well…” Arthur started. Hunny had almost forgotten him on the other end of the line. “We’ve seen this before Huntington. In some industries, executives don’t always understand their own celebrity. And even when they are in the limelight, in many instances, people like to think of CEOs as, well, bon vivants.”

“In this industry, this CEO does not have to be a celebrity. He’s turning himself into one, and not—might I add—in a good way. And as far as being a CEO who’s a black James Bond type playboy—not a bon vivant as you so tactfully put it—I’m sure we can get him to sell tons of birth control and male enhancement gel—”

“Ms. Lewis.” Arthur gasped. “Let’s not forget that this multi-million dollar company wants us to help it become a multi-billion dollar company. Let’s also not forget this enterprise provides something no other pharmaceutical company can offer. And finally, let’s not forget this is your career. Your job is to either tuck this CEO away or clean up his image.”

Hunny nodded, though Arthur could not see it. “Yes,” she agreed vocally. She had to pull it together. She’d had harder assignments. Besides, it was only a little part of a little column. Though, she didn’t subscribe to the theory that any publicity was good publicity, she had to admit this was the only place she’d seen the article.

“Besides, the ended relationship isn’t the big problem.”

With those words, the hair stood up on the back of Hunny’s neck.

–

Look for it at http://www.lyricalpress.com/the_prescription_playboy

Grayson Reyes-Cole

http://www.graysonreyescole.com

” I’m falling in love,
I’m falling down.
Falling down.
Down on the ground.

How strange is your love?
How warm is your love?
How tough is your love?

I’m hitting the ground.
It’s hurting me.
It’s hurting my love.

I’m burning, my love.
I’m burning alive.
I’m burning alive, down on the ground. “
– Air

There are times when I can still feel you inside of me, searing away at my insides as my feelings burn for you with unending passion. I feel as if our love is a Phoenix — born from ash, killed by fire. Perhaps it is a cycle to be recognized, like time, are we really made to end, or is this a constant, and as sure as our beating hearts? Our own demons cannot keep us from one another. Somewhere inside this Hell of hurt and despair, I can still feel you. And I can hear you, calling out for me.

In honor of my new Reader’s Digest devotees, I’ve decided to do my own “secrets your waiter won’t tell you”. I didn’t exactly look through the entire article, I just found myself as most people would do. To stay consistent with my writing style, and to make the post worth while, I’m going to not only tell you some of our secrets, but I’m going to teach you how to avoid them. Aren’t you lucky? Anyway, lets begin:

Ring Around The Rosie

If you ask for coffee and you question whether or not it’s a fresh pot, your waiter will – 9 times out of 10 – tell you that it is, indeed a fresh pot. He or she may not know if that is true, or they could just be lying straight to your face. So, I’m going to give you an easy way to tell. Most coffee mugs are that off-white color of porcelain. So, when you are given your mug of coffee, look at the edge of the coffee that touches the mug. The center of the coffee should be a very dark brown or even close to black. However, the ring of coffee that actually touches the mug should be a much lighter brown. You really should be able to see a difference in color between the coffee touching the mug and the coffee in the center. If you can’t see a difference, then the coffee has most likely been sitting out for a while. Besides, you may not even get that “regular” coffee you ordered if there isn’t any prepared in the back. I’ll buy your dinner if you can taste the difference.

No Sugar Tonight in My Tea

We, as waitstaff, hate when customers order hot tea. Really? Hot Tea? Are we in England? Do you want some chips with your fish, Guv’nah? We in the states drink coffee. I can’t tell you how annoying it is to make hot tea. Every restaurant presents their hot tea differently, but every way to do it is much more annoying than putting coffee in a mug and putting it on a saucer. You’re not pretentious, are you? Order coffee like the rest of the country.

O, Sole Alfredo

Like I mentioned in the RD article, if you order chicken alfredo, it tells me two things: one, you aren’t adventurous and two, you don’t eat out often. Restaurants put chicken alfredo on the menu because it’s a recognizable flavor, it’s easy to make and cheap, and we can charge you an arm and a leg for it. Hell, my fine dining restaurant serves chicken alfredo and our main protein is seafood. You know how much we charge for pasta, grilled chicken, cream and cheese? $19. In fact, please order the alfredo. the restaurant will love you for increasing their profit margin and I’ll thank you for increasing mine, instead of you ordering a caesar salad.

