Sunday, October 30, 2016

I know, this.

I know,
this part of me that makes me feel too much.
I feel the pinch and poke of unkindness with the same depth I do sweet kindness.
All the Truth That's in Me,
with even helpings of both.
I love, love, love how she is strong in herself through the loss of so much.
I love that she still turns toward the belief in kindness.
I love how she loves with such complete depth,
and it is hers, belongs to her, unrewarded and unguided, rewarded and then guided.
I love how she dreamed that one fragment of her beliefs might be returned to her,
and how she had hoped until she buried it like dry bones deep in the ground beneath snow and rocks,
against minds and spirits trapped by their own loss.
I love how she sits in silent knowledge and quietly tucks it inside.
Eventually, it was dug up.
Eventually, it was,
and so spoken.
All The Truth That's In Me.
Words to stir a heart, 
in a story of love that triumphs through pain.
All the Truth That's in Me
I will tell you to read this,
if for no other reason than the way it is approached, but I warn you. I do.
There is not one page that does not have pulse that will tap into your very own.
"I have no words to save you."
Buy it now.

Who we were before.

People change.
evolve, grow, learn, decipher as necessity and circumstance demands.
Who we were before becomes who we are now,
and who is that?
Come, do tell.
Who We Were Before
It is said by some that there was something missing in this one,
a connection that didn't connect, but when you read of the story itself, the actual premise,
it seems that being "disconnected" is exactly what this is about.
So, I don't know, was it the author's intention to allow a certain disconnect to better allow
for an honest portrayal?
It is true when climbing inside someone
who has disconnected emotionally, there must be some clear representation of this in the writing.
If we are to feel, then we must do so in truth.
When writing about grief, there are predictable stages,
and it is through the rawness of an almost fuzzy surreal quality that one moves through to get back to life.
Mercer, who changed her name for this one as its not her typical write, does this well.
And in brief ...
Zoe knows it wasn't her fault.
Of course it wasn't.
But if she could have grasped harder, run faster, lunged quicker, she
might have saved him.
Two years on, every day is a tragedy. 
Edward knows they should be taking healing steps together, but he's tired of being shut out.
A weekend in Paris could very well be their last hope, a somewhat predictable and cliched attempt
at reconciliation, but who's to say what works and what doesn't,
who's to intrude on anyone's choices.
So the question is asked,
can you return to who you once were, before?
Is that even possible?
Hmm, my thoughts?
Of course, it is possible.
Anything is possible, but to expect it to be the same is not possible.
People change, grow, evolve, learn,
and that brings a reinvention of sorts, and hopefully brings a better reinvention.
WHO WE WERE BEFORE,
a story of surviving loss.

Saturday, October 29, 2016

The Ghosts.

The ghosts,
 like elephants take up space in the room.
They will trick you when you least expect it, disappear as if they were never really there,
as if you were mistaken.
Ghosts are the problems, the things you wish you hadn't done,
the people you wish you never knew,
the experiences that penetrate,
good, bad, all shades in between.
The past.
As people we have a choice, I have heard to feel or not feel, to understand or not,
to fully appreciate the depth of something from what and how we act, or act upon.
We scoop up those experiences and squeeze the life out of them,
or we try, but as they take their last breath, as their arms flail, they move from living to dead,
from what is to what was,
to the ghosts.
Look around you right this moment, stare into a dark room, a dark corner,
your very recesses ... ah, there you are,
you've met your ghost.
And through literature, we meet a few more.
A sassy crow and like grief, won't let go.
Vulgar Naples, a maternal suicide, and the search for answers that bring back a haunting childhood
and the reality of the past.
Outline tackles one question, "How much of our present is spent talking about the past?"
We talk about living in the present, but do we, as humans, are we capable of such a thing,
when it is our past that defines us?
An explosion that kills her daughter, her daughters finance, her boyfriend, and ex husband,
takes this to an exploration of loss in a quiet thoughtful way.
So there we are,
some of our ghosts, and where might be yours?

Love Oz. YA.

Love Oz.
YA.
Giddy up. Take it away.

Friday, October 28, 2016

Hell or High Water. Hot Damn!

