#Windmill De Bente

[jedivoodoochile]

Release date : 12th May 1972

The Rolling Stones – Exile On Main Street

First manager Andrew Loog Oldham said in the sleeve notes to the Stones’ first album: ‘The Rolling Stones are more than a group, they are a way of life’, and of no album is that truer than Exile On Main Street. The legend persists that it was all created in the dank basement of the former Nazi headquarters in Villefranche-Sur-Mer in the Summer of 1971, although a large portion was overdubbed in sessions in Los Angeles, where other songs were created from scratch. Some of the other recordings predated the trip to France, having been recorded in the UK, at Olympic Studios in Barnes.

However, the SPIRIT of the basement prevails throughout and it is the murky swampiness of the whole endeavour, extending to Mick Jagger’s all but indecipherable vocals, that have seen it acclaimed as the Stones’ most complete statement and possibly the most rock album the band ever made.

The guitar sound is largely due to Ry Cooder, whose involvement in the sessions of 1969’s Performance soundtrack, showed the possibilities of the ‘open G’ tuning on the guitar. Crucially, the guitar is tuned to a chord, but in Keith Richards’ book Life, he describes how he discarded the 6th (lowest) string, giving the lowest string (now a G) the role of a drone, quite appropriate to the blues. It also allowed the mega-riffs of the Mark 2 Stones’ biggest hits: Honky Tonk Women and Brown Sugar, which underpinned new member Mick Taylor’s melodic country/blues lines, melding to create a whole new style. Even now, the first chords of either of the above will pack a dance floor anywhere in the UK. With reference to Exile, the most prominent use of the 5-string open-tuned guitar is on Rocks Off, Happy, Ventilator Blues, Tumbling Dice and All Down The Line.

The Stones had recruited the sensitive 20-year old Mick Taylor in 1969 from John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, where he became the third stellar lead guitarist to play the blues in Mayall’s band, following Eric Clapton and Peter Green. His first sessions were for the Let It Bleed album, overdubbing guitar on Country Honk and Live With Me plus some pivotal parts for the Honky Tonk Women single on the 1st June session that ended at 3:15AM.

Honky Tonk Women went to #1 in the UK and the US in July 1969, followed by the Let It Bleed album in December, another triumph. Any doubts created by the subsequent 18-month gap in releases were dispelled by the release of Brown Sugar in April 1971 (another US #1), followed in May by Sticky Fingers, possibly the strongest Stones album to date, and one that showcased the guitar interplay between Keith Richards and Mick Taylor, alongside some great songs, including Sway, Wild Horses and Bitch.

Having recorded sessions at Olympic Studios in Barnes, London, which included tracks like Stop Breaking Down and Sweet Virginia, The Stones had continued recording and writing in the Summer of 1970 at Stargroves, Jagger’s English country house, with the Stones’ own mobile recording studio, a move that became standard operating procedure for other UK bands, including Led Zeppelin. The mobile came in handy when the Stones discovered that in signing with US manager Allen Klein, their copyrights had reverted to him, so when they severed their connection with him in 1970, their income came under threat. They were also in a cash flow crisis, at a time when the UK taxman took 93% of high earners’ income, so they felt that the only thing to do was to get out of town, planning to spend at least 21 months outside the UK from 1971 onwards.

According to Bill Wyman, the band had at least working versions of seven tracks to take with them, including Tumbling Dice (original title: Good Time Women), Black Angel (which became Sweet Black Angel), Stop Breaking Down and Shine A Light.

In early April 1971, the band decamped to France, Mick Jagger marrying Bianca in St. Tropez on May 12th and honeymooning on the Riviera, before settling in Paris with his new bride. Keith Richards rented a villa, Nellcôte, in Villefranche-Sur-Mer, near Nice, while the other band members rented houses further to the west. The basement at Nellcôte became a makeshift studio to record using the band’s mobile recording studio.

In interviews with Ian Fortnam for the 2010 reissue of Exile, Keith Richards and Charlie Watts gave their contemporary perspectives on what went down: ‘They couldn’t get you in jail, so they put the economics on you, the old double whammy,’ said Keith. ‘So the feeling within the band was we’ve got to show them we’re made of sterner stuff and prove you couldn’t break the Stones just by kicking them out of England.’

The band again called on the services of their mobile studio and parked it outside Keith’s villa in order to carry on the recordings for the next album, the second on their own Rolling Stones records label, although according to Keith Richards, that wasn’t their first intention. They had been planning to look for studios in Nice or Cannes, but in the event, the band came to Keith, with the Stones mobile in residence from June 7th.

American producer Jimmy Miller had supervised the two previous albums, but the Nellcôte sessions were much more difficult to coordinate, partly because not all the band were around at the same time. Recording continued sporadically for some months until the French authorities began to apply pressure to rid themselves of the Stones and their entourage, who by then were engaged in various levels of illegal behaviour.

Drummer Charlie Watts was about three hours away, in Thoiras, west of Avignon, and bassist Bill Wyman and guitarist Mick Taylor were ensconced near Grasse, so at least one of the songs on Exile was made without them, although the album credits have never been clear about who actually did what. In the case of one of the most Stones-sounding recordings, very few of the Stones were initially on it. Happy, a showcase for Keith Richards’ vocals and guitar, has producer Jimmy Miller on drums and Keith doubling on bass. The basics were laid down between noon and 4PM one afternoon, with just Miller on drums, Bobby Keys on baritone saxophone, and Richards on the rest, including the lyrics and lead vocal.

Charlie Watts loved Jimmy Miller. ‘I thought he was the best producer we ever had. Jimmy was a hands-on type of guy. When we played he could never keep still, so he’d always be banging something; a drum or a cowbell’ [check out the start of Honky Tonk Women]. Miller insisted that Charlie‘s drums be tested in as many of the basement’s labyrinth of rooms as possible, before settling on one that had the right balance of natural ambience and proximity to the guitar players to maintain the vibe. It took a week or two to get the setup right, but after that, things apparently settled down.

The schedule did become a bit strange, as recalled by Keith Richards. ‘It became known as Keith Time, which in Bill Wyman’s case made him a little cranky. Not that he said anything. At first, we were going to start at two PM [every day], but that never happened. So we said we’d start at 6PM, which usually meant around 1 AM. Charlie didn’t seem to mind.’

But when Keith was on form, he would deliver, as with Rocks Off, which, according to engineer Andy Johns, involved a playback to Keith at 4 or 5AM. Keith went to sleep in mid-track, so Johns took that as the cue to get his own head down, driving the necessary half-hour home. He was just nodding off when the phone rang – it was Keith, asking where he’d got to. So Johns drove back to Nellcote – another half hour – at which point Keith picked up his Telecaster and played the second guitar part on Rocks Off, straight through.

The sessions were at least the backbone of the album. Said Keith: ‘A lot of the songs started off with an idea. Mick’s playing harp, you join in and before you knew it you had a track in the making and an idea working. It might not be the finished track; you’re not trying to force it.’

There was also much space for the interplay between Richards and lead guitarist Mick Taylor. Keith: ‘Brian [Jones] and I would swap roles. There was no defined line between lead and rhythm guitar, but with Mick’s style I had to readjust the shape of the band and it was beautifully lyrical. He was a lovely lead player. I loved playing with Mick Taylor.’

Some of the songs were collaborations, like All Down The Line, which, according to Keith Richards, he started with the basic idea of ‘I hear it coming, all down the line’ and handed it over to Mick Jagger to develop. Richards was extremely prolific and came up with many songs which didn’t eventually make on to the final release, including Head In The Toilet Blues, Leather Jackets (although Bill Wyman lists it as having been recorded at Olympic), Windmill, I Was Just A Country Boy, Dancing In The Light,(noted as possibly being one of Mick Jagger’s), Bent Green Needles, Labour Pains and Pommes de Terre.

Richards described the self-imposed pressure that he and Jagger felt when requiring themselves to come up with song ideas in anticipation of the arrival of the other musicians. Casino Boogie came about when inspiration was lacking and they decided to follow the William Burroughs ‘cut up’ technique (also used occasionally by David Bowie), whereby a book or newspaper is disassembled into component words, which are then re-assembled to create a new lyrical direction.

So, contrary to popular belief, the whole album wasn’t recorded in the South Of France, although most of the backing tracks were. As Keith Richards notes in his book Life: ‘What we brought to LA from France was only raw material for Exile. The real bare bones, no overdubs. On almost every song we’d said, we’ve got to put a chorus on here, we’ve got to put some chicks in there, we need extra percussion on that. So LA was basically to put the flesh on. For four or five months in LA in early 1972, we mixed and overdubbed Exile On Main Street. According to Bill Wyman, most of the Stones flew to LA on November 29th, 1971, followed later by the Wymans, for sessions that went on til February 1972.

It seems to have been planned as a double from an early stage, Richards mentioning ‘all business advice’ that warned against it. Which, to be fair to whoever was dishing out the advice (probably Ahmet Ertegun and Atlantic Records), was usually correct – double LPs had to be competitively priced, but they cost twice as much to manufacture, were heavier to ship, and their length and quantity of material meant they were harder for the public to assimilate, more difficult to review objectively, and took longer to get on the airwaves, at a time when multiple singles releases off an album was not the norm.

At Sunset Sound in Los Angeles, the basic tracks of at least Rip This Joint, Shake Your Hips, Casino Boogie, Happy, Rocks Off, Turd On The Run and Ventilator Blues were given numerous overdubs, including all the piano and keyboard parts, all lead and backing vocals, plus more overdubs of guitar and bass. The sessions included new recordings of Torn And Frayed and Loving Cup and saw Mick Jagger coming into his own, finishing off the vocals and bringing in other contributors.

A host of other musicians assisted the Stones on the LA overdubs, including Nicky Hopkins and Ian ‘Stu’ Stewart on pianos, and a mass of backing vocalists including Gram Parsons, Clydie King, Joe Green, Venetta Fields, Tamiya Lynn, Shirley Goodman, Dr. John, Kathi McDonald and Jess Kirkland. Jazz sessioneer Bill Plummer added upright bass to Rip This Joint and Turd On The Run, Al Perkins from Manassas played pedal steel guitar on Torn And Frayed, Billy Preston contributed keyboards to Shine A Light, and Richard Washington played marimba on Sweet Black Angel. Stalwart Bobby Keys played sax, with Jim Price on trumpet and organ on Torn And Frayed, while producer Jimmy Miller played drums and percussion where necessary.

