I am on holiday this week, Dear Reader…
1500s, earlier haliday (c. 1200), from Old English haligdæg “holy day, consecrated day, religious anniversary; Sabbath,” from halig “holy” (see holy) + dæg “day” (see day); in 14c. meaning both “religious festival” and “day of exemption from labor and recreation,” but pronunciation and sense diverged 16c. As an adjective mid-15c. Happy holidays is from mid-19c., in British English, with reference to summer vacation from school. As a Christmastime greeting, by 1937, American English, in Camel cigarette ads.
*/plumes smoke… No, that’s the first in Leggy’s delightfully demonic series, Clicky. It’s set during the English Civil War and the heroine is a witch called J…*
*Not SAMuel’s Girl either… /drags… butt nice catch on that Tweeter’s name… /blows smoke ring… I dunno, Clicky, what with all the Brexit and Trump bashing…/blows another… Mainstream media must take us for mugs…*
*Yes! …/final drag… A signed copy of Norman’s House, plus branded mug and magnets arrived today…*
*It won’t be one of Mum’s stories… /squints… And thanks for the vote of confidence…*
…I’m going to spend my week away from work, at home, writing for the next Underdog Anthology – due out in Spring. I’m also going to be practicing reading aloud for an event. It’s a long story, Dear Reader, and I’ll tell you about it later. In the meantime, have a Song 😀
Apols, Dear Reader. I’m going to have to split this post in two; it’s laden with gifs you see, and if I don’t, you’ll never able to load the page. I’ll place a link to Part 2 at the end…
*Starting with a selfie of us with Rose eh, Clicky? …/lights up… The Blue universe is as gooda place to start as any…*
*But actually I’m gonna start in the Aqua universe… /drags…*
Leggy has finally published Underdog Anthology VI: The Gallows Stone 😀 Ten stories, seven authors and a corrupted corruption of E.A. Poe’s ‘The Raven’ on the Dead Poets page at the end. It’s a real Halloween treat…
Leggy has written a spine-tingling tale about a haunted gallows stone for the book. Syncing, spookily enough, with the title of the second episode of the new Doctor Who series, ‘The Ghost Monument’. Fellow Underdog Anthology author, Cade and I viewed it remotely together on Monday evening…
The episode opens with the Doctor and fam floating in space. Now this could have been a very short episode, nay series, indeed. Because…
Fortunately the gang are immediately scooped up to safety as ‘bonuses’ by the last two competitors of an intergalactic contest, in search of the final leg, a shifting planet…
‘Winner takes it all, loser abandoned to death’. Dems da the rules of Ilin, holographic sponsor of the competition…
*Art Majik… /puffs… on a cruel, deadish planet called Desolation…*
The first contestant to arrive for the final straight is Angstrom, a orange haired, spunky lesbian with a Norn Iron twang, from the planet Albar. She wants to win so she can save her planet and people from the Blue Tooth baddies we met in episode 1. The other contestant is Epzo, a gravelly voiced, gammon faced loner, who’s brought his own prize…
*Tobacco! Promoted on a kid’s tv programme? …/sniggers… Butt it’s so politically correct, Clicky…*
And did the Doctor enlighten Epzo to the dangers of smoking, Dear Reader?
Not a bit of it. In fact she was quite refreshing…
*Even after an epic rant about guns, Clicky, she detonates a fucking EMP bomb and fries the insides of an army of sniperbots… /nods approvingly… *
And she said nothing when Angstrom cut Epzo free of a nocturnal, leech-like bandage baddie… using – shock, horror – a knife!
When it came to a really tight spot – surrounded by a multitude of dirty, soul-sucking bandages, in a field of a choking acetylene gas – What did she do?
*/final drag… Nicely done, Clicky… *
That beautiful cigar saved everyone’s bacon…
… ‘Idiot’ Angstrom used the knife she carried to save his life; ‘Selfish’ Epzo gave up his longed for prize to save them all. So near the finish line; one of them would win and the other would die, what’s The Doctor to suggest?
*Get a Song, Clicky, love… /stubs butt… It’s too late to start Part 2 tonight. Those gifs took for fuckin’ ever to make…*
Sew there’s you go, Dear Reader, how tobacco saved the day on the BBC’s prime time TV show for children, and why the new Doctor Who series is as subversive as ever. I’ll post part 2, ‘Bloody Woman!’ tomorrow if I can. In the meantime… Have a Song 😉
*Oh fanks, Clicky… /puts fag to lips… And it’s when’s day today. Sync! …/flicks lighter… You know, Marshall McLuhan said advertising was the greatest art form of the 20th century? …/lights up… An’ that the medium is the message… /drags… Fucking genius!*
In the whirled of MRS REGN, Dear Reader, the S stands for Sensitivity…
… and that means all living things on this planet have the ability to detect changes in the surrounding environment and to react to it…
Q. Roob, why did you assign the colour ‘orange’ to ‘Sensitivity’?
Guess who THIS is!!! Yeah…it’s THAT guy.
