Tag Archives: cat

Inktober Day 16 – A bedraggled cat

Inktober Day 16 – a bedraggled cat.

 

I didn’t have much time to do the big picture I wanted to today, but I managed to do this quick image for inktober; unusually for me, I sketched this with a pen only, I didn’t pencil it first then go over it with inks like I normally do and I am quite pleased with the result, it does need a bit more work to it (which I admit will not be done), but first attempt at sketching with pen only isn’t a bad turn out!

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Loyalty, Vampires and Passion

I adore vampires, I am not sure if I’ve ever made that clear on here before (grins knowingly) and I’ve been thinking about them a lot today. I’ve been thinking about my favourite vampires, Judas Iscariot from Dracula 2000, John Carpenters VAMPIRES, Interview with the vampire and Daughter of Darkness to name but a few.
I love the culture surrounding vampires and everything Gothic, from the strange music options, to the fashion, the architecture and the darkness of it all, to the sheer sinfulness of loving it.
I love the strangest things and the strangest things inspire me to write and paint.
The strange haunting sounds of the music from Nox Arcana in their album Transylvania = visitors in the night, to their album shadow of the raven = the black cat wails and cries of a demon cat and the semi-Gregorian chants throughout all their albums.
I love the tribal belly dance scene, the gothic belly dancers from tribal fusion, I collect the DVDs regularly, I am a particular fan of Rachel Brice – to me, all of this just oozes vampire.
As a former belly dancer myself (not professionally) I am saddened that I didn’t learn about the tribal fusion style dancers until 2yrs after I gave up the dances, if I had known beforehand I think I would have sought them out and have become professional. I adore the dances and I would love someday to have a daughter who has the same interests in it as I do.
Unlike a lot of traditionalists, I don’t see belly dance as a thing solely for women, there is a form of belly dance for men! In fact it was traditional for both sexes to belly dance right up until the Persian Empire was created, then it was almost eradicated entirely for a practise for men and became a very sexualised dance solely for women by the Persian conquerors. The dance is debated to have originally come from the eastern side of Greece, near Salonica.
There is a dancer known as Prince Andrew which practises the masculine form, by belly dancing with a sword balanced on his naked waist and hips and balanced on his head. I find it very sexy, a very sensual dance. He looks almost like a character from Sinbad and the eye of the tiger; though his style is considered to be indo belly dance, a kind of traditional Indian style.
Here are a couple of videos with Prince Andrew dancing.
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?

q=male+belly+dancer+prince&&view=detail&mid=3920BBFA2116361685563920BBFA211636168556&rvsmid=D607C79DEB3A3D2D04ACD607C79DEB3A3D2D04AC&fsscr=0&FORM=VDFSRV
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?

q=male+belly+dancer+prince&&view=detail&mid=D607C79DEB3A3D2D04ACD607C79DEB3A3D2D04AC&rvsmid=D607C79DEB3A3D2D04ACD607C79DEB3A3D2D04AC&fsscr=0&FORM=VDFSRV