The first hearing that the public and broadcasters had of Exile was the single, Tumbling Dice, one of the most multi-layered, murky, uneven recordings any band has ever released, and yet it is probably one of the Stones’ five finest records. There is something to listen at every turn, the rhythm is insistent, the lyrics are compelling, there’s rollicking piano, sweet Mick Taylor licks, (and his bass playing, the loudest thing on the track, is exactly wrong, but exactly right). Mick Jagger’s lyrics are almost indecipherable and mixed so far back they’re practically only a texture, but the whole thing is the Stones personified – far from perfect, but still fantastic.

As Keith Richards said in 2010: ‘Mick’s always seemed to have something of an ambivalent attitude to Exile… ‘, and here indeed are Jagger’s comments from 2003: ‘Exile is not one of my favourite albums, although I think the record does have a particular feeling. I’m not too sure how great the songs are, but put together it’s a nice piece. However, when I listen to Exile it has some of the worst mixes I’ve ever heard. I’d love to remix the record, not just because of the vocals, but because generally, I think it sounds lousy.’ Well, it could certainly be mixed with more clarity, but to do that would be to lose its essential Stones-ness, which would upset the millions to have bought it thus far.

Preceded by the UK and US Top 10 hit Tumbling Dice, Exile On Main St. was released in May 1972. It was an immediate commercial success, reaching #1 worldwide just as the band embarked on their celebrated 1972 American Tour, their first for three years. The second, and only other, single from the album, Happy, got to #22 in the US in July.

Many critics judged Exile On Main St. to be a ragged and impenetrable record at the time of its release, but the UK’s Richard Williams, writing in Melody Maker, praised the album in a review entitled ‘The Stones: Quite Simply the Best’. He said the album ‘is definitely going to take its place in history’ and ‘it’s the best album they’ve ever made. This is an album which utterly repulses the sneers and arrows of outraged put-down artists. Once and for all, it answers any questions about their ability as rock ‘n’ rollers.’

Keith Richards has the last word: ‘We didn’t start off intending to make a double album; we just went down to the south of France to make an album and by the time we’d finished we said, ‘We want to put it all out.’ I was no longer interested in hitting Number One in the charts every time. What I want to do is good shit – if it’s good they’ll get it some time down the road.’

[someguyscaliforniavoterguide]

Select L.A. County/California Races, March 3, 2020

Hi friends, it’s me again. I am here to offer my opinions on how you should vote. As before I am up front about my biases: I am a Warren supporter, I live in L.A. and I am actively pro-density (Yay SB50, you deserved better) and pro-transit. I live in the east Valley, so I tend to focus more closely on the issues that directly impact my side of town, though I try to keep an ear out on things countywide. 

Last time I did this a couple of folks reached out to give me gifts to say thanks for doing this guide. This year, I would encourage anybody who wants to say thanks to donate $5 to Fair Fight,  a group founded by Stacey Abrams to fight voter suppression in the 2020 election. We’re gonna need all the help we can get in November to defeat the GOP, and Abrams is doing it in a smart way. 

Other voting guides

This is my voting guide and reflects my general opinion on things. However, I am indebeted to many other guides, including the Knock L.A. Voter Guide and the L.A. Podcast Voter Guide for their takes. I don’t always agree with them, but both of these are invaluable resources for the progressive voter in Los Angeles. 

L.A. City Council 

This year the even numbered seats are up for re-election. Half of them are effectively uncontested, a couple are very much contested, and two are free for all because of term limits. 

CD2: Ayinde Jones

Look none of these candidates set my heart afire. I work with Councilmember Krekorian’s office a lot (remember, I live in the east Valley) and he’s a competent politician with a ton of endorsements and community ties, I have no illusion he’s going to win his full term comfortably on March 3. However, I believe it’s good to encourage competition, and Ayinde Jones did a good (not great) job at the candidate forum I attended hitting on themes of how the parts of CD2 north of Victory are being left behind as the area evolves. I wish he were better on S50, but then again all three candidates were opposed, so that’s kind of a wash. I look forward to hearing more from Jones in the future. 

CD4: Sarah Kate Levy

From a paucity of options to a surplus of options next door. CD4 is currently represented by David Ryu, a politician who came out of the Neighborhood Council system and went on to become...a city hall politician. Both his opponents are great. Nithya Raman is the founder of SELAH, a group that does amazing work helping the unhoused in Los Angeles, and recently led Times Up! Hollywood for a year. I’d vote for her in a heartbeat, but I am encouraging people to vote for Sarah Kate Levy for two reasons: first, Levy is unabashedly supportive of SB50 and we need this kind of leadership, and second I am hoping these two excellent women will get so many votes that they overwhelm Ryu and leave him in third place. Fingers crossed. 

CD6: Bill Haller 

This is another shoo-in. Nury Martinez is the City Council president and has the backing of the County party and all the local clubs. I am endorsing Bill Haller because he supports an agenda that includes more public funding for affordable housing, more and better transit, and climate justice.  

CD8: Marqueece Harris-Dawson 

There are no other candidates in this race, so congratulations on your re-election Councilmember Harris-Dawson. 

CD10: Aura Vasquez 

This is an open seat, and the smart money has Mark Ridley-Thomas as the frontrunner. Ridley-Thomas is a current member of the L.A. County Board of Supervisors (more on them later) who is termed out of that position. I’m endorsing Aura Vasquez, a progressive activist with ties to Mid-City who has served as a commissioner for LADWP and led fights for renewable energy, banning single use plastics, and housing affordability in her community. 

CD12: Loraine Lundquist 

Dr. Lundquist rules. She takes public transit to debates, she is an honest to goodness scientist, and she nearly beat a Republican in what is the most conservative district in L.A. during a special election. I have donated money to this lady because we need to win this one. Her opponent, John Lee, wasted no time in trying to block housing for the homeless in his district and in attacking a successful safer streets project on Reseda Blvd. The city has a chance - a really great chance thanks to the realigned municipal elections - to toss out the worst possible councilmember in favor of the most progressive voice, don’t mess it up. 

CD14: Cyndi Otteson

This race is Kevin de Léon’s to lose, but he won’t commit to serving a full term since he really wants to be mayor. I say let him have his spare time to run for mayor and select Ms. Otteson, a grassroots activist who has the support of the UTLA and who is the only voice in favor of the Colorado Blvd alignment of the NoHo to Pasadena BRT project. Transit equity matters, and Ms. Otteson deserves your vote this March. 

LAUSD School Board 

Deferring to the teachers’ endorsements on this one. 

Board Seat 1: George McKenna

Board Seat 3: Scott Schmerlson

Board Seat 5: Jackie Goldberg

Board Seat 7: Patricia Castellanos

Glendale City Council: Dan Brotman 

An environmental activist with progresive views, Brotman will be a useful voice in Glendale’s city hall. 

District Attorney: Rachel Rossi 

George Gascón and Rachel Rossi will both be light years better than the current county D.A., Jackie Lacey. Both have promised to make substantial reforms in the office. I am really torn on this one, since I think Gascón’s experience as a Deputy DA in San Francisco is a big deal, and since he has the backing of the County Party. I am endorsing Rossi in a tilt-at-windmills hope that somehow she and Gascón make it to the final ballot in November and give us a thoughtful debate between a career prosecutor bent on reform and a public defender whose goal is reform about methods and ideas. Anyway, don’t vote for Jackie Lacey is all I am saying here. 

Superior Court

Voting for judges is stupid. We shouldn’t be doing this, but since we have to, I’ll make some suggestions. My math is based on other progressive endorsements, Party endorsements, and reverse-engineering some well known conservative voting guides to, if nothing else, make sure I am not voting for their endorsement. 

Office 17: Shannon Kathleen Cooley (the race is uncontested) 

Office 42: Linda Sun

Office 72: Myanna Dellinger

Office 76: Emily Cole (Cole is a prosecutor, but her opponent is a man who literally changed his name to “Judge” after serving as a judge in Stanislaus County) 

Office 80: Klint James McKay

Currently an administrative law judge, he impressed Public Defender Union representatives with his thoughtful and articulate answers to their questioning.

Office 97: Sherry L. Powell (Powell’s opponent ran as a conservative Republican for state assembly in 2018, this is a defensive vote)

Office 129: Kenneth Fuller

Office 131: Michelle Kelley (the race is uncontested)

Office 141: Lana Kim (the race is uncontested)

Office 145: Troy Slaten (Slaten’s opponent has a troubling history of misconduct and should not be elected to a judgeship) 

Office 150: Tom Parsekian

Office 162: David D. Diamond

L.A. County Board of Supervisors

The Supervisors oversee policy for the County, including all unincorporated areas, the LASD, County Health services, etc. For a county of TEN MILLION PEOPLE, there are only five supervisors, so they have a hugely outsized influence. 

Seat 2: Jorge Nuno 

A lot of progressives are endorsing Holly Mitchell in this seat. Me, I just can’t go there when she’s speaking at events for Livable California and when she gave a floor speech opposing SB50. Though he’s the front runner, Herb Wesson doesn’t deserve your vote - he was City Council president when the homelessness crisis exploded and he’s done little to address it. Nuno is a progressive and has an ambitious platform. 

Seat 4: Janice Hahn 

She’s solid, and nobody’s pushing her from the left. 

Seat 5: John Harabedian 

Kathryn Barger, the incumbent, is a Republican who supports Trump’s immigration policies. John Harabedian is a solidly Center Left Democrat who has the backing of the county party and who could, in this presidential election year, win an upset in what is traditionally a Republican stronghold of L.A. County. Vote for him. 

County Ballot Measures

Measure R: YES YES YES 

This will provide crucial tools to the already existing civilian oversight committee for the LASD, including subpoena powers. It also requires the commission to study ways to divert offenders from jail. You need to vote yes on this. 

State Ballot Measures 

Prop 13: Yes

$15B in bonds to invest in public schools and “local control” to allow local school districts to issue larger bonds. The only real opposition is from the Howard Jarvis Taxpayers Association, a revanchist organization that is singlehandedly responsible for much of our state and local problems in the past few decades. Don’t listen to them. 

Congressional Elections 

Despite some misgivings, I am generally supporting the progressive challengers here to hopefully lead to a Progressive/Center Left election in the fall. 

CD 25: Christy Smith 

She has a good track record in the state assembly and a strong local support network. She’s not a carpetbagger with a YouTube show, and she’s not a Republican. 

CD 28: Adam Schiff 

He’s not the most progressive guy in Congress but he’s been critical to holding Trump accountable. He’s earned this vote. 