I thought of something last night, but can’t recall what it is currently. We’ll just have to divert somewhere else. Howza bout something like this…
The reason that I wanted to go there, is because whatever it was that I thought of last night was one of those more “off the wall” types of concepts. A state of mind/being that we appear to not think about much.
Nope…nothing on that list rings a bell either. What in the FUCK was it that I thought about last night while standing there taking a piss? Oh…had I not mentioned that I was taking a piss whenever I thought of whatever it was that I thought of?
Well, I was.
So yeah…what choo think? Think you can help me remember whatever it is that I forgot?
^Underworld – Scribble^
I love the color orange. But you wouldn’t know that…would you? I mean, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, and I prolly just prejuiced you by using that pic above…
I meant PREJUDICED…not prejuiced.
Anyway…yeah…orange…one of my fave colors. Green, Orange, Purple if I had to pick faves, but not with respect to cars. White or Yellow would be my first choice. Black with respect to most clothes, or plain pastels. Something really loud in blue, yellow or red in clothes is OK too.
I can't remember what I was gonna say here.
OH! Did you know, that on Imgur where I found that image? The image was named:
“ORANGE STEALING WHORES“.
I wonder what that is all about? Seems not very nice to assume someone sexual proclivities based on a gender. What goes good with orange juice?
^Mango – Friday Coffee (Paul Keeley Remix)^
I’ve heard it said by some that “orange is the new black”…but I’ve no idea what that means. So let’s think about this kid above. She’s likely seeing something in her head as to what SHOULD be transpiring, and what she needs to do in order to facilitate the successful operation of this activity, but what is actually happening is something quite different.
Must be new to her or something.
Am I saying shit that “goes without saying” here? Of course some little kid isn’t going to be a world champion hula-hooper on what is likely her first try. So, let’s say that’s so.
Q: Are you willing to spend the time teaching her and helping her to become a world champion hula-hooper?
Gonna take a lot of time, she’s eventually gonna grow up, and will likely have a bunch of creeps oogling her as she performs/demonstrates her talent. Better crush her dreams right now. Better sooner than later…eh?
So yeah, maybe orange IS the new black. I wonder what color “patience” might be? Whatever color that is, I wonder what color it is when absent? Clear? If so, and the same could be said of other colors, that sure would muddy the concept of clarity.
^Roald Velden – Time Flies By (Original Mix)^
When the sun sets, maybe it’s that orange seems to blend well with the black, and is one of the last distinguishable colors that we see. Black and orange do indeed mesh well, and maybe that’s one of the magical blendings that allows us to see the darkness in the way(s) that we do.
I’ve run long tho, and really don’t want to get to rambling about light/dark right now. Not trying to be insensitive, but I’ve got needs too. So does Roob.
^Mango – Sayonara (Original Mix)^
*Oh… /flicks ash… I believe a pack of the higher strength cigs in the aqua coloured box is winging its way to me right now… /final drag… I do hope it’s not confiscated for not displaying the mandatory medical porn, Clicky…*
*/stubs butt… Clicky, the Song…*
Dear Reader, should you have been “triggered” by anything in the above post, then Reproduction is up next. Come back then. Or not. It’s up to you.
Have a Song 😉
And here, Dear Reader, is the foot…
I’ve been thinking about how in the HELL I would start this series of shambles…
…ever since mentioning the series at the tail end of the last LoL post, a Missive From ‘Merica penned by my very good friend, the Okie Devil of Text US…
‘Next up at the LoL will be a series of posts exploring the whirled of MRS REGN – pronounced Rain/Rein/Reign – and Cade has very kindly offered to play along.’
*Purely a short cut, Clicky… /squints… Now stop interrupting…*
After much fretting and pondering, inspiration finally arrived in a form of a cigarette, accompanied by a right foot caked in earth…
I was shocked; Cade doesn’t smoke. He’s asthmatic and besides, he prefers to chew tobacco than smoke it, Dear Reader. If current day smokers are treated badly – and we are – then spare a thought for the chewers – they were ousted from polite society a hundred years ago…
Howdy. Yep…it’s me…Loudmouth McTalksalot (Cade). Sorry to buttinski here, but I’m gonna.