Masculine belly dance is starting to become popularised once again, there are more and more male dancers taking to the scene which I find rather exciting.
Another form of dance I like and think is very Gothic, is fire dancing.
I think vampires are very passionate beings, they put their heart and their soul into everything they do, they surround themselves with beautiful things, things they love, because eternity is a long time if you are around things you dislike or things that do not give you pleasure.
I think because they have eternity on their hands, they go out of their way to surround themselves with things that make them happy, collections from the past and even collecting newly sired people to be around them, of the nature that they like and connect with or that feel familiar to them. This is what I think happened to Lestat in Anne Rice’s vampire chronicles. I think Lestat was very nostalgic and may have seen something in Louis that attracted him to sire him, because he reminded him of someone he knew in his mortal life. Whether or not the relationship was compatible it didn’t matter to Lestat, he wanted familiarity and companionship and for a while he got it from Louis.
I feel very sad for Lestat, he seemed very alone. I think he and I would have got along very well together if he were real. I certainly would never leave his side; I am loyal to a fault with anyone I think is akin to me – not so loyal to those who are not akin to me however; being akin means more to me than being simply blood related, it is how our very essences match each other, how we connect, do we click? If not, then the relationship will be very short lived.
I consider myself to be a very passionate person. I am passionate about everything that I do and I seldom do anything that I am not passionate about. If I find it boring, I won’t do it, I will delegate – which is what I do even for my online games. I delegate the boring parts of the game to Paul, feeding my pets for example or setting them up for adoption for me. Some people call it being lazy; I call it, living my life to the fullest, and why not? Mortal lives are short anyway, there is no vampire going to sire me in this world. More is the pity.
That’s why I envelop myself with vampire mythology, vampire movies, haunting music, music boxes, pictures of wolves, bats and gothic castles around the house, thick wine coloured velvet curtains in the living room, old roses in the front garden with lilac and irises. Royal purple walls in the bedroom with a black carpet and red bedding. But not everything about my house is wonderfully gothic; unfortunately, there are a lot of places I need to decorate in order to eradicate the cold ice white walls my mother painted in most of the rooms downstairs. The brown sofa is a far cry from what I think is perfect, but it will do for the time being.
I have owl ornaments everywhere, a box filled with raven feathers, a raven feather silver necklace I wear on very special occasions. I miss the tiger’s eye ring my ex stole from me and the wolf fleece blanket with the midnight blue sky and full moon another ex-took from me. Yes I know, they are just things, but they were mine and I loved them. Especially the ring, that was special – my dad seldom could afford to give me anything with the money my mum would allow him, so anything he gave me was more precious than life’s blood, he gave me that ring, my ex stole it and that hurts.
It wasn’t all that particular ex stole, he stole an heirloom, the ring was an heirloom, he also stole my savings and unbeknownst to my mother at the time I had savings of £12,000 and when he dumped me I had less than £500 left.
It is this ex that made me dominant. After he hurt me and abused me in more ways than one, I became bitter against men in general for about six years, the boyfriends I had before Paul, were all submissive in the BDSM scene. Paul however wasn’t, but he wasn’t prepared to take me as a submissive, he reckoned he saw the true nature of me that was hidden because of abuse. I must admit that I had a lot of my gumption beaten out of me over the years before I met Paul. Since living with Paul the tolerance for other people negative behaviours towards me are at a minimum, boy have I got feisty since meeting Paul and he thinks this is a good thing.
I have a very low tolerance for anyone destroying my peace, destroying what I have accomplished since disowning my mother three years ago, I have a very short fuse for anything that upsets me. Learn what I like, learn my boundaries and we can be very good friends, solid in fact.
I have no qualms telling people that I demand a lot, I demand attention and the best, I demand love, I demand to be considered precious and above all, I demand loyalty not only for me, but my chosen family.
I consider my family as a pack, a clan, a tribe – very similar to how people view vampires, they have their little nest of individuals that stick together, I consider myself and the members of my house to be like this… a solid loyal unit.
I crave a large pack, whether fashioned together with a few like-minded friends or having children and teaching them loyalty and supportiveness of each other.
This is one the most unforgiving things I cannot stand about my mother. The bridges she burned when the family needed her the most, she’s a quitter. I’ve never been a quitter, but thanks to the bridges she burned not a lot of family wants to talk with me anymore, except for my father’s side of the family. They associate me as her little goon, because I was never allowed to leave her side right up until I was 27yrs old, I went everywhere with her, even missing school for home education to be with her, because she demanded it. As far as many relatives and friends were concerned I and my mother seemed close, too close, unnaturally close, so many believed we held the same values. In fact we’re total opposites.
My heart breaks day in and day out because of the family isolation I’ve endured because of her. When granddad was alive, I would be in regular contact of so many relatives, I was socialising at the weekends with the grandchildren of his cousins! Now that’s extensive family for you, what’s more is I was lucky enough as a child to have this happen on both sides of the family. My father’s side of the family are in regular contact with my grandmother’s siblings grandchildren! But again, because my mother isolates herself, she has therefore isolated me and my father from both sides of the family over the years.
I went from having approximately 15 to 20 visitors a week at the house, all different, all relatives, and having up to 18 people visit on Christmas Eve or Christmas Evening, to getting a visitor once a fortnight, the same one or two people and then only 6 for Christmas dinner, then down to just 5 for Christmas dinner and a visit from my brother and his girlfriend once a month.
I have a void that has not been filled since.
This is why I am in the scene, not the Gothic scene, but the BDSM scene. This is why I am so open-minded about open-relationships, I crave a large family and if I can’t make one through having children, then I intend to grow a large network and I think it is very unfair for anyone to try and deny me that.
I love vampires as they are eternally loyal and passionate.

