Tuesday
Wake up Stan
Blue, like a petal falling, on the battered floor crying tears, trying to make sense of it all.
I try to shut it out but your image goes back and forth in my mind, entering like a wave that wont ever cease.
I scratch at the surface trying to find peace. But its so dark now. Just a fleeting moment and oh how you touched me.
Did you hear us breathe down on you?, only to protect you in vain. You are the shadow in my mind and the never ending voice that only spurs me on to defeat.
Stan, look how the river runs smooth, it shimmers in the sun on this glorious day. Beautiful as it is dark. I hate this silence.
Yesterday how we wept. Yesterday, my faith in anything washed away.
Like yesterday, you will be back no more.
Wake up Stan. Please. If only we could turn back time instead of beating on a battered floor.
Friday
FridayFlash 55 words 'Revenge for Lola'
As her tongue slowly moves over his tortured skin, Lola feels a slight twinge as her hand caresses. Slowly lifting herself onto him, Lola is in control now. She edges her hand under the covers and clenches a knife, which she twists and turns a few times into his flesh until she is completely satisfied.
Wednesday
Finale
I hate this jumper as much as I hate your face. When I look
into your deep blue eyes I see my life and weep. I resent the way they
demolished your soul but you are fine with me.
Be still my friend. Please don’t leave. Hold me up despite my hopelessness.
Sharing one last beer, we raise our glass. We laugh at the
fools dancing on the sidewalk. Then you squeeze my hand tight as we close our
eyes and fall from the big blue sky.
Friday
The Outing
Tim wants to go outside but he doesn't have a raincoat. He hates the rain, he hates being wet, he hates the sound, he hates... Utterly pissed off, Tim curls up in a ball inside the wardrobe and remains there for what he believes to be about six hours. Once Tim is sure the rain has stopped, he steps outside the wardrobe, stretches, opens the curtains and smiles as he sees the sun peeking through the clouds. "Fucking Hallelujah,” he thinks before heading down to the garden shed. Tim fetches out a large bag, which he struggles with as he puts it over his shoulder.
Tim whistles as he walks down the street. All of a sudden he comes to a halt. He has seen her. "Yes, this is she. Who else could it be?" Inquisitively he watches as she walks to the underground station. Tim follows as the lady dashes for the tube. Once inside, Tim coyly observes her. He is amazed at how young she looks. He likes her long golden hair, her pink high heel shoes, and her long legs...
The lady makes her way off the tube. Tim follows.
She walks into a department store. Tim has never been in a store like this. Tim has never been anywhere much. He has lived his life as a recluse. He only ventures out on special days and he feels that today is one of them. He looks on as the friendly lady greets people, flicking her long golden hair each time she joyfully laughs. Tim is so entranced by her that he hasn't noticed a few people looking his way. A woman walks towards him "Can I help you?" Tim stares at the woman for a few seconds. He begins to sweat and blinks his eyes rapidly. Tim takes a few steps back before heading for the exit.
"Why is everything so damn fucking complicated" Tim moans to himself while he sits on a bench and waits. A passer-by glances over and Tim gives him the finger. He hates waiting, this wasn't how he planned it and as each hour passes Tim becomes more impatient. At last he sees her leave the department store and once again she is heading for the underground. Once again Tim follows. He follows her home.
He is now at her door. He rings the bell.
"Hello. It's Tim"
"Tim?"
Tim forces his way in. Slams the door shut. They fight. She bites and screams then with one swift blow Tim knocks her to the ground. She is unconscious. As she lies on the wooden floor Tim unzips his bag. He takes out a hammer, a saw, and a knife amongst others. He looks at her, hesitates some until a voice whispers "Come on Tim, you know this will be so entertaining."
Sylvia
A dark room and a bolted door. Sylvia is pressed against her lover, she likes skin against skin. Sylvia wonders could he be the one, yet deep down knows it won't last long. She slides her fingers through his golden hair and whispers 'Do you hate what I am?'
A drunken Sylvia turns away. Hurls her glass and laughs as it shatters, then yells 'damn them all.' Sylvia wants what she wants and she can't change.
Sylvia feels dazed and confused as she thinks about her lover and if he ever knew her at all. With a gentle kiss, Sylvia touches his face before she ascends. Scanning the body, Sylvia reaches for the blood stained knife.
Cinnamon
Cinnamon has waited with anticipation for this day all week long. Today is her twenty-fourth birthday. But she has no reason to celebrate. Without any cards or birthday wishes she feels beat and low, her mind spins like a coin tossed into the sea. Cinnamon looks at her watch. It's twelve 0' clock. She takes the watch off her wrist and throws it into the cold water. A momentary joy feels her heart but then it’s overshadowed by the darkness that’s always beside her. Cinnamon takes a bar of chocolate out of her bag.
As she is enjoying her chocolate she hears a child laughing. She looks to her left. On a bench sits a child and her mother. Like two stars, they radiate. The mother hugs her child lovingly. A man appears and embraces the child. Cinnamon wishes she were this child. She looks to her right. A man is walking his dog. A passer-by stops to greet the dog. The two men talk enthusiastically. The owner strokes his dog with tenderness. Cinnamon wishes she were this dog. She sheds a tear.
Cinnamon moves towards the edge. She removes her shoes and throws them into the cold water. Her toes have made it over the edge; her heels briefly hold her back. She spreads her arms wide. Cinnamon is flying. She feels elated.
Then falls with one hell of a splash.
Tuesday
Anti - Valentine Poem
Love,
I embraced you,
moments protected you,
then
joyfully you drained my sanity,
and just as I grew used to it,
you were gone
Women of the Living Dead Anthology
I have a story in the anthology by Open Casket Press "Women of the Living Dead" Please check it out :)
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0075B81PI/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=wwwperfectbyd-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399349&creativeASIN=B0075B81PI
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0075B81PI/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=wwwperfectbyd-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399349&creativeASIN=B0075B81PI
Friday
Interview with S S Michaels
The talented S.S Michaels talks about her novel 'Idols and Cons' and other amusing things.