Fry Me To The Moon

Since so many people enjoyed reading my previous post, “‘Beaten and Bloody’ or ‘Burnt to a Crisp‘”, I’ll give you another secret about steak. Should you happen to be one of those annoying folk that like to come into a restaurant 30 minutes before closing, don’t order a steak. In previous restaurants I’ve worked at, I’ve seen chefs be so angry that they have stick around 20 minutes longer to cook your steak that they’ve actually dropped the steak in the deep fryer so it will cook faster and they don’t have to clean the grill again. But if you insist on ordering steak that late, if your steak comes out quickly and with a reddish tinge to it, you’ve been deep fried.

Frozen “Fresh” Fish

The fish is always fresh, and we got it delivered this morning, so stop asking.

I hope you enjoyed these few secrets. I love your comments, so continue to leave them. In fact, if I continue to get such great response, I might just compile these stories into book form and quote some of the best comments! What do you guys think of that?

• Title: Cowboy Cravings
• Author: Morgan Ashbury
• Type: Contemporary erotic romance
• Genre: Western; ménage;
• Sub-genre: Wounded dove from NYC finds cowboy love
• My Grade: B- (3.7*)
• Rating: NC-17 to x
• Length & price: 52,000 words – Short novel for $5.99
• Where Available: ebook available at Siren
• FTC Disclosure: ebook bought from publisher’s website

Here’s the thing with this m/f/m ménage, its sold as a Siren Ménage book and listed as ’sextreme’, but it doesn’t read like their usual ’sextreme’  book, which undoubtedly will disappoint some.  I thought Cowboy Cravings was well above average for character development, believability, plot, and overall writing quality for a contemporary ménage story, especially one from Siren, where sex scenes usually overwhelms the slight plots.  Others will find the book to mild for the ’sextreme’ rating that Siren gave it and be disappointed.

Annie Rutherford went from the home of her verbally abusive father to a marriage to a verbally abusive husband, Jim Rutherford.  Jim dies in a store burglary while she’s in the hospital recovering from a coma caused by his punching her, causing her to fall down the stairs resulting in a miscarriage and her inability to have children.  But his death set her free – and his unexpected insurance gave her the money she needed to go start over, as the owner of a small dry goods store in Branchton, Wyoming.  The book opens on the day of her first anniversary of arrival in Branchton.

Jessie Conrad and Grant Douglas have been friends their whole life.  When Jessie’s parents died in car accident, it was Grant’s parents who took him in and finished raising him as their own.  Now Grant and Jessie run the combined ranches of the Conrad and Douglas families as a single operation – and both have fallen in love with the shy Annie.  When neither was willing to back off, and unwilling to risk their friendship, they had decided to just be friends Annie.  That hasn’t worked for them, so after a lot of talk, they decide to do something they never did, share Annie – if they can convince her to give them a chance.

A year in Branchton has allowed Annie time to heal and begin gaining some self-confidence.  She’s just starting to really live, thanks in part to Jessie and Grant who have become good friends of hers.  She’s also just barely discovering her sexual self, hoping her late husbands claim that she was frigid was wrong.  She even made friends with Veronica, the sophisticated manager at the bank who looks and talks like she hates Branchton even though she transferred here from the NY home office.  Another New Yorker in town is Billy, the owner of the local repair shop that does everything from motorcycles to toasters.  Odd that three New Yorkers all ended up in tiny Branchton with months of each other.  Odder still, they all stayed.

Annie doesn’t realize that she’s about to become the epicenter of several kinds of action.  Jessie and Grant are ready to make their move to lay claim to her, Rick Rutherford, Annie’s violent brother-in-law, is let out of prison.  Three people are coming after Annie for something she doesn’t know she has just as she’s finally getting a chance at a little happiness.  Her very first horse ride with Grant and Jessie turns into an intriguing proposition she finds she wants to accept.  Fulfilling the desire of the three is interrupted – so is the second chance they have a few days later.  Grant and Jessie accept this with humor and grace, but are damn glad to finally get Annie where they want her – in bed with them.  While the lovers are tentatively feeling their way into this nontraditional romance, the people after Annie are rapidly losing patience and going after what they want.

Cowboy Cravings isn’t the typical Siren Ménage raunchy sexfest.  It is warm, rather gentle love story with a good dose of suspense, a sense of humor, and a little hot sex.  It has a well developed plot, although the storyline does a stutter step in unraveling the backstory details that can be annoying at times.  As a character, Annie is far more believable than the usual ‘wounded dove’.  Annie doesn’t suddenly become a whole different person.  Her pain and insecurities are still a part of her.  Neither does it troll the pathos of emotional turmoil.  The suspense is supplied by the secondary characters stories as they play out in the background and only involves the main characters directly at the end.  The writing is mature and, aside from the choppy historical backstory, well developed.  The ending is clever, but the final sex scene seemed more obligatory than natural.  Grant and Jessie are pretty much too good to be true nice guys, but overall, still believable enough to work.