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Rabbit Cage

The package had finally arrived and I opened it with excitement – I was so happy for my bunny, the cage he had was too small for the so-called dwarf, he’d outgrown it so much it was almost bordering cruel to keep him in the damn thing. That’s the thing with pet shops isn’t it? You can never trust what they say; our female dwarf rabbit became as big as a cat and turned out to be a male.
Moshi was his name, a big fat white rabbit with big floppy lop ears and despite what they say about rabbits and carrots he hated them! Couldn’t coax him to eat a carrot for his life!
Poor thing…
I got my husband to open the package with his craft knife as I didn’t want to slice myself to pieces, it was perfect, but we wasn’t quite ready just yet to get the rabbit to move into his new home, so we propped the cage up against the wall of the utility room until we had the time.
Later on, just before bed-time I decided to move the laundry from the washing machine to the dryer when I saw a shadow moving near the cage. The cage rocked slightly, but I shrugged it off as a breeze that was getting in through the backdoor as it was picking up a wind outside.
I continued to move the clothes and then I heard the cat shriek and run off the washing machine and out the cat flap into the garden. Odd, she never goes out after dark, I thought. I decided to open the backdoor and ask Lissy (our cat) what was wrong? Then I heard a loud crash, looked behind me and saw that the cage gate had opened wide and seemed to have moved slightly out of place. Wearily I went back in the house through the backdoor, constantly keeping my eye on the cage, I saw more shadows around the cage and on in the inside, but I thought perhaps it was my imagination? Perhaps it was only my shadow and the holly tree outside in the moonlight reflecting?
I locked the backdoor and left Lissy outside, she could always come in the way she went out if she wanted to. I heard the sound of a low growl as I went past the cage, it weirded me out. I straightened the cage the best I could, but decided to turn the cage gate towards the wall to prevent it popping open again. As I did this, I felt a cold icy mist around me, but there was nothing there. I also felt something touch my arm as I shut the cage, like something was stopping me. Terrified I half ran out of the utility room to bed and told my husband what had happened.
“No more horror stories for you tonight I think” he said, and took my Stephen King novel away from me and turned the light out, kissed me and laid down to sleep.
Needless to say I couldn’t rest, but eventually I drifted off into a sleep.
I dreamed and in this dream I was compelled to go back to the utility room and when I did, I saw that the backdoor had been opened and the cat was mewling outside crazily and the rabbit hutch shredded on one side and ripped open on the other. I saw blood everywhere, I walked closer and closer to the hutch to see what had happened, but just as I opened the lid of the hutch to peer down, I woke up!
It was morning and I was greeted with a kiss by my husband as always. I told him I had a nightmare and he said to me he wasn’t surprised with all those horror stories and what happened before I went to bed last night.
I said to him “I’ll go and make coffee then”. He simply replied “that would be great”.
I went to the kitchen as usual and saw I had left the utility room door opened. I went to shut it, but noticed the cage was wide opened again and had turned around to face the back door, the door of which was opened!
As I gasped at the sight, I saw another shadow and low laughs, then the cage shut itself.
I stood stunned at the cage and my husband came down and saw me. He kissed me again and said that he would feed the rabbit this morning as I am working myself up about this cage.
I couldn’t move, I had a deep grinding sick feeling low down in my abdomen and an ache of concern at what could have happened? Was my dream real in some surreal way?
My husband came into the kitchen, his face unchanged, he directed me to a chair and sat down next to me and said “Moshi’s dead”. I instantly stood up and started crying.
My hands were in my face and I was marching on the spot with tears streaming down my face. “Oh no, my poor baby, he has been ripped to shreds, it’s the cage, the cage has killed my rabbit, oh I can’t bear to see the blood”.
My husband took me in his arms and tried his best to comfort me.
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t be silly, the cage didn’t do this, there was no blood. Looked like he died peacefully in his sleep”; He said, stroking my hair.
“He did”? I asked, looking for more reassurance.
He nodded.
“I have to go see him, it’s so strange he is too young and showed no signs of being ill”. Just as I went to go and see for myself, my husband pulled me back and looked at me firmly and with a voice of stern seriousness said; “That would not be a good idea”.
Quizzically I looked at him. “Why? You said there was no blood”?
“He is in that stereotypical watership down pose, love; I don’t want you seeing that”. From the expression on my husband’s face, I didn’t want to find out whether he was telling the truth or not. So I sat back down, stunned.
“I am going to destroy that cage, May”. He said and I just nodded.
The cage was smashed in and sent to the landfill, on the way back my husband had an accident. Nothing fatal, but it was like they were saying…
“We’ll be back”…
Story inspired by true events but with a fantasy twist.
Because I felt guilty about the new rabbit cage and then two days after buying it the rabbit died, I felt something bad about the cage before he died. I sense something uneasy about it – I have some kind of clairvoyance skills, I have very spiritual leanings and I just sensed something bad about the package when I opened it. My imagination ran riot about the cage, particularly when the rabbit died two days later and the rabbit was meant to have been moved into the cage (he never was, I started to imagine that there was a portal in the cage and that some kind of demon came out and harmed my rabbit – but that’s the mind of a writer isn’t it? We are often irrational creatures.

