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A Happy Birthday

thehighbrow — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 06:16:31 +0000

It's October 12! So, wherever you are, Lolo Prime, a happy birthday to you.

It's been awhile since that day. We've pretty much moved on, though we can't help but wish it didn't happen every once and a while. Like today, if you were here, Lolo, you would've been 80 already. We would've been celebrating with a huge party with our big family, friends and other acquaintances whose lives you've touched.

But instead of that...We did the only thing we could do. We visited you at Loyola, prayed for you and spent time there as a family.

I wonder...What if it didn't happen back then...What if you were still here...Would we all still be in this condition we are in? Would we all still be what we are now?

It's truly a mystery how life works...What would happen, I would never really know...But as for what I am now, I am truly contented and happy. Thank God for everything!

So, wherever you are, Lolo, I know that you're alright and very glad. A very happy birthday to you...We all miss you here. We love you.

The Secret Story

Subway Philosophy — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 05:01:05 +0000

"The secret story is the one we'll never know, although we're living it from day to day, thinking we're alive, thinking we've got it all under control and the stuff we overlook doesn't matter. But every single damn thing matters! Only we don't realize. We just tell ourselves that art runs on one track and life, our lives, on another, and we don't realize that's a lie."

--Roberto Bolaño, The Savage Detectives

How to introduce the technology

indrajith — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 04:54:16 +0000

There was not a modern technology when technovillage started. We have never asked about the internet like wise we had no a knowledge of English. Preset of all, we started computer and English to the children of the village. After that young people were joined. The teachers are among them. but now the project is not effective.

Misty-eyed

maelinat — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 04:05:57 +0000

Piano goes misty-eyed
Keys are drops
Of wind
Scattered worldwide
They keep time
Falling down
They beat time
Atonal

Piano's drowning
Chords are playing scales
Making up for lost time
Turning rolling
Out of tune
Tap dancing
Racing back to pale-faces
And dark beads
A refined lace
Of acouctic damp waves
And flooding lieds

But now the piano's off track
The burden's truncated
It loses one black
The swoop flows as rapids in a retro current
Frayed organs never mended
After downpour tore the treadle
Dripping notes are oddment
For the last battle
They slowly leave the choir
Like buskers out of run
Go missing worldwide
Tied
To longing
Hoping
You
Deaf to that desire
When in a gust of clef
Fallen and force-fed
Piano's dead

Mae Linat © 2008

Sensor

mgrpg — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 04:00:04 +0000

You both set out to the east, which is the direction indicated on the homing device. You start out slowly. It takes your bodies a while to adjust to the subzero temperatures (equipment at your base camp puts it at -20F) and the half-light makes you cautious. After a bit, your eyes adjust and you warm enough to move more quickly. The wind is bitter and you keep your goggles on tight. The flat ice sheet you are on starts to give way to a rocky downward slope. Mac, it is easy for you to collect a few sharp rocks, and you pick a few to bring back.

After a half hour, your homing device gets a stronger signal. You can still see only 100 yards or so in front of you, so you hear a metallic ringing before you can detect what is causing it. It is coming from the direction of your homing device. You instinctively start into a low crawl and make for the sound. You have binoculars, which are equipped with thermal imaging and range finding. You turn them on and can spot two human shaped heat signatures 250 yards out, down a slight (likely rocky) slope. Your homing device has a very strong signal at this point; obviously, whoever is here has your sensor.

The question now is, what do you want to do? You can slowly make your way down the hill, but the rocks are too small to give you much cover. You can circle around and try to approach from the other side, but you are already feeling the effects of the cold and may end up with frostbite if you stay out here too long. You can just boogie back to base camp and come up with a story (or report that you failed). If you approach I want to know how (quiet or loud and which direction). If you attack, how close do you get before shooting (and are you going to shoot first)? Mac is holding the rifle (he is the better shot), you could probably shoot someone from 100 yards out in this light. If you shoot one person what is your plan for the second (assuming there are only two people)?

Introductions

lifeandtimesofaredneckmama — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 03:32:55 +0000

Hello, I'm Loree from Oklahoma right now. We have lived here for about 3 months and what an adventure it has been. My husband and I moved here with our 3 children (now 4 with the 4th addition 2 months ago), 3 horses, 2 dogs, 2 cats, and 1 milking goat from Idaho. Before that we lived in Montana and before that we lived in Arizona where we met.

