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 |   A terminal for all blogs coming in or going out. A view into my life. |
Started July 1st 2019 for contests, etc. as other blogs are filling up and have other purposes.  I'm starting a new blog because
I'll be linking to
I've started an appendix (I no longer have one personally) to keep track of my Space Cadet journals for Space Blog. It's a work constantly under construction. Mind the mess.
I needed to start a folder for contests as there are so many deadlines and details to remember.
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For: "Space Blog"  "Below" [E] by Sorji  Mini-review. It's sad and salvageable. It needs some editing to eliminate worthless words like 'the' and 'is'. 'is' can be reduced to 's unless it's emphasized, in which case 'IS' may be better. To keep it's flow read out loud before and after snipping. The languid rhythm is important here as it sets the mood. A couple more lines of the ebb and flow of water and how it calms wouldn't hurt. Readers like it and I agree. I give it a 4.0 because it has potential... but not quite there yet. In this the author speaks of going to their happy place. Tell us about your happy place. Ha! Me happy? It's one of my problems. I should find one and go there often. With covid shutting down the cafe scene here and winter at the doorstep and travel cut off, options are few. Gardens aren't looking good after our deep freeze. Sunshine and mild on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. A walk would be appropo. For my Space Cadet series I could ask... what's Kat's "Happy Place"? As a Dreamer what happens if they become nightmares or worse ... if she loses that ability? 4157 135 Kat always said her dreams were like curling up in sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, not a breeze ruffling her fur, not the alarm going off. She awoke with a start. What? No warning? She hurried to the deck. "What's going on?" Jaafar looked startled. "Don't you know?" "No." "Security has been breached. A guest went beserk and had to be subdued before she stabbed 90210. Cook has it under control, but he's shaken." "Stabbed 90210?" "She's being taken care of. The guest may not be so fortunate. Cook ripped off his tunic and gave her a hug." "Where is Cook?" "Gomo the Kla took him to the Grey Lounge." Kat stood stunned then wobbled. "Who was the guest?" "A Glum. Don't see many of them." "And for good reason." Kat went to see 90210 who was sedated and the Glum... who was glum indeed. Cook's poison was tricky to counteract. She may or may not make it. "Who is she and why is she here?" "A trader needing passage to our next stop." "Which is?" "A meeting with the Vulch." Kat left without saying another word. She needed something, wasn't sure what, but Cook would know and this was urgent. Gomo the Kla sat there in the Grey Lounge with Cook who was still shaking under a blanket. Space Cadet, Wing Sheima, a couple Engineers, a Vulch she didn't recognize and even a Red-eyed-dragonfly. An odd group ... all silent. Kat curled up and pretended to sleep. It's what they would expect. Let them think she was napping. She was more alert than she had been in years. She could fake being patient while she listened. For what? Space Cadet's ears were twitching. Something was up. Gomo spoke. "Kat needs some soup, Cook. That may help us find the answer." Sheima and one of the Engineers gingerly helped Cook. Space Cadet stood before Kat. Now what? "Did you hear?" "No." "I did." He paused. "You need soup." Space Cadet didn't say anthing more as they walked towards Cook's kitchen. They sat at a table while Gomo spoke softly to Cook so no one overheard. The Vulch joined them. "Mheradh, her nickname, wanted to trade mushrooms for some delicacies and iron." "I'm allergic to mushrooms." "I know." It was Cook. "Drink this while Space Cadet rubs some ointment into your paws and ears." Kat slurped and then stopped. She addressed the Vulch. "What kind of delicacies?" "Some sort of meat. She wouldn't say what." "And the mushrooms?" Space Cadet spoke first. "They're in the cargo bay vacuum wrapped." "Some spores must have made it through the filters." "Sheima is looking into that. Now the other side, Space Cadet. Less talking, more slurping." Cook looked at Kat directly. Something about that look... Jaafar came in. "Sheima found nothing. She's taken over the deck. I wanted to speak to you all." "Should I leave?" The Vulch looked upset. "No. I want you to answer some questions. Honestly. We have a bad reputation for dealing with lies." The Vulch grinned. "I know." "Is this your first encounter with a Glum?" "Yes." "Did you