So I changed my blog theme, big whoop


, , , , , , ,

blogging-336375_640I blog because I enjoy it. I enjoy feeling free to share my thoughts. I enjoy reading the thoughts that others share. I enjoy the interactions a blog post can create. Still, sometimes it can begin to fill a bit old.

It starts as I stare at the screen wanting to write but nothing comes out. I stare at the screen wanting to read but nothing seems to interest me enough. I scroll through the reader hoping for inspiration or enjoyment. Something I can write about or something I want to comment on. Minutes, then hours pass and I close the laptop.

I take a break, maybe a quick nap. I come back and open the reader again. An idea pops in and I hit the new post button. I start typing, then backspacing. I start typing again, then highlight all-delete. Why can’t I just get the words right? Why can’t I say what I want to say? Minutes pass and my blog starts staring back at me. It’s laughing at me now.

I’ve shared my thoughts so many times before so easily. The words fill the screen almost faster than I can think them. My fingers press keys and a post is born. I watch as the comments mount and the likes light up. A new reader, a new follower a first time commenter make me smile. A long time blogging buddy makes me laugh. I want this, I need this. I am an addict.

Still the box on my screen is empty. The title does not exist. I save the empty draft just to create something. My empty idea now has a place on my blog. Maybe soon I will be able to turn it into something worthy of the publish button, but only when I feel it is ready. For now it is back to the reader to see what may be new. Such an array of literary talent, such an expansive display of art.

This simple reader is a tunnel through which a new world can be displayed, the universe is open and all its stories amaze. In it anything is possible, plausible and portrayed.

I see politics, current events and a few world views. They mix with the fiction, the jokes and cartoons. I laugh at one story, then tear from another. I like a few posts and comment on a few others. Time to start thinking again about what I want to say. I log back into my blog and stare at the display. (sorry about that. I got in a sort of rhythm but I will stop now.)

I sit there a while with nothing new until finally I decide I’m tired of looking at the same screen. I pull up the appearance option and select themes. Preview this one then preview that. I believe it is time for a change again and this new theme fits. It makes me feel refreshed, a bit special.

My older post look better. My newer post will pop. I feel like writing. The words start to flow again. No deletes or backspaces, just words that come from my soul. A catchy title and it is finished. It seemed so easy again.

This happens every few months. I get a bit of a writers block and somehow, changing my theme makes me forget the block. I’m not sure if changing my look bothers or confuses readers, but it is a mechanism that helps me. Let me know what you think. I would be interested in hearing your opinion whether for or against updating the look of your blog. Maybe you want to try it yourself and see if it helps.

The Journey


, , , , , ,

Part one: From The Matticus Kingdom who asked us to finish the following story

The night howled, sucked at the windows, and rattled fences.  Trees, arched with the onslaught, whipped and branches reached out for anything to unleash their frustration and torment on.  The wind pushed against everything, a bully on a rampage, the world its victim.

The cloud shrouded darkness ate away at the edges of the dim pools of light cast by the street lamps.  The polka dot glows shimmered in the swaying black.  They seemed resigned to their fate, destined to be swallowed and complete the end of all things, but too stubborn to wink out quickly.  Fading, little by little, the long hours of the night stretched thin.

A single door on the block creaked open, straining against the arms of the storm, and then banged shut.  The hunched man winced in anticipation of the sound even though the echoes of the escape were lost below the fury of the wind.  His strained eyes swept the scoured landscape and saw nothing but the traces of lights ominously urging him forward.

The way is here.

It is not safe.

Follow the dancing lights.

If you dare…

Now for part two, written by me.

He slowly moved forward, the wind taking its cruelty out upon him. He didn’t care.

“Have at it” he screamed into the night. “I have been locked away too long for you to stop me now.”

The lights brightened and danced a little faster. It was too much for his eyes to take. He held up his hand to block the light, looking away only for an instant. He felt the change as the lights brightened then disappeared. The howling night air became quiet. He was not alone. Something else, something much more sinister than him was close.

“You will not escape” a growling voice roared from the shadows “I will not allow it”

His eyes were burning as an unrelenting stench began to surround him. His skin tightened as he prepared for the onslaught.

“You should prepare for your end!”