My husband and I have been together for almost 10 years. Been clean from drinking and partying for over 6 years, but boy do we have plenty of stories from the *good 'ol days*. I'm writing this blog to document my crazy life and times and hopefully share a great story that has become my life. I hope that you will follow on my journey as I travel through life and remember when...

pesebres

evonzine — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 03:16:44 +0000

Los pesebres del artista y los agentes de reservación escritos por Tom Gauger

As un agente de reservación anterior del talento con la agencia de Guillermo Morris, me sorprenden siempre en o el alcance y el talento del equipo del negocio de un artista o porqué y cómo un artista existe dentro del marco mediocre desde el cual están funcionando. Y creerme, yo han visto el un montón de ambos. Parecería que muchos encargados se caen en estas posiciones, como en muchos campos, no de talento o de conocimientos técnicos genuinos, pero por presencia mera solamente - eran amigos del artista o de un hermano a uno de los miembros del acto y así sucesivamente. ¿Si un encargado, importante en cada vuelta de la carrera de un artista, es tan importante, que cuál es exactamente él que compone a buen encargado o agente de reservación?

Most cada uno piensa en contactos. Ninguna duda que los contactos son importantes en este negocio. ¿El pensamiento es - “apenas mientras actúan como saben lo que ellos están haciendo y hablan un gran juego que cae algunos nombres a lo largo de la manera,” que ellos deben “saber” qué están haciendo y ellos puede conseguir el trabajo hecho - o puede ellos?

Many un encargado talentoso y bien conocido conseguido hoy en el campo, sí, porque él conocía a un individuo en el acto, solamente la diferencia grande en su estilo particular del funcionamiento, es que él tuviera la impulsión y autenticidad y todavía lo haga hoy. Consiguieron el trabajo hecho, y todavía hacen, porque eran accesibles, auténticas, y tenían la visión para ver el resultado final. Mucho un encargado apenas drools hoy all over el resultado final potencial sin la autenticidad y el approachability que es necesario mantener las cuerdas de salvamento cruciales y vitales de la carrera a lo largo de la manera. Los caminos de la carrera del artista están como un producto de los estantes del colmado - hay una esperanza de vida del producto, y los exec y cada uno de la comercialización saben esto. ¿Iguales en la industria musical con algunas excepciones como allí están en cualquier business.

While que nosotros se esté dirigiendo a la gerencia del artista, usted nunca se ha hecho la pregunta - “qué compone a buen encargado del artista? o quién puede verdad conseguir el trabajo hecho para mí?” Otra manera de decirlo es, “quiero un reparto de registro con un cierto éxito de la industria y quién puede tomarme allí?” Mientras que no está garantizado obviamente, y cualquier encargado auténtico y honesto le dirá esto, que no cada mérito e individual increíble talentoso o acto lo hace - y no estamos hablando con la tapa, sino incluso con la pequeña rotura o el solo lanzamiento CD. Este acercamiento del golpe o de la falta ha frustrado muchos un artista bienintencionado a lo largo de la manera.
Tomemos una mirada más atenta en cuál es provechoso y qué pudo darle algunas pistas a un qué posible encargado parece y lo que él o ella puede y debe para hacer para conseguir el trabajo done.

As mencionado ya, algunos rasgos inmediatos que usted debe reconocer cuando habla con el posible artista que los encargados son auténticos, honesto, accesible, creativo, pensando en su mejor absoluto y no sus intereses, las calidades. Y estas calidades deben exudar poner-en de quién son y no a, o frente falso. Los grandes encargados nunca prometen, pero entregan. No hace el sobre-bombo, sino transportar su acto de una manera tal que las etiquetas, los agentes de reservación y otros en la industria apenas “tengan que estar implicados en el proyecto.” El portador de los comandos de las noticias respeta y el escuchar también, porque están en un mínimo visto como individuo con los escrúpulos, moralejas y con creencia sólida en el acto. Los grandes encargados entregan en lo que perciben como talento genuino y alegado y no un capricho musical o capricho musical efímero de la industria. Tan si usted debe encontrar a un gran encargado usted a la voluntad tuvo que ser honesto, accesible, pensar de su perspectiva de cómo es difícil su trabajo es y aprecia eso, y entregar su echada del artista con” una mentalidad fartsy no “artsy. Le sorprenderían en cuántos “cuál está encima los artistas del tipo” está hacia fuera allí. Usted quiere a encargado profesional que usted debe parecer mientras que un profesional y un act.