know Glum consider humans a delicacy?" "No." The Vulch looked shocked. "Or that kats are allergic to mushrooms." The Vulch looked truly miserable. "No." "You are young?" "I ... I was on my third mission. I've never met a Glum! We don't study them much." Kat and Cook nodded at Jaafaar. "Why don't you go back to your guest quarters. We'll deliver you safely to the Vulch." Cook brought more soup. Space Cadet spoke first. "She didn't know." "She?" Gomo and Kat nodded. "We Xenos know a thing or two." Cook laughed. "Are you okay?" Kat asked. "Are you okay Kat?" That look again. "Something's going on and you're not telling me." "Because you won't want to hear it." It was Gomo. "You were poisoned because you would have sounded the alarm. The Glum are not trusted on board for a reason. But... how this happened I'm not sure. Your Dreams... how have they been?" "Peaceful like when I was a kitten. Not a stir... Why do you ask?" "Your Dreams should have warned you. Why didn't they? I wonder why." It was Space Cadet this time. Sheima entered. "90210 wants to speak with you, Jaafaar. She'll be okay." they left. Cook gave Space Cadet more ointment. "Stop only when she says stop." Kat began to purr as the ointment and soup took affect. Gomo left. Cook attended to others. Sheima came back to whisper that the outlook for Mheradh was grim. Space Cadet kept rubbing. Kat yawned and purred. "You're good, but that's enough for now. Could you get Jaafaar? Where's Gomo. Cook!" We sat there waiting for Kat to speak. "Mheradh will have to be sent into the void. Those mushrooms too. The Vulch needs to be told the truth before she's reunited. She was taken advantage of. We all make mistakes. Her kind will know how to handle this if we tell them nicely. Nothing need be said to any Glum. They are only a menace when they leave home. Command will know how to handle this. Me? I'm going back to sleep. Dreams are beckoning and I dare not ignore them." Kat got up to leave. "Tell 90210 that we'll speak when she's better." Cook gave us all a look and went to the kitchen. We sat silently until he returned with some disgusting brown brew. "Coffee." And plunked himself down. "Kat got your tongue?" "Well, she seems normal. Giving commands like a Queen." Jaafaar and Sheima laughed. "What?" Gomo looked at Space Cadet before speaking. "It's more serious than that." Cook nodded. Freddy-the-Red flew in and spoke with a buzz. "Gomo and Space Cadet, you're summoned to the Grey Lounge. Nothing urgent." They got up to leave while Cook went for more coffee. "We need to talk." was all he said to Jaafar, Freddy and Sheima. I commented at the "Dew Drop Inn" [18+] by Katya the Poet  (it's open for November):Purple, black, and one lone peacock feather, the mask awaits the fool moon's whether... I'll wear it or not.  KE [274] 31.okt.202024 syllables... I write for the 24 syllable contest, but rarely does it come out right the first time! And yes, 'fool' is on purpose. So is 'whether'.  3140 |
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"A poem about Medusa I wrote in Latin class (many years ago)." "Medusa the Snake Headed Monster" [E] by KD Miller  One of the earliest posts at this website, almost 20 years ago! And a parody from before that.  I won't rate but I did have problems making it fit the song ... which is now in my head. I should learn more about Gorgons. She had two sisters? Pegasus was her son? Do you believe in monsters? (Please don't get political here.) Without being specific I do believe that those who seek to control can be monsters as they disregard others. That includes politicians and religious leaders (history mentions many). When I was homeless I resented the 'do-gooders' at times because they didn't ASK, they just 'knew' what was best for us. Few people like to be 'done'. Colonization and missionary work can also provide examples of when the locals wants and needs were disregarded. As for using this as a prompt for Space Cadet... Gorgons protected with their gaze meant to slay. I think that could be worked in as well as triplets. One full twin and two somewhat weaker mirror-twins. "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" 30. You are going to interview Count Dracula. What five questions are you going to ask and how does he answer those questions. 1. What is your favorite color?  Whatever you are wearing.2. What is your favorite sound? Slurping.3. What is your favorite touch. Smooth skin.4. What is your favorite taste? Sweet and salty blood.5. What is your favorite blood typ... [nibbling](Adhering to the Queen's Rule of Five. Scarlett ) |