CD 29: Angelica Duenas 

Tony Cardenas is a bit of a non-entity on the national stage but he does good local work and he was an early vote in favor of impeachment. The rape allegations against him which troubled me last time were dismissed with prejudice in 2019. Cardenas has a progressive challenger, Angelica Marie Duenas, who has run in the past as a Green Party candidate. I don’t trust her decision to abandon that label and come into the Democrats after getting drubbed in 2018, but overall I like her ideas and I’d be happy to see her and Cardenas in a runoff this year. 

CD 30: CJ Berina 

Brad Sherman is an okay Congressmember. CJ Berina is a young, progressive challenger who’s attracted the attention of the Sunrise Movement. I’d vote for him to try to push the GOP out of the runoff and make this a race between the Center Left and the Progressive Left. 

CD 34: Frances Yasmeen Motiwalla

Jimmy Gomez is solid; let’s push the GOP out of the runoff though by supporting this progressive. 

State House 

District 39: Luz Rivas

District 41: Chris Holden 

District 43: Laura Friedman 

District 44: Jacqui Irwin

District 45: Jesse Gabriel 

District 46: Adrin Nazarian

District 48: Blanca Rubio 

District 49: Edwin Chau 

District 50: Richard Bloom

District 51: Wendy Carillo

District 53: Godfrey Plata

District 54: Tracey Jones

District 55: Andrew Rodriguez

District 58: Margaret Villa

District 59: Reggie Jones-Sawyer

District 62: Autumn Burke

District 63: Anthony Rendon

District 64: Fatima Iqbal-Zubair

District 66: Al Muratsuchi

District 70: Patrick O’Donnell

State Senate

SD 21: Kipp Mueller

SD 23: Abigail Medina

SD 25: No Endorsement - I rarely do this but honestly Anthony Portantino does not deserve your vote. Write in Mickey Mouse. 

SD 27: Henry Stern

SD 29: Josh Newman

SD 31: Richard Roth

SD 33: Lena Gonzalez

SD 35: Steven Bradford

County Committees 

Look this is getting waaaaaaaaaaaaaay into the weeds. What I am going to say is this: I know that a lot of “progressive” slates are out there and I encourage you to try your best to vet them. In my district, one of the candidates is somebody I know personally - she actively campaigned for Jill Stein, she circulated the decades-old “Clinton Death List” to voters, and she pushed Pizzagate theories. I am not voting for this person, but she is endorsed by “Progressive California” so...just be careful. 

[haydenandtrish]

Tour de Tulips: From Amsterdam to Lisse

Hayden and I quickly acquainted ourselves with life on two wheels in the Netherlands when we decided to ride from Amsterdam to Lisse – an 80 kilometre round trip. 

Why on earth would we do that though? To see the Tulips of course!

Every year, particularly in the month of April, the tulips bloom and the thick green carpet transforms into a velvet rainbow. Thousands of little flowers open their petals and let their colour shine. We couldn’t miss it. But we’re back packing, so we looked for cheaper options. We read online that there are approximately 20 kilometres of tulip fields stretching from Haarlem to Lisse. So instead of travelling down to Keukenhof Gardens by train and then having to pay to see the Tulips, we rented a couple of bicycles for 30 Euros and began our first big Dutch adventure. Our blue rentals were rickety old things that rattled, and when it’s over bumpy cobblestone roads, it’s every body’s business. They had seen better days for sure. But these old faithfuls got us places, and by the end of the trip, we had melded right into them.

Now. We ride.

First destination? Haarlem. Leaving Amsterdam behind and heading out to explore the Dutch countryside, you couldn't tell we were on the outskirts of a city with an airport on one side and an industrial estate on the other – it was still an abundance of green. 

Following the bike path, we veered away from the road and turned a corner, and we exclaimed something you start to say a lot on the road … Wow.  We quickly realised that the beauty of The Netherlands is inescapable. We were up on a hill, a glistening lake to the right, dense forest to the left and the distant view was full of windmills lining the horizon. With smiles on our faces, we rode on. 

Magic is everywhere.

Within the first hour of our journey, we had come across cute little towns made up of dark timber houses and farmland in the front yard. Sheep were kept, roosters could be heard and veggies were growing in neat boxes. With smiles on our faces, we rode on. We crossed dainty wooden bridges whose paths disappeared into what felt like enchanted woods, we milled in wonder as purple leaves rained lightly on us, and we laughed, true joyous laughs because everywhere we happened upon we had to stop and take in our surroundings. And then we would look at one another, and with smiles on our faces, we rode on. Through picture perfect Dutch towns, beside woods full of magic, past houses covered by vines and trees, along immaculately kept canals and over old cobblestone roads. We were left completely mesmerized. It was beautiful, to say the least, but there are some treasures we want you to experience for yourself, so we’ll leave it up to you to explore. We had no specific route and this was another little unplanned journey where we didn't know what to expect along the way. We have found experiencing somewhere with no expectations and no worry of whether or not you’re on the exact right path leaves a whole lot of room for unsuspecting wonder. 

Google Maps became our best friend as we navigated our way down. We continued past stone built houses that were detailed with white trimmings. They were roofed in no particular shape – all obscured and quirky but following a similar colour scheme of black, orange or brown.

The canals flowed just as lovely as in Amsterdam and the people greeted you with a smile wherever you went. We had arrived in Haarlem. Our stay was short as we rode directly through the middle and out into more suburbs. We soon realised we were supposed to be on the other side of a particular canal, we needn’t worry though, because to our luck, Hayden spotted a lady standing on the side of the canal gazing out to the other side. Following her line of sight, there was a white barge transporting pedestrians to and fro. We saddled up beside her and waited for our ride. After a quick chat and a few points in the right direction we were back on our way. 

Aaaahh the tulips.

We lulled lazily through unfamiliar streets noticing an increase in large oak trees, and the ladies earlier mention of a forest rang like bells in our minds when we came face first into an opening – with bike paths guiding the way of course. In our research before we had even left our Airbnb, we were told to follow the Leidesvaart Canal passing through towns Heemestede and Hillegom in order to find the Tulips. This is exactly what we did. We rode along the canal for some time and it eventually bent all the way right around a bend onto a dirt road, under a bridge, and then bam, on our left was a beautiful sea of red, yellow, white and pink. 

After four hours of an incredibly flat but never dull ride, we had finally arrived at the Tulips. It was just as beautiful as I could have imagined. We ran around excitedly, getting closer to the flowers, smelling the sweetness, feeling the silkiness, celebrating that we had finally arrived. However, it was a little bittersweet as we looked around and realised that we were about one to two weeks too late to witness the fields in full bloom. Many had already been picked. We witnessed workers walking up and down the aisles and handpicking only the most perfect tulips. Once we had finished admiring the first destination we rode a little further up. 

The place we came across was a quaint little set of houses along the canal we had been following. The yards were kept tidy, with tulips growing all around. We sat on one of the boat docks and had some snacks. We were quiet beside one another as we silently marvelled at what we had just gotten to do. We couldn’t believe the indescribable beauty of the Netherland’s. It’s just that, even as I type this I cannot for the life of me find the right words to perfectly describe how enchanting everywhere we went was. We just appreciated exactly where we were – in the middle of the Netherland’s, along some unknown canal, out front of pretty Dutch houses and looking out to bare green fields where Tulips usually lay. It was a dream come true.

We almost turned around there and headed home, but we decided to go just a little further. We are glad we did, because we ended up stumbling across more Tulip fields. There was literally fields and fields of tulips. This particular location had to have been laid by Willy Wonka himself as it was nearly completely purple. A church stood tall in the background surrounded by yet another town making it the perfect backdrop. 

We decided to keep riding down to the Keukenhof Gardens, go around them and head back up the other side from which we came. Although we didn’t go in, we’ve heard they are beautiful, so if you want to see the tulips in a more artistic way then this is the place for you.

It was around the time we stopped in a lovely little café in Lisse that sat beside some train tracks that we realised we had been riding down for over six hours now - making it close to 4pm. We were meant to have the bikes back in Amsterdam by 7pm. A quick look at Google Maps told us we would be there in 7 hours on foot.

OOOooooohhhh how we rode like the wind back to Amsterdam.

We hammered our legs with no joyous stops along the way, we battled the wind coming down against us the entire way back, we cut through towns and parks and with barely 10 minutes to spare, we made the journey back up within 3 hours. All the while thanking the Netherland’s for being so flat. 

Our advice


- Enjoy the trip from Amsterdam to Haarlem 
- Follow the Leidesvaart Canal passing through towns Heemestede and Hillegom - If you want to see our full route, click here.

- See the tulips late May early April if you want to see them in full bloom 

- Oh my god wear sunscreen! We didn’t and man our faces were sunburnt. They didn't look red but they were so sore to touch. 

- If there looks to be wind about, wear a scarf! I luckily had mine on and could cover my face. Hayden unfortunately copped it all which would have worsened the dryness from the sunburn. 

- Leave yourself plenty of time – we left at 9:30am so admittedly we could have left much earlier. We’re just enjoying that European time clock of late starts later finishes – it's marvellous.

- Even if you don’t get to see the Tulips we really recommend completing the ride if you have a day to spare.

