Musical Delights

To aid the creative juices, I've recently discovered a new fascination with Bob Dylan's music. People seem to be very heated/passionate about how much they love or hate him, or which era of music they like the most.

Although, I must admit, I was spurred on by the influence of watching "Taking Woodstock", a movie that everyone must sit down and watch! I particularly appreciated the greetings the drama troupe gave to the helicopter, and the lovely mudslide. Ah, if only we could all be young & free....

EXCITING NEWS:

In the next month or so, i should be releasing my next book... it is entitled "Almost.". Can you think about moments in your life where you've had to suffice with an "Almost", or if an "almost" was better than what you were after? What is an almost definition? 

Now, for a cup of tea... xx

Time to Party

Let's celebrate "justice" & revenge...

if justice were simply killing one man for the "bad" or "evil", i think there would be a lot more justified murders.

               scapegoat anyone?

And how is the glorification of finding a "dead man" a victory?  Have we lost sight of what we are actually winning?

My love of referencing continues

‎"As McIntyre highlighted in her discourse on referencing, surnames can be rather amusing whilst engaging in this sometimes tedious process. Take for example the wonderful geological information and humour that is found in discussing "Geology: It's Not All Rock and Roll" (Stone, 2011). This arbitrary exercise can now be transformed into a satirical jest projected back at the very system that implemented such ceremony in academia." - McIntyre, E.

Sonnet one hundred & nine

O never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify.
As easy might I from myself depart
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:
That is my home of love: if I have ranged,
Like him that travels I return again,
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe, though in my nature reign'd
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could be so preposterously be stain'd,
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;
        For nothing this wide universe I call,
        Save thou, my Rose; in it thou art my all.


-William Shakespeare

Colour in the desert...

Sometimes it's the little things...