Rashomon Story

Today, a cast of bloggers set out to create a story told from the point of view of set of characters using the pictures above.

Cast of characters:
Man in Bed: Majere (Majere's story was written by me.)
Woman: Crynne, a prostitute. (Crynne's story was written by Rennratt)

Man Pouring tea: Aldoux, a servant. (Aldoux's story was written by Tiff, of No Accent Yet)
Man in the Black Robes : Bishop Janiff (Janiff's story was written by Lady Jane Scarlett)
Man in the Light Purple Robes: Bishop Beddleton (Beddleton's story was written by an author who wishes to remain anonymous)
Man in the Dark Purple Robes: Bishop Dominic y'Nobe (y'Nobe's story was written by Sea Hag, of Monkey Barn)
Man in the in Red Robes: Bishop Valetti, the head Bishop (Valetti's story was written by Kapgar)

These vignettes were weaved together by Hyperionand presented cohesively as a master murder mystery story, The Sins of the Father .

Go read and enjoy.

Tall Ships

Friend-ship

I get up god awful early to walk in the mornings before I go to work. I walk about two miles before I head down to the boardwalk to watch the sun come up over the river.

This morning as I was turning onto the boardwalk I saw the Friendship awaiting me.*

She's huge against our tiny dock. Her masts rising skyward and hull overshadowing the boardwalk.

I stopped to take in her magnificence and contemplate her beauty. I was joined by two joggers; all three of us pausing our MP3 players and staring in silence at the great tall ship outlined by the dawning sky and river.

*I returned at 7 am to take this picture.

Fast Food Advice

In a fit of boredom while tech support was attempting to fix a computer error, I read the back of my Starbucks cup.

The Way I See It #160

Sixty-nine percent of all problems in relationships are unsolvable. They are about differences in personality or needs. They never change. When you choose someone, you will have inherited the problems you will have for the next 50 years. Unfortunately, we pick people who are not as perfect as we are, (I'm perfect? Cool. Good to know.) so relationships work if you have wound up with a perpetual problems you can learn to live with. -- Dr. John Gottman; scientific expert on marriage, relationships, and family.

Is this advice I'd want to employ on a first date? I think not.

Confusion

Awhile ago I did a list for Hyperion on the Top Ten Things I do not Understand. I've done this list before and different, but I forget stuff every now and then.

Anyhow on the way home from Maine this past Sunday I saw another thing I don't understand - the truck limo.

Why?

Pleeeeeeeaaaaaase explain this to me.

Aren't these two things exclusive to the other? Why combine them? If you want to be in a limo, do you want a flat bed truck or vice-versa? Each on their own give completely different statements...

I tried to ask the guy in the limo. We were in heavy traffic, but I couldn't catch up the truck limo slightly rolled down window to ask.

I will be forever mystified unless you can help me.

Saved by the Neon Belt.. sorta

Last night I went to see a movie about Leonard Cohen "I'm Your Man". Normally I hate music biographies as I find them overstated / overpuffed trips into the egomaniac minds of musicians. The movie I saw last night was different.

I'm Your Man was more an artistic and poetic look at Cohen's work and the influences he had on musicians without being self grandizing. I truly enjoyed it.

After the movie, my friend Tim and I went to get a drink the Black Cow, a restaurant with a patio overlooking the Merrimack. As we talked, a guy walked by wearing a belt that doubled as sign with blue neon letters.

I haven't laughed so hard in a long while. The man lit up everyone he came in contact with. People around him were all a-glow in blue. He was truly a man of the old Miami Vice era.
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When I awoke this morning, I felt the hangover of a lifetime. A hangover reminiscent of my twenty-first birthday when my senses awoke one at a time.

First came awareness: I had passed out and was somewhere different than I had been last night. A downey soft bed with super soft airy sheets.

Next came my hearing: Someone was snoring. I still couldn't move.

Then sight: A blue light was on somewhere in the corner of the room reminding me of an alarm clock's glowing face.

Then smell: The smell of fresh morning air mixed in with the scent of night old alcohol that emanates from the pores making my gag reflexes come to life.

Finally motion: Running to hug the porcelain god.

God - I do not miss being twenty-one.

This fictionalized story was brought to you by Michele and Cincy.

Brain Block

In an overwhlming lack of creativity and general blankness, I am having a hard time thinking of anything to post.

Therein lies the problem..

I owe Tiff a story from two weeks ago and have another story to get out by Thursday for that task master Hyperion.

The gray matter is not functioning, not even kicking in.

Help.....

Flooded (part b)

Most of the memories that encircle me have me smiling.

I fell in love for the first time in this town. I have friends for life rooted here. I will always have a place within the circle of friends who have become my surrogate family. Smiles live here.

New memories are being made all the time. Memories I will hold when I want to smile.

Sloane, a wee two year old - Austin's sister, bellowed "Shell" within the half an hour I arrive. Austin soaked me in the bumper boats at Malibu Grand Prix. Iris, a curly topped two year old -Sloane's cousin, ran to me with a smile to say "hello". Vic rocking out with his new band. Maria and I sharing our ritual coffee talk at Borders.

Yesterday's breakfast at le Madeline in Buckhead, I see Ian, an adorable six year old who worships his cousin Austin, completely pouting. Austin is sitting next to him with a sly smile on his face, but with his face turned away from Ian.

I ask Ian what's wrong. Ian whines, "I want to know what is Austin's favorite part of Lego's Star Wars [a video game] and he won't tell me." I turn to Austin. "What did you say when Ian asked you?" Austin turns his sly smile to me. "Lego my Eggo."

Flood

As soon as I step into Hartsfield International airport from the plane, I am on autopilot. I walk to the car rental counter with my carry on and after going through the necessary hoops, drive the rental car to my best friend's house.

At Maria's house, the memories begin to merge into my conscious. The memories drift slowly, gently from the recesses of my mind. They niggle my conscious with awareness.

I am not sure when but at some point, somewhere in the middle of batting practice with my godson, Austin; playing Thomas the Train with his sister; talking to my friends, or drinking coffee in the morning while Austin plays his X-Box, the memories fully take over my senses.

Everywhere I look is a place I've touched before. I am overwhelmed. I am flooded.