ME: What is Idols and Cons about?
SSM: After a night of passion with a rock star she didn’t want to meet, poor Mary Bellows goes missing. Damien Tungsten knows where she is, though. After accidentally strangling her, he rolls her up in an expensive rug and dumps her in the trash. Hours later, his neighbor, one psychotic visual artist, Patrick Salinger, finds her. He drags her back into their apartment building, planning to fashion some ghastly and priceless installation pieces out of her dead body. One boy, John Thomas – meth dealer, high school loser, and son of an alcoholic – witnesses both incidents. Unfortunately for John, Damien sees him in his window as he flees the scene.
Following a battle with his own conscience, John confronts Patrick. Bad idea. Patrick forces John into helping him dismember Mary. Freaked out and in need of a smoke, John is allowed to step outside for a moment. As he puffs away, pondering his predicament, a big old Cadillac screeches to a stop right in front of him and whisks him away to the desert. When they arrive at their destination – a swank rehab facility – John finds Damien waiting to see him. Convinced that he’s about to be killed, John prays that Damien just makes it quick and painless. Damien’s got something else in mind, though – something much more painful than death: John, a punk rocker to the core, will be taken into Damien’s boy band, where he can be babysat twenty-four seven.
Reluctantly, John is transformed into teen idol Jake Wolfram. His ego spins out of control, swelling his head and his desire for even more fame and power. In an act of revenge, John uses his stash of drugs to weaken Damien and switch places with him – the imprisoned becomes the imprisonor. Patrick, also seeking revenge, comes out of hiding to attend John’s debut art exhibit. After shooting the place up, Patrick is carted off to prison where he ultimately makes it to death row. At the boy band’s performance immediately following the art gallery debacle, Damien collapses with a heart attack, caused by an overdose of cocaine. John has everything he wants: a successful art career, a promising music career, and a house in the Valley for his mom.
Back to exact his own revenge at a book signing, Damien pulls a gun and takes aim at John, ending the story with a bang.
ME: Can you tell us something of your background. Any magical tales or encounters with gnomes, dragons, mermaids?
SSM: I do actually know one gnome, but I'd prefer not to talk about it.
ME: Do any of the characters in Idols and Cons reflect on people you know or on your experiences, dreams or nightmares?
SSM: Idols & Cons started life as a screenplay, which was inspired by time I spent working on various music award shows. I caught a glimpse of just what goes on backstage and at after-parties, and the whole thing just sparked my imagination. I thought how awful it would be to be stuck in the celebrity lifestyle if that just wasn’t your thing.
ME: Do you need to be in a special state of mind when you write? Any writing rituals you wish to share?
SSM: When I write, I'm usually in kind of a hyper mood. I get up to get a drink. I sit down to write. I get up to let the dogs out. I sit down to write. I let the dogs in. I sit down to write. I play with stuff on my desk. I write some more. My attention span isn't that great so I
ME: Are you the type of writer who has her plot mapped out or do you just go on the journey and see where it takes you?
SSM: I make an insanely detailed outline, which I throw out about half-way through my story when I allow my characters to just take over and show me what they’re made of.
ME: Do you have a favourite character in Idols and Cons?
SSM: I'd have to say Patrick is my favorite, just because he's so so deliciously evil.
ME: If you could be a superhero who would you be?
SSM: I would be the female version of Iron Man. He's in great shape, doesn't get hurt because of that insane metal suit, and he's got that cool heart thing.
ME: And if you had to rescue any cartoon character from evil villains and attic clowns who would you save and why?
SSM: My first thought was to go with Finn and Jake from Adventure Time, but they don't really need any help. So, I'll say Mordecai and Rigby from Regular Show. They're cool animals and I like their style.
ME: What are your hobbies?
SSM: Hobbies? Um… writing is kind of a hobby since it's not really a full-time job kind of thing yet. I also enjoy drawing, listening to music, and running.
ME: What writers inspire you and why?
SSM: Writers who inspire me, big names: Bret Easton Ellis and Chuck Palahniuk, because that's who I want to write like when I grow up. Writers who inspire me who are friends of mine: Jeremy C. Shipp, John Edward Lawson, Scott G. Browne, Kate Jonez, D. W. Grintalis… These are people who have given me advice and kind of guided me to where I am now. There are more, and they know who they are. I am grateful for these people and their generosity.
ME: For those many people who wish to purchase Idols and cons where it is available?
SSM: It's available through Amazon, as both a paperback and an e-book.
Thank you for the interview
If you go away
Laying still and waiting in the dark. Yesterday, I thought I saw a smile but that would have been so unlike you. Dreaming of being together knowing it just wouldn't be right. I fear you've left me far behind and would despise all I stand for
but if you go away I know I will die.
I hide from myself everyday. Yet at night the girl in the mirror shrills and keeps me awake. Tells me she has evidence. I yell "What a bitch" then I hang my head in shame. What will she do if I go away?
My feet sink in the ground as I look at her one last time. I hear those same words over and over yet I know its always a mistake to love. Damn you sweet confusion! Shall I wait for you until dawn or should I let go of this chain.
You breathe and pollute my mind with your pathetic lies but I stand by you. I'm tied like a fucking knot unable to unravel. If only I respected the knife and cut myself in two but that would be unreal like a feeling of contentment and joy. Instead I'm rooted like a tree and down on my luck and there's a ringing in my head like a bell of doom.
I turn away but of course you see right through. You firmly hold me and restrict my moves.
Forgive me when I lose. Forgive me and let me drink my last beer.