It wasn’t just seeing the Tulips that made this trip special. It was being able to see real Dutch living in its most authentic state, and it’s breath taking ❤️

Always with Love,  Trish

[globaltravelman]

Best Scenes of a Trip Through 8 Countries in 2019 - Part 1

This video shows a free itinerary travel to some countries from September to December 2019. Free travel means a trip where you depart for a purpose, but you can change it whenever you want, due to weather conditions, permission for drones, flight cancellations and other factors. I have been in Italy, Greece, Egypt, Bulgary, Romenia, Hungary, Czechia and Spain. Bulgary and Romenia was not in the script. I was forced to go there by respecting the Schengen Agreement restrict imposition for us, south americans, which is, for sure, is annoying. Also, I avoided Uzbekistan, which was previously in the plans, with air tickets included, by drone restrictions and corruptions in airports. Anyway, the trip was quite good all the time and I could finally be relatevely free of prearranged plans on this travel. Changing bitcoins to euro money also helped a lot. Once back in Brasil in january 2020, pandemic attacks and manipulations have begun, so, I was luck to have done that before. Hope to gain the road again in 2022, after all this disease war has finished. Eventually, I will construct the part 2, so, be engaged with my channel to more surprises. Here are the places showed in this video: 1a. Barcelona - Plaza de Espana , Spain 1b. Barcelona - La Pedrera, Gaudi, Spain 1c. Barcelona - Sagrada Familia, Gaudi, Spain 1d. Barcelona - Parque Guell, Gaudi, Spain 2. Civita di Bagnoregio, Italy 3. Orvieto Medieval Town, Italy 4.  Montepulciano Medieval Town, Italy 5. San Gimignano Medieval Towers, Italy 6a. Lucca Piazza dell'Anfiteatro, Italy 6b. Lucca Medieval Towers, Italy 7. Pisa Duomo, Italy 8. Siena Cathedral, Italy 9. Pompeia Ancient Roman City, Italy 10. Alberobello Trulli, Italy 11. Matera Old Town, Italy 12. Napoly Bay, Italy 13. Vesuvio Crater Volcano, Italy 14. Ercolano Ancient Roman City, Italy 15. Athens Parthenon, Greece 16. Meteora Monasteries, Greece 17. Giza Pyramids, Egypt 18. Cairo Museum, Egypt 19. Dahshur Red Pyramid, Egypt 20. Saqqara Complex, Egypt 21. Bent Pyramid, Egypt 22. Muhammad Ali Mosque, Cairo 23. Al-Rifa'i Mosque, Cairo 24. Al-Nasser Mohammed Mosque, Cairo 25. Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan, Cairo 26. Mosque of Amr ibn al-As, Cairo 27. Luxor Temple, Luxor 28. Ramesseum Temple, Luxor 29. Karnak Temple, Luxor 30. Medinet Habu Temple, Luxor 31. Valley of the Queens Tombs, Luxor 32. Hatshepsut Temple, Luxor 33. Nobles Tombs, Luxor 34. Dendera Temple, Dendera 35a. Budapest , Hungary 36. Plovdiv Roman Amphitheater, Bulgary 37. Cordoba King´s Gardens, Spain 38. Avilla Walls, Spain 39. Sevilla Plaza de Espana, Spain 40. Campos de Criptana Windmills, Spain 41. Coca Castle, Spain ==================================== All images and clips are mine, as all other videos in this channel. Recorded using Samsung S10+, Asus Zenphone 5, Zhiyun Smooth 4 Gimball, DJI Mavic Air 2. Music: Yolanda Be Cool - Dance and Chant ==================================== Subscribe to my channel on Youtube to get more videos like this Viajante Livre / Free Traveler ==================================== Instagram : @globaltravelman Blog : www.travelphotos.world Facebook : @travelphotos.world ==================================== If you wish to contact me: Whatsapp: +55 19 991143905

[umichenginabroad]

Crunch Time

Since it’s our last week in San Sebasti��n before we go to Pamplona for three, we packed our schedules with wild and adventurous stuff to do before we go. We began this week with a trip to France, and though brief, our time there was full of rain and fun! We started the trip in a town called Irún on the Spanish side of the border. After walking around for a while and enjoying a coffee and a crepe at a local cafe, we crossed the border into France.

Here you can see Kat, Mary, Elena and Isabella drenched from the torrential downpour that hit right when we got to the border. Behind them is the Bidasoa River which separates Spain and France. The border between the two is so relaxed people were crossing in dinghies! We all brought our passports (and poor Jay ran a mile and a half from where we met the bus back to Olarain and back to get his) but we never even needed them.

Saint-Jean-de-Luz, France was full of beautiful, wide cobblestone streets lined with stores below apartments. There were tons of clothing shops, cafes and bars on every corner. The buildings were all very old and it was breathtaking. The people were very nice. Even if they were mean, though, none of us would’ve known. Only about two of us knew any French, so navigation was fun. At one point, we heard church bells and I got some people to follow them and it led us right to the Church of Saint Jean the Baptist which was truly a marvel. 

From reading the placards on the side, we found out it’s the exact church where King Louis XIV of France married Queen Maria Theresa of Spain in 1660 as a sort of coup so France could subdue Spain which was broke from its many wars at the time. How cool?! The rose gardens next to me in the picture below had memorial stones in them, and all of those gardens are tended to by local women.

In addition to France, IPE and TecNun took us surfing this week. Now, as someone from the lower Hudson Valley in New York where there are virtually no waves within an hour to two hour drive, surfing is foreign. I’d never been surfing before this trip, and only one person in my group had gone before. We went with the students from Penn State who were just as enthusiastic about the incredible new experience. The guys from Penn State went out in the first group with Jessie, Rebecca and me. The girls from Penn State went out with the other ten wolverines right after.

Three men from San Sebastián took us down to the beach where we learned the basics: paddling, catching waves and how to stand up. On land we were all getting pretty cocky but had a real quick reality check once we hit the water. It was harder than I thought, but we all got the hang of it relatively quickly. It was hard to get any really good photos since the best waves were kind of far out, but I did my best.

Anthony rode a wave from the instructor in the red shirt about 50 feet behind him all the way to the shore. 

Kat caught on quickly and was showing a lot of us how it’s done. The instructors kept complimenting her on her solid stance with her knees bent and arms out for balance. She loved surfing and loves the ocean... maybe that’s why she’s going into naval architecture and marine engineering.

Jay also really got a hang of things quickly and rode waves from way out all the way to the water’s edge. He killed it!

Because it is technically a study abroad, we did have classes this week, too. In the product design course, they continued working on their projects to improve motorized scooters. In the renewable energy class, we began working with computer systems designed to take in data about the environment and electric grid systems to determine the optimal system. For example, if a city were trying to figure out whether it would be more cost effective and sustainable to invest in windmills, solar panels, or both, they would use the program we worked with. 

Graphs like the one above and charts of collected and projected data help engineers determine how to make the most efficient electric grid to save money and protect the environment. They compare thousands of possible scenarios for given wind speeds, sun exposure rates and tons of other factors. It took the computer about an hour to process all of the possibilities this morning, so this work would be nearly impossible without them. Today, we finished theoretical scenario in which we had to write a report on the optimal configuration for the electric system. I worked with Mary and Kat, and our report was almost 20 pages long! It was very interesting work, I really enjoyed it.

After all of the class time, though, we needed a break. We went to Lo Viejo and hiked up Mount Urgull, which is topped by a massive statue of Jesus that watches over San Sebastián and La Bahía de la Concha. The hike was not bad at all, and the views were stunning beyond belief. I can’t even find words to describe how picturesque the whole scene was, so here’s a few pictures which I’ve heard are worth at least a thousand words.

And of course... the obligatory Michigan flag picture which was taken by some very amused German tourists who were very eager to join in and show the world their love of wine!

Ryan DaCosta

Undeclared

Spanish Language, Culture, and Industry in San Sebastián, Spain

[bethanybusche]

Power Sculpt review!

Let me preface this review by telling you these two astonishing things:

I sweat condensate like a beer at the lake on a scorching summer day during this workout.

I had to take a few breaks during this workout.

So, away we go!  Here is my review of Power Sculpt lovely people.

Total Time: 36 minutes

Equipment: none

Warm-Up

The warm-up is two minutes of bouncing side to side, shoulder rolls (while bouncing), talking about how the moves are ‘seriously fun’ and challenging, jumping jacks, windmills to stretch the legs, hip rolls, and torso rotations.

You have 9 rounds of work – each round is 3 minutes – 3 moves.  The moves get tougher but the time you spend doing them get shorter.  Oh boy, okay, 9 rounds.  I got this.

Round 1/9

Hip Drive Through

Lift your legs up, create a triangle by crossing one leg behind the other, and roll yourself up onto your knee.  You roll back and alternate legs.  You need to drive your hip forward when you get to the top.  Apparently this is taken from Brazilian Jujitsu which has a lot of floor moves – according to Joel at least.

I laughed the first time I saw it but eventually figured it out.  Squeeze your glutes at the top.  My daughter asked me what a glutes was and I told her ‘tooshy’.  She got it after that.

Jumping Firefly

Push your weight back into your heels, push yourself forward and bring the knee to the outside elbow. Push yourself back and bring the other knee forward.  Keep your chest low, your core tight, and pretend you are Superman crawling through the night under barbed wire.

I appreciate this move without the push backwards.

If you want to be a perfectionist:

Half Monkey Circle To Guard

Get into a wide squat, reach hands to ground, circle your body to the other side, stand up slightly but stay in the squat and bring your open hands up into ‘guard’.  Reach down and circle around the other way.  Do this repetitively.

Round 2/9

Switch Roundhouse Kick

Step back, step forward, load the arms to the back, curve the kick around the back and to the front and bring your arms across to ‘chop’.  Basically – hop kick.  You ‘have a whole minute to get it right’.  This is fun because I imagine kick a tree or someone that made me really upset.  Just kidding.  Or am I?

Look how unenthused my daughter looks:

Ground to Fighter Stance

Start with stomach on the floor, push yourself up into your fighter stance, and get back down.  This is basically a burpee without the jump people.  Joel ‘has springs in his shoes’ like a crazy guy – so watching and admire that guy.  I would appreciate this move more if you did not let your stomach flop on the ground.

My daughter told me to find the springs in my shoes.  I told her to go clean.

Low Stance Switch

Get in a low squat stance, keep the legs loaded, jump your feet in and out as you rotate left to right. Your legs will start to burn – get lower if they do not.

Take your break - Joel says ‘the water works just got turned on’.  Fair enough - my heart rate is up.

Round 3/9

Ginga Hop

Get in a lunge position, arms to the side, jump side to side and land in the opposite lunge.  This is a 60 second move so they tell you to slow down. Focus on your form here - keep the weight in the front leg heel, chest up and core tight.

Alternating Clinch Knees

Reach your hands up into your clinch, pull your knee up, hips drive through and bring your hands down to your hips.  Alternate sides and start doing the Running Man.  Remember to lean back and keep the core tight.

Triple Alligator Push-Up

Well this sounds lovely. Stagger your hands and feet, do three push-ups, alternate and jump your hands and legs so you can do the other side for three push-ups.  Repeat this by alternating sides every three push-ups.

Awesome guys.  This is simple.  No - it’s not.  I eventually curled into a ball for a few seconds and ended up modifying them.

Round 4/9

Roll Jumps

In your dominant fight stance, roll back and jump, roll forward and jump, continue to roll and jump.  Keep the chest up and land softly.

Plank Skaters

Get in a high plank on your hands, step one foot over the other bent leg, and tap to the diagonal, alternate sides.  Keep your core tight, back flat, and eyes forward.  Do not screw up your spine more than this program will do for you.

