The Internet.

It’s a strange phenomenon, isn’t it. I have never really considered just how reliant upon it I am, until it’s gone.

It’s almost embarrassing to realise just how much not having the Internet affects me.

From the simplest everyday task such as checking the weather; to the more vital facts of life such as passing my university degree or publishing my magazine, I am lost without The Net.

I mean, seriously, all I can do on my phone now is take pictures, send messages and make calls. Oh, the humanity.

Why have you forsaken me? 

As I mentioned in my frantic post yesterday, In Which I Rant, it appears that we will not be connected to the Internet for at least two weeks. I won’t go into details about my level of frustration, suffice to say that it appears I have a far more extensive curse word…

Kohler, our favorite source for plumbing fixtures, has a stately, comfort height, two piece, round front new toilet available, so what do they call it? Kohler Memoirs (c).  Here at the Brevity corporate towers, we plan to redo the executive washroom immediately.

My talented daughter also makes ties and bow ties. They are very reasonably priced.

Ties are only $25 for the skinny ones and $30 for the fat ties. I have it on pretty good authority that Colts ties are coming as well.

Bow ties are $15

If you are interested, send her a message at kayakandrea8@gmail.com. She takes Paypal and shipping in the US is free.

…they say there are three stages in the Life of Man… childhood,adulthood, and ‘my WURD, ye are looking well‘… some even aver that the grand old age of 60 is ‘the new 40’… shuffle it as I may, there’s no escaping the evidence on the passport… this ol’ Jurassic’s early years encompassed the miracle of music that was the BEATLES and all the trillion beat groups that sprung up on the back of their phenomenal success (we didn’t call them ‘bands’ back then)… I was a teenager when the moment struck, known as ‘where were you when JFK, etc’... soccer player transfers and baseball team salaries didn’t cost the price of the Gross National Product of medium-sized countries… and ye had to move off yer seat to change a television channel… so, I’ve been around a wee while now… in a varied career in…

You have probably heard of Dracula, but perhaps not of Varney the Vampire. In this podcast, recorded at the Late Summer Lecture Series, Lauren Owen introduces this nineteenth-century character who appeared in a nineteenth-century “penny dreadful.” She suggests that a modern equivalent to Varney can be found in Thomas Harris’s compelling serial killer, Hannibal Lecter.

Lauren starts by examining the importance of Varney, the Vampyre as a piece of vampire literature, and suggests that Varney, despite his self-pity, ineffectiveness, and dubious supernatural status, is a vampire worthy of attention.

Varney is a vulgar tale: unlike earlier vampire tales, like John William Polidori’s “The Vampyre” (1819), Varney does not pretend to high art. Instead it is funny, preposterous, repetitive, and quite evidently written to entertain. Varney himself is a lover of adventure and romance – this is the only thing that keeps him tied to humanity.

The author…

I am making this post as a public service announcement. I just want to encourage all of my fellow readers and bloggers who are Goodreads members to disengage from attacking authors on the site. In the past couple of days, I have seen several Facebook posts by authors of different genres who have mentioned being attacked by readers. ‘Readers’ are one-starring pre-released books or dive bombing every book the author has ever written with one-star reviews. Why? Because these ‘readers’ feel as if the author has made some reprehensible infraction against the world of literature as a whole *eye roll*. I know…dramatic, right? But sadly, it’s true. The internet trolls have now taken up residence on Goodreads. They are pollinating the site with their vitriol against authors and fellow readers who might support the author or their book(s). At some point, we as a community of readers and authors…

…by the awesome, omnipotent power vested in me (by myself) I hereby declare the start of the HUG A BLOGGER/WRITER WEEK... the WURLD can be changed one hug at a time… and who better to be on the end of one of yer Beargrabs than a poor, neglected quill-scraper?… one of those solitary, locked-up-for-eons-in-a-virtual-candle-lit-garret producers of penned or laptop-tapped masterpieces for the reading delight of the rest of humanity… what better way to manifest yer appreciation of the expended blood, sweat, tears, computer-batteries, snow-paque typing-error-eliminators, and piles of chocolate biscuits, coffee, tea, and the occasional stronger indulgence that gobbles up a scribbler’s budget?… if ye see one in the street ye’ll recognise them immediately… usually wearing dark glasses, as the daylight is not a common feature of their existence… sometimes muttering to themselves, which in truth is merely a gaggle of dialogue among the characters of their current WURK

Now there’s a question to get an aspiring writer sweating. Since I started writing in earnest and gradually educating myself about the world of writing, I’ve discovered there are lots of extremely important rules out there. I’m not talking about mere guidelines; I’m talking about make-or-break, tarnish-your-name-forever-should-you-break-them rules.

Naturally it is understood that anybody exceptionally talented can disregard all the rules because the brilliance of their writing will override any other considerations but it is also understood that the newbies listening to the oracle dispensing the rules do not fall into that category of genius.

Last November in the draughty bar of a Co Wicklow hotel with a British soap character giving birth at top volume on the television in the background, a friend of mine leaned across his third cup of tea and told me one of the most basic and sacred of rules of all. Figure out…

   For four long years the woman battled the demon. The demon known only as “C” violated her body, dimmed her future and messed with her mind.

She fought this demon with the strength of her army. When she was too weak to fight, too tired to resist the demon’s advances or too negative to be positive she relied on them to battle it for her. Were she the soppy type, she might be wiping her eyes on her chain mail at the moment. *Hold on I have something in my eye…

Okay, all better.

 

So back to the story. The woman fought this vile beast year after year. The demon would weaken, but refuse to relent. Just when she thought it may tire and leave her be, it would come back again, stronger than ever, somewhere else.

Gathering all the love she had been storing, she forged a…