I just recently asked RooBeeDoo a question about “Gang Stalking“, and asked this question within the context of a certain video that I forwarded to her for her opinion(s).
My Q: What branch of MRS REGN would “gang stalking” fall under?
Her A: Growth.
Purple = Growth.
This was, and is, interesting to me. Her whole MRS REGN business interests me because of it’s relationship to the chakras, but more than that, it interests me because of how Roob found these things. She’s told me that she never connected the two until I said something about it, and I believe her. I mean, were it not for books, television, radio, the Internet, and their related structures, one could potentially stumble upon and create a virtually identical system without prior knowledge of the existing system even being there.
I personally see this as a type of providence…very substantive and very direct. A very specific and likely very personal reason for revisiting an existing something in a new way with and via a new set of eyes and/or experiences. So yeah…a smart one that RooBeeDoo is. Saw something that needed doing, and did it. To think that a certain something that was devised “here” is equally applicable to somewhere else where this system does not exist/has not existed? Doesn’t make sense to me…but that’s just me.
I’m not particularly fond of a system that ignores the individual, or a system that is willing to ignore the individual, all for the sake of that system.
^Kundalini & the Power of Awakening: A Spontaneous Kundalini Experience^
Okay, long story short, Dear Reader, MRS REGN – Movement, Respiration, Sensitivity, Reproduction, Excretion, Growth, Nutrition – are 7 processes to determine life on this planet, as ascribed by ‘Science‘. I simply ascribed a colour from the REGN-bow-wow to each of the processes. To help me navigate ‘Sophia’s Correction’…
Joe Fox: Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. She was too proud.
Kathleen Kelly: I thought you hated Pride and Prejudice.
Joe Fox: Or was she too prejudiced and Mr. Darcy is too proud? I can’t remember.
Joe Fox: It wasn’t personal.
Kathleen Kelly: What is that supposed to mean? I’m so sick of that! All that means is that it wasn’t personal to you. But it was personal to me. It’s personal to a lot of people. What is so wrong with being personal anyway?
Joe Fox: Nothing.
Kathleen Kelly: Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.
Kathleen Kelly: My head is starting to get fuzzy. Why did you stop by again? I forget.
Joe Fox: I wanted to be your friend. I knew it wasn’t possible. Sometimes a guy just wants the impossible.
Smoking, Dear Reader, is personal to me… It’s a lens…
So, a synchromystical shambles on MOVEMENT will be up first, Dear Reader. As I’m on holiday, I’ll be here all week. Don’t forget to tip your waitress and… Have a Song… 😉
I saw a tweet earlier today, Dear Reader…
*’rollie stone’… /:D… *
Having a fascination with ‘signs’ and ‘syncs‘, I was interested to see, just how far the UK had “sunk”, so I clicked and started to read…
‘ROLLING Stones guitarist Keith Richards proved he’s still got plenty of puff left — after being given permission to smoke on stage.
‘The 74-year-old rocker was seen having a crafty cigarette during the band’s show in London this week — aptly called their No Filter tour.
‘He was cheered by the crowd of 70,000 at The London Stadium in Stratford as he lit up, flouting the strict no smoking rule.’
*/thinks and smokes… 70,000 people applauding the lighting of a cigarette, against the rules? In a stadium, Clicky, some believe hosted a magikal ceremony… /smokes and thinks… I wonder if the magik was intended as a one-off thing, or if the potential lingers longer than anticipated?*
*Butt then aren’t we all born a bit slippy, Clicky? …/blows smoke rings…*
The next bit of the article I found particularly interesting, Dear Reader – the Local Authority expounds on the issue…
‘But Newham Council said it would not be taking any action because smoking was part of the act. ‘Smoking on stage is permitted “where the artistic integrity of a performance makes it appropriate for a person to smoke”, therefore no action will be taken,’ it added.’