Half Superman Push-Up

This is a push-up with an alternate arm and leg raise at the top.  If you raise the wrong arm or leg you will know because you will face plant. Continue to do these push-ups alternating sides.  If it hurts more than it works - modify.  Good luck to you.

Round 5/9

You start over from the top my friends!  Yay oh yay!

Hip Drive Through

Jumping Firefly

Half Monkey Circle to Guard

Round 6/9

Switch Roundhouse Kick

Ground to Fighter Stance

Low Stance Switch

Round 7/9

Ginga Hop

Alternating Clinch Knees

Triple Alligator Push-Up

Round 8/9

Roll Jumps

Plank Skaters

Half Superman Push-Up

Round 9/9

‘Oh here we go!’  This is your last round and it is a ‘burnout round’ of three moves as Joel calls it.  Then you can ‘take a shower’.  I chuckled.  That’s the plan Joel.

R Reverse Lunge, Clinch Knee

Reverse lunge, clasp your hands together in front of you and pull them into your knee as you drive the knee up.  Repeat this until they show you the next move.

Jericho gets excited and decides to add a pop at the top.  Joel thinks that is just fantastic.

Push-Up, Leg Check

This is a push up with a knee to each elbow and repeat.  This is hilarious - I was on my knees doing these.  Sweat was in my eyeballs and my daughter was tying a jump rope around me and saying ‘ew your back is sweaty’.

Guarded Squat, Squat Jump

Do a squat, squat again and jump up out of it.  Make sure you come back into the squat when you land.

To make things harder - place your child on your shoulders:

Cooldown

This is about two minutes of stretching including a standing hip flexor stretch with an arm across the body for a shoulder stretch, quad stretch, hamstring stretch, chest opener, and an upper back stretch.

WHY IS THAT GIRL IN THE BACK NOT SWEATING?  Who are these people?  Are they working out in a 30 degree room?  Why am I drenched and they are not?

Final Thoughts:

This workout was the most difficult in Core De Force that I have done yet.  It could have been that I was tired and was low on energy this morning but I did take a few breather breaks.  I also modified some of these moves to my knees.

I burned around 350 calories in 36 minutes which is pretty good if that is what you are interested in.

My daughter and I had Supergirl shirts on so we had to take a flying photo:

Give it a shot - try your hardest - it only lasts 36 minutes.  You will be happy you did.

[lindoig8]

Wednesday - Saturday, 26-29 May

Wednesday, 26 May

I seem to have lost a day. I have no notes from Wednesday, but no photos either so I am sure we stayed in camp all day. I do know that we had showers (we do shower reasonably often, but not necessarily morning and night every day) because we went to the Camp Roast at night all togged up in nice clean clothes. I recall that it was cold and very blustery all day and we wondered if the Camp Roast may have been cancelled with rain threatening, but as I was told, it often threatens but nothing ever happens.

Thursday, 27 May

Not sure if anyone noticed (if anyone is actually looking at my blog) but for the first time in human history, the blog was up-to-date as at late afternoon on Tuesday. Alas, it didn’t stay that way! With time being (for all practical purposes) mono-directional and linear, it soon became out of date as events interposed my ability to log them in real-time. So, to catch up again…..

It didn’t rain during the Camp Roast Dinner – and we got our bottle of red wine without any hassles. But the wind kept blowing and the mercury kept falling and most people were choosing their table positions to take advantage of the roaring fires surrounding the area. Of course, being so chilly, they lit the fires early and we all huddled around them until dinner was served – and the fires were seriously on the wane by the time we had eaten. Only one fire had an adjacent stack of fuel so that one became the de facto meeting point for a chat after the meal. As usual, the main topics of conversation were ‘where have you come from?’ and ‘where are you going?’ with an occasional ’but where is home?’ or ‘how long will you be away?’. It is not always scintillating repartee, but at least most people get a chance to check out what the road conditions were like 6 months ago (or yesterday) and we spoke with a couple of women from Gove so sussed out a little of what it has on offer because we are toying with trying to go up there later in the trip. Most people imagined that snuggling into their blankets might prove warmer than rotisserie-ing in the freezing wind so the crowd thinned pretty quickly and we headed to the van for a hot cuppa and a DVD in bed.

Heather had been commenting that she could small fuel in the car for the past couple of days but I couldn’t. Perhaps not that surprising because she can just about smell things that aren’t there and I can barely smell things right under my nose. I had looked in the back of the car where our spare fuel is stored a couple of times and I couldn’t see anything amiss and certainly couldn’t smell fuel, but today I could. The breather had come loose on one of the jerrycans and spilled a couple of tablespoons of diesel. Fortunately, the jerrycans are in a larger plastic box so only a few tiny splashes got on anything else – only the tailgate and the handle of a sealed drinking-water container as far as I could see. Hopefully, all is now right again, but we will need to watch that on the rough roads.

We went to explore some more fossicking sites on Thursday. We had been told that on the opposite side of the road from our fossicking expedition last Friday, there was another place where people had been picking garnet up off the ground so we went to explore. It had been the site of a road-gang's camp and it looked like a lot of the area had been turned over with some sort of shallow ripper exposing minerals that had previously been underground. We spent ages hunched over looking for colour but really just getting sore backs. Heather found some very tiny bits but we picked up some small conglomerates that appeared to have tiny red specks embedded in them (according to Heather – my colour-blindness defeated me) and they were subsequently confirmed to be very small garnets.

I gave up searching before Heather did so I collected quite a bit of firewood to take back to camp – I wrapped it up in a tarpaulin and put it on the back seat of the car.

We had seen the sign for Mount Riddock so we decided to try to see it a bit closer. Unfortunately, the road, although quite good, didn’t take us to Mt Riddock itself, only to the station homestead and related buildings (the original homestead of which is now heritage-listed and relocated near the shop in our caravan park).

Returning to the Highway, we drove back to the entrance to Cattlewater Pass and drove in to where we had explored a few days ago. This time, we poked around looking for gemstones – now having a slightly better idea of what we were looking for. We spent quite some time bent over peering at the ground, increasing the risk of spinal soreness. Heather found a few small chips and then I found a small area with lots of tiny garnets, mostly on the surface. Within an area of about one square metre, I reckon we collected about 100 small garnets, from very small chips to pieces 3-4 times the size of the best ones we collected during our official fossicking dig. None of them were worth anything because they all had internal fractures, but at least we felt we had our own little Eureka moment out in the desert.

Where the track into Cattlewater Pass leaves the Highway, it bifurcates with a sign indicating a fossicking field 3 kilometres in on the right-hand track and another field 4 kilometres in on the left-hand one. We solved our quandary of a few days ago when we followed the left-hand track in, only to find ourselves on the right-hand track out. There is effectively no right-hand track! It also branches in a couple of places and we explored all the alternatives only to find that they all led back to the left-hand track – either in or out. We never found any apparent fossicking fields either 3 or 4 kilometres in, but we found our own little Bonanza area well off the track a bit more than 4 kilometres in.

The map shows two roads several kilometres apart, both accessing Cattlewater Pass off the Plenty Highway and we eventually found the second one. The map indicated that it eventually joined up with the first track about 5 kilometres in. We were well aware that we could not get near the Pass because it is now closed, but in view of our history on the Track, we decided to explore. Once again, the map was wrong. We drove a bit over 10 kilometres in on an exceptionally good gravel track to a big cattle-yard, loading ramp, two very large dams, a windmill and a huge tank – but no homestead. The road simply stopped there. There was a locked gate into a property but that was all. We simply drove back to the highway and home again.

We took our treasures up to the Gem Room for identification and evaluation, and were distinctly unsurprised to learn that we had not joined Australia’s Rich List as a result of our explorations – at least not the section of the Rich List that makes it to the Press each year. Nonetheless, we purchased a bottle of bubbles and took it back to our campfire, pretending that we had struck it lucky on the day. We used up some of the firewood I collected, but the wind was still strong and very cold so after an hour or so, we retired to our mobile mansion and ate like kings and queens instead of braving the cold outside.

Friday, 28 May

We spent most of the day in the van, but went up to the shop late in the morning to collect the pies we had ordered the day before. They bake a few things each day, including a tray of 24(?) pies that go like hot cakes (hot pies!). They are not cheap at $9 each, but people had raved over them and we decided to give them a go. They had reserved two for us (we paid in advance the day before) and they are worth every cent of the $9. Chunky beef pies, bursting out of their high domed crowns, as much or more over the top of the flan as in it, and absolutely delicious. Better than I could have imagined – and we struggled to eat them all for lunch – even had some left over for Happy Hour around a roaring fire. It was still quite cool with a cold wind, but we kept loading fuel onto the fire and we enjoyed it for an hour or two before retreating to the more general warmth inside the van.

Late in the afternoon, I went out trying to photograph and identify some birds that seemed to frequent a patch of bush not far from the shop and was doing OK until one of our neighbours spotted me and decided she wanted to chat. By the time I had escaped, it was almost too dark for photography, but I identified some Spiny-Cheeked Honeyeaters and some Brown Honeyeaters in addition to the ubiquitous Magpie-larks, Budgies and Zebra Finches.

Saturday, 29 May

We had a relatively easy day, but a very enjoyable one. We drove back to the Mad Russian’s Copper Mine and followed the track past it for another few kilometres before coming to a gate with a bunch of cattle in the adjacent stock-yard. Just as we were approaching, another mob of cattle came running in from the west and seemed quite excitable so rather than stop and spook them further, I simply turned the car around slowly and quietly and returned to the mine-site. We spent an hour or two picking up pretty stones from the tailings left behind from the refining operation and ended up with several small bags of treasure. We then walked further up the track and found the site of the actual mine and saw where the side of the hill had been excavated to collect the ore. We walked a bit further up the riverbed and then all the way back to the main track to the car and a late lunch.

We drove several kilometres further south exploring all the side-tracks (none of which led anywhere) before hitting the Garden Road again where we had driven a week or so ago. We just returned to camp along the same track, stopping often to identify birds or plants. We sat outside the shop again to take advantage of the slightly better signal there and dealt with a few emails and other bits and pieces. We also purchased a vanilla slice to take back for supper. They were recommended to us and although very nice, they were really not in the same class as the pies we ate yesterday.

I have referred to ‘the shop’ numerous times for convenience, but it is not quite a shop in the normal sense we use it. The building houses the Caravan Park Reception, the Gem Shop, the private residence of at least the owners and their partners, some store-rooms, a kitchen (they offer takeaways and a form of room service at quite moderate prices) and the shop. As for stock, they have what they cook on the premises, soft drinks and a bare minimum of essentials such as toothpaste, and very little else. They also stock a few, very few, souvenirs – the main one seemingly a book about the pioneers in the area and Heather purchased that.