Let bienintencionado nosotros charla al momento sobre los agentes de reservación y las calidades que usted buscará. He escrito un artículo, el agente de talento adentro, que usted puede ser que encuentre interesante y puede ser encontrado en www.reelmusician.com/reelmusician_026.htm. Mientras que ese artículo trata su propia capacidad de reservar su acto y de tomar su causa, acabaré el resto de este artículo sobre encontrar y la sujeción del agente de reservación “derecho” para la representación. El agente de talento como el encargado del artista no es siempre fácil de manchar o de encontrar. Mucho un agente de reservación le venderá un bolso de mercancías en lo que pueden hacer y después realmente nunca conseguir alrededor a hacerlo. Su artista que el encargado, si usted tiene uno, trabajará en esto también, pero usted debe hablar, hacer llamadas de teléfono, y enviar por correo electrónico a los agentes y a los individuos potenciales que pueden dirigirle en el direction.

derecho en fin, usted necesita encontrar a un agente que crea realmente en su acto, que puede reservarle en lugares apropiados como acto a solas, o le reserva como acto de la abertura para las estrellas. Sí, estoy seguro que usted sabía ya eso, pero dejarnos van un paso más lejos. Encontrar estos agentes no es una tarea fácil. ¿Como un agente hace usted quiere realmente pasar su tiempo, su dólar en el teléfono y enviando hacia fuera kits de prensa en ninguno-nombre actúa con poco a cambio? Usted mira todo el actúa hacia fuera allí quién quieren ser reservadas, pero no quiere ayudar hacia fuera con cualquier coste asociado a los costes iniciales de hacer negocio como “acto del bebé.” Apenas se espera que, especialmente con las agencias más pequeñas de la reservación, ése las agencias absorba los costes. El ese ser el caso, los agentes y los pesebres tiene que proteger profundamente quién representan y en quién bombean tiempo valioso y recursos - en alguna parte a lo largo de la manera tiene que haber algo o alguien que paga el teléfono, el franqueo, el etc.

Try para mirar su sujeción un agente de esa perspectiva y de su penetración aumentará grandemente junto con su capacidad de asegurar un agente. Los volúmenes se podrían escribir más en este tema, pero por tiempo, y de la realidad que usted tiene más a comenzar a trabajar con, con apenas el párrafo pasado solamente para conseguirle que se mueve, eso lo dejaremos aquí y cogeremos en un artículo futuro. Apenas ser consciente no sólo de los transmisores “grandes” en la industria, pero de los individuos que están trabajando difícilmente, pero necesitar algo trabajar con también. La comprensión de sus ediciones y frustraciones irá las maneras largas en su capacidad de asegurar un pesebre o un agente de reservación. Un buen agente de talento vale su peso en oro. ¿Antes de que usted fijara de buscar un agente, me pongo en sus zapatos y me pregunto, cómo sea que iba a hacer el dinero con este acto? ¿Cuánto de mi tiempo y energía va a ser purgada con poco a ningunos resultados financieros? Imaginar un ángulo por el que usted pueda ayudar al agente hacia fuera no sólo les dirá que usted cuida, pero que usted está en la bola y que usted no tendrá su repartir el tiempo entero. Usted hace su parte y a tiempo alguien vendrá adelante y tomar el riesgo necesario en su talent.

Tom Gauger es un agente de reservación anterior del talento con la agencia de Guillermo Morris. Este autor puede ser entrado en contacto con en el href= " mailto:tgauger@reelmusician.com " >tgauger@reelmusician.com de 615-300-5030 o del

Beautiful Disaster

cheri — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 02:57:07 +0000

I had a very weird night. I dreamt that Lisa Cuddy fell to her death (apparently she was the antagonist) and I was crying myself hysterically over her dead body. Oh no. And Cameron was trying to calm me down as I was shouting for House (?) and he was coming up the stairs. (The setting seems to be this ornate, not-so-brightly-lit place with huge staircases) And then I was crying against him. I remembered that he was wearing grey. In other words, it felt so real. When I woke up, I was feeling confused and I thought I was actually still back there.

Okay, allow me to breathe...

I shouldn't go into detail before I terrify my DA friends (: so now, on to those short stories! I may just continue one of them if you have a preference. If you want to have a dream discussion, we should do it... at college or anywhere but here? Or maybe here is okay too. Haha.