Ah, those Texan boys.
Cowboy hats and brawn,
toting guns with an aim to use 'em.
Image result for Hell or high water
Hell or High Water,
hot damn if it isn't a cinematic treat that not only gets you thanking the heavens we're not a culture walking around with guns in our back pockets, but also gives us a reminding taste of 
 movies long gone, those with substance and subtleties,
great writing and a storyline to match, and then there's the characters.
Perfect.
It just doesn't come together like this anymore.
I was waiting for it to take a leap and just run off getting carried away with itself, but it never did.
It held back, sat right and proper and ended up earning enviable reviews across the board.
It got my gold stars.
I walked in expecting a shoot 'em up rough shot Texan romp,
I got depth, humanity.
I got a real story. 
Image result for Hell or high water
We've lost story telling.
It's been left out in the desert somewhere, but these boys found it, picked it up and there we were,
getting inside something else,
turning it over until you've got a real glimpse at another life, and
damn, damn, damn, Jeff Bridges, Ben Foster and Chris Pine --
whom I've only known as a romantic lead -- they all just shone.
 I could not fault them, or anyone else in their supporting roles.
Each and every one hit their mark.
How incredible it must have been to be a part of that team, to work alongside that "completeness."
This is one to see.
Timely relevance, surrounded by the essence of an old time way of life.
See it.
Support it.
Let's make sure we get more of these made.
This is what cinema should be,
a complete picture in its honest portrayal of a life.


Thursday, October 27, 2016

MAGICAL OXENBURY!

MAGICAL. MYSTERIOUS.
A WALK YOU WISH.
LOVE. LOVE. LOVE.
OXENBURY'S, TIME TO DREAM!

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

The Seduction of the New Release.

That moment,
you know the one,
when you pick up that new book,
and you open it up and find those first words,
and you know, you just know,
that darn book is just for you.
Go on then, open it up and see if these newly released make that fit,
Or ...
Try something old, something that has only recently found me.
All The Truth In Me --
 pretty intense stuff.
A heart-breaking tale of the shunned, the captured, the mutilated and reviled.
She, who had her very tongue cut from her mouth, and now people fear what she
holds in her, fears all that she does not say.
Berry dove in and told the story from the perspective of watching her love, like she was writing a letter just to him,
It's a sparingly beautiful read that I'm only half way through,
written with passion, longing and mystery,
and all the things
we do not say.
All the Truth That's in Me

Friday, October 21, 2016

From the Hub.

This from the Hub.
Under her pen name, Constant Reader,
Dorothy Parker reviews A.A. Milne's The House at Pooh Corner in the New Yorker.
"To speak against Mr Milne puts one immediately in the ranks
of those who set fire to orphanages."
Love that!
Love A.A. Milne!

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Straight.

Straight-faced.
Straight up.
Straight to the point.
Straight and narrow.
Straight from the horses mouth.
Straight shooter.
Straight arrow.
Put the record straight.
Give it to me straight.
Straight as a die.
Get your facts straight.
Can't see straight.
Play it straight.
Set it straight.
Think straight.
Straight talk.
Straight away.
Damn straight!
Is it just me, but by the time you get to the end of all these
"straights," doesn't the actual word look particularly strange?
From beginning to end,
you'll see what I mean.


Tuesday, October 18, 2016

The Word Detective.

Photo published for 10 words for booklovers, bookworms and bibliophiles
A story weave of how words come into being ... and sometimes disappear ...
how culture shapes language and how technology has transformed the way we speak
and write, but also how words are made.
The Word Detective.
Inspiration for any lover of language.
The Word Detective: Searching for the Meaning of It All at the Oxford English Dictionary
October 25th release.

The 90th bead.

Remember?
Beads on a necklace
strung together one by one.
If you remember, I'll give you one.



Saturday, October 15, 2016

I remember you.

I remember.
You.
I Remember You
I remember how you made sure they saw,
made sure they knew.
A quick grab, a kiss you made sure was seen.
You didn't think I knew.
I remember. You.
Let's see if you remember too.
From the past to the future and the bounce back howl at the moon.
We've met before, were before, a very long time ago. Another life ago.
Before. Before.
Do you remember?
I do.
Remember.
You.

Thursday, October 13, 2016

People Dream.

People,
we love to dream.
Some dream big, some just dream, but there is nothing
more exciting then reading about someone reaching their dream.
I get a buzz of excitement fluttering in my chest,
and in that brief moment I'm sharing it with them,
and I feel astoundingly happy for them.
Reaching our dreams, whatever that may be, however big or small,
is and should be a celebration for all.
You don't even have to know the person, but by knowing what he or she has
achieved is indeed sharing in their celebration and realizing too
that people do actually get there.
They do live their dreams.
I love that.
I love that joy in someone's eyes.
It is a beautiful thing, so keep working hard towards those dreams.
Big or small,
I want to see that sparkle in your eyes
and when I do,
I'll also see mine.
CloudwishBlack Rock White City



The Discerning Days.

