Happy 2012

Everyone have a very safe and happy night as you make your way into the new year.

Meanwhile in the dark

My new neighbours started their New Year's a few days early. The hallway in our building smells like beer now. 

So here I am just after 7:30 am, the sun still has not risen, the traffic outside only started, and I've got the kettle on for coffee.  You can see the frost on the windows in a pattern that looks like iced webs.

Okay Mr. Scratchy,  I just wanted to say morning and wish you lovely day. Kiss your forehead and send you to work/the gym/to play hockey/shovel snow  or whatever you are doing this morning.

Tidbit 30th Dec

Ever notice that spammers really want you to have sex?
I was just checking my emails, and am one of those who checks the junk/spam file every day to make sure nothing fell in there that should have been in the inbox; and there was bunches of spam mail for sex.
Viagra, hooking up, enlargers, etc. 

Do the dregs of the internet know something us mere mortals and bloggers don't? 

Put out the light then put out thee light

I'm up wide away with another round of insomnia.  And in between getting a bit done on the new story, I've been unable to stop thinking about the movie Othello.  
I watched it yesterday.  It's a movie I used to love but haven't seen in years.   Here you have a story written a few hundred years ago about how easily love can get twisted up for all the wrong reasons.  Desdemona is the epitome of innocence and faithfulness, yet she is the one to blame for an adultery that never even happens.  All because Iago is jealous of her new husband Othello.

Because of his own trusting nature, he's led into a paranoid delusion that spirals downward until driven to murder.  It is very possibly the most tragic and desperate of anything every written by Shakespeare.

Here we are faced with the idea that a man could love so deeply that just the mere thought that his wife could even be talking to another man in secret sends him into seizures.

What it brings to mind is everything from how deeply romantic the idea that love and lust could be that strong to the other end of the spectrum, which is how easily some people are to being abusive.  Cause let's face it,  Othello thou the victim of an evil plot still in the end kills his wife.

Dec 27th

I had started writing a new manuscript this afternoon, inspired by an old match involving The Other Guy and The Celebrity.  8 pages, the most of anything I've written in over a year.  Not much in the long run, but progress none the less.
In between I've been scratching the right side of my body {it went on for more then 45minutes}

Also, I confessed elsewhere about a vision I had few nights ago.   A dark outline of a man playing with a dog.  I've read about other people having cryptic visions/dreams just before meeting their soulmates. I'm wondering ... 

Mindless Monday 26th

"You screwed up on that quote. It's crusted like a wornout penthouse"   Nura pointed out to me earlier.

Me-: "Yes, I realized my mistake after I'd done the post.  Like two hours afterwards and it was too late to fix the title. Oh well, seems I suck." I scratched at the right side of my face for a moment like a dog with fleas. "I had a bit of an aha moment."

Nura-: "Lay it on me."

Me-: "I can date any type of guy on the planet as long as it's not another wrestler. Which blows because wrestlers are what I am attracted to the most."

Nura-: "Um okay. Waiting for the punch line just sock it to me."

Me-: "Okay there then.  No, seriously; and this is the downer of it.  I can't date wrestlers. Even if by some crazy chance at some future wrestling event I caught the eye of one, I wouldn't be allowed to date him cause it would be wrong. Considering the whole thing with Mr. Scratchy."

Nura: -"I still don't understand."

Me-: "We can agree at lest, that Mr. Scratchy is a wrestler right?"

Nura-: "Uh-huh."

Me-: "Right. So dating any other wrestler would be like cheating with his brother. Understand now?"

Nura-: "Does he have a brother?"

Me-:"You're not getting it are you?"

Like a crusted Penthouse

There was a bit of a commotion in the hallway about a half hour ago.  Doors slamming, people screaming and running up and down the stairs.  So I went to see what was happening. 
The new neighbours were having a fight.  And just as I was closing my door to come back into my hovel of an apartment, this kid came scampering out of their apartment across the hall with something in his hand. 
I heard a man's voice screaming at him to get back inside.  Then he came to the doorway to collect the kid. 
The kid couldn't have been more then about 3 years old, and was standing there in a pair of blue pajamas with little reindeer on them.  In his hand was a magazine.  He dropped it as the man - I'm guessing his dad- picked him up.   The magazine fell open on the floor.
The guy went four shades of red and snatched up the magazine tossing it into that apartment not looking at me.

A song by Artificial Joy Club is where the quote "like a crusted penthouse" is from. I thought it was more then fitting.