| For "Space Blog" "Where Does a Poem Live?" [E] by fyn  Mini-critique: it's fairly new and needs a shave and a haircut. Other than cutting out a few weak words it needs to smooth out its rhythm, as that is the main poetic device. Verses 1-5 ask enough questions (ad nauseum questions are annoying) that 6 and 7 could be changed into statements. It could end on "to draw a breath and sigh". Everything after that is commentary and needs to be cut (or incorporated into the poem elsewhere). I wanted to like this more than I did. It has potential, so a 4.0 at this stage of development. Prompt: Where does a poem live? Within every speck and mote there lies a poem. It's like a block of stone that contains the statue. The sculptor merely realeases it. Once released the poem lives on long after the poet dies. Even if the words change... what is released has its effect on the living. "Blogging Circle of Friends " Use these words in your blog entry today: unmentionable, unaccustomed, collector, tree, book, ghostsDaily Flash Fiction: witch, ghost, goblin. I'm so tired of White American Halloween! But... can I use all the prompts to write a short Space Cadet episode? Within every speck and mote ... there may be life and therein lies a poem. "There are no witches, ghosts and goblins except in old-fashioned books!" We sat in the visitor's lounge while we traded with the Vulch collectors for unmentionable edibles. Xavier was human, not a very smart one, but deemed safe enough. "Have you ever seen one?" he continued. Cook interrupted by clanging some pots and pans. "Dinner's ready!" He'd received a shipment of fresh innards from the Kla and they were only good served hot. When Xavier left, I turned to 90210. "And ... can you explain that?" "Humans love myths. Humans love to dismiss myths. Humans love to argue over myths." Cook and Kat laughed. Humans were dangerous. But 90210 was human. "Look, I need to rest. But you all know that stranger sentients exist." We all nodded as she left. "Goblins among the Pirates? They'll deny it. We know better." "Witches of Arcrux? Barely escaped their spells." "Ghosts? Have you sat in Grey Lounge the Kla prefer?" I shivered. I hadn't believed in Ghosts but then I didn't believe in lots of things. Curious and unaccustumed to leaving good enough alone, I went to the Grey Lounge. If one were quiet enough one could hear... my 4 ears twitched. I thought it was a speaker at first, someone playing music a tad too loud but Gherald-the-Kla sitting next to me seemed un-perturbed. "You hear it?" I nodded. "The Ghosts speak on their own wavelength, sing their own melodies, whisper in soft encryptions. We Kla listen in. They know things and know we are listening. They are poets." "Are they alive?" "Know any poets?" "Been too focused on day-to-day living." Gherald nodded. "Are poets alive? The words of poets last long after they are dead. Listen closely and learn." He seemed to nod off. I dozed too... as the melodies entranced me and the messages became clear. Once there was a wise-old tree that died to become a book... I turned it into a 'normal' flash fiction. "Ghosts of poets past [272] 299 words" Finished and posted another new poem (received Honorable Mention):
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"A Childhood Memory" [E] by Sidney D.  Mini-review: a 4.5... at least! Loved it. I don't write these memoirish things much but I remember when they cut our elm down, My Tree! But the ending... losing half my kingdom would have bruised me. I can't improve on it. You're a story-teller and I'm a poet. What do you remember from early childhood? I'm still not over that they cut my elm down. I collected abandoned plants. I remember a marigold, cosmos, iris, daffodil. I still collect plants. May have waited too long to grab a red geranium. We'll see whether it survives. As a child I'd bring in a tomato to shorten the winter. I guess I was always a rescuer of sorts. "Space Cadet - the never ending journal" is now finished for OctoPrep. I'll need to create a folder and a separate item to collect the stories. I'll continue to write them mostly as blog entries but need one place where I can read them in order. It also helps with word count. My goal is 30,000. I'd rather reach a lower goal than exhaust myself. Words written so far? Dunno. QueenNormaJeanGreeneggs&vegham  sent me a c-note: "No Job is Too Big" . Got a couple e-mails that felt like a hug. Sometimes people 'get' me. That helps during difficult times.On basefrooq: I am healthy. I am whole, and I have poor impulse control And I want to go home. But I am home. — Margi Cates Margi is a singer ... I can hear the cadence, could turn this into a song. I finished Dark Dreamscapes: "Two noses are better than one [267]" 3,123 |
