Secret Origin of This Heap of Sheep: Revealed?

This heap of sheep
has always been
as far as anyone knows
it was there before the grass was green
and the sky invented snow

Limerick #37

These days are a nation of stags
though that sounds kind of nice, the time lags
while I follow the sheep
the potato men weep
and even the prinnigote sags.

Time passes

Time is not ticking. Only ticking things do that.

Time is not flying. It isn’t a thing and only a thing can fly.

The happening of events follows the happening of other events.

I think I’m OK with that.

Plan for the future

Sėla village, Utena district, Lithuania (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It may look like I’m not doing anything here, but it is not so.

I am working on a new short story; possibly longer than my usual. I am not posting much about about it because it is mostly just a sack of ideas that need to stew in my head for a little while before becoming something tangible. The end result may take time, but will surely revolutionize the world.

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One who blogs about narwhals and cheeses

Langres (cheese) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

may see a sudden increase in visitors.

 

Therefore, it is tempting to write about these topics exclusively.

 

BE AVOIDANT OF THIS PLAN

 

It never ends well. It sometimes ends blubbery.

 

It is hard to STOP

 

 

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Going back to one post per day (probably)

Yes, I might do that.

Image via Wikipedia

This may or may not be the beginning of it.

The last time I did it, I got lots of words online, but was unhappy with the overall quality of them. This time, I can hopefully avoid that by spending more time and effort on each post. I am not setting a duration and will end this whenever I run out of ideas. At that point, I will attempt to eat my own head. I don’t think this has been done before and whether I succeed or fail, it will make a good story that I can post the next day.

I am currently working on another revision of Murdersocks so that I can publish it in downloadable ebook form (which I’ve just learned is easy to do through Amazon).

It will be followed by other things. No one will buy them, but the fact that someone could buy them should help me trick myself into thinking I have a job. In theory, it will continue from there.

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Progress Report on Monster Hunt

I have returned from my journey in distant lands and since I’ve been back, I’ve identified the monster. With some assistance, I’ve also found how it enters my home every night.

Image via Wikipedia

Was it a small goat? A raccoon? A beaver? Sadly, the truth is much more boring than I expected. It seems to be a mouse or possibly mice and the hole in my wall (which was hidden behind the heating vent) is now patched up with some kind of foam. I’m told it will soon be eaten through as well, but in two weeks, the Pest Controller will stop by with better foam. This kind can also be eaten, but is more poisonous. I do not like poisoning things, but this thing is keeping me awake at night and sleep deprivation can be deadly, so the poison foam will be used for self defense.

CfPUiSL: The Fishbox

Welcome to Jandley’s Fork. It’s a rural town too small and insignificant to have any need for a real tour guide, so you’ll have to do with me. You can call me Sturjmond if you like. Otherwise, don’t.

While things of interest to visitors rarely happen here in the Fork, things do happen. Recently, things have been happening because of (or just nearby) a certain glass box. This box is completely full of water and contains a fish, which might be why folks call it the Fishbox.

It has no openings, so many have wondered just how the fish got in there and how it can live with no food or water replacement. It just floats there, happy as a fish and no one knows how or why. I, an amateur tour guide, do not think it is my place to speculate on the matter. I’ll leave that to the oceanographers and since Jandley’s Fork is 7,000 kilojimbles inland, there aren’t any.  So that, along with the Fishbox’s improbably light weight, will remain a mystery.

CfPUiSL: Time = Money

Image by roberthuffstutter via Flickr

It is an expression we have all heard, but what if it was literally true?

Would you spend money to experience slightly longer day?  Would you sell a year or two off the end of your life?  And what would be the standard exchange rate.  What if minutes and hours could be used as legal currency on their own?

There is much potential for some kind of story in this I think, but I haven’t thought of it yet.  Most likely, someone already wrote it years ago.  Still…

Murdersocks: Chapter 2: In which time passes most murderously

Image via Wikipedia

It would be unnecessarry and possibly insulting to you, doomed reader, to recount the rest of that fatefully murderous first day.  You won’t be surprised to learn, I hope, that it was full of murder.  We (the Socks and I) murdered every man, woman, child, and animal we came accross from then on.  Oddly enough, the only thing that was left unmurdered was a group of crows I passed on the way home.

Every murder, as in the incidents I have described, took place during the course of an instantaneous flash and was preceded by the same murderous glow.

This was very exciting at first, though always a bit unpleasant.  I had never been murdered before (at that time) and didn’t know what it was like, but I knew it must be even less fun for the victims than for myself.  It always happened so fast that it couldn’t have been all that painful, but death was death and murder was definitely a kind of death.  I tried not to think about it too much.