*As You Like it… /final drag… Underworld may have directed the music but Shake Sphere’s Tempest formed the basis of that magikal ceremony in 2012, Clicky… /fills air with smoke… And he’s still going…*
*Smoking is an art, Clicky… /stubs butt… Sonnet 6+6+6… Ya Ken?*
Time for a Song, Dear Reader. Enjoy rest rest of Whitsun ❤
*Really, Clicky? I’d have had money on you going with a Stones Song…*
*Coming out of what, Clicky? …/lights up rollie and drags…*
At last, Dear Reader, the Underdog Anthology V is published…
*Knot a graphic novel, Clicky… /streams smoke… Short stories, many authors…*
… I’d been speculating with Leggy late on Friday as to the date it might appear…
… The first ‘event’ listed in the Wiki link – ‘The Year of SIX Emperors’…
*/drags… 19 Four-Tees… /blows smoke ring… Nineteen stories…*
*Three? …/squints… Sew, inadvertently, Leggy and I counted down six, five, four three… /final drag…*
Strangely enough, Dear Reader, if you go check out UAV’s listing on Amazon – and I suggest you doo 😉 – it’s published date is 20th April…
*Oh I dunno, Clicky… /lights up… 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0… /grins…*
Have a Song 😉
*Ugh, ghastly biscuits, Clicky… /sticks out tongue in disgust… The smell was bad enough, passing the the Peeky Freaky factory twice a day… /flicks lighter… Snot my taste. Not like the custard cream days… /lights up… I dawdled passed the factory on those days…*
This week, Dear Reader, I have been introducing Cade to Doctor Who. He’s a Who Noob…
*Knot anymore he ain’t, Clicky… /snickers…*
… And last night I also introduced him to the the Noble Donna…
*Martha was the night before, Clicky… /drags… And Rose and Captain Jack at the weekend… /streams smoke…*
*No River Song is tonight, Clicky… /puffs contentedly…*
“If you ever see a little blue box, flying up in the sky, you shout for me Gramps.”
Thoughtful Man and I had a blue box experience today, Dear Reader…
Because I work on the 13th floor of the Tower, and because I have to take at least 20 minutes for lunch for my ‘health and safety’ – my time is flexible; I can bank the rest – I take one cigarette to work with me each day. Carried in a salvaged, old-style box. Today’s was a Mayfair box…
“You’ll never guess what happened at lunch today,” I told Thoughtful Man, shrugging off my coat, after he’d brought me home from work. He’s thoughtful like that. “I gave my cigarette to a tramp.”
Thoughtful Man squinted hard, the way he does when I mention I’ve given something away. Or interacted with tramps. I have form…
*That’s another story, Clicky… /final drag… Now don’t interrupt… /stubs butt… I’m tryin’ to fiction-all-lies an actual factual happening… /blows smoke rings…*
“Why?” he asked bluntly.
“Because she asked me for it,” I said innocently, slipping out of my work shoes and rolling down my tights. The first thing I do when I get home is strip off my work clothes. The change from formal to informal is one of the little pleasures I take from my day.
Thoughtful Man’s squint soften slightly. “She?”
“Yes. I saw her in the lobby of Tower as I was going out to smoke. Didn’t think anything of it ‘cos we get all sorts coming in everyday,” I said, pulled my dress up over my head. “Anyway, I went and sat in my usual place on the window ledge, round the side of the building. It’s less windy.”
Thoughtful Man was silent but I just knew what he was thinking…
*I’ll get there, if you stop interrupting me! …/huffs…*
I pulled on some jogging bottoms and Thoughtful Man’s old, raggedy sweatshirt. “And I’d nearly finished smoking my cigarette, when the lady tramp ambles round the corner. She was holding up a bottle of perfume.”
“Perfume?” Thoughtful Man interrupted me. “Like she was going to mace you?”
“Yeah. Do you know her?”
Thoughtful Man sighed; he encounters all sorts every day too driving his taxi round the mean streets of our town. “She’s completely fucking mad. I saw her today as well, when I was standing on the rank.”
I plonked myself in my Library chair and lit up a cigarette. “She didn’t spray me or anything. She asked me for a cigarette. I only had the one and I’d nearly finished smoking it. I said ‘Sorry’ and showed her the empty Mayfair box.”
“What did she say?”
I grabbed our small dog, who’d been buzzing round my feet, trying to lick my ankles. “She asked me for the one I was smoking. So I gave it to her.” I ruffed Poppy’s floppy ears and she gave me a smelly, wet, licky kiss in return. “And then she asked me for the empty packet.”
Thoughtful Man stiffened. “Did you give it to her?”
“Well yeah. I’ve got other empty boxes saved.” Oh how I hate the god-awful plain packaging government has foisted on us.
Poppy jumped off my lap and trotted over to Thoughtful Man, who picked her up for a tummy tickle. “I must have seen her after you did because, when she walked past me, she threw an empty Mayfair box at my feet.”
“Really?” I asked with a squint. I didn’t know whether to be amazed at her aim or annoyed that she’d dumped my little, blue box. “Did you pick it up?”
“No.” Thoughtful Man looked aghast. “She’d screwed it up.”
*Shit! …/clocks time… I’ve got a double-bill planned for Cade tonight. We’d better finish up, Clicky… /pats snout… Still, no work tomorrow, eh? Come on flexible time!*