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Filed under Short Stories

Rozzy 2009 – 2016

My rabbit died today. His name was Rozzy, a masculine version of his original name Rosehip because Pets@Home thought he was a girl and I took him home thinking OK girl name it is then, well my husband and I at the time was obsessed with herbal teas particularly rosehip so we figured that would suit him; it didn’t occur to us to call him anything else even though he was snowy white with tiny pale flecks of grey and big floppy ears, he was a dwarf rabbit they said.
Well anyway, this was in October 2009 and I was two months pregnant with my soon to be son Henry. Around Christmas time I decided that Rosehip was in fact male, because I had rabbits before and they were usually male and chosen by accident not design and he showed he had the stuff down there for being male – I double checked, yes, he was male alright, so Rosehip became Rozzy. Rozzy means fuzzy hair, which suited him a lot as his hair between his ears stuck up like some Mohican.
He also didn’t turn out to be a dwarf rabbit either; he was as big as a cat when he died.
He hadn’t had a good life in comparison to my other pets in my life, in my personal opinion.
His first few months was excellent, he was a house rabbit and I didn’t want anything else to happen to him, I wanted him indoors with us all the time, being that it was impossible to have a dog at that point in time. He was well trained, let loose in the lounge most of the day and locked in his (recommended by the pet shop) 80cm cage!
When I was 7 months pregnant the pregnancy didn’t go too well for me, in fact I became almost physically disabled, I couldn’t bend or crouch down, particularly when I got to 32 weeks, an old lady out walked me with her Zimmer frame and asked if I was alright! That’s how bad I got, I was so embarrassed! I was 27 and outwalked by a granny with a zimmer! The baby kept lying in difficult positions. My mother was coming to stay, I thought, to help me because I am having a bad time with the pregnancy and was warned that the baby might be premature – well little did I know but she had planned to turn my whole world upside-down, she insisted the rabbit be moved into the utility room, so we did this, because she bought her dog with her and he is a terrier breed.
I could barely get out there to visit my rabbit. Eventually when the baby was born, mother left the day after I went home from hospital – she had no intention of keeping her promise to me and teaching me how to bathe the baby, change the nappy, etc, I had to learn all of this from midwives!
I could never understand why she lived with me for seven weeks during my pregnancy and then went back to London the day after the baby comes home! What was the point in coming at all?
To top it all, the baby was in hospital for the first 5 days of his life with an infection, so I was at my wits end and I was calmed at the idea my mother had nursing experience. She didn’t look at it that way and went anyway. She redecorated my house when I was in hospital without permission, things were moved from places they should have been kept and it took us ages to find them all again.
I was wrapped up with the baby for the first 2 months and then I started to go and see my rabbit in the utility again; Paul looked after him for me. I decided that I would like him moved back into the lounge but the midwives and other people said it would be unhygienic for the baby and that the baby might develop allergies or asthma because of the straw.
I wasn’t happy.
I said to my husband that I was about to play bingo online and that if I won anything over £50 I would get a hutch and have the rabbit outside as I would take it as a sign. I won £150! So out he went, reluctantly, to live in the garden, just before autumn of 2010.
Pauls family, my dad, and Paul himself did a lot to try and make the garden decent for my rabbit. But then I got ill and Paul got tied up with all of my chores as well as his own, raising the baby, caring for the pets (as I have more than just a rabbit, I have guinea pigs too), so the garden wasn’t kept good, the utility room became a hoarders haven and because of that, I couldn’t get out into the garden myself unless Paul was there for support as I have chronic vertigo and other disabilities. So I personally only got to see the rabbit to touch him about four times a year.
