Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Creative Every Day - May 11th

I have been working on some stories. Last night an idea came to me, and while I am not in favor of heavy dialogue, I still wrote nearly 800 words, and for this I am happy. Well I wrote more than that because I also wrote some Gay erotica Lit, but It still needs a little work before I post it.

Demon Radio

A Demon?” I asked, staring at my friend as she recalled the nights events in unfathomable detail.

I picked up the pink oink menu and dragging my nails down the studded binder. My stomach was growing heavy, full of caffeine and growling for a hot cooked meal. I'd made my decision three times over and still the electric blond barbie in the tattered pink apron mooning over Cheshire still hadn't bothered to take our orders.

Yes, a Demon. It knocked on the front door asking if it could use our phone, and when my mum asked why it disappeared, just vanished. At first I thought she'd taken to many pills, but then I realised I had seen and heard it too. So it had to be real.”

I followed the lines of the waitress's dress, watching the frills move each way she skated. She wasn't my type. I wasn't into lipstick ladies, nor was I into bad ass butches, but something caught my eye. A tattoo above her ankle. I'd seen it before, but couldn't remember where.

I can't figure out what it wanted through. I mean obviously it wanted my mum otherwise it wouldn't have come to our house. Right?”

I shook my head, unable to believe a word Sarah was saying, but willing to listen because I always had. Ghost I believed in, Angels too, but demons? I believed that the world was a weird and wonderful place, but demons? There could be no such thing.

Are you sure you're mum hasn't been taking anything you don't know about? I've heard some medication can cause you to hallucinate. Maybe that's all it was,” I said, making matters worse. I copped an penetrating glare that caused me to wriggle in my seat, and made note not to offend her any further than I had to.

She was not hallucinating Amy. I heard the knocking and I saw it too, the Demon. It stood there staring at my mum with a vague expression and then, it disappeared. The same way a ghost would, only this wasn't transparent.”

See, that's probably all it was. Your typical nightmare Casper. Ghost aren't always transparent Sarah. Haven't you watched Supernatural?” I asked, recalling the series by brother had brought me for my birthday.

Some are solid and some aren't. Most aren't solid, but you van get the occasional one that if you looked twice you could swear it was as real as a human.”

Sarah sighed.

Yes. If you recall when it first came out you and I used to watch it together, and they made it perfectly real that demons existed. Come on Amy. If you believe in ghosts, why don't you believe me? I'm telling the truth.”

I took Sarah's hands in mine and held them close to my heart. We'd been sitting in the same booth for over an hour and still we hadn't been serviced. Not even by the pimply ginger nut slaving over the counter. I was beginning to loose my patience, and I didn't want to take my hunger or frustration out on her.

I don't doubt for one second that you're not telling me the truth, but I don't believe in demons. I believe that there are spirits and just like humans there are negative and positive ones. It was most likely a child suffering in limbo looking for his mother. It mistook yours for his by mistake.”

Sarah shook my hands away and reached for the menu, scanning it for the seventeenth time since we arrived. She took a sip of her warm water and wiped her chin attempting with all her positive strength not to look me at me.

Look, Sarah, what do you say we get out of here and go somewhere with better service? I'm starved. I promise after we have breakfast I'll come take a look at your house and see if I can get a reading.”

Sarah looked up, a soft smile highlighting her crooked frown. She could never stay angry with me for more than five minutes.

What do you mean? Don't tell me you've got one of those dodgy detectors,” she laughed, throwing her menu onto the table and reaching for her jacket that hung over the wobbly seat.

I nodded, smiling sheepishly and grabbed my keys, draining the last of water jug.

My brother got a good deal on Ebay. Four for the price of two.It it came with a reader. Whether it works or not is another question entirely. But we've got nothing better to do. So I don't see why we can't have some fun.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Creative Every Day - May 8th

This past week has been a long and tiresome journey of train tickets and shopping. From sleeping all day and through the night, to not sleeping at all. I am fairly sick, but I still managed to get in some creativity in the past few days which I hope will make up for my lack of brain power and general lethargic state.

The following are a list of tools for the cards I made, and an exercise from a book called “The 3 A.M EPIPHANY- By Brian Kiteley. As well as writing and crafting I have done a few rows in my knitting on both my purple and blue scarf.

Card paper
Inspire Rub-Ons
sketch book paper
pattern card [I used the back of the card packet]


Card Paper
Creative Flower Embellishments [pink]
Creative Alphabet Embellishments [Pink]
Wrapping paper [left over from a gift]


Creative Flower Embellishments [Pink]
Creative Butterfly Embellishments [Purple]
Inspiration Rub-ons
Sketch book paper

*Journal Prompt -Reluctant- Use [I, Me , My only twice]. Word count: 600 words *

The sun rose early in the morning, far earlier than anyone in my neighbourhood dared to witness. It's blood-red radiance blinded the early morning walkers, tracking their paths along the mud stained roads of the development estate.

In the winter the cold chill travelled from distant mountain tops through the suburbs. Each burst of wind wrapped itself around everyone daring enough to step into it's direct path, and carried them into the land of alertness of the day that await ahead.

It was a warriors journey into the city where the hustle and bustle was nothing more than white noise against a silent backdrop. It was the city of hope and desperation. No one wanted to take in the beauty that could be heard in the small talk and diverse engines that hummed a lullaby as they polluted the idea with toxic fumes.

On the hill overlooking the estate, a camphor tree stood aging. It stared down at the little people waiting for the comforting heat of the morning buses. It swayed, laughing silently, content in it's coat of luscious foliage and small inedible nuts that were it's all seeing eyes.

