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Tuesday, August 30, 2011

So long, farewell (for a little while)

I am going to take a break from blogging.

I need to move from 'sort of writing' to actual writing. I am in the process of trying to write a screenplay for a film idea I have.

The title of this is 'Because of Ben', so if you haven't heard from me in a while and suddenly see a movie out of that name, go watch it! A girl needs to dream......

The film(?) is about a boy called Jack who's thirteen, has suddenly decided to become a Goth and the family tragedy he faces. I promise tears and laughter (if I ever finish it) and even some Irish dancing.

Good luck to everyone with their own writing and see you all, virtually, soon!!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Electric Picnic 2011.... and a band called 'Ghost Estates'....


If you are attending The Electric Picnic in Co. Laois coming up on the 2/3/4 September 2011, check out this new, exciting Dublin band. They are going to be
BIG!!

They are called Ghost Estates, you heard of them here first!!
They perform on Saturday 3rd September, so give them your support if you are there.
Ghost Estates

There is a huge variety of entertainment at The Electric Picnic, music, arts, poetry and....... Pulp will be there.
Click on the link to see the programme of events.
Electric Picnic 2011

If you go, have a great time!!

Monday, August 15, 2011

Mag 78 Painting over purple

She knew it was over when he produced the painting equipment.
They had left their limb wrapped days behind a long time ago. Their room was deep blue back in their early days. There was no household list then, no 'who's turn is to change the sheets? I did it last time' conversations with pauses that wounded, a massacre of silence.
They changed the colour of their room often since then, the blue always remained her favourite.
Once when he was sleeping, she wrote a poem in purple ink in a hidden corner of the white walls. She was love doped, loving herself in love, she knows that now.
That poem was her last. To him anyhow.
She realises now that she is a love addict, a girl in love with being in love, 'a serial romantic', Oprah would probably call her.
That's why she sought out a new man and a new room.
A pity her partner found out.
The painting equipment was produced. He painted in silence.
Shame, he painted over her poem.
She had meant it then, all that love and lust trapped in purple ink.

A Magpie Tales prompt Thanks, Tess.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Mag 77 Hourglass Lily

Summer Evening, Edward Hopper, 1947

Lily was a beauty, a real drop dead, hourglass figured girl. She had hair that waved all on its own. She had a way of tilting her eyes at the boys that made them forget all the warnings their dear, sweet mothers had issued them. That Lily girl knew how to work it.
There are probably about fifty trees in a twenty mile radius of her house that have her name stabbed in pen knife by boys who should have known better and not wished their boyhood away on her.
They married the brunette in the end, they always do, those dreaming boys.
Lily settled for a tall, laconic boy in the end, eyes like Paul Newman and a chat up routine that should be patented and sold to boys everywhere who don't want to settle for a brunette.
The laconic boy never had to etch his name on a tree to win the hand of Lily.
He just leaned against the porch one summer evening and just 'was'.
That's how it goes, love whispers before it shouts.


P.S. If I have offended any brunettes, apologies, I am one too.

A Magpie Tales Prompt.