Monthly Archives: July 2014

Excerpt from “The Valley of the Shadow” by H. Oloff de Wet ~~End~~

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“It was an indescribable sensation of bliss to be yet alive, if only for a short time, if only for just one little hour longer. Anything might happen in an hour …”

Back in my cell, evil thoughts encircled me, knowing all too well the significance of this visit to the hospital. The end of the war in sight; that was the bitterness. Ironical that I had dodged so many, so many of those sanguine afternoons down there.

Monday morning I looked down into the yard. There were the boxes, piled six high, three laterally – eighteen! I wonder on which label might be indited my name.

Before leaving my cell in the afternoon when they came to fetch me, I insisted on washing my eating-bowl and spoon and putting them where they were wont to be, knowing how loathsome it is to discover a bowl crusted with the dried…

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“The Boys Of Summer” released by Don Henley

Nobody on the road
Nobody on the beach
I feel it in the air
The summer’s out of reach
Empty lake, empty streets
The sun goes down alone
I’m driving by your house
Though I know you’re not home

But I can see you-
Your brown skin shinin’ in the sun
You got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on, baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone

I never will forget those nights
I wonder if it was a dream
Remember how you made me crazy?
Remember how I made you scream
Now I don’t understand what happened to our love
But babe, I’m gonna get you back
I’m gonna show you what I’m made of

I can see you-
Your brown skin shinin’ in the sun
I see you walking real slow and you’re smilin’ at everyone
I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone

Out on the road today, I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac
A little voice inside my head said, “Don’t look back. You can never look back”
I thought I knew what love was
What did I know?
Those days are gone forever
I should just let them go but-

I can see you-
Your brown skin shinin’ in the sun
You got that top pulled down and that radio on, baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone

I can see you-
Your brown skin shinin’ in the sun
You got that hair slicked back and those Wayfarers on, baby
I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone

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Excerpt from “The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit” by Sloan Wilson ~~Time~~

picture-ManInTheGreyFlannelSuit-WilsonWork in the office on Saturdays and do your background reading on Sundays – hundreds do it. He glanced at his watch. It was only eleven o’clock. Suddenly he longed for the day to be over – he was ashamed to find that for no particular reason he felt exhausted, and he wanted to go home and relax. An hour and a half until lunch, and then another five and a half hours before he could reasonably catch the train to South Bay. The big sweep hand on his wrist watch seemed to crawl with maddening slowness. Hopkins rarely left his office before seven o’clock, and Tom had sensed he was annoyed to find that Tom usually left earlier. It was embarrassing to have to compete with Hopkins’ hours – it was like taking a Sunday afternoon walk with a long-distance runner. The stereotyped notion of the earnest young man arriving early and leaving late, and the complacent boss dropping in for a few hours in the middle of the day to see how things were going was completely reversed.
Tom rolled a piece of paper into his typewriter and began to write a brief statement describing the origins of the mental health committee. After finishing it, he glanced at his watch again. Almost an hour before lunchtime – it was ridiculous to be so restless. I’ll bet Hopkins never was a clock watcher, he thought.
‘Don’t wish time away.’
The sentence came abruptly to his mind. Who had said that? It’s just an old saying, he thought. ‘Don’t wish time away.’

 

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Excerpt from “Dali by Dali” ~~Hallucinogenic~~

picture-DaliByDaliThen why should Dali use drugs when he has discovered that our world is a world of people with hallucinations, where theories, like that of relativity, add to the three dimensions of space a fourth, which is time, the most surrealist and the most hallucinatory of spatial dimensions.
I have never taken drugs, since I am the drug.
I don’t talk about my hallucinations, I evoke them.
Take me, I am the drug; take me, I am hallucinogenic!

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Excerpt from “Sweet and Sour Labrador” by Jasper Carrott ~~Sebastian~~

picture-SweetSourLabrador-CarrottDavina’s mother came to the door. She took one look at me and said, ‘No, thank you, we’re Sainsbury’s.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m here for Davina.’
‘Are you Jaspah?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh dear,’ she said and shouted into the house, ‘Davina, it’s Jaspah!’
Davina quickly appeared.
‘Oh fabuloso! Yippee, Mummy, he’s got a super big lorry with eight wheels. Isn’t he absolutely sweet? Mummy, this is Jaspah. Jaspah . . . Mummy.’
I was just going ‘How do you do, Mrs Jacobson. Very pleased to meet –’ when, at that precise moment, Sebastian arrives.
Sebastian was their Afghan and he gave me no chance. He spotted that right leg and suddenly it was Sadler’s Wells again.
Get ‘im off me!’ I was yelling as they were beating him with bricks, sticks and anything that came to hand.
‘Kick his balls!’ Mrs Jacobson shouted.
That was all I needed. By leaping three yards in the air, I could screw my left foot round and deliver a Trevor Francis special – right between Sebastian’s thrusting legs.
‘No!’ she screamed. ‘His balls! The ones on the lawn!’
But by that time there were tears in my eyes, never mind Sebastian’s.
Eventually I was taken into the lounge to meet Davina’s father. He wasn’t too impressed.
‘You look a mess,’ he said.
‘I should think so. I’ve just been raped by your Afghan.’
The whole family was there so I had to go around the room meeting aunties, uncles, grannies, brothers, sisters – the whole Jacobson hunting set.
… About an hour later, they brought in tea and cucumber sandwiches. While we were all chatting away, Sebastian appeared, limping slightly.
Luckily, he was too knackered by now to pay me any attention. Instead, he sat down in the middle of the room and started methodically licking his bum.
Now isn’t that embarrassing? I mean, where do you look? No one’s going to say anything, are they? They’re not going to say, ‘Stop licking your arsehole, Sebastian.’
In desperation, to break the acute embarrassment of the occasion, I said, ‘Cor, I wish I could do that.’
It was just to break the ice – crack a little funny, that sort of thing.
But you always know when you’ve said the wrong thing. People start spluttering and coughing and fingering their collars.
Thankfully, it was Davina’s mum who let me off the hook. She looked me in the eye and smiled sweetly.
‘If you give him a biscuit, he’ll let you.’

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Ringo Starr – Color Card No.4

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Sunrise at Peregian Beach

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