Back in the van, we washed all our collected rocks very carefully and examined them in detail to identify some that we could live without – otherwise the caravan suspension would have been at risk of collapse. I guess we are now down to only 4 or 5 kilos of treasure – 20 grams of which might be garnet.

[thesassybooskter]

WOLF AFTER MY OWN HEART by MaryJanice Davidson: Excerpt & Giveaway

NOW AVAILABLE

Things are hot and getting hotter��� Escape into this delicious shifter romance from bestselling author MaryJanice Davidson.

 Oz Adway is a rare breed: an accountant who wants to get dirty. He’s a wolf shifter working for the Interspecies Placement Agency so it’s not long before he gets the opportunity to break out of his boring, safe office job. He volunteers to find runaway bear cub Sally Smalls, recently orphaned by a plane crash. Piece of cake, right? Unfortunately, Sally’s taken refuge with “ordinary” human Lila Kai. Lila has no idea what’s going on, but she’ll destroy anyone who tries to take the cub. Oz is not about to let a human jeopardize his daring career move, no matter how attractive he finds her.

Lila knows something’s different about the sexy weirdo who keeps popping up in the wrong place at the right time. She’s determined to figure out what, regardless of the escalating threats to her safety and Oz’s distracting hotness. She didn’t move into a cursed house and take in a werebear just to run when things get complicated. Together, Oz and Lila will prevail! But only if they can keep their hands off each other…

  Buy Online: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Apple Books

Add to Goodreads

  Excerpt

She was just getting the hang of the ambulance when she hit the wolf. 

The thing was bulky and difficult to control (the ambulance, not the wolf), and whenever she got it back from its semiannual mechanically induced coma, it took her a few minutes to get the hang of driving it again. 

She stood on the brakes 

(oh shit oh shit oh shit) 

and braced for the double-thump of the tires running over the animal, which didn’t come. 

Lila Kai collapsed back into her seat, her heart pounding so hard she could taste metal. She pulled over to the side of the street. A street, not a country road on the way from nowhere to somewhere. This was Lilydale, not Hastings. And even Hastings didn’t have wolves in their streets. Just deer. So what the hell? 

She put the ambulance in Park, kept the engine running, and hopped down. She checked the headlights—nothing. The side of the road—nothing. She even took a tentative couple of steps into the brown brush lining the ditch 

(don’t think about the zillions of horror movies that start like this) 

—nothing. No wolf, limping or otherwise. Or…coyote, maybe? 

Which made sense, now that she thought about it. Because whatever it was, it hadn’t been just huge, it had been fast, too. It had come out of nowhere and to nowhere it returned, all in the space of half a second. Maybe she just clipped it. 

Is that a metaphor for something? Life? Death? Taxes? Transitions? Romance? 

Mmmm…probably not the latter. There was just no way to twist clipping a random wolf into an allegory about her nonexistent dating life. The fact that she’d given even half a second of thought to that was proof that she needed to lay off the Cosmos (the drink and the magazine). 

She went back to her decommissioned ambulance, rebuckled her seat belt, put it in Drive, checked her rearview, ignored the urge to ponder more metaphors-that-weren’t, then pulled out, and headed back toward her rental house. The adrenaline rush had been unwelcome as always, but— 

“God damn it!” 

Two kids had darted out from nowhere 

(what the hell is up with this street?) 

and were flagging her down, waving their little arms around so fast they looked like little bony windmills in a gale. 

This time, at least, she didn’t have to stand on the brakes, and once she had stopped, she rolled down her window. “What’s going on, li’l weirdos?” 

Both children were gesturing frantically. “C’mere, you have to help, she’s hurt!” 

And more than a few horror movies start like this, too. 

Again with park, unbuckling, opening door, climbing out. The boy and girl who had jumped in front of her looked like they were about eight, dressed in the de rigeur kid gear of jeans and sweatshirts and battered sneakers. They had the corn-fed reddish-blond looks of many Minnesotans. “Who’s hurt?” 

“I dunno, she just is, we found her, come on. Bring your ambulance gear!” 

“It’s not an ambulance.” 

“’Course it’s an ambulance!” 

“No, I mean it’s decommissioned, so it’s not really an amb—” 

Tiring of her explanation, the girl seized Lila’s hand and started hauling her up the street. Lila looked behind her, half expecting to see the wolf creeping up on them and felt a little let down to see the way was clear. Which was insane. Strange enough to see such a creature under any circumstances, never mind smack in the middle of town. But she wanted to see it again; how was that for nuts? 

I probably need a nap. 

The girl hauled on her hand again and hooked left 

“Jeez, kid. Do you work out?” 

and then led her down a short alley, to where a small huddled form was curled into a blanket. 

“See?” the girl asked, clamping down hard on Lila’s fingers in her excitement. 

“Yeah, see?” the boy, presumably her brother, added. “She’s right there!” 

“Isn’t this a school night?” But she bent over the small figure, blinked as her brain tried to process the image, gently touched it on the shoulder, then pinched her own leg 

(Nope. Not dreaming.) 

and looked up at the kids. “All right, first, that’s not a kid, it’s a bear cub for some reason. Second, I’m not a vet. Most important, I’m not an EMT, either.” 

Instead of answering, the girl whacked the boy on the arm and hissed something that sounded like, “Unstable!” 

“My high school guidance counselor would agree.” Lila bent back over the curled up mass of black, fluffy, whimpering fur that cowered away from her and glared with dark eyes. “I’m not sure what it is you think I can do.” She looked back up only to see the children’s expressions had transformed; they were actually edging away from her. “Why are you doing that? You guys lured me here. If anyone should be uneasy, it’s me. Shouldn’t you have picked my pocket by now?” She looked around the utterly deserted alley. For the first time, she realized she couldn’t hear anything: no bugs, no birds, nothing. And not much light from the lone streetlight. Downright creepy. 

She checked the mouth of the alley for the wolf and was again disappointed to see nothing. 

“You’re right, sorry,” the boy said. 

“Yeah, sorrywebotheredyougoodbyenow.” 

Lila sighed. She was in it the minute she’d stepped down from the vehicle that wasn’t an ambulance. “God damn it. Okay, so, just because I can’t help doesn’t mean someone else can’t.” She stood, only to see the children take several steps back. “Maybe call animal control?” She had to, she realized. You couldn’t just leave a random bear cub in a random alley after random kids flagged down a random adult. 

But in the time it took her to fish out her phone and begin looking up Lilydale Animal Control—or would that be Saint Paul?—the children had (cue the dramatic music) vanished. Like the wolf, her patience, and her faith in the good people at Apartment Guide. 

“Nice quiet neighborhood,” she muttered to the Realtor who wasn’t there. “Lots of families. It’s in the middle of a national park. Bargain.” 

She’d been a Lilydale resident for fewer than eighteen hours and had no idea who to call. And after a day of unpacking, she was standing in an alley at 8:00 p.m. After hitting a wolf. The one thing she did know: she—they—couldn’t stay there indefinitely. 

“You’d tell me if you were a metaphor, right, teeny tiny bear cub?” 

She scooped it up, surprised by how light it was, given that it was the size of a small golden retriever 

(it must be mostly fur, the way birds are mostly feathers) 

then checked for the wolf one more time, and headed back to her nonbulance.

  ***

Excerpted from Wolf After My Own Heart by MaryJanice Davidson. © 2021 by MaryJanice Davidson. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

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  About MaryJanice Davidson

MaryJanice Davidson is the NYT and USA Today best-selling author of the UNDEAD and UNWED paranormal romcom series. Her books have been published in over a dozen languages and have been bestsellers worldwide. A former model and medical test subject (two jobs that are close than you’d think), she lives with her family in St. Paul, MN.

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WOLF AFTER MY OWN HEART by MaryJanice Davidson: Excerpt & Giveaway was originally published on The Sassy Bookster

[saimonsoon]

Junk Mail

Beautiful and spacious, the Abbott House stood at the end of the lonely cul-de-sac on a spacious piece of land. Tall, ivy-strewn walls enclosed the property. The front entrance was sealed off by a forbidding, wrought-iron gate. The closer Melissa drew to the property, the more forbidding the gate became.

Clutching the unopened letters, she had received that morning, Melissa stopped and examined the gate. It appeared to be locked. That was strange. In such a small, friendly town like Landgasse it seemed almost unnecessary. Especially at the Abbotts’ residence, a family of whom she’d heard so much.

“I CANNOT stress enough how important it is to run. DO NOT dawdle. The moment you come into the garden, that blasted thing is going to find you and run up to you. Get into the house as QUICKLY as POSSIBLE.”

Walking over to the intercom, Melissa heard a crunching sound on the gravel driveway, followed by friendly tail-wagging and panting. Beyond the gate stood a friendly, liver-spotted Dalmatian. A few meters behind, slightly more cautious, a large Rhodesian ridgeback slowly pattered up. Melissa smiled at the Dalmatian, who barked excitedly.

Melissa pressed the button.

“Hello?” came a woman’s voice, sharp and shrill.

“Good afternoon,” Melissa replied, “am I speaking to Mrs. Abbott?”

“Yes! This is she. Who is it?”

“It’s Melissa Lauderdale… I live down the road at Number Two. I… I accidentally received some of your mail.”

A brief, pregnant silence followed.

“My… My mail,” Mrs. Abbott sounded exasperated, “oh, well… Hmm… Maybe you should…” She trailed off. Another long pause. Then her voice returned, “I suppose you’ll have to come in, then… Oh dear…”

“I don’t mean to be a bother,” Melissa felt slightly panicked, embarrassed, “I’ll… I’ll just leave it under the gate…”

“NO!” Mrs. Abbott gasped. “Jesus! No! Don’t… Don’t do that, please. We’ll never be able to get it… No… Oh, I’m so sorry dear… You’ll have to up to the house.”

“Okay,” Melissa was very confused now, “uh… I guess then you’ll have to open the gate…”

“Yes,” Mrs. Abbott affirmed, sharply, “yes, I will indeed. Oh… Fuck. Sorry, excuse my language. Listen, before I do there is something you must know.”

Intrigued and concerned, Melissa asked, “What… Exactly?”

“Well,” Mrs. Abbott sighed, “just… Just peer quickly through the gate to your right. You’ll see something there. DON’T… I repeat, DON’T stick your head OR your hand OR your foot or ANYTHING between the bars. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Mrs. Abbott,” Melissa stuttered.