Many drifting morning eyes had diverted their attention to the untamed hill. Wandering with their imagination across the only piece of land the development agency couldn't get their hands on. Most had succumb to believing the stories of the tree whispers and the haunted farm stead that was left in ruins behind the hill. No one knew the truth, and all were too scared to challenge nature.

When the buses began to transport people away from the small inner village, I walked through the broken fences and across the rusty autumn foliage to the construction houses in progress.

To my left, a small childish fire rose from a stack of scrap wood the builders had thrown into a mesh circle to keep the chips from escaping. The men stood around, hands out-stretched and laughing along with the crude radio host who was cracking sexist jokes to please consumers.

A gust of wind carried a handful of ashes across the sandy road, along with the lingering scent of freshly sanded wood and burning metal. The noise of the power drills and nail guns blocked out the immaturity of society's future, and began to sound more like the farm with each step taken.

Over the view of the double story houses and their complex, designer roofs the monster tree stared down at the workers beneath the hills, and smiled, hushing a soft song into the air. It was a haunting melody. One that made every hair on the body stand to attention.

It had caused many people nightmares, and more lore stories about the spirit of the tree walking in the night whispering to children and urging them to act on mischief. Even in the day light it was a frightening tune.

Hey, are you lost sweetheart?” a worker called out, wolf whistling.

Ignoring his calling, I kept walking in the direction of the bus stop. It wouldn't take long to get to the mountains, following the dirt path that lead to the curve at the bottom of the hill would be the best choice.

Have you got some important place to go girl,” a hefty man wearing a fluorescent coat asked, holding his hand out to halt.

What business is it to you?”

The man scoffed, pressing his hand firmer against my chest.

Who did he think he was? The man certainly had a God like complex. It seemed in this lifetime it was the only kind of men women ever had the pleasure of interacting with, and this was our strongest downfall.

Photos later I hope.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Creative Every Day- May 4th

With no sleep. Loads of meetings and stress about money- what is a nineteen year old girl to do?
Create Every Day- That's what.

I have been a little slow on that part. Mostly because I am sleeping between medication for my tooth and out most of the day. However I have been looking around the shops and I picked myself up some stunning wool that made my drool. I wanted all of them, the colors- oh the colors. I don't think a photograph could even do it justice, but I am damn sure gunna try to take one to show you guys how beautiful it is.

To match it I got myself some electric blue knitting needles. These were to cute and matched the them of blue I am going with. [I think I have changed my fetish for purple for blue- meh it happens] So what I do hope is to start knitting another scarf, this time I am going with maybe 10-15 instead of 3o. I want it to be a quick project.

The plain wool is called ' Rockback' while the beautiful shaded blue is called 'Langtree'. [Again sorry my camera does not do it justice. It really pisses me of.

As well as thinking, planning and salivating over delicious wool, I am planning on working on either a card or a bookmark. I am wanting to paint it with my old acrylic paints and stick these cute little paper butterflies to it. I think it will be nice to branch out into different arts and my intuition seems to want me to follow the path of blue this month.

I also am working on a rather depressing poem called ' Handful of Angels'

Handfuls of pills fall like rain drops from the sky

Classical, they sing me a whimsical lullaby

Hushing the day into a drowning black night

Forcing the Angels to fall from great height

Faster than lightening, a comet, a lonely star

They're crashing and falling, marking a scar

Another handful are taken to down with a drink

While I wait quietly suffering, no thoughts left to think.

I force away greatness, a soul full of mirth

Giving away to the darkness that produces this birth

It's a one way ticket to a land under hell's ground

The truth isn't spoken, on earth it will be found

There is no light above us, no heaven or Lord

Darkness surrounds us in an incredible force

Will you succumb to the wrong chance?

Or will you take hope in a rightful romance?

Handfuls of pills seep into my core

If I'm sleeping, no waking, what more can I ask for?

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Creative Every Day- May 2nd

While I did not complete much in the means of art, I did manage to make myself happy my knitting until sunrise, and I think I managed to complete a lot. I had a few minor hiccups which really got to me, but I decided that this is a practice scarf and Daniel said he would wear it even if it had holes and lines. Btw it hasn't any holes yet *smiles*

It is going to be a thick scarf.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Creative Every Day - May 2nd

Creative Every Day - May 2nd

I trusted my intuition today and it lead me to a blog that has not only inspired me to start re-opening my passion for a lot of different crafts, but has inspired me to knit again.


A hobby of mine I have tried of and on since I was fourteen.

Today I trusted my heart and my mind. I let the yarn come to me, speak to me. Of course I could not resist to begin with my favourite colour- purple. So I got two types of yarn. One a soft 8ply wool, and the other a softer, fluffy wool. I decided to start with the 8ply first and see what comes of it.

The best part of the experience of knitting again was that I had to learn to cast on myself, as any other time I have always asked my Nanna Margaret or Mum to cast on and get me started. I did use some visual tutorials online, but none were working, until I found this one:


I watched the video a few times and would you believe it the only part I took in was the loop. The rest I had to work out for myself. After several failed attempts, I discovered I wasn't leaving enough room for tension, and was wrapping the wool around my fingers wrong. So I worked at it [despite my young cat wanting to play with it] and managed to be fairly productive in working on the scarf I am making for my partner.

So in light of my new creation. I decided to write a little creative poem to match.

Walking along the shelves

I see the diverse colours of inspiration

Calling out to me, beckoning me

Too many choices to taste

I lick my lips, running fingers along them

Each texture makes my heart leap

Onto the next line of needles

I pick my arsenal, exploding with joy

If I had an endless bag to carry

I would fill it with balls of passion

Casting each row in the delights of lust

This experience that warms my soul

Btw sorry for the shitty picture. I will take a better one during the day. I followed my intuition to write this journal entry though.