At $5.99 for a short novel, is it worth it?  I’d say yes, barely, but qualify that with a reminder this is very much an atypical Siren Ménage book, so keep the style and content in mind.  The price should have been $5.50 tops.

I read two romance-y books yesterday, in what seems to be a developing pattern of genre rotation, but I digress.

The first was Confessions of a Shopaholic by Sophie Kinsella. This one can’t be properly called a romance, as the emphasis was on Becca’s growth as a character and not her relationship with a certain man. I liked the book. While I am almost nothing like Becca and many of her quirks annoyed the heck out of me, I still sympathized with her and was cheering at the end as she came to her own. On the other hand, I was happy enough with the ending that I don’t want to read any of the other books. I know that Becca must, in the later books, revert to her old self in order to create interesting tension and I just don’t want to read it! Because this is a shortie review, I’ll give it a rating: 3.5/5

The second was a real romance, The Courtesan’s Daughter by Claudia Dain. This is not Jane Austen’s Regency England. Lady Sophia Dalby, an ex-courtesan, is trying to get her daughter, Lady Caroline Dalby, married. And she does it through an intense, and I mean intense, amount of manipulation. There was so much set-up for the rest of the books in the series, so many extra characters, so many viewpoints that I think it took away from the romantic plotline. Which I’m not that upset about, cause I wasn’t very fond of the hero and I’m undecided on the heroine. I will probably be reading more from this series with the hopes that I will like the other pairings better than this one! I have those high hopes because the writing was clever and the characters interesting. And the plots insane! 3/5

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Só relembrando, em Crepúsculo a frágil e desastrada Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) se muda para Forks, uma pequena e monótona cidade, fria e chuvosa sem nenhuma perspectiva até conhecer Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson) e descobrir que ele é um vampiro, mas já é tarde demais, porque ela já esta apaixonada e para sua sorte ele também esta. Apesar dos perigos que ela corre perto dele ela não aceita se separar.

Mas em Lua Nova Edward decididamente convencido de que é mais seguro para Bella ficar longe dele decide então ir embora dizendo “Prometo que esta será a última vez que vai me ver”.

Então ela mergulha numa depressão que parece não ter fim até encontrar conforto na companhia de seu então melhor amigo Jacob Black (Taylor Lautner) que nada mais é do que um lobisomem, ou seja, inimigo dos vampiros.
Mas é com ele que Bella se sente segura quando começa a sentir a ameaçadora volta de Victória que pretende vingar a morte de James, com a sua morte, pois Victória acha que tem que ser um parceiro pelo outro.
Nas aventuras perigosas e atrevidas que Bella vive com Jacob ela encontra uma forma de ouvir a voz de Edward em sua mente, sempre que ela se coloca em perigo sem que ele esteja perto para protegê-la, ela ouve sua voz a reprimindo. Jacob se afasta de Bella para que ela não corra perigo e isso faz com que ela entre na mais profunda tristeza

Desta vez Bella se surpreende com os homens-lobos e com uma forte família de vampiros que dominam a espécie e que moram na Itália, os Volturi, eles representam um grande perigo para Bella e para os Cullens no decorrer da trama. Bella terá que salvar a vida do seu grande amor e em troca disso arruma mais alguns inimigos, os Volturi.

ELENCO
Robert Pattinson … Edward Cullen
Kristen Stewart … Bella Swan
Ashley Greene … Alice Cullen
Taylor Lautner … Jacob Black
Jackson Rathbone … Jasper Hale
Nikki Reed … Rosalie Hale
Kellan Lutz …Emmett Cullen

Idioma : Español
Formato / Qualidade: TS-Screener
Legenda/ S/L

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Ciassou!!
Bantorra 08 ~Super Poderes~,~monstro~
PS: Entendam so vou lançar Kampfer 08 quando a hinata Legendar!!
ciaoo…ciaoo!!

	Nome: Tatakau Shisho: The Book of Bantorra 08 – Uma Lagoa, Camaradas, e uma Concha
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	Tamanho: 60mb
	Formato: RMVB
	Língua: Japonês | Legenda: Português
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