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"Just Be Yourself " [E] by TheBusmanPoet Mini-review: Preachy. Good message. I could quibble with it but I won't. Poetics... it would need severe editing. Once 'man and woman' is established there's no need repeating it (in a poem... in a sermon to those who have problems with that concept? Fine.) and 'human' will do if needed after the first mention. It's also wordy and could easily be pruned. In this case more isn't better. The nice rhythm established in the first verse is unfortunately abandoned and that's noticeable when read out loud. No other poetic devices are used. It has no concrete images, only abstractions. Although salvageable, it utterly fails poetically. A 2.0 for effort. Write about what it is like to be yourself. Unacceptable  ... that's what I am. (Sing it to Nat King Cole's "Unforgettable"). I'm normal in many ways but that's not how I was treated growing up. I was either put on pedestals that wobbled or utterly avoided or picked on. Invisibility was my greatest magic. But... I was like the Cheshire Cat... my smile always gave me away. Now? I still carry the baggage of my upbringing in spite of how much I've shed. These days the traveler who loves to connect is grounded and fearful of getting sick and royally pissed off at deniers of all sorts. The anti-science crowd and screaming me-me-me-s are the worse. Bitter? Very. For "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" 27. Write a post inspired by the word: dark That's mostly what I've been doing! Like "Melting the Graveyard [269] (440 words)" or even darker " lifeinsurancenet.info@identityremains" or real dark "Me in the mirror [254] " or darkest and best:
So, what more do you want? Chocolate! Except I prefer bittersweet or milk-chocolate with nuts. And M&Ms ... always that. I don't dare buy chocolate. My Space Cadet series deals with the darkness of the Void "Theater of the Night [255] (1091+ words)" as the Wings dim the lights and everyone else takes a nap.Dark isn't to be confused with evil. Too much evil happens at the noon hour to dispute that. Fear of the night? Only if there is something out there that's hunting you (human or not). That said ... I sleep best in the morning. A bit of anger in "Murder? Who cares when the victim is Black."  "Icarus drowning in a sea of oil [265a], Dog, Ma [265b] (won)" won "Smitten by a kitten [260] (Space Cadet)" second place "Masked mash [256] 24 lines" honorable mention 3.120 |
| "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" Prompt 26. Do you enjoy scary movies? Write about your favorite! NO! I'm HSP ... too much input/suspense and I'm overwhelmed. Alfred Hitchcock was the master back-in-the-day. "The Birds" was nightmarish. I really liked "Sixth Sense". It didn't scare me. It intrigued me and I loved how it was done, especially the ending. Felt more like a mystery. What really annoys me are those slash blood-and-guts teenage young, dumb and full of ... movies. But then I don't like silly comedies either! I won't be doing the November 30DBC. Too much to do. May stop in though. I've made everyone's blog a favorite. In other snews: I got a very heart-warming review for
On disqus: Avatar washingtonian115 • "Show us the sacred eye Zeta. What do you have to be so afraid of?" I'm not sure which way to go with this ... erotica? Oh... if only all the prompts here would be so... interesting. I finished "Welcome To My Reality Forum" ; did 55 of 60. I will now finish "Journalistic Intentions" . I wrote "The Graveyard [269] (430 words)" last night for "Weird Tales"; cute, but it's not horrific enough imho. No comments for "Dream of water on Mars [266] (212 words)" and I could use one. I know it's too short but it's flash so anything I add has to be in that moment. More tension maybe? I made a lengthy response about poetry: "A list of 6 regarding poetry" |
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 hairtherapy@gilbertneurolgy.com politicalwatch@appliancerepairscottsdaleaz.comDid you see my new Donald wig? It would look good on you. Yes. But it would look better on a corpse. A bit touchy ... loser? Hey, Boomer ... good that I know how to fix what's broken. Gonna need a lot of fixing next year. Eggs need to be broken to make an omelet. Quoting Humpy Frumpy now or the Nazi King's men? That's uncalled for. Well, I'm not the one going around breaking things. But your thuggish friends are. They need to be put in jail. So are liars. The truth is I believe in #blacklivesmatter because my friend's lives matter. Even your life matters. How's the contract with the mortuary doing. Business good with covid and all that? That's a low blow. Ask the dead whether they are amused by "This will all go away by May." My bad... I forgot. They can't speak. They're dead.  I COULD ANSWER THAT.  Well, you wouldn't be in business without that stimulus check he signed. I wouldn't have needed it if this were handled right. And that check was passed by Congress. Valdemort just wanted to brand it with his signature. And you bought that. Yep. And business is good  , Pelosi pussy.  You're gruesome. Hey. It's all about winners and losers, loser. We'll talk come Wednesday.  A pox on you both.  GO JO! LOL. |