I promised the rabbit that if I came into any more money, I would buy a large cage on wheels and bring him back in with me, but that didn’t happen until last week. I won £300 last week and I found that a cage 120cm was being sold on ebay for £40. I got it and it was delivered Monday – unfortunately the whole household has flu, I still have it, but I needed to write about this today. I feel so guilty about his life and I feel this is the biggest example of SODS LAW I’ve ever known. My husband had promised that even though he had flu, he would have tried today if it wasn’t raining to get the rabbit moved into the new cage – well it rained today, but the rabbit died this morning and I am so sad, angry at myself, angry at sods law and I just wished he knew I kept my promise to him!
Poor Rozzy. He is buried under the ash tree in the garden with his 5 siblings. 3 guinea pigs and 2 hamsters. Scrabble, Checkers, Autumn, Donald and Bella. His sister Rowan was told and I don’t believe any scientist that tells me that animals don’t understand people, because she shed a tear! She knew him, she was put into a play pen in front of his hutch in the summers with her sister Autumn, Ruby never knew Rozzy her big brother (Ruby is another guinea pig that is companion to Rowan, she is tiny and Rowan became her mum when she moved in as I believe the seller sold Ruby too young, because Ruby had toilet trouble when she first moved in and Rowan helped lick her to help her).
My little boy wants another rabbit. But his dad says no, not yet, he also asked me if I would like to get the girls (my guinea pig duo) another one to two girls to live with them or a boar? Paul used to be a guinea pig breeder (hobbyist) he once had 50 guinea pigs all to himself, he said he misses it.
I only ever had the 5 guinea pigs since I lived here with him. I would love to see baby guinea pigs. They live indoors and they are not the sinus problem, because I had them moved out for a few weeks and it made no difference to me whatsoever.
I love pets. I don’t have much money right now to have more than just 2 cages of guinea pigs, approximately 6 guinea pigs. But if I had more money, I would be like my godmother, Gina. She is like the female equivalent of Ace Ventura! In her glory days (as I call it) she had this amounts of pets = 9 cats, 6 dogs, 6 rabbits, 2 ducks, 6 terrapins, 2 guinea pigs, 6 cockatiels, an aquarium of fish, 3 rats and 3 budgies, she also whilst having all of these to herself, had a donkey for 2 months but had to give it up due to expense and unruly behaviour! Her eldest daughter would also get her mum to babysit her pets for her from time to time, two more dogs.
I would never keep birds though, but chickens or ducks are OK. Cats don’t like me generally and Paul don’t like cats – I am loved by most dogs though, the bigger the dog I’ve noticed, the more likely it chooses me for its pal! I don’t know if it’s because I look like I can handle them and they think, PERFECT the mama is big! I am 5ft 7 and large and prone to gaining muscle when I exercise too easily!
I can see me having 12 chickens, 3 dogs, 30 guinea pigs, 4 rabbits and 6 hamsters, maybe if I had room goats or pigs and always a large aquarium. Well, that’s my dream.
I would like lizards and snakes, but my husband can’t do them, or rats. I don’t mind any animal, as long as it isn’t spiders. I would even love a fruit bat!
People cringe at me, because I will kiss any animal. Trained my guinea pigs to kiss me, kissed a rat, kissed a snake, and kissed a camel. I am very kissable!
I don’t have parrots sitting on my shoulders, I have Irish Wolfhounds. That was typical when I visited Gina, her Irish wolfhound Amy loved me so much she would use me as a chair. Some fete for a huge dog! A lot of pain for my shoulders! I had to sit back on the sofa, rigid so the dog wouldn’t lose its balance!
I nearly worked with animals on 4 occasions, when I lived with my mum. Every occasion she made me forget the idea. I even had job interviews with vets to train as an auxiliary nurse. I had been accepted to become a police dog trainer, as I am very good at training dogs to do almost anything I want them to, I have a knack with them. I also applied to work for the dog kennels but mum wasn’t happy about that either as I would only be earning £100 a week. The other job was to train to be a dog groomer.
Anyway, I should wrap this up and stop the trips down memory lane of all the animals I ever knew, as the list would be astronomical! Seriously, had too many pets in my experience, too many animal friends instead of people friends. So, I hope you enjoyed this post.
Rest in peace my little bunny xxx

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2.5 hours sleep

Having only 2.5 hours sleep last night, I am quite surprised at how my brain is on top form this morning; something that’s been a struggle for over eighteen months now.   I scored 821 points in online scrabble and I’ve written over one thousand words before noon that’s going to be published on my blog, this is a record for me as I tend to linger over one thousand words in a whole day that’s usually utter rubbish and will never be published anywhere.

