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Ugh…

Many of us do this.  We come home from a long day at our respective jobs.  We slip off our shoes and relax; to whatever for of relaxation works for us.  For me its my recliner for roughly an hour.  If I have nothing to do that night then the time that I spend horizontal may increase.  With most of us we feel a proud sense of accomplishment from a job well done.  Or perhaps we’re just happy to have a particular project off our plate.  Or maybe you’re one of those rough necks who works so hard that by the time you get home you’re sore and you just want to stop moving for a while.  If you are any of these people then I envy you.  Take a wild guess at what I do for 8 hours a day…  NOTHING.  This is not an exaggeration.  I literally sit behind a desk and do nothing.  Yes, I get paid and some of you might consider me to be ungrateful and I am happy to be employed.  But spending the entire day doing nothing is exhausting.  Seriously – its only 9:30 in the morning and I’m all ready for bed.  Here’s a quote for you to ponder.  If you know me well enough (who really does) then you’ll know who this is.

“I’ve often thought of becoming a hairdryer.”

Stay tuned!!!

I am giving serious consideration to an idea that I’ve had for some time now.  Tentative title: “Jesus & Me.”  Yep, you heard me right.  Taken from the point of view of his best friend Steve, the story, which will be my first comedy, will follow the would-be king of the Jews throughout his formative years and into adulthood.  Many of the decisions and choices made by Jesus weren’t actually made by Jesus, but by Steve.  It was Steve who advised Jesus to become a carpenter.  It was Steve who thought it would be a good idea to start a new religion.  A little like a “mom always liked you best” sort of thing.  I will of course, have to do some serious researching; facts are facts as you know and I want to be accurate as far as the historical accounts go.  However, the grey areas will be slightly muddled.

 

Stay tuned for Princess Jessie and The Way Back.  Both to be released soon.  (cross your fingers)

It’s only me…

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been gone for a while.  Nothing serious I suppose; unless you consider rheumatoid arthritis serious.  It certainly isn’t life threatening, but it is life altering.  Being back at work has helped to clear my mind (mainly because at work, my mind isn’t being used) and I want to get back to work writing.  “The Way Back” will be released soon.  That is if my editor would get off her lazy butt and get my copy back to me.  But I digress.  The hardest thing I have in front of me is the completion of my current manuscript which is lossley based on the Hinterkaifeck Murders.  I hope you y’all stick around long enough to read it.  I hope I’m around long enough to finish it.  Perhaps I will take my imagination and my words to the campground with me this weekend.

Happy Friday y’all.

Botherings

I try, like most people (I assume) not to judge too harshly, people who are “different” than I.  Having said that, (I really hate that cliche) I would like to express my extreme displeasure for the latest trend in male hair styles: The Man-Bun.  There was a “guy” at work today that was sporting this new weirdness.  I have to say that it was a mite ridiculous.  It wasn’t so much a bun as it was a hair-penis – tied with at least three bands to the crown of his head.  Maybe I’m old and out of it.  Perhaps I have no sense of what style is.  Perhaps I’m just not as sexy as I thought I was, but come on people.  The guy looked like a Teletubbie but with a tube of penis like hair on the top of his head.  The moral of this story is KNOCK IT OFF!

My 500 Words

Day #3 of the #my500words writing challenge. Total words – 909.

Today was very productive. I began a premise for my new book. I may or may not use it but I like the way it’s written. The more mundane my day is at work, the more actual writing I get done. Below is just a sample. Like I said, I may be heading in a different direction but I really like this.

At St. Martin there is a small café; inland off Cypress Street, which many of the tourists are unaware of. I came across it two weeks ago on a bike trip through the village: a charming little charcuterie with window boxes and fresh table linens. I was greeted with the widest smile from the prettiest girl I had ever seen. Her hair was the darkest shade of caramel, with eyes surprisingly blue. The grape colored apron that adorned her graceful waist was stained with powdered sugar, but her smile required no respite from the morning’s sugary offerings. It was given freely; and it soon came to be mine, or that I had hoped for such. When she spoke, her subtly infused French accent quickened my pulse.

Every morning since, I would sit on the terrace overlooking the mysterious Caribbean and drink cup after cup of the worst tasting coffee imaginable: a meager sacrifice to be worthy of her audience. I would have drunk a tripe milkshake for the mere witness of her smile.

The morning prior to yesterday was no different. I paid for my mug of sludge, took my usual seat in the warmth of the morning sun and waited for my daily smile. On this particular day however, I received a bonus for my trouble: a note; in the form of a torn piece of notebook paper fastened to my cup with clear adhesive tape. I grinned childishly, surely it was her phone number, or at the very least the number of a local medicine man that was sure to find success in restoring my taste buds.

When I opened the correspondence, I was shocked; shocked to find nothing that I had hoped for and shocked to find everything that I hadn’t.

Mister, please help me. They’re going to kill me.

I was fully uncertain of what to do with this knowledge. Perhaps this was a situation best suited for the Dirty Harry type.