As it spoke the ground shook fiercely. How could it be? The rumored spirit surrounding the dungeon, the stories were all true. He didn’t care.

“Do your worst spirit. I’m not going back.” he yelled “If death is what you bring, I’ll take it and be at peace”

Many moments passed and all was silent. There were no lights, no sounds, no smells. Everything seemed calm.

“You do not fear me?” The voice asked. It’s tone subdued, hinting at bewilderment.

He stared out into the darkness. He had no plan beyond escape, beyond freedom. Death to him seemed the ultimate freedom. He didn’t care.

“Fear has been my captor for too many years.” He replied

More silence surrounded him. The night air started whistling, circling around. He waited a long while as the night became day. The spirit had gone. Fear was it’s only weapon. He began to walk.

He was no one, with no home, no family. Life had treated him cruelly. Chewed at his soul then spit him back out into a world he didn’t know and couldn’t understand. He knew nothing of where he would go or what he would become. He didn’t care.

The journey was his alone.




, , , ,

69-07-july-20th-2014It was gone! Everything was just gone! The school, the playground equipment and all the children vanished into thin air. The only sign left in the otherwise barren field was a single, busted soccer ball.

The neighborhood was devastated. Parents lost, no idea what to do, where to go or who to look to. The police and the FBI were all involved, but had no answers. News crews descended onto the scene making things so much worse. The world watched, mesmerized by the event that had unfolded in this little town.

A full week passed and nothing. The field was just as empty, the families just as devastated and the authorities just as baffled. The theories varied from alien abduction to an act of god to a government conspiracy along with many more. Most didn’t make any sense, yet none of this made sense.  So many were missing, so many more affected by the loss and no one knew why.

Then today we received even more disturbing news. It has happened again! Another school in another state now vanished! What the hell is going on!

Written for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt.

Time to leave it behind


, , , , , ,

ff85-adam-ickesShe begged and pleaded for him to leave it behind. She thought maybe, finally he would be willing to let it go.

A new home in a new city meant a new start. Still he fought, still he wouldn’t budge.

“It’s time” she told him. “It’s just not who you are anymore.”

“It could be” was his reply. “I believe I can revive it, make it better.”

“No, sweetie. The business was a failure. If you keep all those papers, the invoices, the receipts you can never move on.”

“I know, I know. You’re right. Tomorrow it will all be gone.”

“Good, and after you can mount my Ram in the den.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers photo prompt for Jul 18th, 2014.

Six months too empty…


, , , , , , ,

Six months have come and gone

You are missed more each day

The house seems so empty

Without your smiling face

The jokes are not as funny

The laughter a little less

An evening with the family

Will never be the same

Holidays not as cheerful

But the love always remains

Tears are still shed

Just a little less each day

We learn to hide the pain

Living with the empty space

Life continues to move forward

While we keep you in our hearts

Your strength has become ours

And we use It every day

Knowing you are watching

Smiling from a place high above

Today it has been six months since we lost my dad. It doesn’t seem like it could have been that long but it has. I hope he knows how much he was loved and how much he is missed. He left behind a tremendous, amazing family. I’m sure I speak for us all when I say

Love you dad. Thank you for all you did for me!

Peanuts and Cracker Jack at a dinner party!


, , , , , ,

I’m having a dinner party and get to invite up to eight guests of my choosing, whether alive or dead. Sure I could go for historical figures like presidents, maybe inventors or even go further into history and invite a couple explorers of the new world. It would be interesting to hear the stories from the actual participants. Maybe even invite a princess, a few knights, a king and others from medieval times and just listen to what they have to say about their lives.

Any of these would make an exciting evening, but not the most interesting for me. I would go a different route and invite a few ballplayers to the get together. I am a lifelong fan of baseball and a Red Sox fanatic as some of you probably already know. Why not make my get together a fun evening with a few of the people who have made the game what it is?

joejacksonI want to hear the stories of the game, the real story from the greats who lived it. What actually happened in the 1919 World Series? Did the players throw the series as the Black Sox Scandal would have you believe? Shoeless Joe Jackson would know, but would he tell me if I asked?