I'm not ready for this but I've never been ready for anything.
Your ice cold hands glide over my skin and then I am gone
but if you go away I will surely cry
The Drifter (Re-Visited)
A drifter picks up a hitchhiker. They cruise along the highway. The car radio is turned down low. The drifter hums. The hitchhiker is feeling uncomfortable as he fidgets for something to do. He looks at his watch several times before he speaks.
"Hey, thanks for the ride. I'm Jim. Whats your name?"
"Its immaterial." Replies the drifter, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.
"I'm a salesman." Jim continues." What do you do?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Jim looks down at his watch again.
"Are you late for something?"
"No. Im just looking. Hey, would you mind turning off that radio, I have an awful headache."
The men travel in silence for the next five minutes.
The drifter speaks. "Have you ever killed someone?"
Jim raisies his voice "What kind of question is that? "
The drifter continues. "If you had to kill someone how would you do it?"
"I couldn't. I..."
The drifter cuts him off. "I said if you had to."
Jim hesitates. "Emm... I'd probably shoot them. Bang Bang." He mimics the actions of a crazed gunman as he chuckles.
"Everyone does that."
"Stab them to death, you know like in Psycho."
"Bull."
"Throw them off a speeding train. That good enough for you?"
"No. And you watch too many movies."
"Hey, I could kick the shit out of them." Jim adds.
"Boring."
Jim chuckles. He's almost enjoying the conversation now. "Okay, I have a good one. If someone had really pissed me off, I'd strap them down to the floor and pour hot motor oil down their throat. Ha.. good eh?"
"You're pathetic." The drifter sneers.
Jim snaps back. "Okay, Mr. good for nothing smart ass, how would you kill someone?"
"You really want to know?"
The journey is interrupted. The car stops.
An hour later, the drifter reaches a filling station. He steps out the car, yawns, stretches and looks up at the night sky. Then he turns and notices a young woman, looking bored, waiting for the next customer to show. As he walks through the door, he receives her with a mocking smile. She smiles back. Then he slides his tongue over his fat lips. The desire is too strong to fight.
Saturday
Jimmy and the Black Wind by Neil Colquhoun
Want to know more about "Jimmy and the Black Wind" then please check out my friends link. Thank you :-) http://neilcolquhoun.com/archives/3008
Monday
Boiling Point by Neil Colquhoun
I invite you to have a listen to a good friend and talented writer Neil Colquhoun's entertaining and awesome podcast 'Boiling Point'. You won't be disappointed. So what are you waiting for. Off you go: Information here http://ow.ly/3jlSW Promo here http://ow.ly/3jlVb :)
Friday
Sad Lady
Master of words calls for his angel as a sad lady waits beside a tree. Naked and bound by chains, this sad despondent creature digs her toes in the soft wet ground, while she rubs her tender skin against the harshness of the bark until the pain becomes her pleasure and her suffering becomes his.
Guest Blog Post: Tarnished by Michael D. Griffiths
Abandoned by time, memory, and apparently friends, I wander through the rubble. The sky, gray.
Who am I?
I know things. I know the color of the brown pieces of brick that litter the road. The dull red of rusted metal. I know I’m a woman in a tattered dress that might have once been white.
I can do math and could speak… if there was anyone around to listen. I just have no idea who I am or memory of what this world is like, if this is my world.
An eerie thought passes over me and I shiver. What if I am dead? Could this be an afterlife? The large bruise and the pain that sometimes shoots through my left arm leads me to think otherwise, but that brings up another question.
How was I injured?
My head hurts too. I touch it and see my delicate fingers are now stained with small circles of blood.
I sit on a crumbling column fallen on its side. Looking over my wound, I try to imagine how I might have received it. “This could give me some clue.” My own voice startles me.
It doesn’t. It’s just a bruise. I could have just stumbled; there are loose rocks everywhere.
I start to feel hunger, which is another point for me still being in the land of the living, but this place is so desolate. How could I have survived this long? There doesn’t seem to be food anywhere?
I pause. “Well, I guess the lack of food gives me something to do. For if I don’t find any, all of this won’t matter long.”
My voice didn’t sound as strange this time, like I was subconsciously used to it. But it reminded me that I’m female. Did I have a lover? Is he or maybe even she, looking for me? Are they sad I am gone?
In a weird turn, I wonder how pretty I am, but there is nothing to see myself in. I haven’t seen a puddle yet. This reminds me of how thirsty I am and I must move on.
My humming starts to become a tune and I stop. Is this a clue? Still it revels nothing and I find myself growing frustrated, but I’m not sure if I should laugh, scream, or cry.
Then I hear something.
It doesn’t sound friendly. It growls. I freeze as it moves out from around a crumbling wall. At first I think wolf, but no, it is an ugly mangy dog and very big. It growls again and a thread of drool escapes from its black lips.
Could I be a warrior? Looking down at my smooth slim limbs, I wouldn’t think so.
I try running, but I have no shoes.
It’s running after me. Instinct is still alive. Even if I don’t know who I am, I don’t wish to die. Climbing up the crumbling wall is difficult, but I am free from the fangs, if not the beast. It must be hungry too, for it looks like it has no intension of leaving me. “Perhaps, I could eat you?” I call down from my narrow perch, but it just snarls.
Drawing my knees up to my chin, I try to ignore the sharp stones digging into me and my hunger. Darkness is starting to fall. That could be another point for this being a normal world.
It is still there…
I try to use this time to think, but I have nothing to draw on, no past and maybe not even a future. Time passes slowly. I am not sure if I love or hate the dog. At least it is alive, but my body is feeling worse.
Why be alive at all, if life is so short?
There is another sound now. Much louder. I fear it far more than the dog. It is like an angry God. Even the dog is whimpering. Lights in the sky. Is it angels, devils, something from the stars?
