Fiction: Wish You Were Here

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Fiction: Wish You Were Here

Poem: Complication

Are you happy?
Does the face looking back in the mirror smile,
Or frown?
Do you ever feel down?
Can you feel yourself drown?
When you are gasping for breath,
Take a look see who has their foot on your head.
And who is on standby with a towel,
Mopping you down,
Take a jump,
Take a chance,
In control,
End the frustration,
ComplicationIMG_0178

Poem: Complication

Poem: Coats

Coats don’t see the sunshine,
Not without the rain,
As soon as the sun is fully out,
They are packed away again,
Warmth not required,
The Coat will make you sweat,
The good ol sunny shower,
Is the best the jacket will get,
At least until the autumn,
When it’s blustery and wet.

Julius LeBlanc Stewart - Les Dames Goldsmith au bois de Boulogne en 1897 sur une voiturette

Poem: Coats

iPad 2017: A Few weeks In

You may have noticed I used to do a lot more Apple evangelist type stuff. Then again I used to blog more often too, for the Apple stuff though there has been a lot less to write home about as the computer tech world seems, to me anyway, to be stuck in a malaise of mediocrity. Nothing is particularly bad, Windows has caught up to MacOS again after deciding that desktops are different than tablets and phones. Thanks for playing guys.

iOS 10.3 is an excellent platform for all your mobile needs as is the latest version of Android. It is down to personal preference which you prefer, unless you go bargain basement both operating systems have similar features albeit in different places.

But I got myself a new iPad. Go figure.


My MacBook is wonderful, but very old being born as she was in 2009. So I thought the iPad would take the strain of my daily use prolonging the life of “old faithful” and with the £100 price cut and the introduction of a new faster chip (A9) it was a no brainer even for me.

As firmly ensconced in the Apple infrastructure as I am, this is my first iPad (not made by Fisher Price) set up was a breeze. I actually used my iPhone as wi-fi hotspot as I am a child and couldn’t wait to get it home to set up. Sign in with your Apple ID and you are good to go. As long as you have iCloud turned on everything from email to bookmarks and photos were available to me. My tinfoil hat has long been folded up in a drawer, if people want to find out about you they will whatever you do. Chances are they don’t so you may as well use cloud services for the ease of use they bring. Apple have been in court fighting for user privacy, so I don’t think they’ll want to see my iCloud pictures of my prize winning rooster or my Persian cat. Someone tells me there are enough pictures of cocks and pussys freely available on the internet.

More professional reviewers than I say that the Pro line of iPad’s are designed to replace computers. Well I couldn’t afford one of those and all I do these days is browse and write, sometimes at the same time thanks to the great split screen feature. So, so far the iPad (unprofessional) is doing a great job. Yes if I was a YouTuber I might be pushed to edit video on it, but as long as I didn’t run out of storage (I got the 32 gb version) iMovie could do a passable job 1080p editing.

I have got faster typing on the virtual keyboard. Although I feel in the coming months I will get some kind of stand/case/keyboard thing. Dunno which yet due to the wonderful naming convention system. This simple boy is confused.

So far, very pleased. It does everything I thought it would. Battery good, screen good, apps plentiful. For what it is, it’s a very good value device.

iPad 2017: A Few weeks In

Poem: Save Me From Silence

They’ve gone,
Alone now,
Beautiless, Ugly reality left,
Progress a distance memory,
A cruel reminder of what has past,
Save me from silence,
Save me from still,
Save me from what might return,
But i know never will.
Never too good at standing tall,
But now a part of me is gone,
The silence remains.
Taize-Silence

Poem: Save Me From Silence

Foxtrot Oscar

Ahh Hollywood the glitz, the glamour, the scandal, the dresses, the guys, the dolls. Hooray indeed for Hollywood and it’s annual backslapping contest The Oscars. Well thank god that’s over for another year.

A contest where the academy made up of white 60 somethings judge to see which film they liked the best. Do they not know it’s a democracy now, we the people demand to vote on an industry award. We also demand that the awards be voted for from a diverse field of individuals.

Who would have thought that an awards ceremony for people talented in filmmaking would need diversity rules. Shouldn’t any contest be judged based upon the merits of the art produced not the ethnic origins or sexual orientation of those who made it. If you have a movie nominated for best picture purely because the director meets the correct race or gender quota doesn’t that devalue their nomination.

“It’s just not fair” people exclaim. White men judging movies made by other white men to give awards to white men. Life isn’t fair you know, since when have you been under that illusion. One man’s injustice is another mans moral victory. As it is, as it forever will be.

People of all types win Oscars and recognition from their peers and the public. How do they do it? By being good. Do people from certain groups have to try harder to be deemed “good” yeah of course they do. Is that fair? No probably not, but it’s an arts competition, judged on opinion, so like life can never be “fair”

Where do we stop in the pursuit of fair? “A black actor isn’t nominated” “A woman from Virginia Beach has never won” “No nominations for anyone over 90 years old” “No nominations for disabled people” “No nominations for one armed orphans named Archibald” Think of your own catchy hashtag for that one.