Music: Stacks, Bon Iver

She didn't need anyone to tell her the truth. It was so obvious. The heart monitor beeped monotonously, rhythmically, indicating the steady beats of her weakening heart. Every beat sent a spasm of pain coursing down her spine. She was consciously aware of the breathing apparatus that was inserted down her throat. It's rough texture only rubbed her trachea sore.

Take it off, she thought dully, just take it off and let me die.

The room was dimly lit by the thin line of sunlight that peek through the edges of the curtains. The light didn't bother her, in fact, she was yearning to let go. Anyway, she can't ask for anything more than light. It was what she wanted.

Death is coming for me, she thought drowsily against her pillow. He will lift me up in his arms and take me away, hopefully to a much better place where I can exist from where I am now.

As if her words were a herald by itself, she could make out a figure beneath her eyelids. She struggled to lift them, but to no avail. The silhouette was shrouded by the poor lighting of the room, and it aggravated her not knowing, yet she was oddly intrigued.

The figure approached her sick bed. She opened her mouth to speak, only to realize that the wretched breathing pipe was blocking her larynx. But remove it, and she will die quicker than she could string a complete sentence together. Pathetic, she thought angrily to herself. You are, that's what.

Whoever the person was, there was no conversation, no question. As the shadow glided further into the line of light, she could make out a male form.

It was Death. He came for her. It struck her now, but then, you can't regret when you're dying. You'd die anyway. Death moved swiftly, gracefully to the curtains and pulled them apart ever so slightly. A generous amount of sunlight-but not harsh to be glaring-cast the room in a much healthier, happy glow. Maybe he wanted to have a more optimistic approach while taking her soul. Or perhaps, she thought, he wanted to look into the eyes of the dying before he did it.

What was left of her breath caught in her raw throat when Death walked slowly over to her, and seated by her bedside. Her heart attempted what would have been a wild beating, but only managed faint, erratic beeping on the monitor.

"I'm offering you a permanent solution to your problems." His voice was soft, barely a whisper, but she caught every word. His speech was oddly enthralling, musical; it didn't suit the whole black, Death image. It sounded like the music she wanted to hear. How stupid. She was probably dreaming, indeed.

Death lowered his head, and his face was visible. Her heart jumped; so did the monitor. This couldn't be Death. He was probably an angel. Such beauty only existed in fairy tales, legends and myths. His heavenliness struck her as a painful chord. Her eyes ached with the intensity of it. Either way, he was too winsome to be human. The Angel of Death smiled, and it was perfection in his features. She couldn't move, which was a good thing.

He reached towards her face, and laid a hand on her cheek. His skin was porcelain, as pale as an albino. It felt so smooth that she wanted it to remain in that position forever. Was Death making her feel comfortable before he carried out his duty? His other hand switched off the machine, and closed around the breathing tube and gently, expertly, withdrew it from her throat. She felt no pain. She was probably paper thin, anyway. He could break her if he want to.

Her mouth felt free from the plastic taste of the tube. But her eyes-with the last ounce of her strength-was drawn to his face, the face of an Angel, but with the mission of Death. Again he smiled his beatific smile, crooked this time. And he lowered his face to hers.

She was too drained to speak, to even respond. His features were highlighted in its own perfection up close. His sweeping eyelashes, his glossy, luscious black hair. So glorious.

"I'm your solution," he whispered, and she caught sight of his eyes for the first time. From far, they appear black, but now, they glistened a crimson red. Blood red. Vampire. Death. She was transfixed, if she wasn't immobile already.

The stunning Angel dipped down, his flawless lips meeting hers.

Whew. First story down! (:

The Story by Marc Gafni: Part 5

Sosan — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 02:44:14 +0000

http://www.marcgafni.com/
http://www.marcgafni.com/?page_id=146&lan=english
http://www.marcgafni.com/?page_id=66&lan=english
http://www.marcgafni.com/?lan=english&cat=5
http://www.marcgafni.com/?lan=english&cat=6
http://www.marcgafni.com/?page_id=67&lan=english
http://www.marcgafni.com/?page_id=413&lan=english
http://www.marcgafni.com/?page_id=3&lan=english
http://www.marcgafni.com/?page_id=25&lan=english

The Story by Marc Gafni: Part 4

Sosan — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 02:43:10 +0000

The Story by Marc Gafni: Part 3.5

Sosan — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 02:41:51 +0000

The Story by Marc Gafni: Part 3

Sosan — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 02:40:38 +0000

The Story by Marc Gafni: Part 2

Sosan — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 02:22:09 +0000

The Story by Marc Gafni: Part 1

Sosan — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 02:21:02 +0000

The Story by Marc Gafni: Intro Part 2

Sosan — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 02:18:14 +0000

The Story by Marc Gafni: Intro

Sosan — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 02:17:19 +0000

Signs

janmclane — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 01:17:04 +0000

I saw an iguana the other day,

Always think of you Jonah when they pass my way.