Round glowing lights cover me. Something is drawing near. It’s a disk of chaotic colors. I have nowhere to hide.
Fire, lighting, something awful bursts out to the disc. There is a yelp besides me. The dog has been slain! Am I next?
Something is happening above. I can’t dare look. An object is being lowered. It’s moving. Could it be a person?
It’s a man. He is calling to me. “Jullith, Jullith!” Could this be my name?
He is so graceful and I would have to say handsome. Oh, I’m in his arms. I hug back with hesitation as he whispers sweet praises to me. He says, “I love you.”
“What happened to me?”
Moving me to arms distance, he says, “You don’t remember? Someone kidnapped you and dumped you out here in the wasteland.”
“Why would someone hate me that much? What have I done?”
“It must be someone who disapproves of our wedding and I think I know who they are and I assure you they will pay.”
“Wedding...” I pause. “But why not just kill me? Why dump me here?”
“I think I know. We gave the entire castle a run through the Trutherbox and no one said that they had harmed you. Just leaving you here would allow that answer to be correct, even if their actions would surely lead to your death.”
“You will take care of me now?”
“Of course, my love. Now come. We will get you fed and warm.”
I decide to wait. I’ll wait until he gets me home before I will tell him; I have no memory.
On the floating disc now. Men are bowing. Below me, the rubble he called the wastelands glides by. I can’t help but wonder if it is still where I really belong.
You can check out Mike's blog here: http://jackprimus.wordpress.com/
Who am I?
I know things. I know the color of the brown pieces of brick that litter the road. The dull red of rusted metal. I know I’m a woman in a tattered dress that might have once been white.
I can do math and could speak… if there was anyone around to listen. I just have no idea who I am or memory of what this world is like, if this is my world.
An eerie thought passes over me and I shiver. What if I am dead? Could this be an afterlife? The large bruise and the pain that sometimes shoots through my left arm leads me to think otherwise, but that brings up another question.
How was I injured?
My head hurts too. I touch it and see my delicate fingers are now stained with small circles of blood.
I sit on a crumbling column fallen on its side. Looking over my wound, I try to imagine how I might have received it. “This could give me some clue.” My own voice startles me.
It doesn’t. It’s just a bruise. I could have just stumbled; there are loose rocks everywhere.
I start to feel hunger, which is another point for me still being in the land of the living, but this place is so desolate. How could I have survived this long? There doesn’t seem to be food anywhere?
I pause. “Well, I guess the lack of food gives me something to do. For if I don’t find any, all of this won’t matter long.”
My voice didn’t sound as strange this time, like I was subconsciously used to it. But it reminded me that I’m female. Did I have a lover? Is he or maybe even she, looking for me? Are they sad I am gone?
In a weird turn, I wonder how pretty I am, but there is nothing to see myself in. I haven’t seen a puddle yet. This reminds me of how thirsty I am and I must move on.
My humming starts to become a tune and I stop. Is this a clue? Still it revels nothing and I find myself growing frustrated, but I’m not sure if I should laugh, scream, or cry.
Then I hear something.
It doesn’t sound friendly. It growls. I freeze as it moves out from around a crumbling wall. At first I think wolf, but no, it is an ugly mangy dog and very big. It growls again and a thread of drool escapes from its black lips.
Could I be a warrior? Looking down at my smooth slim limbs, I wouldn’t think so.
I try running, but I have no shoes.
It’s running after me. Instinct is still alive. Even if I don’t know who I am, I don’t wish to die. Climbing up the crumbling wall is difficult, but I am free from the fangs, if not the beast. It must be hungry too, for it looks like it has no intension of leaving me. “Perhaps, I could eat you?” I call down from my narrow perch, but it just snarls.
Drawing my knees up to my chin, I try to ignore the sharp stones digging into me and my hunger. Darkness is starting to fall. That could be another point for this being a normal world.
It is still there…
I try to use this time to think, but I have nothing to draw on, no past and maybe not even a future. Time passes slowly. I am not sure if I love or hate the dog. At least it is alive, but my body is feeling worse.
Why be alive at all, if life is so short?
There is another sound now. Much louder. I fear it far more than the dog. It is like an angry God. Even the dog is whimpering. Lights in the sky. Is it angels, devils, something from the stars?
Round glowing lights cover me. Something is drawing near. It’s a disk of chaotic colors. I have nowhere to hide.
Fire, lighting, something awful bursts out to the disc. There is a yelp besides me. The dog has been slain! Am I next?
Something is happening above. I can’t dare look. An object is being lowered. It’s moving. Could it be a person?
It’s a man. He is calling to me. “Jullith, Jullith!” Could this be my name?
He is so graceful and I would have to say handsome. Oh, I’m in his arms. I hug back with hesitation as he whispers sweet praises to me. He says, “I love you.”
“What happened to me?”
Moving me to arms distance, he says, “You don’t remember? Someone kidnapped you and dumped you out here in the wasteland.”
“Why would someone hate me that much? What have I done?”
“It must be someone who disapproves of our wedding and I think I know who they are and I assure you they will pay.”
“Wedding...” I pause. “But why not just kill me? Why dump me here?”
“I think I know. We gave the entire castle a run through the Trutherbox and no one said that they had harmed you. Just leaving you here would allow that answer to be correct, even if their actions would surely lead to your death.”
“You will take care of me now?”
“Of course, my love. Now come. We will get you fed and warm.”
I decide to wait. I’ll wait until he gets me home before I will tell him; I have no memory.
On the floating disc now. Men are bowing. Below me, the rubble he called the wastelands glides by. I can’t help but wonder if it is still where I really belong.
You can check out Mike's blog here: http://jackprimus.wordpress.com/
Monday
Interview with Christa StJean
Christa StJean is a very talented artist, illustrator, digital painter, graphic designer and cook. She describes herself as a restless creative soul. And she's an expert at talking about candy.
