Thanksgiving Greetings

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A Picture Paints a Thousand Words

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Long Suppressed Rant

*Viewer discretion advised. May (i.e. most certainly) contain strong language and/or scenes of a violent nature*

FOR FUCK SAKE, is it really, really too much in this day and age to expect people to be able to Goddamn spell, even a little bit, even close? Seriously, I'm not being conceited, but it gives me wrinkles trying to read and understand some of the utter bollocks people land out before my eyes these days IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN. 

I, me, get absolutely mortified for ye lot, you know who you are! And yes I know, 'if it bothers me so much then why do I read it, blah, blah, blah', but you see, the thing is, I'm a stubborn bitch, so I'm forced to stick at it and read your God awful drivel to the bitter (and I mean bitter) end. And to be completely honest, reading some of those posts and doohickeys is like poking a dead thing with a stick - you just can't help it, you know it's disgusting, and part of you doesn't even think it can be real it's so utterly unbelievable, but you still can't stop yourself.

And here's the humdinger - THERE IS NO EXCUSE. There's spell-check on everything nowadays, even text messages, though I'd say even the most advanced AI machines would be scratching their heads at how to make suggestions for some of the attempts at actual words that have insulted keypads the world over lately. Not only that, but for the love of St. Michael on a pushbike, we even have the unlimited fucking option of editing our posts on Facebook this weather.

No longer is there a need to run home and root out the dictionary - we have dictionaries on hand all the time and Google at the touch of a button just in case we're unsure. I know predictive text can be to blame for some fuckups, but at least, most times anyway, this substitutes bona fide words. So it alone cannot be attributable to the fingertip diarrhea some people seem to be mortally afflicted with. 

How, pray tell, did we ever manage in the days of paper and pen? Surely... no... it can't be - did we actually have to use our brains; not be so lazy and ponder for a nanosecond on how a word or sentence is formed? What a preposterous thought, unfathomable.

For lack of any other explanation, I have come to the conclusion that the perpetrators of these heinous crimes against the English language actually desire us to think they are uneducated. Well congratulations... you've succeeded, though why on earth anyone would willingly have another think they are stupid is, yet again, beyond me. (And that there is a rant for a whole other day!)

On the other hand we could be looking at the devastating possibility that there is actually a race out there who can only speak in SMS, where the words 'their, there, and they're' are simply a choice and once chosen can and shall apply in ALL instances; where words are dreamed up willy-nilly and I'll be Methusalah's aunt if I'll ever understand what their inventors were driving at with their conception. 

If it is the case that these people really and truly are pure ignoramuses, then I will ask, on behalf of the rest of us, if you could please, for the love of all that's hot in a matchbox, try to fool us. Lie to us, baby, lie to us. 

All sarcasm and slander aside though - seriously, have some respect for yourselves people and learn your fucking ABC's, quite frankly because my crows feet are getting out of hand. Jesus wept. 

*Rant over. We will now return to scheduled programming*

Healthy Start to the Year

I think I've spouted here on more than one occassion, about a short story I started that became a novel, that became a trilogy. What in the name of the seven snotty orphans has happened to that, I hear you roar? Well she has been polished and shined, and then left to wallow in her own white space on my hard drive.

This is not because I didn't like her, or didn't know what to do with her, it was because I was reluctant to do anything with her until I'd gotten the sequel laid out and well under way. After a long and arduous haul, I'm finally about 6,000 words deep into said sequel. It's going strong and lookin' good!

However, just before I started the sequel fate threw a little spanner into the works. This spanner came in the form of a healthy little competition run by the RTE Today show and New Island Books, called the 'publish your novel' competition. And when a chance like that comes up, you just have to take it, a plague on all the well-laid plans.

The instructions are simple - write a novel, send it in. So I gave her an extra spit shine, and done just that. The book is called Walls of Grey, Veins of Stone, and here's a little about it:

Walls of Grey, Veins of Stone is a horror/thriller, set in the late 1800's that draws on startling connections between Christianity and Vampirism. To describe it in another way one would say it is something along the lines of Bram Stoker's 'Dracula' meets 'The DaVinci Code' with a side helping of 'Fifty Shades of Grey.' It is spine-chilling as opposed to stomach churning; a thriller on a psychological lever rather than a gore-fest.

Chills, sex and mystery - how could you resist?