Wanna win an award? Be exemplary
Think the competition is biased against you, 1. Make a good product make them notice or 2. Excuse yourself by pulling whatever minority card you have, it wasn’t your inability to make good enough thing to turn people around. They hated you anyway.
3. Don’t do things to win awards. Do things you are proud of. If industry awards come great. If not you still did something you love.

Frazerbrown

Foxtrot Oscar

Fiction: The Project

Gordon O’Dowd waited outside the management offices of Universal Consulting. He’d been with the company since he left school. As he sat in the ornate hallway with wooden panelled walls and golden lamps that barely lifted the gloom Gordon felt every inch the schoolboy. He remembered when he got sent to the Headteachers office for gluing a mirror to his shoes and using it to look up girls skirts.

Happy days, he thought.

Mr Murphy was running late. Gordon had been waiting a full thirty minutes, unless the large clock at the end of the hallway was wrong. The thing ticked so loudly that Gordon was pretty sure he would be able to hear it back at his desk even behind the soundproofing effect of the paperwork walls its was buried under. Gordon could have done without this today.

With a creek befitting the finest cheesy horror flick, the door to Gordon’s left yawned open. Ms Murphy the bosses daughter and secretary, (No-one, including her, was sure in which order that was) beckoned Gordon “Dad.. oh no.. Mr Murphy will see you now” she said. Grinning at her non-corporate slip she pulled the door back so that Gordon could walk through the door out of the gloomy hallway into the modern open plan style office that was home to Mr Murphy.

Murphy bounded over to see him like a happy puppy and shook Gordons hand.
“O’Dowd” he boomed. “Thanks for coming to see me, I know you are extremely busy”
“Well when the boss calls you gotta go right.” Replied Gordon trying to match the light-hearted bouncy dog.
“Right, right. Please take a seat” Murphy himself drew back a big old leather chair from behind his glass desk. Gordon selected a rather more modest affair and sat, not relaxed, although trying to appear so, across from his boss.

Ms Murphy meanwhile had been busying herself with making a fresh pot of coffee which she placed down on the glass desk along with two unbelievably small cups. In the brighter light of the office Gordon noticed she was wearing a bright green dress, almost too short for office wear, the evil part of Gordon’s mind longed for his mirrored shoes.

As Ms Murphy walked away Gordon’s brain was awoken from it’s sleazy state by the echoing tone of her Father. “I’ve called you here today to discuss project 82734.”
“Oh the Arrde project?” Gordon replied.
“Yes that’s the one.” Murphy said, pushing the plunger down on the coffee pot. “How do you think it’s going?”
“Arrde, well like all projects there have been issues we have had to overcome but I think it’s on track. The current stage of development has been prone to scope creep, but that is expected on a project of this size.”
Mr Murphy sighed and poured himself a very small cup of coffee. “Want some?” he offered.

Gordon shook his head.
“I’ve been in this line of work a long time.” Murphy continued, coffee cup dwarfed in his hand. “Spare me your models and ‘scope creep’. What in the hell is that anyway?”
“Well Sir, its where..”
“Don’t tell me son I just don’t care.” Murphy interrupted. “The result is the same I’ve seen the files. It’s a fucking mess.”
“Sir with respect, that is a little harsh.” replied Gordon on the defensive, “More people are alive than ever before, I have enabled the use of cutting edge technologies. Over 3% of clients absolutely love the project.”
“Gordon, we both know the clients don’t know shit about the project. The 3% are so rich they don’t know their arse from their elbow.”
“Ok, ok.” insisted Gordon. “I know there are problems but look at the healthcare people benefit form.”
“People wouldn’t need healthcare if they didn’t get sick from your mistakes. Babies die Gordon. Fucking babies.”
“People love me.”
“Thats the other thing O’Dowd. Other agents on projects have not used the projects to self promote them or their families. There are statues of your son everywhere.”
“Branding, easier to market if there is a clear brand. You told me that.”
“There is branding and what you have done. Your name is everywhere, on money on buildings. It’s just overkill.”
“My name is nowhere Sir, look at the file. It’s just initials.”

Murphy stood up from behind his desk.
“Gordon, I like you. But you have fucked up bad. Everywhere I look in this file there are diseases, wars, famine. Instead of sorting this out you have promoted yourself, not even the company. ‘In God we trust’ people have that everywhere. They trust you Gordon O’Dowd, they think you have the ability to help them. Yet time and again you have failed. The project is a disaster. I’m gonna have to let you go.”

Celestia earth2


The idea for this piece was taken from this Reddit post from the Writing Prompts subreddit and from u/LSDbag.

Fiction: The Project