Own a dog?
Those of us that do will know we have to walk 'em at least twice a day.
The repetition can be, well, a little boring,
the pathways predictable.
Oh sure, we have thrust upon us a few characters along the way
 that have a little or a lot to say.
A story to contribute. A script to read.
Up to us to listen and read inside what they say.
 I have found that each has had something "happening"
in their lives.
They either had a job stop, or they didn't get paid, or they couldn't complete,
and they looked at me with an apology, 
like I was a behind the curtain confessional ready to excuse everything away.
I wish I could, just as I wish for bandaids to remedy all.
So, what do we excuse?
Well, that all depends.
You see, if you have an end in mind, and say that end is something
that is grown and developed and it has taken its network to set in motion and complete,
then there is a ruthless nature to see it through.
Some possess this without question.
Some never question.
I've seen both, and both could be said to be most unpleasant.
And then there are some who live inside their own worlds and don't say much other than talk their own stuff, and quietly collect and glean along the way.
Our dogs that walk,
I do wish they too could talk.
They would definitely have their own to say.
One thing remains,
you can't change something into nothing, or someone into something else.
No one can quite erase a life, or the "real" in people.
You can stage a complete array in an insidious incestuous society,
but a person remains, either good or bad in
what and who they are and 
 "creation" aside will inevitably remain as and who they are.
I've heard said some things are bigger than just one or another.
Does that mean we as individuals don't count?
Strength in numbers and strength in individuals, and strength to be who you are.
Wax on. Wax off. 
Path on. Path off.
The dot to dot in our days.
Glean away.
ralph macchio movies movie kid karate





Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Leigh Crows Bardugo

Leigh, Leigh, Leigh.
I see, I see, I see.
23437156
I didn't at first. I am not a fantasy girl,
but three chapters in, I understand what the talk's all about.
Kaz is so hard, so ruthless, so prone to deceive, I can't wait to see some heart.
I know it's coming. I can feel it, but a whole heck of a lot of chapters still along the way --
she smiles happily!
The Six of Crows sneak, cleverly set up in its lead.
And so it is that success follows success and brings us 
Six's follow up.
That which waits in the seen.
Crooked Kingdom (Six of Crows, #2)

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

The Nationals.

I'm not going to tell you my pick.
It doesn't count. 
What counts is the 4 x 5 rows to choose from.
I see mine. Now it's your turn.
What do you choose? 
Quick. Quick. Before the final announcements are made.

Puppet man strings.

One hand on strings,
and the puppets who dance. 
STRINGS
takes its chance.
Strings
A remarkable sci-fi approach to the re-telling of the Pinocchio story,
and the one puppeteer at the helm.
A girl at the mercy of those strings cuts free to find the secrets of the Company
and finds the independence she seeks.
This controlled world faces the real where the closer she gets to the truth,
the graver the consequences, and an enthralling world it is.
Dark and edgy, Estes gives us
a new approach to the re-telling of an old tale.
Sometimes the strings that tie us are the same strings
 that inevitably free us.

Monday, October 10, 2016

I saw him. Everything.Everything.

I saw him.
He floated in and drifted away.
I saw his life.
I saw his lean.
I heard him whisper to be seen.
Yes, I saw him.
Again.
Floating in and then drifting away.
Almost like a dream.
Everything, Everything
There was no mystery with this one.
Right from the get-go, you knew what the story was and where it would go,
but you still wanted to take that ride. You just had to know, for sure.
So you followed to that moment when she knew
the truth, when you read it in her eyes.
Read this one.
It has lovely heart to it and a great desire for life.
Life has a habit of coming right up to your door.
You can keep it shut. You can even lock it up tight,
but life finds you and when you dip your toe in,
the rest of you follows.
The promise of ...
EVERYTHING EVERYTHING.
A one bite gobble it up read.


Sunday, October 9, 2016

This Adventure Ends.

The End.
There are things that stop, and there are things that end.
There are the endings you bring and endings you give.
And, what of the adventure?
What did it bring?
Well, it brought the end of course.
This Adventure Ends
This is a story about finding people you never knew you needed,
or perhaps a story of finding yourself.
When you do, is it the same face you once recognized?
Or, is it someone else?

The Boy Behind the Curtain.

The Boy Beyond the Curtain.
The one that peeks out behind what we now are.
If you remember the boy or girl, you will inevitably understand the now.
Winton says he started writing nonfiction pieces just for himself,
"to explain myself to myself, to make things clearer, to understand where things
have come from."
Well, yes.
There comes that time when explanation to others means very little and
the explanations to ourself incredibly important.
Without that we can not begin to piece together the understanding of all that is around us. 
The Boy Behind the Curtain
“I’ve spent my entire adult life in one form of solitude or another; never had, 
except for a late foray into theatre, a colleague, never had a workplace, 
spent 35 years with people who don’t actually exist."
There have been many who have asked Winton to write a biography,
but he has stated that there really wouldn't be much to write.
There were no affairs, no big blow-ups, no glamour.
There were just stories, short glimpses into one life and
how they piece together to make a life.
Tim Winton.
The Boy Behind The Curtain. 
Find and peek through to yours.