The competition closed on January 25th. The shortlist will be announced on February 21st on the RTE Today Show. The winner will be announced at a later date. So I guess what I'm saying is cross your hairs, cross your legs and fingers, and keep an eye on the bookshelves in your local bookshop!

Night Terrors

Last night I had a dream. It was deliciously scary, and not the 'off-the-wall' kind of scary either. But it had a bit of a terrifying end to it, and since I haven't posted here in a while, I thought it would be the best place to muse on it.

In the dream I was at home with my Dad and cats as usual. I think my Mam was here too, but it's not unusual for me to dream that. For some reason we knew that there was going to be a lot of activity that night, spirits and ghosts etc. and we had accepted this. There had been some small incidences throughout the evening - knocking sounds, lights flicking on, doors open where they should have been closed - but it was all taken in our stride.

Later on in the night I was lying in bed and the boiler in the kitchen started to thump. This is a common occurrence in our house, at any time of day. We just need to adjust the thermostat in the boiler press for a few seconds and it regulates itself.

I get up to sort it out, hoping it wouldn't wake anyone. As I'm bent over with my head stuck in the closet, Daddy shows up in the doorway, all scruffy and bleary with sleep.
"You can almost feel them touching you," he said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"The spirits, they're everywhere. The place is thick with them."

A chill ran down my spine, and I told him to stop. We were arguing back and forth when right in front of us, a chair started to move across the room, hovering just inches above the floor. It was understood that things like this were going to happen that night, but this time it was different, this time it was right before our eyes.

The argument was quickly forgotten, and we hurried to our rooms. A little later on I heard some noises. I use earplugs, so I couldn't pinpoint exactly what they were, but I figured it was probably my Dad up again. Then this awful pressure seemed to engulf the room. A drumroll of sounds like a stampede of footsteps started up in the hall outside my bedroom door, getting faster and faster, closer and closer. When they reached my door I woke with a jerk as my handbag fell off the hook on the back of the door.

Now, I've always believed in the power of the mind. It's not the first time something like this has happened - dreaming of the phone ringing only to wake up and the phone starts to ring - but I'm also quite rational and try to make sense of or explain these things. I know that perhaps the phone was already ringing, which caused me to dream about it ringing. But this time it was the opposite - the sound was in my dream, outside my bedroom door... can it be coincidence that my bag fell right at that moment? Or was it the power of the mind?

If I was to take my usual view, I would have to admit that the sound was actually happening outside my door and the vibrations caused the bag to fall, but this is just not logical; there's nothing in the house that could have made sounds and tremors so strong as to make something fall off its hook. Earthquake? In Ireland? I hardly think so. Besides, there's been nothing on the news to corroborate this.

I don't know, and though I spent a long time lying in the dark with my heart racing, I sure hope it continues; this kinda shit makes for damn good writing material!

Random Excerpt

This entire section of something I've yet to write just popped into my head and seduced me. As I was committing it to paper the thought struck me that maybe I'd leave it to seduce you lot also, if you were that way inclined. Enjoy...

The drinks had really done a number on me. When I closed my eyes to kiss her the room began to spin. I tried to lose myself in the sensation, make it work for me, but I found I had forgotten her face.

I pulled away and looked at her, saw the pretty blue eyes and the sweet mouth that had bewitched me, and I knew right there and then, there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

I brushed a lock of hair away from her face and continued to regard her. She gazed up at me in turn, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She was smiling but her eyes were troubled, and there was no amount of sexy pouts she could try on to hide that. 

They begged me not to lie, to be different. I didn't know if I could. They searched deep into mine trying to find a clue as to what kind of person I would be to her once the deed had been done. Would I be another walker?

Though she spoke not a word, the pressure was hellish. Though she tugged at my neck, dragging my lips back down to hers, those eyes still beseeched me to be something I wasn't sure I could be.  

Another Photo Post

Since its release, Red Wine and Words has certainly found itself in some strange places, in strange hands. Here's another photo blog for your entertainment.

Keeping the men quiet since 2010

Handsome Prince

Intermission entertainment

Keeping chefs well oiled since 2010

Slumber Party

Chilling after a hard day

Looks innocent? Appearances can be deceiving

One fan's evening of indulgence

What Pooh does in his spare time

Book club

Creativity inspires creativity

What d'ya think?

Red Wine goes overseas

Red Wine 1 - whoever's on the field 0

It's not Fifty Shades women, dismount!

Red Wine, Words and Scuba Diving

Don't ask

And that's it for now folks. Keep those cameras rolling and the pages turning. Watch this space.