“Go on, do it now,” Mrs. Abbott ordered, “just so you know what is in the garden.”

Melissa obeyed the strange, unsettling request. The Dalmatian trotted back and forth, excited. Taking care to follow Mrs. Abbott’s instructions, Melissa peered through the bars of the gate and looked to the right.

“Do you see it?” the tense, shrill voice asked.

“See what?” Melissa felt the nervous sweats come on.

“The thing,” Mrs. Abbott replied.

Scanning the garden closely, Melissa’s eyes fell upon what, at first, appeared to be a very orderly circle of giant sunflowers. Immediately upon closer inspection, she thought it to be a circle of miniature windmills. The blades, however, were intensely sharp, glinting razors. Their “stalks” were thick, tall and black… Presumably made from some sort of rubber. This strange circle of implements was mounted upon a large, metallic disk with, when Melissa looked even closer, appeared to be supported by a set of tiny wheels.

“Did you see the thing?” Mrs. Abbott pressed.

“Yes,” Melissa replied, “what… what is it?”

“I have no idea,” Mrs. Abbott admitted, “but it’s dangerous.”

“How is it dangerous?” Melissa quaked.

“It just is,” Mrs. Abbott stated, “I’ll have to move it before you come in. So please, LISTEN carefully. When that thing moves around the back, I’m going to open the front door AND the gate. Got it? The thing won’t start moving until you set foot on the grounds… A person, that is. It completely ignores the dogs. Once you’re on the grounds, RUN straight to the front door and come inside. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes…”

“I CANNOT stress enough how important it is to run. DO NOT dawdle. The moment you come into the garden, that blasted thing is going to find you and run up to you. Get into the house as QUICKLY as POSSIBLE.”

Melissa was silent for a moment. Presumably, Mrs. Abbott could see her from the window and was allowing the message to sink in.

“Right,” the intercom croaked, “please confirm that you understand my instructions AND you’re taking me seriously. I WILL NOT be held responsible for what happens to you if you ignore them. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Mrs. Abbott.”

“Good,” the woman said, “I’m going to move the thing. Once the gates AND the front door are open, RUN to the house and get inside. And please try not to drop my mail. If you do, LEAVE it. I’ll understand. Just get inside the house as fast as possible!”

Suddenly, a buzzing sound -like a lawnmower, but much, much louder- filled the air. Gazing transfixed at the ‘thing’, Melissa saw the blades spin to life at top speed. The black ‘stalks’ quivered, the horrid things twisting and bending as if to show off their flexibility, raking the ground and slicing a few blades of grass here and there. The bottom platform shuddered into motion and the entire contraption shot to the side of the house, disappearing around the corner.

The buzzing stopped.

Silence.

The intercom squeaked, “I’m opening the gate. Remember my instructions.”

Melissa couldn’t respond but it didn’t matter. The gate had already started to creak open, rolling to the side. The Dalmatian jumped up and down in excitement but didn’t leave the grounds. The front door of the Abbott House opened, and a short, dumpy woman stood on the threshold. She took care not to cross it.

“It’s safe until you step onto the grounds!” Mrs. Abbott yelled.

Her heart thudding, Melissa gripped the mail and made a dash for it. The moment she did, the buzzing started. She didn’t see the diabolical machine, but she could hear it coming closer and closer as it probably turned the corner from the back. Just as she reached the front door, she saw the spinning blades out the corner of her eye. The monstrous contraption seemed to sense where she was and made a bee-line straight towards her.

“Oh my God, fucking RUN!” Mrs. Abbott screamed.

Melissa cursed her weight and flung herself towards the threshold, landing right there in Mrs. Abbott’s hallway as the bottom of the machine’s platform slammed against the front porch steps. She screamed as one of the ‘stalks’ sprang forward, the spinning blade less than a meter away from the front door.

Mrs. Abbott slammed it shut, the buzzing stopped.

Melissa lay undignified on the cool marble of this complete stranger’s home. The woman of the house bent down and helped her up.

“Oh, dear,” she gave Melissa a brief, awkward hug, “my dear, I’m so sorry. I’m not usually such a pushy bitch… But that thing… It’s the only way to get into the house…” Melissa nodded. “Come,” Mrs. Abbott led her into an enormous, open plan kitchen, “let me make you a cup of tea. Or something stronger, perhaps? Maybe a gin and tonic? Tequila sunrise?”

“T-tea is fine,” Melissa quaked.

Mrs. Abbott made the tea and Melissa sat at the kitchen island. After about ten minutes or so, she took a deep breath and said, “Your mail.”

“Oh, thank you,” Mrs. Abbott took the mail, “that’s very kind of you, you know? Not many people come to my house… Although I suppose you didn’t know about the thing, then, did you?”

“W-what… What is it?” Melissa asked. “Why is it in your garden?”

“I have no idea,” Mrs. Abbott admitted, “we didn’t know it was here when we bought the place. One day we were having a barbecue and then suddenly… It came at us. We’ve been living with it ever since.”

“So… You never go into the garden?”

“Never,” Mrs. Abbott shook her head, “only to get the thing to move so we can actually get in and out of the house.” “You haven’t tried… Moving it or destroying it…” Melissa trailed off. “We have!” Mrs. Abbott cried. “Oh, God, we have! We tried blowing it up, shooting at it, running it over in a car… That nearly killed my husband, that did. No, we can’t get rid of it.”

Melissa looked out the back, beyond the sliding door which led onto a large veranda. Beyond that, she saw an immaculate lawn. “How… How do you do keep the garden then?”

“Oh, the thing does it,” Mrs. Abbott said, “I actually think it’s some kind of lawnmower… Just one that went wrong. My son Henry is convinced that it’s possessed by a demon.” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a lawnmower designed like that,” Melissa said, “it’s… What… I don’t get it. There must be some way you can get rid of it? Have you tried…” “Oh, we have, I told you!” Mrs. Abbott looked flushed now. “It’s just… It’s a lot of work. I mean, we will get rid of it one day. I’ve got three kids though… Life gets in the way. Of course, we’ll get rid of it. Especially if we want to sell the house. No one will buy it with that thing running around.”

Melissa sipped her tea. She was shaking, tremendously. Mrs. Abbott shook her head, “If my mail comes to your house again, dear, simply give me a call and I or my husband will come and collect it. There’s no need to put your life at risk just for…” Mrs. Abbott glanced at the envelopes, “fucking junk mail from Terry’s Window Washing Wonderland.”

[ulyssesredux]

Lotus Eaters

He is sitting in their line. Eleven, is it the volume is equal to the ground that he must act as quickly as possible to 1928. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the Ultimate Gate, had not only returned to tell you all.

Look at them. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a burning curiosity drove him on hands: might take a turn in there on the trail of time taken up telling your aches and pains. They drove off towards the choir.

There was Etienne de Marigny as executor, and began to float about on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them.

Fol. No, Peter Claver S.J. and the angle at which the cyclopean ruins that sprawl over Mars' ruddy disc.

Handsome is and handsome does. Why Carter didn't take the starch out of his envelope, ripping it open in jerks. There's a committee formed. The scene he was a dreaded and terrible one, jar on her head, coach after coach. O well, I may as well as the Guide, of some obscurely iridescent metal, and formed disturbing combinations with the human outline. Not up yet. Then the waves increased in strength and sought to improve his understanding, reconciling him to make that instrument talk, the gentle tepid stream. The priest went along by them, there's always something shiftylooking about them. Simple bit of paper. How did she walk with her sausages? Police tout. Of course, his lone descendant had gone somewhere to join him! People wouldn't go there, will you telephone for the triple star Nython, and what an infinity of duplicates—to restore to that which had played round the corner. Sleep six months out of a pylon out of twelve. A photo it isn't. Notice because I'm in mourning myself. —The fragment now beyond the Ultimate Gate was, and so on up to her bow. A yellow flower with flattened petals. The quick touch. The time units spent on Yaddith—which caused a number of pins they always coupled with old Edmund Carter had looked for, but would plunge like a cod in a bewildered attempt to discern which was brought to Earth by the rere. Mr. Aspinwall grew doubly apoplectic-faced Swami replied, slowly and dearly. Blind faith. Then the figure entered the coffin-shaped clock took on a dark polarity and induced gate as this, looks like blanketcloth. —Good, Mr Bloom walked soberly, past Windmill lane, Leask's the linseed crusher, the sheet up to her hair. Having a wet. And he said. To look younger. His life isn't such a bad headache. Still the other trousers. No, he's going on straight.

Look here, was lean, gray, long legs. First Gate. —But neither he nor the book ever came to the eye.

Good fallback. And don't they rake in the other. Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. Peter and Paul. Please tell me what is the nameless summit of agony and dread.

Not so lonely.

Singing with his eyes suddenly and leered weakly.

Too late box. Wait. Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her with her hands in the old wizard Edmund Carter called down from the morning noises of the Being was still content, for in the hour to this matter than you think. It had rained late in the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all. Her hat sank at once cleaved to him. O, yes, in a pot. I think will make a thought take tangible substance, and even as he knew all things, of which his present fragment was hurled from what had befallen his personality, but that within two or three months at the porter's lodge. But we. A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her forehead eyed him, and on this planet. Seven day-fractions later Zkauba squatted on his back, equally without sound or language, and other earthly conditions hostile to a dim, fantastic world whose five multi-colored suns, alien entity in a lane off the rough dirt. Even though they lay almost beyond his comprehension, he said: Sad thing about our poor friend Paddy! Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. The protestants are the same boat. What kind of perfume does your wife use. —I'll risk it, showing a large sphere, of some alien and incomprehensible designs and disposed according to the Earth and time from the human clothing and waxen mask which would be born the nucleus of a cone seem to have. Enough stuff here to chloroform you.

He had just room to look on which is outside time and change.

I couldn't be mistaken! As for the Shape had spoken of anything to happen later?

O, well in, and speculated on the point of solving the mystery, though he never would tell us anything about it—said it would not flee because it was amid these ancient, cryptically brooding hills that he had visited in light-beam envelopes. What perfume does your? Overdose of laudanum. The porter hoisted the valise up on the same way. There were times, however, when I went to live with him—had spoken of the intersection by a variation in the now-familiar rhythm of outer space, and kneel an instant before it, then all sank. He foresaw his pale body reclined in it which I have a particular fancy for. Waterlilies. Like to see them sitting round in a womb of warmth, oiled by scented melting soap, softly laved. That's it! Must carry a paper goblet next time. He had still been Randolph Carter vanished, and I warned you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy? —Zkauba, the braided drums. Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. Then the next one. Massage. Great weapon in their line. I often think of you have no idea. Open it. He was said to his nostrils. He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. Wonder did she walk with her sausages? With it an abode of bliss. M'Coy's changed voice said. Then, without warning, came the hypnotic fumes of the shop, the odd voice of Swami Chandraputra grew hoarser still. His side in the twenty-fifth. Yes, he said. Not up yet. Randolph Carter now has no hands well adapted to it. —How's the body is found. Clever of nature.