The post I wrote for my blog will be published on the 8th August so keep an eye out for it as there is something in this post that will be the main theme for that day.

That is…

As a writer I procrastinate profusely because I am overloaded with more ideas that actually knuckling down to work. I get an average of two novel or short story ideas a day and I have over seven large files containing just ideas, some of these ideas have been with me since I was ten years old and they are so vast (as in an epic series) that I can’t actually believe that anyone would actually want to publish all that drivel without severely abridging my work (insert pained expression here).

One of the main reasons why I have been afraid of professional success has been that an editor will come along and say to me; “cut this out and this and this and this” and I will be standing there agape and aghast that they dare think that they are gods of my worlds! Demons of apocalypse, back away from my creations you heinous, cruel, heartless reapers of my poor innocent imaginary friends, BACK AWAY NOW! (Holds up baseball bat in defence of my many worlds). Oh, OK, maybe I can kill a few darlings as Stephen King would suggest in his book “On Writing”, but it will be painful and they will be mourned by no one else except for me. Damn being a writer is depressing.

Anyway, focusing back onto this subject – I’ve tried to force myself to concentrate on one main story for the last few years and you know what? I don’t think my brain can work that way. I think I need to have many stories on the go at once, I know when I used to be like that I was more productive as a whole and I was told by a college lecturer (of GCSE English Literature) that if I want to be a writer I should focus on one story at a time or else I will become confused and so will my readers. Actually thinking back I think this is bullshit because as a writer I do more than just write my work, I actually read my own work too and edit to the best of my ability – so what utter tosh.

Since 2002 I’ve been working on a fantasy comedy based around some drunk leprechauns, I have the beginning, middle and end, but I have got bored with it seven chapters on because of computer faults deleting most of it with corrupt files etc., after four occasions where this happens and you have no hard copies you get a little disheartened with the story and start to wonder if the story is bad luck, don’t you? Well I do.

Anyway, between writing the leprechaun comedy, I’ve been writing snippets for an epic vampire series – something I’ve been working on since I was ten years old, god I love vampires.

The vampire stories will never be neglected, they are always added to at least once a week, even if it’s just a sentence, they will never be forgotten, because to me, they are my family and I will defend these stories the most if I ever feel brave enough to trust them with a publisher.

Over the years, before I started to concentrate on just one or two, I had started two dystopian stories, a comedy about a female wrestler, a comic about a cat, a comic about a sex crazed astronaut nun, a comic about dominant women invading a planet for mates, a crazy millionaire woman who kills herself after committing murder, a novel about a plague survivor, cowboy vampires, and a console addict sucked into a computer world – to name but a few.

Some of those ideas I gave up because I found similar books or movies during the writing of them by accident and was concerned of plagiarism, but having original ideas is difficult – so therefore I may start some of them up again and do them anyway soon.

No matter what genre I write, I don’t think I can help but have some humour in my stories – I would not be at all surprised if I eventually get coined as a crossover author for horror, fantasy and comedy.

I am starting a horror novel today, based on the advice of my husband and the fact that I am enthusiastic about it and it’s fresh in my mind – so, here I go…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under About my work

My photography starts here

I told you I would get around to starting up photography, here’s some of my stuff – all taken around my home and garden; enjoy!

Green Henry 1 006

Green Henry 1 020

Green Henry 1 010

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Filed under My art

Creeping cat vamp

I can whisper silently, my lips they do not move

You do not know it’s me who’s talking; I’m putting you in the mood

I watch you from across the club, sitting perplexed in stares

I burn into your eyes my will and I know that you’re ensnared

I cannot control my habit; I need your very blood

I need to feel you close to me; I need to hear your heart thud

I am hungry for this moment; I am hungry for more than that

I am hunting you my little mouse, I am the creeping cat

A memory of this night won’t come, when in the morning you wake

You’ll just know you slept alone and wrong, for your neck will begin to ache

You will dream of me from that point on, but never know I was real

I only take a little blood; I do not aim to kill

Thank you for this donation, I appreciate it much

I will see you again, I always keep in touch

But you will never know me; you will forget me in a beat

But that’s the way it should be, for I really need to eat

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Filed under Poems A - C

Smoke & Mirrors by Neil Gaiman

I read this book in January 2013; I still remember some of the stories as clear as day.  I felt it would be good to put up previously read works on this site, because I don’t read enough fiction regularly to sustain this part of the blog, I mostly read non-fiction works based on social history, religion, the occult, psychology, true stories and biographies.

