Thursday, 29 September 2011

HELLO Scrivener. Where Have You Been Hiding?

I remember flicking through the Writers' and Artists' Yearbook, maybe a year ago, and coming across the advert for Scrivener, 'an award-winning word processor and project management tool.' Immediately, I googled, and read up about the tool on their website. Wow! I just had to have this. But to my dismay, it was only available for Mac OS X. Boo Hoo! It looked so great; something I'd definitely use to write all those stories I have in my head.

Never mind.

I'd managed so far with my ring binder, index cards, post-it notes and pictures.

In a fashion.

Then, whilst blogging, there was a reference to Scrivener, so I had another look. How excited was I to find there was a version for Windows coming out. Even better though was the beta version ready to download for immediate use.

So, I've been using it for ten days and I must say, it's AB FAB.


It's MULTI-TASTIC!
                                               
                                                         
I'm so glad I found you.

Friday, 23 September 2011

FLAMING PROMETHEUS


When I woke this morning I knew the monster was here to stay.

I felt drained, as if my life source had been transfused. There were remnants of the night’s restlessness still clinging to the edges of my waking mind.

Last night, the demon had been there, in my room with me, but I shut it out, willed it away so that I could rest. That damned beast struck me with its flaming torch; a taunting, possessed Prometheus. Though I screwed my eyes tightly I still saw the flashing licks in the darkness, spelling out some ancient, broken up hieroglyphs. It mocked me; knowing that Acheron and Styx; the darkest rivers of hell, would not even blot out the flicking torture of the light.

My will was strong and I entered sleep; a hopeful reprieve from the torment.

There was no reprieve on waking; only reprise. It jabbed towards me as before, with the torch, burning at by retina. Or maybe it’d taken up photography and was trigger-happy with the flash gun. The ultra-violent light was a winning, weakening weapon in its arsenal, causing me to feel nauseous. I was blinded by the light in my head and by the sunlight that struck through the slithering gaps in the curtain, as they moved in the breeze of the open window.

I had to get up. My hands shielded my eyes, suctioned on like barnacles to a ship. I could not allow the light to enter, not at any cost. So, I stumbled through the doorway heading towards the stairs. I needed to kill this thing. It would be slow once I swallowed the drug. It was always such a painful, all-encompassing experience, which left me an empty shell of a being. And then, it was hours or days, feeling like a zombie; unable to think, talking in slurs whilst my lips and face tingled and became numb.

There was someone coming.

‘Are you okay?’ he said. It was my husband. ‘Stay there. Don’t move, love. Sit on the step, I’ll get them for you,’ he said.

He came back upstairs and led me back to bed.

‘You’re cold,’ he said. I always am though.

After I forced the tablets down, between tsunami waves of nausea, I curled up in the foetus position whilst my husband covered me up and placed a black t-shirt over my face.

As I lay there, waiting for the blessed release, I reminded myself that I would be normal again. Well, a functioning human. And Prometheus would back away and extinguish his flame. Till the next time.

Thursday, 22 September 2011

HELLO Richmond Fontaine

What can I say about this band?

Well, they're from Portland, Oregon (America), and they are classed as an alternative country band. I'd call it rock, but I don't go for pigeon holing. Music is music. When it's good, as Richmond Fontaine are, it's very, very good. This is their new album The High Country, which they played at the gig where I saw them last night. Brilliant story telling from Willy Vlautin, the lead singer (the dude in the red check below). He's also a writer of  books; I have Motel Life on my reading list.

Joining them on the tour were the vocals of Deborah Kelly from The Damnations. Listen to track 4. I think this might ring some bells, ladies.

Before the close, they played some of their old faithful songs. Here's my favourite Post to Wire from the album of the some name.


Friday, 16 September 2011

HELLO I'm Sony Ericsson. How Can I Help You?


I have a new mobile.

Thankfully, Hubby sorted it out; it arrived the next day. My daughter said it was like hers and she would help me sort it out.

Well, of course I did want to do my best at first. I’m far from a technophobe, but I couldn’t even put my old Sim in the thing. The x-marks-the-spot was marked by an arrow, but that didn’t help. I looked in the very brief-but-simple instruction leaflet and then resorted to the tinternet. I wanted a video demo, but there wasn’t one. Half an hour later and I’d sussed it out. However, it was getting late and I didn’t have time to check out how to set the wake up alarm, so I retrieved the Sim and replaced it in my old phone. Tut!

Next day, with the Sim in (no problema), Daughter insisted on sorting my phone out. That is; rearranging apps, layout, wallpaper etc. 

What I didn’t get though was the android thing. Does it make tea then? An android, to me, was that sullen fellow, Marvin the Paranoid android, from Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. A robot with human features. 

Is it just me, or am I just getting old? Who cares? Daughter sorted my phone out, the rest I’ll work out along the way.


Friday, 9 September 2011

HELLO Cat On A Warm Greenhouse Roof

I hear today, from Old Kitty, on Ten Lives and Second Chances, that it's Mo Cats Day. And so, I thought I'd post about my feline friend.

He's I rescue cat who's lived with us for 8 years, so he's about 9-10 years old now. When we took him home, we promptly changed his given name to one he could be proud of; we called him Barney. His previous owners had called him Cuddles, which is ironic really, because he's not a cat that likes over friendly petting. As he's got older, he has mellowed some, and tolerates people and other cats; to a point.

As is the nature of cats, Barney comes and he goes. When it rains or when he's hungry, he's at the door waiting. Recently, he's taken it upon himself to bags my plastic greenhouse. I think it's got something to do with the hassle he gets from next door's cat. I'm sure, if I left the zipper up a little, in winter, he'd be in there keeping out of the weather. That, or I'd acquire shelves of neighbourhood cats.