Friday, October 7, 2016

The Other Side.

Love beyond reason.
Mr. Darcy did it, but what does that even mean?
Well, you leave reason behind. You are taken over by a force that is completely blind of all ... reason.
Ever know it?
Ever seen it?
Ever stood on the sidelines and watched it?
It's a hell of a show, a hell of a ride, and then you get to the "other side."
That's where reason resides. 
The Other Side of SummerThe Other Side of You
"Both love and art penetrate the complexities of the human heart,
to invade and change our being, and possibilities of regeneration through another's vision
and understanding."
How beautiful and true is that?

The Tidbits.

Why do some comedians run their shows on pure down and dirty base smut?
Religion to rape, abortion to the handicap, everything uncomfortable will be touched upon.
So like, that's the schtick?
Image result for Jimmy Carr
Comedians like Jimmy Carr fill seats.
I was both amazed and intrigued.
Sure, a quick wit no doubt, but it was a wit that moved pretty much in one direction. "How much
can I say that's down right offensive to get a laugh?" And what exactly are we laughing at?
Is it really funny, or is it just that he's saying stuff you would never possibly say, things that are so atrocious and outlandish you can do nothing but laugh. 
So then, is it a real laugh, or just discomfort?
In society, we're going for shock value, and every day we're shoving back lines.
Proof is what we hear on the radio, what we support on television,
what we allow out of our children's mouths.
How far do we let it all go?
It all comes back to us, to what we accept as okay.
Some things are simply not okay and we all have to stop and expect or demand better of each other,
and ourselves.
Sure, they'll be days when our own "better's" are unobtainable.
Even comedians know this.
We all go up and down in a gamut of emotions, and they'll shift and change with the wind depending on many things,
but for the most part, there isn't one person who doesn't want better,
doesn't try for better,
doesn't hope to see it in those around them,
and yes,
that includes those standing on stage.
Laugh, or cry,
we put them there, and us here.
Anyone for better?

Thursday, October 6, 2016

Time Now.

Walker Book Love.
Oxenbury Love.
Time Now to Dream. Love.

One for the Girls!

This one's for the girls!
That's right.
The power of us.
The power of voice. The strength that is us.
We must have these voices out there. We simply must.
This is the righteous rage. Yes, there is right in our voice,
of mind and heart, truth and intelligence.
A voice that stands with strength, conviction,
and it demands.
Fight Like A Girl
We all have stories, personal, life, work, of all and varied degrees and shades in-between,
where we have had our voice stolen from us, where we have had a piece of ourselves stolen from
us, where somehow the truth of us is somehow made to feel less.
Why?
Why should any heart, any voice, any thought, belief given and felt in strength be diminished to nothing?
If you believed once, you will believe again!
FIGHT LIKE A GIRL.
Or, just fight to be who you are,
and know that is exactly how you should be!

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Kent's Good People.

Do you remember how Burial Rites swept into the world with such fanfare?
It was a masterpiece in promotion, and a masterpiece in work.
Now, Kent brings us ...
I already know I MUST have this.
There are some stories you just know you must experience.
The Good People, as folklore suggests, are the fairies too bad for heaven, but not bad enough for hell.
You've got me right there.
But, let's take it a little further. 
At the center of the story we have a four-year-old boy who once could walk and talk
but now can do neither. The doctors are certain he is a cretin, his own grandmother convinced he is a changeling.
Three women are brought together to test their folkloric practices to bring the child back to Them, practices that inevitably risk their own lives.
It is a story of poverty, ignorance, superstitions and rumors that exist in amongst village people.
It is a story of time and place,
and promises to surpass Kent's previous work.
1825. 
A remote Irish Valley lying beneath the mountains and Flesk river of Killarney.
I. Am. In.
I will tell you that right now.
There are some stories that just run goosebumps of excitement
 and you can not wait to get to that first page.
I'm running bumps,
and running to get a copy.
The Good People.
Bring them to me.


October Score!

What's catching your eye?
Mine's gone straight to Neil Gaiman, and love, love, love "The Rookie's" cover.
Strong design. Just love it!
Go on now, pick yours.


Roth. LaCour. Coming. Coming. Go.

A few things to look forward to.
Look. Forward. Go.

Saturday, October 1, 2016

In Place. The Worry Tree.

The privilege,
to have known the people I have known.
Good people, of good mind and heart.
I remember the conversations, the laughter,
the light.
I remember when the child looked forth with a smile,
forward, toward,
the delight.
The privilege I have had,
to have known such hearts.
The Worry Tree
The Worry Tree,
a very special tree.
A place for Worry Tree hearts to help, not hinder.
Such a lovely cover.