For those of you who have never read Neil Gaiman or know about the book “Smoke and Mirrors” it is an anthology of fantasy, horror and dark fantasy short stories and in my opinion, prose. 

Anyway, first up is “the wedding present” I don’t remember much about this story at all, other than I remember disliking it, but I can’t remember why.  I do plan to re-read this book at the end of this year for revising what I think is good and bad about it all, as I am trying to teach myself how to read critically, so re-reading this story will help me remember why I didn’t like it.

The next story I liked, it was humorous, “chivalry” A little old lady goes into a charity shop and buys a chalice and she is soon pestered by a time traveling knight who declares the chalice is rather special and tries to get it off her for several weeks, she eventually relents with a surprising ending.

“Nicholas Was” is next, a very short story, or was it really prose?  I don’t know what it was, but I do remember it, and it was confusing, although I did like the imagery it portrayed.

“The Price” oh my goodness was that a scary tale, I felt like crying for the cat.  I think the cat was based on some kind of protective angel, but that’s well hidden in the story if that’s what the cat was.  A brilliant tale, loved it, and I loved the audio of it too which is free and can be found at this website www.neilgaiman.co.uk/smokeandmirrors/audio

Another of my favorite was “Troll Bridge” I think almost every fantasy writer has written their own variation of this story at some point; I know Terry Pratchett has, although I’ve never read that one yet.  Neil Gaiman’s Troll Bridge was in my opinion, unique; I found it really thoughtful and inspiring.  I sometimes hoped that I could crawl under such bridge and make a deal like that, but would I really want to?  Who knows…?

“Don’t ask Jack” bought back nightmares of my childhood, that’s all I am going to say about this story.  I don’t like remembering it, to be honest.  In fact, I wasn’t comfortable with the story so much, I had to put the book down for two months before I could read the story that came after it, and that was because I forgot the previous tale. 

“The goldfish pool and other stories” Brilliant, I was so happy I picked this book up again after abandoning it, this was a great story, touching, haunting, fantastic.  I was really upset it was a short story; I could have read hundreds of pages of this work easily. 

“Eaten” I don’t remember this story either and I can’t remember if I liked it or not – sorry.

Again, one I loved “The white road” the imagery in my head was so lucid, I adored that.  I tend to think of actors or people I know when I read books and I was seeing actors and actresses from “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” and “The Aristocrats” TV mini-series in 1999 one actor in particular was actually playing a Mr Fox, Alun Armstrong, he was playing Mr Fox in my mind when reading this story and the girl was a blond haired Winona Ryder for some reason.  The other actors and actresses from those movies and series that I was seeing in my head were there purely as spectators of the revelation that was being said between Mr Fox and the girl.

I was a wonderful story; I loved it, such passion and a delight to read, but am I being too bold? Ha-ha.

“Queen of knives” and “The case of the departure of Miss Finch” other delightful reads.  I loved them, they reminded me of one of my favorite Hammer horrors, “The Vampire Circus”, and they also had a similar air to “The Night Circus” by Erin Morgenstern.  I too, almost wrote a book similar to all four of these examples when I was fifteen years old.  A story based around a circus of the night, traveling vampire gypsies picking off locals at their stops, turning some, training some, it was a good idea I thought, but at the time I was going through a turmoil.  My brother had friends in publishing, they were at his house having a dinner party and I was also invited, they asked to view my work so arranged another dinner with my brother and I gave them some of my work, unfortunately I never got them back and they plagiarized my work, unfortunately still, I had no proof they did this because when I lost my completed work I lost heart in re-writing it all and burned the notes I had gathered over the two years it took me to complete it. So basically they got off Scot free and I’ve nothing to prove in court, so my loss I suppose.  My brother also worked behind the scenes of major film companies, so needless to say they did make a movie out of what I wrote, but made minor alterations, I won’t mention the movie here or the people, because I don’t like making a fuss, especially when I cannot offer proof.  The story was different to my gypsy vampire idea, but was vampire themed nonetheless, just this was the point of no return for me until I reached twenty one and had confidence in writing again, by this time I had forgot the idea, I only remembered the idea after reading those stories.

“Changes” I don’t remember this story either regrettably.

“The daughter of owls” now that was a beautiful fairy-tale in my opinion. 