ME: Can you tell the readers something about your background. What inspired you to be an artist.
CHRISTA: Well, my dad was the one who introduced me to art when I was a kid, but he was not really the one who inspired me the most. One of his friends and colleague, Larz Friberg, was my biggest inspiration and also the one who helped me the most :) He taught me the basics in oil painting, he gave me some insight into other techniques as well, like watercolour and lithography. And Larz was also the one who gave me a bit of information about the business world that surrounds art and art galleries. So he was very valuable source to me.
But me and my sister probably used more paper and Crayons than any other kids I knew when we grew up. Mom was very good at drawing, so I guess you could say it was contagious :p However, the creative streak comes mainly from my dad's side I think.
ME: Do you prefer digital painting or traditional art on paper or canvas.
CHRISTA: They are very different ways of creating and only a few years ago I would have said canvas. Or at least the traditional way of doing art. But the more I do digital art, the more confused I get in a way. So I have to say that I prefer all of them for different reasons. Digital art is a lot easier since it allows you to make mistake and correct it without any hassle. Digital art is very forgiving in that way. Watercolour on paper is darn difficult in it's own way since you have to work fast before it's drying, and it doesn't allow any big mistakes at all. Oil on canvas doesn't have the undo button that Photoshop got, but it's still easier to use than watercolour. I love oil paint because of the smell and texture :D
So I guess I can't really answer that.
ME: Which of your paintings are you most proud of.
CHRISTA: Of the digital paintings I've done it's probably the first one of "Merlin". It took some time to do, but I was very happy the way the hair turned out and that I managed to get his clothing done pretty good without actually paint the chain-mail he was wearing in the reference photo.
ME: What is the longest and shortest time it has taken you to complete a painting and which paintings are they.
CHRISTA: Hm...it's not easy to say which painting took the longest to complete...but the one I made of the 10th Doctor Who in black and white was probably the painting that took least time to put together. I painted that during an afternoon. Can be found here: http://christastjean.co.uk/?p=4860
Most of the time it's just a matter of hours between most painting I've done, with the exception of that Doctor Who painting.
ME: What started your love for all things steampunk.
CHRISTA: I can't remember when I saw it the first time, but I can tell you how I slipped into the making of it. For a long time I've had some pocket watches in my jewellery box and neither of them worked any more. My dad and granddad left them behind and I've kept them out of sentimental value. However, I got tired of moving them around, but I didn't want to sell them. So I figured I could redo them into something I could use. And that's how it started.
ME: What artists have influenced you and why.
CHRISTA: As I said above, Larz Friberg was one big influence back when I was younger. He was a landscape artist, painting a lot of wild animals and that sort of thing. But since then I've gone through a lot of "stages" with my art and sometimes I've changed my style because I've been influenced to do so, while other times it changed because I had to. Recently I went from painting portraits that looked pretty much like the reference I used for them, to something more expressive and colourful. But also a bit surreal. I guess the colourful bit is influence from Van Gogh and his bright happy paintings :) The surreal bit was picked up from within my own head, and that's usually the way it is. It's one part influence from someone else and one part me :) As for surrealist artists. I'm a sucker for anything by Salvador Dali. His paintings were amazingly weird and imaginative.
ME: I've often wondered this, (heh) what gives you more satisfaction painting or cooking.
CHRISTA: Hmm....I can do both, you know...at the same time...so I don't really have to pick and choose. Cooking is something I enjoy because it's relaxing to chop onion and slice carrots for example. And since I came here to England I've had to do a lot of cooking from scratch if I wanted to make any dishes that are traditional in Sweden, so it's a challenge too sometimes.
I don't express as much with the cooking as I do with my painting, so the painting gives me an outlet that way.
Do I have to choose? LOL
ME: Yes, young lady, you were suppose to choose. :-D
ME: If you had to be a strawberry pie or some custard which would you choose.
CHRISTA: I would probably be a strawberry pie :p
ME: What delicious yummies do you have in your cupboard.
CHRISTA: Right now my cupboards are actually quite empty...but I usually have custard, cocoa, icing sugar, eggs, butter...all those necessary things for the sake of making a cake or somemuffins when I feel like it :p The problem is that no goodies last very long here so I usually can't stack those...heh. I don't have a freezer right now, but if I did I would always have ice cream at home. No question about that.
ME: You have some great looking recipes in your swedish kitchen, do you often surf other food blogs.
CHRISTA: I've got a few favourite food blogs that I follow, both of them being Swedish actually. And I'm a member of a Swedish recipe community for the sake of keeping my recipe treasures fresh :D It's not often I surf food blogs without a reason. That usually happens if I'm looking for a certain recipe that can't be found anywhere else.
Thank you for the interview, Christa. To check out Christa's art, food and rants go here: http://christastjean.co.uk/
ME: Can you tell the readers something about your background. What inspired you to be an artist.
CHRISTA: Well, my dad was the one who introduced me to art when I was a kid, but he was not really the one who inspired me the most. One of his friends and colleague, Larz Friberg, was my biggest inspiration and also the one who helped me the most :) He taught me the basics in oil painting, he gave me some insight into other techniques as well, like watercolour and lithography. And Larz was also the one who gave me a bit of information about the business world that surrounds art and art galleries. So he was very valuable source to me.
But me and my sister probably used more paper and Crayons than any other kids I knew when we grew up. Mom was very good at drawing, so I guess you could say it was contagious :p However, the creative streak comes mainly from my dad's side I think.
ME: Do you prefer digital painting or traditional art on paper or canvas.
