Santa Claus is in town???
Can someone please tell me why Santa Claus is backing his fat Ass up into September?
Took this at CVS tonight... It is still September! WTF mate!
I understand that we should have the Christmas spirit all year long, but this is really going too far... it is seriously embarrassing Christmas is so commercialized that we except this level of advertisement for the holiday.
Even if you are not a Christian (or especially if you are not) and just celebrate the Yule-Time joy of Winterfest, I can only imagine that this is just as ridiculous.
I am not sure what we do about it, and perhaps that is the problem... how do we stop this errosion in a culture which not only doesn't have any sacred icons, but strives to reject anything as being sacred? The answer is, you don't, of course.
This is the icon of our nation... not the Santa Claus in the window, but the notion that there is nothing improper about it, and that the real important objective is market-value. ... A bit of trivia I learned a while back is more relevant now that I have seen this creeping Chris Cringle on display .. the dollar sign with one bar … $ … is a symbol for silver … with two bars it is the symbol for U.S. That is our holy symbol now, and why this type of marketing overdrive is prevalent and accepted in our country
Cairn - Rock Piles
No matter what I am writing about, whatever subject matter I wish to apply to a fictional scene, some one out there is a total geek on the subject. I'm very fond of those people.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cairn
Also see the Rock Piles Blog
Family First
"Sure would be easier if Grandfather was dead."
"Did you just wish our grandfather killed?"
"No. I just said it would be easier."
"That's horrible!"
"Why? It’s not like he's more than money these days."
"Jeffery! What has gotten into you? You can't possibly be so cruel!"
"Why is that cruel? I am just being sensible. Besides, it’s no worse than killing your husband."
"That's got nothing to do with it!"
"You are saying that actual murder is better than wishing someone had passed away of natural causes?"
"He's your grandfather!"
"Oh."
"Besides, my husband was terrible."
"In bed?"
"That too."
Fiction in 101 words by Glenn Hefley © 2011
Brighter Than I Am
Your eyes in the morning; bright, wonderful and clear. The happiness in them as you look at me. Your smile is almost as bright in the rising golden sun. You have just woken, half of your face still buried in the pillow, so you don’t yet remember all of the disappointments, or the heart breaks. You only remember you love me.
Today I am going to be more, change, move with greater power and focus. Today I will accomplish a goal, and strive to build a dream… so that sometime soon, you will give me your morning smile, in the afternoon.
Fiction in 101 words by Glenn Hefley © 2011
The Fountain of Jephthah's Daughter
The sky is bloody, like a burn
festering with black and sand.
There is no sun, no moon, no
clear sky to see the stars.
Cold iron walls the garden
with spike posts and bars.
Forty by forty by forty by forty
the rose trees stand in staggered bloom
dark with thorns they grow from
pure white sand, stark and bold
the grains hum in the wind
and sing when walked on.
No stone, no gray mar the purity
of the ground. Petals fall soft
to the white, splash as drops of
blood, and soak in, nurishing the
ground, leaving no trace of
death or decay.
Death is always here, death is
where here is. This is the tomb
the garden, the grave. She is
no longer here. Gone to her
afterlife, to her next life
to the life after. Where ever
that may be, but she is no
longer here.
Here, in the center is
the fountain, and her form
carved from the stone
of ancient beliefs. The
beliefs in a god who
demanded her blood as
payment for a battle won.
Her form in this stone is perfect
beautiful, young, vibrant.
She looks up, to the heaven,
to her father, who is closer
From her heart pours the
blood of her life, the blood
of the wound, the wound of
her father's sword, the wound
of her god's desire.
She cups her hands, between
her virgin breasts, pooling her
blood, pooling her life, offering
as a gift, as food as nourshment,
as breasts should be offered
not the heart wound of a child.
The blood falls to the pool
from her stone hands, dark.
She stands in the pool's
center, in her own blood
up to her waist. Still the blood
pours, still she offers to nourish.
Still it is not enough for her god.,
Still the blood pours.
Roses, around her, drop petals
to the pure white sand, as
drops of blood they splash.
Still it is not enough for
thier god.
Every cycle of the unseen
moon, the roses give their
petals to the ground.
Still it is not enough.
The women bleed
the sand drinks and remains pure
--- Judges Chapters 10-12
The Bone Dress of 1938
I've been doing some fast research on the fashions of Death motif, for the Urken Biotch novel series and came across more than I thought i was going to come up with. For some reason I had it in my head that 'serious' designers weren't going to toy with a Death design. Again, I find that I am far from correct, which is why I still do research.
This design is from 1938 and was created by a woman named Elsa Shiapareli. It was, at the time, scandalous, but also intriguing... as scandalous items tend to be.
Of course I have found much more and I'll probably post most of it over the next couple of weeks while I finish this first novel.
This design is from 1938 and was created by a woman named Elsa Shiapareli. It was, at the time, scandalous, but also intriguing... as scandalous items tend to be.
Of course I have found much more and I'll probably post most of it over the next couple of weeks while I finish this first novel.
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