What was it like for the players of the Negro Leagues? Knowing they were capable of anything the professional white players were, yet not allowed in the same ballparks, the same clubhouses or the same record books? Maybe Satchell Paige would have a few insights into this part of history. Jackie Robinson would be a great guest with experience from the Negro Leagues and those first years of integration.

How about Mickey Mantle and his take on the days of Yankee dominance. He could tell me about watching the greats that came before him and then being able to be one of the greatest himself. Stories of World Series glory (7 titles), home run titles and being a part of murderer’s row could keep me entertained for hours.

I would have a few of my Red Sox greats there as well. Ted Williams, Luis Tiant and Johnny Pesky (Mr. Red Sox) all seem like they would be great story tellers with lots to tell. With well over a hundred years of combined professional baseball knowledge, their would be no end to the tales.

I would want to get the thoughts of a few players I have watched over the years as well. Mark McGwire could make a great guest, his accomplishments in the game are unparalleled yet tarnished at the same time. I would enjoy hearing how he felt about his treatment before and after all the allegations of steroids were out there and how the other greats from years past felt about the recent scandals of the game.

nolan ryanNolan Ryan is invited, his pitching prowess was legendary. He played many years, 27 I think, on several teams and against hall of famers galore. His seven no-hitters and 5714 strikeouts are probably unreachable ever again.

Nomar Garciaparra and Pedro Martinez would need to be there just to make it complete. I spent many evenings watching these two show off their skills on the way to the first Red Sox World Series title in eighty six years. I have met both before although no conversations were involved. I have an autograph obtained from Nomar before a game in Atlanta in 2000 and Pedro tossed a baseball to me in the stands during batting practice at a Spring Training game a couple years later.

I think I might have passed my eight invited guests mark and can still think of many more who I want there. Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, Roger Clemens, Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, David Ortiz the list could just go on and on. I think the group I have assembled will keep me busy for tonight though. I plan to just sit back and listen to their stories, enjoying every minute.

A beer, a Fenway Frank, a box of Cracker Jack and the evening is complete. Ain’t baseball a grand game!

Written for today’s Daily Prompt: Seat Guru

You get to plan a dinner party for 4-8 of your favorite writers/artists/musicians/other notable figures, whether dead or alive. Who do you seat next to whom in order to inspire the most fun evening?

Lose the cat and bring me more soup!


, , , ,

The neighborhood cat

Managed a loud splat

As he tipped over my bowl of soup


Why was he there

Bringing about my despair

And turning my soup to poop


I felt like a dummy

No soup in my tummy

I needed myself to regroup


I grabbed the beach towel

Gave the cat a mean scowl

Wiping soup away with a swoop


What do I do now

My food has gone foul

And the cat made me feel like a dupe


The cat needs to go

While I go get some mo’e

I really wanted that soup!

Written for the Daily Prompt: An Odd Trio

Today, you can write about whatever you what — but your post must include, in whatever role you see fit, a cat, a bowl of soup, and a beach towel

Got the site and the money, why not start the filming?


, , , , , ,

You just inherited a dilapidated, crumbling-down grand mansion in the countryside. Assuming money is no issue, what do you do with it? window-16796_640This sounds like a perfect opportunity to start the long awaited filming of my first horror movie. Since I got the old country house and unlimited funds this should be a lot of fun. Now to just find a couple young college girls that are willing to show their boobs before being killed off by the demented maniac.

I guess I need to come up with some sort of story. It can have lots of plot holes in it as long as the kill scenes are awesome. Maybe mix it up with an electrocution, someone killing themselves while trying to escape and at least one decapitation.

After all that our hero will finally take down the killer. Of course shooting him won’t work and running over him with a car only slows him down. It will need to be something big and creative. Maybe the hero finds an abandoned farm tractor with a large cutter attached that just happens to have the key in it and still work.

A messy kill with lots of splashing and chunks flying and it’s finally over. Then end the movie with a slight hint the killer really isn’t dead or maybe the hero is now the next killer. That sounds like a money making endeavor to me and it’s even open for a sequel if it’s received well. Maybe it will start a long career for me in the movie business.

Worst case I had some fun with my new place and got to see some boobs. What could be better than that?

Written for today’s Daily Prompt: Reviving Bricks. Probably not what they were expecting me to do with my mansion but I like being different.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 435 other followers