CHRISTA: They are very different ways of creating and only a few years ago I would have said canvas. Or at least the traditional way of doing art. But the more I do digital art, the more confused I get in a way. So I have to say that I prefer all of them for different reasons. Digital art is a lot easier since it allows you to make mistake and correct it without any hassle. Digital art is very forgiving in that way. Watercolour on paper is darn difficult in it's own way since you have to work fast before it's drying, and it doesn't allow any big mistakes at all. Oil on canvas doesn't have the undo button that Photoshop got, but it's still easier to use than watercolour. I love oil paint because of the smell and texture :D
So I guess I can't really answer that.
ME: Which of your paintings are you most proud of.
CHRISTA: Of the digital paintings I've done it's probably the first one of "Merlin". It took some time to do, but I was very happy the way the hair turned out and that I managed to get his clothing done pretty good without actually paint the chain-mail he was wearing in the reference photo.
ME: What is the longest and shortest time it has taken you to complete a painting and which paintings are they.
CHRISTA: Hm...it's not easy to say which painting took the longest to complete...but the one I made of the 10th Doctor Who in black and white was probably the painting that took least time to put together. I painted that during an afternoon. Can be found here: http://christastjean.co.uk/?p=4860
Most of the time it's just a matter of hours between most painting I've done, with the exception of that Doctor Who painting.
ME: What started your love for all things steampunk.
CHRISTA: I can't remember when I saw it the first time, but I can tell you how I slipped into the making of it. For a long time I've had some pocket watches in my jewellery box and neither of them worked any more. My dad and granddad left them behind and I've kept them out of sentimental value. However, I got tired of moving them around, but I didn't want to sell them. So I figured I could redo them into something I could use. And that's how it started.
ME: What artists have influenced you and why.
CHRISTA: As I said above, Larz Friberg was one big influence back when I was younger. He was a landscape artist, painting a lot of wild animals and that sort of thing. But since then I've gone through a lot of "stages" with my art and sometimes I've changed my style because I've been influenced to do so, while other times it changed because I had to. Recently I went from painting portraits that looked pretty much like the reference I used for them, to something more expressive and colourful. But also a bit surreal. I guess the colourful bit is influence from Van Gogh and his bright happy paintings :) The surreal bit was picked up from within my own head, and that's usually the way it is. It's one part influence from someone else and one part me :) As for surrealist artists. I'm a sucker for anything by Salvador Dali. His paintings were amazingly weird and imaginative.
ME: I've often wondered this, (heh) what gives you more satisfaction painting or cooking.
CHRISTA: Hmm....I can do both, you know...at the same time...so I don't really have to pick and choose. Cooking is something I enjoy because it's relaxing to chop onion and slice carrots for example. And since I came here to England I've had to do a lot of cooking from scratch if I wanted to make any dishes that are traditional in Sweden, so it's a challenge too sometimes.
I don't express as much with the cooking as I do with my painting, so the painting gives me an outlet that way.
Do I have to choose? LOL
ME: Yes, young lady, you were suppose to choose. :-D
ME: If you had to be a strawberry pie or some custard which would you choose.
CHRISTA: I would probably be a strawberry pie :p
ME: What delicious yummies do you have in your cupboard.
CHRISTA: Right now my cupboards are actually quite empty...but I usually have custard, cocoa, icing sugar, eggs, butter...all those necessary things for the sake of making a cake or somemuffins when I feel like it :p The problem is that no goodies last very long here so I usually can't stack those...heh. I don't have a freezer right now, but if I did I would always have ice cream at home. No question about that.
ME: You have some great looking recipes in your swedish kitchen, do you often surf other food blogs.
CHRISTA: I've got a few favourite food blogs that I follow, both of them being Swedish actually. And I'm a member of a Swedish recipe community for the sake of keeping my recipe treasures fresh :D It's not often I surf food blogs without a reason. That usually happens if I'm looking for a certain recipe that can't be found anywhere else.
Thank you for the interview, Christa. To check out Christa's art, food and rants go here: http://christastjean.co.uk/
Thursday
Interview with Michael D. Griffiths
Michael D. Griffiths is a good friend and superb writer of horror and science fiction. Mike has won the Withersins 666 award and had his Skinjumper series published in M-Brane magazine. His novel published by The Living Dead Press 'The Chronicles of Jack Primus' is something special that every home should own.
M. How would you describe your novel 'The Chronicles of Jack Primus'.
MDG. Besides being a novel, which could be called Horror or Dark Fantasy, The Chronicles of Jack Primus is a book of discovery and acceptance. Jack is a young man and was normal as anyone else his age, until he was exposed to the dark existence that lurks under the façade of our accepted reality. When he is exposed to the foul evil known as the Xemmoni, he barely escapes his first encounter intact and is forced to flee.
He soon discovers that, not only has he become a ‘marked man’ who now has every Xemmoni he runs across trying to kill him, but he has also attracted the notice of a mysterious entity known as Yig. This Godlike creature is giving him some abilities to try to help him survive, but will it be enough when supernatural serial killers are hunting him as he races across the country?
M. What inspired you to write this story?
MDG. Jack Primus is a big part of the puzzle that several series of books are telling on an epic level. Jack is the Hero of the Earth, protecting us from outsiders seeking to destroy all we hold dear. Other series focus on the eight different Stalwart archetypes and together they hope to rid the multi-verse of the threat of the Dark Alliance and its goal to unite to Xemmoni in an attempt to claim all there is, so they can promptly make it foul, dark, and decayed.
M. Do the evil Xemmoni ever materialize in your nightmares.
MDG. At times, it has been known to happen. I tend to have action-oriented dreams quite often, where the chance to be a hero and fight a supernatural menace can certainly happen. Exact representations, such as, “Oh man, there is a nest of Darcarre in the basement that I have to destroy,” are rarer.
