Nottingham Outlaws

This is my band.
This is our album cover.



The Band Meme

You are about to have your own band and create its album cover!

Follow these directions to the letter.
It's fun and requires no thought at all.

Go to......
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote is the
title of your album.
3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
4. Use your graphics program of choice to throw them together and
make your band's album cover."




I got this a while ago from kuanyin moi at Blog-Blond.

If you create an album cover please link to it in the comments.
I can't wait to see what you come up with!





Technorati Tags: humor, music, meme, blog-blond, bands, woodnotwood

News of the Weird

My mind is a dark place where brave men don't bother to tread.


My late great LOLsecretz kitteh, Spooky.
I miss his mischief.

The news from My Desk.
My modem went on the fritz so I vanished for a bit. But I'm back now.
Consider yourself warned.

I've been working hard to catch up on my Secret Brain Crush. He's as witty, caustic and brilliant as ever. I find myself humming this song by The Troggs after reading him. Sheesh.

Insomnia has kicked in full tilt boogie so don't be shocked if you see posts or comments appearing after the Witching Hour. I am, after all, a Creature of the Night. Mwahaha

The news from My Library.
I've just started reading The Fate of Katherine Carr by Thomas H Cook. The tale of a journalist who had given up his position writing about missing persons after the abduction and murder of his own eight year old son. He is drawn back into that world when an investigator introduces him to the case of a missing woman, Katherine Carr, a poet and writer who had disappeared 20 years previously. She had become a recluse after being attacked and the novel's main character, George Gates, loses himself in the mystery of her disappearance after reading her unpublished poems and a story she had written about the abduction of a woman--all of which looks to have been a presentiment of her own fate.
Sounds interesting, No?

The news from Missouri (or Misery, as we Yankee transplant infidel road-trippers call it): I had such high hopes after reading that MySpace Crazy Mom, Lori Drew, was actually going to be charged in the suicide case of Megan Meier. And now the conviction has been overturned? Apparently the laws on computer crimes are too vague. Is it going to take someone dying before they start taking Cyber Stalking seriously? Oh wait. That's already happened. I'm sure it's nothing that a little percussive brain therapy wouldn't cure.


The news from London: FJL has found God? Probably tried to get him to buy her drinks in a bar or maybe at an Internet Cafe where she definitely was not on the Internet, that was the Holy Ghost up to his old tricks again. He's such a joker, you know? Her sock puppets will vouch for her. She, and all of her personalities, were safe at home being beautiful, wonderful and completely sane.
What that means for the rest of the blogging world?
Jesus is her Co-Blogger.
The end is very frickin' Nigh.


Technorati Tags: Cats, Literature, London, Blogging, Stalker, woodnotwood

HNT Moon Haiku

The moon is so big
I see each crater and bump
Pull your pants back up


I've missed you all so much.
It's good to be back!
Happy HNT



See the man, Osbasso


Mad Haikus
Technorati Tags: haiku, hnt, woodnotwood

Broken House - A Parable

The facade, once faded green, has now been painted a blissful, institutional yellow.

I drive by on my way to my new home. This new home doesn't quite fit me. I feel like a man who has been forced to walk barefooted and considers himself lucky to have found someone else's discarded shoes. I know I should feel grateful to be shod at all, and yet, these shoes do not fit me, they were not made for me and no matter how hard I try I cannot force myself into feeling that these are now my shoes. They are good shoes. Well, good enough shoes anyway... they are not my shoes. However long I may wear them, they will never bring me comfort, only a blister on my heel to remind me that I should be grateful. I force myself to feel grateful.

I see the pink babydoll buggy laying abandoned in the front yard. The garage door is half open revealing a sterile orderliness. Tools hung in their right places on a peg board. Boxes stacked neatly against one wall. God does like a neat tidy package, perhaps that's where we went wrong? Too frenetic in our desires, too much in love with life, too chaotic in our security, we filled it with our loud voices and the things we had acquired in our travels, our music and all of the miscellany that comes with years. From elementary school finger paintings to high school year books, we crammed it all in--knowing that this was our home. Or would someday be. Perhaps that is why? Because we had the audacity to assume our future.

I have seen them of course. I know them. They know me. But not in a way that's personal, not intimately, like old friends who share their darkest secrets. Yet they do know my darkest secret, they've glimpsed a part of my shame. Without this we might have been friends. Might have walked our children to school together or stood by our mailboxes and chatted about growing tomatoes or trimming the hedges. As it is now I feel the sting of red in my cheeks whenever they approach, I move away quickly lest they recognize my stain.

Still, they are good people. They took the time to ask other neighbors where we might have gone. They gathered the mail that came in our name in little rubber-banded bundles and saved it for us. When they found us they gave us the mail, and some of the items that haste had made us leave behind. Important things, a baby picture here, a book that showed our fervent adoration in its well-worn cover and broken binding. Other things that they felt might have significance to a family with children, they would know these items, recognize them immediately, they are a family as well. I know they are good people. I hope for them that they find the shelter and security that we could not hold onto. I hope this house, this bright, friendly, yellow house, does not become an ami de cour as it did for us.

I drive up the street to my new house and feel the blister of my unfitting shoes.
I force myself to feel grateful.


For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon
The Houses ~~Rudyard Kipling



Technorati Tags: home, mourning, literature, woodnotwood

Christmas Gathering HNT

We had a great time on Christmas Eve.
I loved spending time with my nieces and nephews.
I even got to play Mrs. Claus.


And the kids made out like bandits!


I love seeing their excitement as they geared up for Santa's visit.


And my dad enjoyed it for all of the obvious reasons.
He was surrounded by girls who absolutely adore him!


Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas too!

And since we're supposed to pick our favorite HNT of the year I'll have to go with this one.

I got to spend time with Seamus.


Seamus

And I got a chance to meet the buffledog himself shortly before he passed away. I'm truly grateful to Seamus for having brought him to see me.



Happy HNT!

See the man. Osbasso




Technorati Tags: Christmas, Family, HNT, woodnotwood

HNT - Colors

Happy HNT!
See the man Osbasso!

HNT, Osbasso, Fall, woodnotwood

Shhhhhhhh Yourself

This is Cheyenne's friend Lona singing 'Beautiful' at the International School of the Arts. She tried out for American Idol, but was declined because she's British.
Music was the one constant and passion that defined their relationship. Two girls who sang beautifully together. With Lona's passing Cheyenne seems to have lost her desire to sing. For Now. I hope it will return soon. I miss hearing her singing as she walks through the house.



I don't want to talk much about the last post. I'll just say that the Candlelight Memorial went well, as contradictory as it feels to write that. There's more to be done. Viewing tonight at her home and Funeral on Tuesday. I'm busy making slideshows out of her pictures with her friends. Her family has turned over more than 1300 photographs of her and her friends for me to make memorial videos for them and for her friends to use on MySpace, Facebook and their blogs. It's heartbreaking work. But, being a mother myself, I understand how important it is to them that their daughters memory carries on.

We'll have something to share soon.

Cheyenne says 'Thank You' for your well wishes.
She can't seem to say more at the moment.

Looking Ahead

Sometimes the world feels tight. Like a closed bud that needs to be nurtured to open and bloom. I've been feeling thus of late. My arms, which usually reach out, have been restrained. As if they were bound to my sides.

Life has taken on an almost surrealistic quality. Things have been changing and moving so rapidly that I can hardly catch my breath. It's as if everything I've ever known to be true has suddenly rebelled, turned against me. The moon and stars that once gave comfort now hold no answers for me.

I was reading today. I ran across this... Beheading Horror In Street. It just made me wonder what the world is coming to. The prediction of gas prices rising to over $4.00 a gallon during the peak travel season. The brutal murders at Virginia Tech. The war that will never end.

I remember posting this so long ago. I'm feeling the same now. It's time to pull back and gather those I love around me again. Now that my little sister is here and the family is once again working together I feel like I have moved back in time. Some part good, some part stressful, but the determination that resides within us, the need to do our best for the group as a whole and not just for self, has buoyed my spirits again.

I fell into the slough of blogging ridiculousness almost a year ago. Writing in an e-zine about issues I feel strongly about, women's issues, was a dream that I have had for a long time, but the outcome of the pettiness involved in the 'personal dynamics' of the whole thing just left a bitter taste in my mouth. It didn't however spoil my appetite for the writing or my desire to continue writing with other women. I still have my beloved Sexy Tomatoes and we are planning on introducing some new material there. We've had some delicious ideas floating around our in-boxes and we are all excited to get the project moving forward.

I've also been talking to a couple of other women about starting a new 'Women's E-zine'. I decided that the most important thing about writing with others is choosing your co-authors wisely. Lucky for me, some of the women that I'm close to are absolutely brilliant writers and bring with them, not only a long-standing, lasting friendship, but also a level of intelligent discourse that promises to challenge the way people think and the way women write about their own issues. I'm over trying to 'put lipstick on a pig'. This time it's the real deal and I am looking forward to throwing myself into the project with enthusiasm. This will not be a blog, we are going for it whole-heartedly. A real dot com. A real on-line, and possibly print, magazine.

For now everything is under wraps. The planning and decision making stages are going on pre-launch. I'll be sure to let you know when we finally bust out of our corsets ;) I hope you'll all be there to pop the cork and celebrate with us!

Have a great weekend!



Blogging, Women, Writers, E-Zine

Persephone

You are the chosen muse
I've got it all to lose
I think I do this all the time
but you elude my grasp
and I ache in the gap
between your skin and mine

How must it feel to be loved by darkness? To be coveted by Hades himself? To be held under his spell? His grip a vice, inescapable, desired, loathed.

must be the girl in me, the wicked whore in me
like Persephone yearning for the dark
you fuel the need in me, you haunt my every dream
you're of the magic breed, you are

To be taken by him, to be all that he desires. To have that power over him, that he has no control of himself, only his lust for me. And he is ravenous, unquenchable.

I have swallowed the seed of your cruel mystery
I am left coveting and scarred
you are my nemesis
my fleeting carnal wish
you're the erotic fist
you are...

To know that he is a stain on my soul, a need that refuses to be satisfied. And once taken I will be lost forever in his grasp, until I am no more than a dim reflection of myself. Conquered. Bound.

you have a devil's grin
make me want to sin
turn me into Hade's bride
when pleasure turns to pain
I'm the one with the stain
and one more secret to hide

Welcome to Musical Monday featuring Hades Bride


Powered by Castpost
Persephone

My guitar skills have actually gotten a bit worse since I've started taking proper guitar lessons last week because I'm trying to unlearn some bad habits. Trying to correct my form and technique has temporarily rendered me a little clumsy. And while I'm bitching, I'm still a bit annoyed that the laptop picks up my voice fairly well but makes my lovely Martin sound like a toy. :-( Oh well, what do I expect? I am recording straight into the little pinhole microphone that comes built into the iBook.
~~Tree

I beg to differ with her disclaimer. I think this is the greatest coffee table recording I have ever heard. You can read the lyrics here. This is an incredible original recording and Tree's voice is, as always, wracked and emotional, making me cringe and lust all in one breath.

Happy Musical Monday everyone!