AMP: Artists' Meeting Place and Resource Collective

August 1st, 2006

The city is full of strange, alluring places to go at night. I don't mean nightclubs and "hotspots", I mean the edge of the river where the white geese sleep, or the dark, trash-strewn alleyways. Places of wonder and fear.

Places that people don't go - except that people do go there - and who are these people?

Whenever I cross the BU bridge, there is a part of me that leaps over the guardrail - that railing with a perfect spiderweb in each gap between its bars - I leap over it and into the river below.

For the longest time, I've had this vision, but never knew where that part of me went once it landed in the river. Last night, after being chased from the riverbank by a flock of snowy geese with their open wings and arched necks glowing in the moonlight, I was crossing the bridge and I finally saw where that other part of me goes.

It seems my e-zine is getting to big to post on this site, so if want to see wet T-shirts and sand blasts, you'll have to check out the web site www.ideagems.com for your perusal and amusement.

Speaking of amusement, today I read three horoscopes from three different web sources and they all concurred.

Yahoo's said: "Hey, everything you hoped for is happening. Or is it -- oh my goodness, everything is happening so fast! Ratchet down your anxiety level. Remind yourself that even good changes cause some upheaval."

MSN's said: "Today is not a day to stay inside and sulk, Laurie , so put the past behind you and move on. Grab opportunities with both hands and kick your engine into high gear. Stop looking at the things behind you and focus on the wide-open horizon in front of you. Today is an excellent day to turn up the stove and start brewing some new adventures. Transform your life into an action movie with you playing the starring role."

Chapter One read aloud. Do you recognize the voice?

To those who have read any/all of The Cardiff Grandma((Hi Mom): Could you please send any/all reactions to lindakentartist@yahoo.com or to Mr E here on AMP?
Please put 'Grandma in subj. box (rather than 'hi!" or 'viagra', ex.) Ta, lk

25 July 2006

3:45 pm

seven, nine, twelve, fourteen, seventeen. These are the sacred numbers that rule my life.

seven, nine, twelve, two, five. These are the numbers in my prayers.

25 July 2006

2:15pm. Here we are once again. 2 and a half hours to go, and I don't know if I can make it. The din of the shop. My coworkers are in high spirits, talking about muscle cars and how they like their espresso. That gurgling troll of a machinist makes his usual mucus noises interspersed with dog-like, whimpering laughter at his own jokes. Lathes and drill presses hum and whirr, torches hiss, and beautiful things are made by ugly creatures with skilled hands.

I am reminded of the Dwarves of Norse legend and Tolkein novels. Fat, stocky, crude creatures that live underground, out of the sun, out of the world. They eat too much and they drink too much and they enjoy little in life, but they craft objects of unrivaled beauty and workmanship.

WARNING: This novel contained fake Welsh.
The Cardiff Grandma: Epilogue

In the deceptively wood paneled office of the joint chiefs of the local Indian Nation’s, Wolfcastle and Ddwwchllyf (that’s Ddwwchllyf not Ddwwchlyff) sat pensively. They awaited the arrival of the reason for their being there. Slowly a large oak door creaked open and a bold figure strode through. In an instant both men rose from their chairs and stood upright. They’d stood for something once. Now they stood for the something once more. ‘At ease men. As you were,’ the figure spoke. The two friends slowly returned to their respective positions.

WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the last episode, the birth of a nation. Don’t fail to miss the de-briefing epilogue tomorrow...

The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 73: The Final Chapter

‘So that’s was how it all ended?’

‘Yeah, pretty much.’

‘That’s amazing! I mean I’d have never have guessed… never!’

‘No, nor me. And of course you know the really odd thing in all of this?’

‘No. What?’ …

THE END

WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the last episode, potential survivors gather for the denouement at Dddwwchyllff’s as waters rise and land sinks. HERE – the END of the penultimate chapter, soon to be followed by a short final chapter and a surprising epilogue, so now on to the apocalyptic hoedown at the plas y Ddwwchyllff!
The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 72: LAST PART!

The Vice Chancellor was nobody without Everyone else. He was a broken man, a husk of a shell of a shadow of his former self. Now Everyone had gone and there was nobody left he became an insignificant figure. Stripped of his influence, his power, his underpants and socks, the former dictator was left to rattle around the now empty corridors of the now subterranean top floor of the Welsh University. Would he ever recapture his former position? Was there any way back for the man so forcefully sidelined by Everyone else? Would he find some new underwear?

It seemed a lonely, chilly existence awaited him now.

Tuesday, July 25 2006

8:10am. Eight O'clock. Hate O'clock. Time to spend the next eight and a half hours hating myself or else zoning out until I forget who I am.

11am. Imaginary conversations. things I should have said to so and so back when something happened. Revenge fantasy. Things I'd like to say to so and so if I ever see hir again. Responses to anticipated questions from so and so if I ever brought up the topic of such and such. Counter-arguments to declarations made by so and so about - whatever. What I'll do if such and such ever happens again.

Schemes and quests and projects, the labor given as little thought as a sports movie montage sequence, the fruits of my imaginary efforts envisioned in glory and perfection. The triumph of the future self in some golden parallel universe. MVP of failure.