M. Did you want to create the perfect stalwart hero with Jack?
MDG. The simple answer to that question is yes, certainly. But it needs to be kept in mind that there are eight types of Stalwarts (heroes). Jack is the perfect Stalwart of Yig, but if he were a follower of Loki or Dionysus, he wouldn’t be doing a very good job. Each brand of Stalwarts has their own modalities and goals. What would be perfection for one might be mediocre or even wrong for another type.
But despite this, some of Jack’s heroic nature transcends Stalwart boundaries. He is an ideal hero in many respects. He gets furious at injustice and would lay down his life to protect a friend. When it comes to the forces of the Darkened, he quickly realizes that no mercy should be shown and he enters each battle like it could be his last.
M. When setting out to write a story do you have to be in a certain state of mind? Do you plan your stories or do you just see where they take you.
MDG. Do I have to be in a certain state of mind, no, not really. All I need to write is the time to do so. I plan my stories to a certain extent. Sometimes, I might know where they will end, but the journey takes me on a ride of its own. I am often as surprised as the reader as to some of the ways things turn out. On more than one occasion, I have grown angry with myself. “Well how is he going to get out if this, Mike?” Yet, they always find a way.
I don’t really believe in writer’s block or waiting to be inspired. If I waited to be inspired, I’d be finishing my second book by now instead of have written seventeen. If you really want to be a writer, you need to write, every day. Even if it is only half a page or for a few minutes it needs to happen. If it is something you dabble in twice a month, when the mood strikes, then you are a person with a hobby of writing, not a writer.
M. Do you have any writing rituals?
MDG. Yes and no, here. I tend to like to have something to drink nearby. I enjoy soda and cold ale, wine is good, or even water. I will light a stick of incense at least when I first sit down. On the weekends, I’m a little more open ended, but I often take a walk in the woods before I start. On weekdays, I try to start as soon as I get home and keep going for two or three hours before I call it quits for the night.
M. What are you writing at the moment?
MDG. I just finished writing my first Skinjumper novel for M-Brane. M-Brane magazine has already published my Skinjumper short stories series, but now we are taking it up a notch and putting out the first of what could easily be a series of Skinjumper novels.
I’m working on a Zombie novel for Living Dead press. The owner said he would publish a zombie novel if I wrote one, so I’m writing one. I also have three or four short stories I’ll be tossing his way. I’m already in five Anthologies through Living Dead Press and I’d like to double that by the end of 2010 if I can.
I also write for the comedy site, The Daily Discord, but I use my old punk rock name, Alex Bone, for them. I also work for a local scene oriented newspaper, The Noise, and do book reviews for Innsmouth Free Press. My longest running job is with Abandoned Towers where I tend to wear a lot of hats.
I have a weekly Jack Primus blog, so there is never a time where the dust has to settle when it comes to following Jack’s adventures. I also have a thread on the SFReader in the anything goes section, where I team up with a demented grandmother to either rid the world of havoc or plunge it into chaos, I can never be quite sure.
Also keep an eye out for Dalsala Den that will be released soon through Cyberwizard Productions and perhaps Alone in the Vast through Journalstone.
M. Any stories we can read online.
MDG. Oh sure. I have a few up on the Abandoned Towers web site. Rope and Wire has one of my stories posted. I think some should be available at Golden Visions. I usually have something up on The Daily Discord and Innsmouth Free Press. Also the Jack Primus blog and the Shovel thread on SFReader are updated weekly.
M. What authors inspire you and why?
MDG. Many authors inspire me. Jack Vance comes to mind. His use of language and dialog never ceases to amaze me. HP Lovecraft for his holistic approach to the totality of horror and evil. Michael Moorcock has inspired my series, by breaking rules. His characters jump from series to series, story lines spill over. Imagining a conflict that can span different series of books has inspired me a great deal. I like to think that he build the foundation I am currently using for my various series. Lastly when it comes to heroes like Jack, Robert E. Howard was certainly inspiring. His heroes never gave up. When confronted with horror that is only two options, one can give up and die, or one can forget all the rules and fight with whatever you have. The list could go on, but this is a good start.
M. If you could be a cartoon character who would it be?
MDG. I tend to become Daffy Duck when confronted by serious problems. There has been a few times I’ve fled from scenes of trouble going Wop, wop, wop-wop, wop, while dodging people and furniture.
Thank you for the interview, Mike.
To purchase your very own copy of 'The Chronicles of Jack Primus' go here http://www.amazon.com/Chronicles-Jack-Primus-Book/dp/1935458434/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1273547814&sr=8-1
M. How would you describe your novel 'The Chronicles of Jack Primus'.
MDG. Besides being a novel, which could be called Horror or Dark Fantasy, The Chronicles of Jack Primus is a book of discovery and acceptance. Jack is a young man and was normal as anyone else his age, until he was exposed to the dark existence that lurks under the façade of our accepted reality. When he is exposed to the foul evil known as the Xemmoni, he barely escapes his first encounter intact and is forced to flee.
He soon discovers that, not only has he become a ‘marked man’ who now has every Xemmoni he runs across trying to kill him, but he has also attracted the notice of a mysterious entity known as Yig. This Godlike creature is giving him some abilities to try to help him survive, but will it be enough when supernatural serial killers are hunting him as he races across the country?
M. What inspired you to write this story?
MDG. Jack Primus is a big part of the puzzle that several series of books are telling on an epic level. Jack is the Hero of the Earth, protecting us from outsiders seeking to destroy all we hold dear. Other series focus on the eight different Stalwart archetypes and together they hope to rid the multi-verse of the threat of the Dark Alliance and its goal to unite to Xemmoni in an attempt to claim all there is, so they can promptly make it foul, dark, and decayed.
M. Do the evil Xemmoni ever materialize in your nightmares.
MDG. At times, it has been known to happen. I tend to have action-oriented dreams quite often, where the chance to be a hero and fight a supernatural menace can certainly happen. Exact representations, such as, “Oh man, there is a nest of Darcarre in the basement that I have to destroy,” are rarer.
