Thursday, 17 July 2014

Ralph and the Purple Fly By Christopher Brunt

Ralph and the Purple Fly
My book review on this growing master of twisted prose.

The story is unusual although a work obsessed scientist who unleashed who knows what upon an unsuspecting public is not an original one, Chris tackles it with talented gusto and thought tickling prose that makes it shine.

Even as I feel sorry for Prof. Conrad Constant I am also annoyed by his inability to cope with the every day that gives him his sense of superiority from the general human race, and his driven pursuit of his dreams that have helped him gain this level of academic excellence becomes lacking in detail at further levels of his work, which lead to his downfall.

Chris writes in such a way that you feel you have met the man, however briefly in real life and you are left  frustrated by the genius's lack of common sense. And the quirks that Chris sprinkles like a trail of bread crumbs lead you onward, through the increasingly misunderstood mind to the twisted and enigmatic end.

Chris, I look forward to your next book, The Lost Family and the crazy journey you will undoubted lead me through like a mad hatter with a pied pipe. I might not dance to your tune, but I cannot help but follow where you go. Keep up the good work, and don't be too long or I might burst with the growing anticipation.

Thank you for reading this and hopefully this book as well. Well worth a bite of the difference.
xx

Sunday, 29 June 2014

The day after

I was cold this morning, cold and tired despite laying for several hours with my eyes closed and snoring. And no amount of clothes could warm me up. Like an adder in early spring, I sort out the sun to try and soak up the rays so my body could start working again, and my mind function, plus I had to go out and do some shopping, and sitting, staring at the telly was getting me nowhere.
So I wrapped myself up in black and braved the day, and slowly, although my footsteps were my usual fast pace, the sunlight crept in and brought me back to life.
Ok, this is reading like a tale of someone else who is living my life but I suppose that's what happens when you have a couple of good ales the night before, your own life seems far away and far more interesting than it really is. And I need the writing practise anyway.
A friend of mine has gone and got himself published.
Ralph and the Purple Fly by Christopher Brunt is an interesting read. I haven't finished it yet but will let you know what I make of it soon. (Oooh, a blog with a purpose, finally.)
You can find him on twitter @https://twitter.com/CJBWriter or at http://www.christopherbruntauthor.com/ 
Am I jealous? No. Am I envious? Oh yes very. Not so much that he has got published, but that he has pushed himself to get published. He has got his finger out and made someone other than a friend read his work, and that someone found merit in it.
How can I do less than that? A thousand tales linger in this brain of mind but I have never pushed to do anything with them accept occasionally spoil a prefectly crisp white sheet of paper with irratic ink marks I call writing just to make some space in there so I can get on with day to day living.
Now I have been issued a challenge, and one I should have risen to long ago but my stories were just, well, stories that I wrote, and thought about, and occasionally discussed with others who had no choice but to listen to me ramble on about some odd character doing strange things in the safety of my imagination.
Where I go from here I do not know but I have to try. Even if I just end up blogging a tale or two, my work will be out there. Shame my typing is not that fast, and I tend to have difficulty explaining things in type where words just flow from the pen when I write (not always coherently or legible I admit) and the story arrives from brain to hand in one easy ink blot.
I don't write ideas and plans, and I don't usually know what is going on until it happens, but this haphazardness works for me as a creative being. So getting organised for me is a hard thing to do, but I cannot let Chris take the literary world by storm all by himself now can I?
We shall see.

Thank you for reading.. xx

Monday, 9 June 2014

Breath of the Mind

Does the mind breathe?
I know it needs oxygen in order to work efficiently, but do our minds need more than that? Does it inhale time, and exhale thoughts, imagination, relaxation and creativity.
 Do our minds need moments to accept the wonders of the world around us, to process all the information that is bombarding us from our over abused senses, before it can go on being healthy and balanced?
Because we don't stop. There is no culture to take a moment out and let the brain process the world, to let the mind relax and meander from thought to random thought until it is a happy mind again.
 And we make it worse with social media, always checking where we are, who is around, what our favourite people are doing, what our work requires of us even when not at work. Arrgh!!!
Where is the technology that will make us enjoyers of leisure instead of consumers of pointlessness?
I have to hold my hand up and be counted, as the more tech savvy I get, the more I use it, and the harder it is to not spend that spare moment checking up just in case someone has emailed you, or what the weather will be in the next hour, where all I have to do it look up at the clouds and feel the wind to see if it might rain soon. And if I looked up, I might see the wonder of the world around us, the sparkling newness of the early summer greenery, the dancing tide viscously up the river in long, slow rolling humps of water, and the birds singing and darting just over my head as they rush to feed their rapidly growing brood of young.
Don't get me wrong, it is a good tool to use to teach, to keep in touch with those that matter to us, to learn new things, and discover what is going on in the local area, but then we forget to DO things. to go out and join in with those local activities, to engage with them.
But there is no time to just be.
In this ever expanding world of dwindling boundaries, in this time of work hard, and play harder, there is no pause button, no allowance of time to let thoughts trundle through the air, collecting questions and unusual answers as it goes, making us wonder at the marvellousness of the space we exist in. There is only the time to DO!
I know people all work differently and all need varying levels of experience, but if we just do all the time, how do we know what we are? If we cannot spend some time listening to the thoughts in our own heads, then what are we afraid of? That we are not happy with our lot? Not satisfied with our jobs and homes and lives?
That we don't want to be consumers of endless advancement?
I don't know, I have no answers, but I am happy I have the questions, and the time to ask them, even if it is only myself I ask.
For a long delicious moment in the warm sun, with a tickling breeze sending the clouds into paroxysms of bouncing laughter, I let my mind breathe!