Nothing too creepy would make you glad,

Now those creatures just make me sad.

Add to the list boys with stand up hair,

And helicopters flying in the air.

Maybe they’re just signs that you’re still around,

Reminding us that your love still abounds.

Aunt Jan

instructions to a young deity (10)

vive42 — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 00:33:30 +0000

Apocalypses

Gradual change over time being felt by most rational beings to be more convivial than violent upheavals we recommend against having too many apocalypses. Plan on having only one apocalypse (two or three as an absolute maximum) and make it sensational with light effects, flamboyant characters and truly excellent music.

i've been working pretty steadily on "instructions" and that's why there haven't been as many other stories lately. thought you guys might get a kick out of this itty-bitty fragment.

paniel for ddd

royal duckett — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 00:20:25 +0000

today i went to Elizabeth nj for a paniel about in hopes to be haerd but it went all wrong the speaker all he did was speak and the people who rasid thair hands are ingered what kind of meeting is that and the new people are outcast it is not supposed to go that way if you want to get disabiled people to come together you have to give someone else to speak and give their input on the isuse at hand insterd of one person going on and on that is not going to wrok we all have take port in what we are frighting for but by doing what the speaker did it is a wonder if anything gets done and the way he went off at my friend denise for useing the wrod handicapt was wrong

Your advice requested.

nedadvice — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 00:09:12 +0000

Here's the story, in a nutshell: About two months ago, on a whim, I met up with my little sister Kat down in Auburn because I happened to be down there for another reason. She was on her motorcycle. One thing led to another, ...

http://oxymoronredundancyparadoxtrap.blogspot.com

Savior

tramswatt — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 23:39:13 +0000

The cigarette machine was talking to her again.

"I'm the last of my kind." The words came into her mind like a doorbell. No one around but her and all the plastic seats and the formica tables and wood paneling on the walls. Local elementary schools tacked their penants near the ceiling. A trophy case rested behind the cashier.

Flip-flop

maelinat — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 23:35:59 +0000

He's a flip-flop
Not about to stop
A weathercock
Not so to the top
Unable to mop up
Reefs of his calendar
He's lost in a bad augur
Intenting chop-chop
To pick up the pieces
With a Pope
And some drudges
In hope
It's a hardship
Leaving the airstrip
A redoubtable handgrip
A filmstrip
Now the roll comes to an end
Do you intend to vend
For the whole clip

Mae Linat © 2008

Miss last time

maelinat — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 22:52:34 +0000

Miss last time
Spending hours in mock-frown
She tells tomorrow tomorrow
In a blow
Next time
Miss last time
Border line Freudian slips
Transiting like an eclipse
Next in line seconds
She runs
Here and there
But she's only making air
Her brain is a hole
Where did she put that neurone
Maybe on the telly
Miss last time
Lost in mock-frown
As clime
In a yesterday-day

Mae Linat © 2008

Pick-me-up

maelinat — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 22:50:17 +0000

Her last checkup
Spotted with tomato ketchup
She needs a thing stronger
She needs a pick-me-up
Her legs double for a sofa
Walking only when movers come
Dying to pace in tandem
And dance cha-cha
Even in slow motions
What happens
She needs a lover
By far the largest doctor

Mae Linat © 2008

A Jack Handey Story?

thebenjamin — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 22:38:18 +0000

Approximately nine years ago someone told me a story he attributed to Jack Handey. I have been unable to find any mention of it since, and it has bothered me. I'd like to see if Handey is the author or not. Here is a paraphrase of the story:

One afternoon when I was eight years old I was sitting with my grandfather on the front porch. I had a big chocolate chip cookie and a glass of milk. Before I started to eat the cookie grandpa suddenly slumped over in his rocking chair. "Go get grandma" he said "I'm having a heart attack!"

I ran into the house to get my grandmother.

When we arrived back at the porch we found grandpa smiling and rocking back and forth in his rocking chair. "An angel came and saved me" he said. "Then he asked if he could have your cookie. I gave it to him."

I was sad to lose my cookie, but happy that grandpa was alright.

Does this sound familiar to anyone? I'd love to find the real version of the story and the author's name.