“Shoggoth’s old peculiar” made me smile because it made me think he based the story on my family, who live on the edge of the Welsh and English border, they run a pub which resembles an eighteenth century tavern and I’m sorry to say they have toad-like faces and an old fashion air about them.  They are constantly cribbing about hiking tourists in their area, particularly Americans, which made this story feel it was made especially for me.  Obviously it wasn’t, Neil Gaiman doesn’t know me from Adam, but still, it felt special.

“Virus” I didn’t like either.

“Looking for the girl” I disliked too.  Reminded me a little bit of one of my exes, made me feel this story was based on his future life.

“Only the end of the world again” I liked, was it a sequel to one of the above stories I wondered?  Or more than one – I sense an air of “Shoggoth’s old peculiar” but also “the white road”.  I loved the combination if I am right, it worked amazingly well.

I think the “Bay wolf” is also like the above review, though I am confused, because I am trying to remember all the stories from only four months back and it’s difficult, particularly as I am writing this review on a day that my headaches are mild and wondering whether or not they should get worse and become the usual migraines.

“Fifteen painted cards from a vampire tarot” was also good, many stories in one.  Again, this was something I was thinking about writing as an inclusion to my traveling vampire gypsies when I was a teenager, another reason was because an old horror movie with Donald Sutherland inspired me a few years previous called “Dr Terror House of Horrors”. 

“We can get them for you wholesale” was both hilarious and bleak; I never laughed out as loud as I did when reading this story.  I truly recommend it for people who have a sick sense of humor like me!

“One Life, Furnished in Early Moorcock” and “Cold Colours” I don’t remember these stories either unfortunately.

“The sweeper of dreams” was also beautifully written and after reading it, knowing I’ve ignored my love for writing for almost two years solid, I began to wonder if the sweeper of dreams came and visited me and stole my muse away or not?  But obviously it hadn’t, because I’ve started to write again, though, this time, my muse focuses mostly on poetry, not stories, like before.

I despised “Foreign Parts” it’s really not my kind of story at all. 

“Vampire Sestina” was brilliant and again, too short.

“Mouse” I couldn’t remember much about mouse either.

“The sea change” was a good read too, for what I remember and that’s not quite much at all, ha-ha.

“How do you think it feels” I liked the story and I hoped for more, but no.  Sometimes I think Neil Gaiman lacks the confidence to make some of his short stories into novels, it’s like he doesn’t believe in them so he makes them short but sweet.

“When we went to see the end of the world” that was a confusing read.

“Desert Wind” was nice.

I don’t remember “tastings” either.

“In the end” now that was very thought provoking and again, made me pause on the book for a fortnight whilst I thought things through and read “Enoch” and a few other non-fiction stories, for absolutely no other reason than to try and confirm my own beliefs in some strange inane kind of way.

“Babycakes” the title attracted me because when I was in college a friend of mine thought it would be good to have a name for each other, a pet name, so she came up with the name “Babycakes” I was baby and she was cakes.  She called me baby because I lacked experience of the world and she felt very motherly towards me.  Regrettably, the story isn’t as sweet as the one I just said above about me and my friend; it’s haunting in a bad way, terrifying because that could become a truth and I felt bad that I had read it, like it’s shameful.

“Murder mysteries” was beautiful, I liked the story outline.

Now, here comes my favorite story of the entire book “Snow, glass, apples” Neil Gaiman’s take on Snow White and it’s wonderful.  Unique, tragic, he saw what I saw in the story, not a victim but a spoiled dangerous little brat, that’s what I’ve always seen snow white as, but oh, it’s wonderful how he mingled this story with vampirism and victimization of the queen.  A pure work of genius!

This book was 50/50 in my opinion, 50% bad and 50% good, but the good bits are excellent, they are unique and imaginative and I love them, they inspire me to write my own stuff.

Thank you Neil Gaiman!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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OCD Cat

There’s a cat in my garden that’s always washing

Sitting on cardboard boxes quashing

He’s never fazed as I watch, him licking his crotch

© Tina Cousins 2013

This poem is based on an actual cat in my garden, who has been visiting me ever since I moved here, his name is Toby and he belongs to a lady who lives two doors away from me. 

He is an odd looking cat, he is black, but as he is getting older he is progressively becoming ginger.

I’ve been ill with various viruses since November 2012, for some reason they’re lingering and affecting my whole household/family, this has meant the large boxes from Christmas has been left in a section of our garden this whole time, because they were too large to put in the bins, we were meant to break them down gradually to put in the recycling bin, but our sickness has prevented it, we are now thinking of burning them after checking for wildlife, but this may have to wait for a few more days.

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