(Thought of on a walk to work to place an order 3 hours before I started my job and then home again. Breath of mind indeed!)

Saturday, 31 May 2014

I am still here!

Sorry.
I didn't manage to keep up with my own challenge. Work got in the way again and made me feel small and unwanted.
But I am still here.
And I am still writing, and still enjoying a beer or two every now and then.
Sadly, I am growing fat with no bollywood dance class since the instructor twisted his ankle and my job has become a little more desk based, so I got off my spreading rear and walked to Clifton Moor and back.
Nearly 7 miles, and no chocolate to sustain me.
Problem is, I am off to an evening do for a mates wedding tonight so I haven't made much of a dent. And I think I might consume more than 700 calories in liquid refreshment. Could be a dance floor though. That might help.
But its another walk tomorrow. A longer one I think.
Pity there are few hills in York. Climbing up and down might just add to my desire to loose a few pounds of the weight variety. I can easily loose pounds of the monetary variety all the time.
Well, I may have failed my poetry binge but there are more where that came from....

No notepad.
No place to write.
But then, my soul
Has wallowed in the night.
In the dark.
In defeat.
My soul has languished.
 with naught to eat,
But sorrow.
Sorrow and pain.
The sharp cutting of the minutes
Into the same, of the same
And I, no shell.
No barrier at all.
Into the darkness
I do fall.
I do fall.
Until tomorrow.          24th April 2014

Then I did have a nice relaxing pint, and the day looked more promising...

At the edges,
Faded lines
Smudge,
And merge,
And cross over.
Taste, and thought.
Sound and sight,
Tickle and hint,
And linger.
Invented memories tease
And mind melts,
With ease.
As the edges blur.
And possibilities...
Wander!                            24th April 2014

Thank you to @Yorktap for a tasty, well cared for pint of Dark Rose by Hop Studio after a busy day at work.
Well, its nearly time to start getting ready so I will leave you all with your own thoughts for company.
Thank you for reading.  xx

Wednesday, 9 April 2014

Mini NaPoWriMo again.

Ok, a busy couple of days and I have been a little flummoxed with the poetry prompts, but I have given them a shot. With time, they might start to make sense, but I doubt it.

I am not really good at this.
Wherever we are coming from,
be it today - always a Tuesday -
Where my thoughts linger, caught almost,
at the start.

But the words are flowing.
They trot over a little known path
Across the grass, and over the river
Where I, cannot go.

It is only a start, and I am poorer  
for my failure as this Tuesday fades.
There are so many others out there
So much better - on every other day -
Of the week and I cannot read them all.
So many, so may myriad talents,
And mine, is only Tuesday.            8th April 2014


My play lists are a bit boring as well....

Five random song titles.

I cannot explain why but
I predict a riot.
By all means necessary,
It shall come to pass.
Even with Weather to Fly  away
The explosion shall overtake us
Here, and now.
We shall be different again.
Do not hope
For a nameless Savior to protect us.
We are all responsible for our own salvation
In each, and every day.           9th April.

My thoughts linger with my sister tonight.
Thank you for reading. XX

Monday, 7 April 2014

Last 3 Days of Na PoWriMo

Ok, not posted my poems for the last few days, so you get a mini selection in one fell swoop.
Didn't manage a golden shovel for Saturday but I did watch the pigeons for awhile...

Urban Vultures
In violently, cropped plane trees they sit.
Small, feather fluffed balls against the wind.
Awaiting from the square below
For folks to drop, their food on the go!
Few look up, to see the sight
Dark grey against the grey of sky.
Waiting patiently for their meal
They stare, intelligently across the field
Waiting for that single chance,
For the flocking hoard to advance.
On flapping wings, they descend
To the pavement. To peck away
Before a child runs through them all
And sets to flight, the hungry hoard.     5th April 2014

Sunday was a quiet, reflective day...

Outside my window,
Outside.
Bricks,
And open eyes of windows.
Into other lives.
Slates,
and roof bound aerials
To bring them tales,
And songs.
To make them forget, they are lonely.
To make them just belong.   6th April 2014

And today? A poem of love? Well I couldn't pick beer but as I stared at the blank page for inspiration...

My notebook.
Virgin white against the dark pen,
As I write
You glow with unspoken desire.
I love your patience,
As you wait for my thoughts to coalesce.
You taunt me with your blank pages,
And delight in the written word.
My notebook.
I love your spiral-bound wood pulp
That tempts me to imagine more than dreams.
I love you.                                                      7th April 2014.


And to those of you who have been waiting for it, I finally have the link to Dragons on the Moon, the song Jennifer Jordan wrote based on a poem I wrote.
And I love it.
/http://youtu.be/CI59IK4nkHk

Thank you for reading xx

Friday, 4 April 2014

Day Four of NaPoWriMo

A lune, or two.

Job share disaster.
I cannot do your job.
You don't care

Life's simple pleasures
A pint of good ale,
a cheese platter.

Real hoppy ale.
A taste of sweet joy
Ends the day.

"Fur' hops sake".
Sweet, heady, hoppy brew from
Half Moon Brewery.              4th April 2014

It was a good pint!