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and the novel's main character, George Gates, loses himself in the mystery of her disappearance after reading her unpublished poems and a story she had written about the abduction of a woman--all of which looks to have been a presentiment of her own fate.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

A long year

This has been a long year. Our lives have been turned upside down, then rightside up again. We've found ourselves going back to places that we thought we had left in the past in order to move forward once more.

I'll post more soon on the adventure we have had.
At times it has been a nightmare of surreal proportions, at others it has been an invigorating challenge. At all times it has been contrary to everything I had expected my life to be at this point.

For those of you who have waited patiently I'd like to send my undying gratitude.

Soon...

Technorati Tags: woodnotwood

One Year

Technorati Tags: woodnotwood


Sunday we'll be remembering Lona Halden on the first anniversary of her departure from our lives. Although she is gone she has left a unique legacy that trancends the bonds of flesh.

We created this video from the photos that Lona left behind for us. She left these photos so that we would remember her as she was in life. Vibrant. Brilliant. Beautiful.

Her time with us was too short but we never forget how blessed we are to have had her with us as long as we did. Although we miss her smile, her humor, the depth with which she effected the world, and people, around her, we still have these... the photos that capture her love of life, her joy, and the brilliant wit and humor that made us all love her so much.

Our love for her has not diminished with her passing.
If anything, it has grown greater as we begin to truly understand how she touched our lives. Our sorrow hasn't lessened, but we have grown from what Lona taught us during her time on earth-that love is all that matters, that friendship is the only true currency with value, and that every day should be cherished as if it were your last.

We love you Lona.
We ache with missing you.

~LONA~LOVE~FOREVER

Random Question 1

You’ve just inherited a manufacturing plant specializing in plastics.
What are you going to make?

My Answer:
The world sorry for laughing at me.

What would you make?