Songmistress

... who is still a book purist? The only one without a Kindle (and who doesn't ever want one)? The only one who still requires her pages be paper and her words be ink? To feel. To smell. To nearly taste. Reading for me is visceral. Books hold magic. Technology is great, but Tolkien would weep to see his books read on a cold, flavourless, magicless screen. I love tech. But, I have no place for it when it comes to my books. When it comes to the telling of stories in the written word, the printing press is as modern as I get. But, I know I am not among a majority here. I just wondered if I'm the ONLY one here (other than @Squarepeg, that is - I know he's as anti e-reader as I am).

I like his pretentious smuggery. But, I'm both those things, so...yeah. I'm presently reading Chocolat by Joanne Harris

Because we all need to celebrate our accomplishments and victories. This... hearing this: Tinks. And, this: Season 3.

It's an instant messaging provider thingy. I have it, but I use whatsapp more than kik.

Anyone still interested in this thread???

The Woman in Black by Susan Hill Love this woman's spooky storytelling. Also, yet another prime example of book being superior to the film adaptation.

Oh, travel can be good. I wish I had the money to travel. But immigration is evil. And it's only getting worse. It is horrifying to think that if Jamie and I were to having to face the red-tape today, the fees have become so high that we would not ever be able to be together. The government has made it so that only the rich, successful, white, privileged can ever hope to get indefinite leave to remain. I'll try to sum up the rest of this, as is getting a bit silly long now. I was interrogated for two and a half hours and threatened with deportation. Somehow, by some miracle, I managed to get in. This was the end of April, and my first English Spring. Looking back, it's pretty fucking amazing that we ended up together. Besides the immigration horror, there was so many hurdles... machinations of people who didn't want us together. We did marry in September, then I had to go back to the States in October to apply for my spousal visa. I haven't been back to America since then. It is a sadness that I cannot see my family there. But, it is what it is. And, England is my home. So much stuff and things. Fifteen years; a lifetime, a blink of an eye. More immigration hoops to jump. A miscarriage. Kids. More machinations of the malevolent. Our own human stupidity (which is exceedingly tremendous). My illness(es). Dreams dying. Dreams resurrected. Dreams reborn. Reality. Jamie is a rock in the relentless, never ending storm of the bastard that is life. We, honestly, never get a break from the onslaught of shit it throws at us. But, there are the occasional moments of happiness. I don't think happily ever after is possibility. Anyone who says otherwise is, well, you know, back to Princess Bride, anyone who says otherwise is selling something. All we ever get are moments. These are the sparkles in the hard, black mica of existence. They are the only saving graces in a wasteland of time and pain. We get moments. And, some moments are worth breathing for, for awhile. This story doesn't have an ending. It's ongoing. And, it will live long after us in our children and in scribbled, tear-soaked, lines of poetry... Beyond the Stars and Past Eternity.

How could anyone be a fan of Faith? She was the most annoying character Joss Whedon ever invented. I'm certain he only did it to torture me. Fucking 5 by 5 shit. I'm a Dru fan. Because, well, at my worst, I AM her.

Hmm, at a stretch. But, not really. Poldark is historical fiction as opposed to historical drama.

To speed this narrative along, Jamie did come to me at Christmas, and a number of simply magical things happened to confirm our desire to be together. He returned twice more to visit me in The States and I began the arduous process of securing a passport. Things that should be easy, for me they are often not. Life likes to make things that should not be a challenge (and aren't a challenge to most others) into a near impossible mission for me. After a stupidly long time (which included having to appeal my own fucking government to get one), I finally got the passport. Yay! I'm going to England! Woohoo.... so I thought. I had checked out the UK Home Office website and felt I was up on what I needed to do and have. The site informed me that I didn't need to apply for a visa if I was coming over for 6 months or less. So, I decided to go for this option, under the impression (from other stories of people I had read) that I could sort out whatever else I needed to do once I was over there and I'd have Jamie to help me. At the tail end of April 2004, I boarded a plane and took an 8 hour flight, in coach, no sleep (because I can't do that sitting up), and flew into London Gatwick (this is another name for the 9th circle of hell where demons in the guise of immigration officers wait to pounce upon you and torture you until your longing for death is so great you are begging them to have mercy and, please, give you cyanide gas or an overdose of morphine or hemlock, or SOMETHING, ANYTHING, to stop the pain...and, I am NOT exaggerating). It was bad then. It is worse now. I suggest you just don't travel. Ever. And, by all means, don't you dare fall in love with someone in another country...it will fuck you up!). Yes, at this point, @Tika, she was, indeed, getting mauled by the shrieking eels. and...to be continued.... if anyone is still interested, that is....

Love this one because this is so how I would be with a serial killer. This is where I am more Joshua than I am Red.

These are really beautiful. I can't decide which I like more between the coloured and uncoloured versions, though. They both speak different things, and both things are good things. I think I'd like to have them both, side by side, in a frame...on my wall...hint, hint, hint (blatantly obvious begging). You're much better at drawling the female form than I am. My drawing is pretty damn rubbish, and I have little patience for tiny detail, even though I love it in other's artwork. But, it is good therapy; so, I continue to scrawl my heavy-handed lines on paper and pixel for that reason. Your art is lovely, @hirondelle. Really lovely.

Life is a funny old thing. It gives out such tremendous pain and incredible sorrow. It leaves deep, ugly scars, maiming and crippling and weakening body and soul. But, it also gives such beauty, of the kind that is deeper than the scars, and a way to deal and cope and explain and express them. To wrap them up in silver and send them like blown-kisses and messages in a bottle. My friend made an album, and you should listen to it. In his own words, he says of it, "I wanted this record to be good but then I realised that this was out of my control, instead it is raw, flawed and fragile; because I made it and it is real. I hope hidden inside is something beautiful and worthwhile, I suspect though it would take more than one listen to discover any treasure." Treasure, it is. And, beautiful, most certainly. Thank you, No mans heath, for sharing your realness, your exquisite fragility. <3 infinitum. https://nomansheath.bandcamp.com/album/ball-of-string

Nope. Still not working. Boo. Poo.

<iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 470px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=176359527/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="http://nomansheath.bandcamp.com/album/ball-of-string">ball of string by no mans heath</a></iframe> Oh, lets try this again now that I have found the code button...