 Dr. Fangman Porcupine Pt. Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania 15767 814-938-0000 Is this Doctor Fangman's office?Yes, this is she. *silence* May I help you? Sorry ... I ... thought ... Ah, maybe you expecting my father. He retired. I took over the practice last year. *chuckle* How may I help you? *door slams* One moment *muffled voice* I'm not feeling well. Ate too many hot dogs ... long story ... and then I ... *muffled voice* Teenagers. Can't live with them. Can't kill them. It's more than a tummy ache. Severe *muffled ... for God's sake* severe stabbing pains. I need to see you today if possible. Can you come right now? I'm on my way. [doctor's office] Thanks. [The doc presses the lower right side.] *gasp* Possibly appendicitis. I looked at your old chart. A bit old but nothing alarming. I'd do more of a check-up but where I pressed is almost always a problem with your appendix. I'm going to call the surgeon now while you call someone to drive you there. Come get me at the doctor's. *mumbling* No I don't want to hear any whining. I need to have surgery. *mumbling* NOW! DAMMIT! The surgeon is waiting. Are you okay? Ever have teenagers? I was one. Ever act like a brat? Sure. But remember I'm a Fangman. All mom and dad had to do was flash their teeth ... you know that smile ... and threaten to tie us up to a tree for the porcupines to get us. Ah... must've worked. It did indeed. *a car honks its horn* And look here. A miracle appears in shining armor. Give the surgeon my regards. She's waiting for you. © Kåre Enga [177.270] (25.oktober.2020) Remaining for
*Mailr* hairtherapy@gilbertneurolgy.com *Mailr* politicalwatch@appliancerepairscottsdaleaz.com |
| ~~Image ID# 2083494's Content Rating Exceeds Item Content Rating~~ It was too warm under a blanket of snow so I cast it off and decided to take a walk, the ice dripping off the trees as I passed. It was refreshing. I went looking for Delicia. She usually hung around the crypts to keep warm and out of the way of the wintry blast. I could keep her warm if she'd let me get close enough. She could be as cold as a witch's... I stumbled over a fallen headstone and almost landed on Old Harold's grave. I smiled. We had had good times together but apparently I was still too hot for him to handle. Even his ghost moved to the other side of town to avoid me. What can I say! My grandfather was one handsome demon and as a boy everyone would exclaim how I looked just like him. They would back off scorched when they tried to give me an unwelcome hug. *laugh* Old Widow Walker loved to pinch all the young boys cheeks. She only tried once. She isn't buried around here. Told that preacher nephew that she would haunt him if he planted her next to her brother George. Now George. Deader than dead even when alive, and as much fun then as he is now. I see his ghost occasionally passing through the tavern. He wants to hang around the living, hoping that he eventually gets a little something. Never did while he was alive no matter how much he boasted. *sigh* I knew their truths. But look at me now, just another corpse trying to cool off. How did I die? Well... I'd let Delicia tell you if I could find her. She told me once that no one believed in demons any more and that when the last believer died I would too. I really wanted to roast her for saying that but all her witchery couldn't stop that truck sliding through the red light. Oh well. I do miss her. She seems to be the only one left who knows I'm still here sizzling. Everyone else just blames the accidents on the weather or bald tires. I'm the one who melts the snow then with breath as-cold-as-hell refreezes it into black ice! I get no credit. Ah... there she is. If it were a bit colder maybe the snow between the gravestones wouldn't melt where I place my feet. So hard to move quickly with mud sucking me back into the graves. Well, she's seen me, grabbed her broom and caught a breeze outta here. Maybe the next sub-zero night. © Kåre Enga [177.269] (25.october.2020) For: "WEIRD TALES CONTEST " |
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