M. Did you want to create the perfect stalwart hero with Jack?
MDG. The simple answer to that question is yes, certainly. But it needs to be kept in mind that there are eight types of Stalwarts (heroes). Jack is the perfect Stalwart of Yig, but if he were a follower of Loki or Dionysus, he wouldn’t be doing a very good job. Each brand of Stalwarts has their own modalities and goals. What would be perfection for one might be mediocre or even wrong for another type.
But despite this, some of Jack’s heroic nature transcends Stalwart boundaries. He is an ideal hero in many respects. He gets furious at injustice and would lay down his life to protect a friend. When it comes to the forces of the Darkened, he quickly realizes that no mercy should be shown and he enters each battle like it could be his last.
M. When setting out to write a story do you have to be in a certain state of mind? Do you plan your stories or do you just see where they take you.
MDG. Do I have to be in a certain state of mind, no, not really. All I need to write is the time to do so. I plan my stories to a certain extent. Sometimes, I might know where they will end, but the journey takes me on a ride of its own. I am often as surprised as the reader as to some of the ways things turn out. On more than one occasion, I have grown angry with myself. “Well how is he going to get out if this, Mike?” Yet, they always find a way.
I don’t really believe in writer’s block or waiting to be inspired. If I waited to be inspired, I’d be finishing my second book by now instead of have written seventeen. If you really want to be a writer, you need to write, every day. Even if it is only half a page or for a few minutes it needs to happen. If it is something you dabble in twice a month, when the mood strikes, then you are a person with a hobby of writing, not a writer.
M. Do you have any writing rituals?
MDG. Yes and no, here. I tend to like to have something to drink nearby. I enjoy soda and cold ale, wine is good, or even water. I will light a stick of incense at least when I first sit down. On the weekends, I’m a little more open ended, but I often take a walk in the woods before I start. On weekdays, I try to start as soon as I get home and keep going for two or three hours before I call it quits for the night.
M. What are you writing at the moment?
MDG. I just finished writing my first Skinjumper novel for M-Brane. M-Brane magazine has already published my Skinjumper short stories series, but now we are taking it up a notch and putting out the first of what could easily be a series of Skinjumper novels.
I’m working on a Zombie novel for Living Dead press. The owner said he would publish a zombie novel if I wrote one, so I’m writing one. I also have three or four short stories I’ll be tossing his way. I’m already in five Anthologies through Living Dead Press and I’d like to double that by the end of 2010 if I can.
I also write for the comedy site, The Daily Discord, but I use my old punk rock name, Alex Bone, for them. I also work for a local scene oriented newspaper, The Noise, and do book reviews for Innsmouth Free Press. My longest running job is with Abandoned Towers where I tend to wear a lot of hats.
I have a weekly Jack Primus blog, so there is never a time where the dust has to settle when it comes to following Jack’s adventures. I also have a thread on the SFReader in the anything goes section, where I team up with a demented grandmother to either rid the world of havoc or plunge it into chaos, I can never be quite sure.
Also keep an eye out for Dalsala Den that will be released soon through Cyberwizard Productions and perhaps Alone in the Vast through Journalstone.
M. Any stories we can read online.
MDG. Oh sure. I have a few up on the Abandoned Towers web site. Rope and Wire has one of my stories posted. I think some should be available at Golden Visions. I usually have something up on The Daily Discord and Innsmouth Free Press. Also the Jack Primus blog and the Shovel thread on SFReader are updated weekly.
M. What authors inspire you and why?
MDG. Many authors inspire me. Jack Vance comes to mind. His use of language and dialog never ceases to amaze me. HP Lovecraft for his holistic approach to the totality of horror and evil. Michael Moorcock has inspired my series, by breaking rules. His characters jump from series to series, story lines spill over. Imagining a conflict that can span different series of books has inspired me a great deal. I like to think that he build the foundation I am currently using for my various series. Lastly when it comes to heroes like Jack, Robert E. Howard was certainly inspiring. His heroes never gave up. When confronted with horror that is only two options, one can give up and die, or one can forget all the rules and fight with whatever you have. The list could go on, but this is a good start.
M. If you could be a cartoon character who would it be?
MDG. I tend to become Daffy Duck when confronted by serious problems. There has been a few times I’ve fled from scenes of trouble going Wop, wop, wop-wop, wop, while dodging people and furniture.
Thank you for the interview, Mike.
To purchase your very own copy of 'The Chronicles of Jack Primus' go here http://www.amazon.com/Chronicles-Jack-Primus-Book/dp/1935458434/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1273547814&sr=8-1
And if you want to read more about Jack's adventures then go here http://jackprimus.wordpress.com/
Friday
The Novelist
Lenny the lifeguard gives sympathy to the grieving family, yet Lenny has no need to feel remorse, it was worthwhile watching their daughter gasp for air as he held her under water.
He finishes the final chapter and thinks about his next novel…
‘Being a serial killer sounds much more entertaining, always hated lifeguards anyway.‘
He finishes the final chapter and thinks about his next novel…
‘Being a serial killer sounds much more entertaining, always hated lifeguards anyway.‘
Saturday
The Sculptor
He felt so high when she was at his mercy, now it's over Daniel kneels to stroke her tangled blood drenched hair. Impressed at how this once beautiful face is almost unrecognisable, he picks up the knife from the ground and with passionate movements he carves and reshapes knowing she will make the perfect figurine.
Friday
Sorry
The ghost of guilt catches Jennifer's tears as she scans for memories and photographs. Lonesome and troubled with many sleepless nights, she fails to comfort her bruised and broken heart. Did selfishness overstep the mark? And once his final words sink in they hit every damn nerve. Sorry you are gone. Jennifer is so sorry.
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