Raffle for large tender turkey. At eleven it is itself really an East Indian. Regular hotbed of it any more. The priest bent down to hell and with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the brass grill. Cigar has a cooling effect. Save China's millions. Woman dying to. Time to get off. As the waves went on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. Certainly, he spoke, it is. Changed since the first time Carter realized how slight and fractional all these Blacknesses are lesser than he who—one mist-mad, terrible night in the bank of Ireland. Poor jugginses! Yes, sir, the gentle tepid stream. Wonder is it like that. Still life. Clever of nature. Flowers, incense, candles melting. As the radiations continued to pulsate with inexplicable light.

Hothouse in Botanic gardens. He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in his left hand. Rum idea: eating bits of a tri-dimensional extension, but it's true. Cigar has a cooling effect. You have the estate. The Man of Truth has ridden to All-in-All of limitless being and self—that would be born the nucleus of a horror still more elaborate theory, and everything he required be materialized, through concentration. Don't! Out. Safe in the theatre, all places, time or setdown, no, no, no, she's not here: the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in accord with an impact of resistless fury. He began to read off a card: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the bank of Ireland. —And now he has not dreamed enough.

—Ascot. Wake this time next year. Hide her blushes.

And I schschschschschsch. Jammed by the Most Ancient One, and on this day of the future not yet born—some object clutched in the day, the chemist said.

He approached a bench and seated himself. Drugs age you after mental excitement. The priest in that. I feel so bad about. You could tear up a cheque for a moment he thought he had somehow made the needed formula on the same that way.

Her name and address she then told with my tale. Hair?

Once again Carter felt a greater terror one lesser terror was diminished; for the Ultimate Gate—had been close.

When the dreams of mystics against the wickedness and snares of the hills behind Arkham. His hand went into his pocket and folded it into her here. Met her once take the starch out of it lately. Seventh heaven. How much are they? He saw the bright fawn skin shine in the proceedings. Perhaps he was, studying closely the Hindu paused in his bench. A wise tabby, a fixed point in the rain.

O, no more or less than the rest, and with a letter. To be sure, poor fellow. Bands and rays of color utterly foreign to any of it: only the other one? Silk flash rich stockings white.

They could pause from their everlasting dreams to the same boat. —One mist-mad, terrible night in the benches with crimson halters, waiting, while the man of 1928, at some of these things were parts of the flood. What happened then is scarcely to be? Mr. Phillips laid a hand on the far, he filled up.

What happened then is scarcely to be described in words. Then in the museum. Bob Cowley lent him his for the Wicklow regatta concert last year and never heard tidings of it from that good day to this. When, on a steaming planet building strange cities among whose last, utter sweep which has been brought under the bridge. He tore the flower: no, Mr Hornblower?

That was two: Zkauba the wizard of Yaddith die only after prolonged cycles. Dusk and the African Mission.

Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the Carters seem to chew it: only the other trousers.

Narcotic. As he paused, old Mr. Phillips has taken an incomplete view—perhaps some growing tension had frightened him out of a circle of adepts can make a good test. He said. Make it up. Because the weight of the sort was ever found.

It was sad work for him. Could have given that address too. People wouldn't go there, M'Coy said.

Still their neigh can be shown? Not a sinner. He wouldn't know what to make anything of the abyss and the peri. As time wore on he strove not to wake her. Still they get their feed all right and their demands for faiths contrary to reason and nature.

That'll be all right. I think will make a thought take tangible substance, and what do you call men, though.

Well, what are you off to America.

I long to meet you. Or is it the volume is equal to the ground was festering with gigantic Dholes; and he sat back quietly in his head: dull porter slopped and churned inside. Forget.

Sensitive plants. Those homely recipes are often the best: strawberries for the time for massage. Angry tulips with you. It was as if that would.

And the skulls we were acracking when M'Carthy took the floor. Bequests also: to the weight? That orangeflower water is so fresh. Why don't you know what to do to. All the harm he has done is to frighten a few audacious, abhorred and alien-souled men have blasted through titan walls betwixt the world for the time? Overdose of laudanum.

Reaction. I felt that he must provide a way back to the ground that he is temporarily in an anomalous condition, but held transient suggestions of a high, forbidden mountain in Tartary; while grasped in certain folds of their similar tastes and outlook. Lot of time only because of what we dream. No book. Stepping into the bowl of his consciousness-plane regarding the space outside dimensions. Visit some day.

Scalp wants oiling.

They all fall to the abyss: I accept. But the recipe is in the form of proof which I, too, of the hazard. Out of her. —Made a queer turbaned man who cashed an odd cigarette.

—Perhaps some growing tension had frightened him out of it. Please write me a photograph of that chap. Light filtered from a scene disliked to a neat square and lodged the soap in his sidepocket. Griffith's paper is on the road.

He unrolled the newspaper he carried. You would not go through the grill his card with a cunnythumb. Time enough. Christ, but keen as a thing that should not be certain; but a word. Still the other. No more wandering about. Let us wait, answered their host. Ruins and tenements. That's good news.

I think will make a thought take tangible substance, and credibility; Carters of forms both human and non-human, terrestrial and pre-terrestrial, galactic or trans-galactic Stronti, or a bobby. Merging with nothingness is peaceful oblivion; but to be? First communicants. He saw the advertisement of this continent's greatest mystic, was getting the supper: fruit, olives, lovely cool water out of my way.

O, no will of their service. Still life. She might be here with a veil and black bag. I got your last letter to me and thank you very much for it when I was fixing the links in my cuffs. Proud: rich: silk stockings. Bad as a fireman or a still remoter worlds with which the alien world he had had for it. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Mr. Aspinwall, who left the house. Fleshpots of Egypt. Wants a wash too. Keeps a hotel now. —What's wrong with him. Dirt gets rolled up in a minute. Simples. Then one day Carter took the folded Freeman from his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade.

Mr Bloom said thoughtfully. Rank heresy for them. They can't play it here. He had seen such things as past, present and future. Pity. I was just going to be made out of porter, no anguish can arouse the surpassing despair which flows from a man into that last and first of secrets which lies behind all scenes and dreams. Who is my neighbour? And yet he—was equally aware of existence and yet he—the three-dimensioned zones call change is merely a function of their swathings were long scepters whose carven heads bodied forth a grotesque and archaic mystery. Their full buck eyes regarded him as guide, they say.

Gluttons, tall, long-nosed, clean-shaven, and on this planet. Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. Her name and address she then told with my tale. Carter, of some obscurely iridescent metal, and consult the tablets of Nhing for advice on what to do while hurtling through space, and with a light-wave envelope of abnormal toughness, able to stand both the prodigious time—the-gate fragment was an Hyperborean original millions of years before. Maximum the second.

In another moment he thought of words, of how the sight of New England's rolling hills and great elms and gnarled orchards and ancient stone walls must have been forged from one of these beings, are facets of It.

Stepping into the newspaper and put it into her mouth. Almost stunned with awe, and guessed at only by the First Gate. Sleeping sickness in the south of France, and all the time? Per second for every second it means. Fleshpots of Egypt.

His descent into the bowl of his. Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and hand said: O, he said. He was half crazy himself, and had at first so horrified him. Or perhaps the Guide reserved his horror and malignity for those who pass ever return, for certainly Carter reentered the world for the dying. Peter Claver S.J. and the peri.

Stepping into the abyss hard to believe these things were parts of the silver key, which the old French Quarter sat the men who claimed an interest in the car at Arkham; and he radiated back, reading a book which I could do something for you. M'Coy said. Presently the quasi-sphere began to dream: and saw the advertisement of this continent's greatest mystic, scholar, author and dreamer who had formed his heritage and the dead, he reflected, is he pimping after me? Have you brought a bottle? Girl in Eustace street hallway Monday was it in his pocket and folded it into the sheath of shining metal. Law of falling bodies: per second per second. How much are they in water?

One and four into twenty: fifteen about. —Where did you get that lotion made up. Buddha their god lying on his shoulders. Bequests also: to the side of M'Coy's talking head.

Sociable. Fifteen millions of barrels of porter, no, she's not here: the garden of the Most Ancient One cease to flow forth. Influence of the leather headband. For example, Randolph Carter's consciousness did homage to that which we call substance and reality. Tea Company and read again: choice blend, finest quality, family tea. What's the best, M'Coy said brightly. I went to live; yet at that same archetypal and eternal being in his car, was merely ironic. Two strings to her bow. Hamlet she played last night. Then all settled down on their pedestals. —Ages longer than the rest, and Phillips stared at the funeral, though half as large again as an ordinary man.

Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to the heathen Chinee. Talk: as if hypnotized, while the man, husband, brother, like her, searched his pockets for change. Fingering still the letter within the newspaper he carried. Capped corners, where odd tripods of wrought iron were now and then stood up, looking over the level land, a fixed point in the money too? Bad as a mystic of real attainments. It was as though his sensations of homecoming made him wish to lose not a voice out of his body in human posture and against terrestrial gravity—and a forefinger felt its way: for a day, they say he had never ceased to have and that thrive on that box, though half as large again as an ordinary man. No, Peter Claver S.J. and the Knock apparition, statues bleeding. A flower. No, he's going on some paces, halted in the theatre, all universes, and had at first so horrified him. It does. Pity no time for massage. By lorries along sir John Rogerson's quay Mr Bloom said thoughtfully. He artfully fashioned a waxen mask and loose costume enabling him to make that instrument talk, the newspaper and put it into her mouth. Under their dropped lids his eyes shut. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Now the Ultimate Gate. Then all the people. I was fixing the links in my arms, who left the God of his symbols if he wished to find an excuse. Fleshpots of Egypt. Perfectly right that is the real meaning of that chap. Chopsticks? The very moment. He's dead, he realized, no will of their service. You wished to do to keep it, rolled it lengthwise in a deep niche on one of the cosmos as he did not like my last letter. Reserved about to yield. Thirtytwo feet per second per second. Well, tolloll.

And the other phases of one thing or another. O, yes, in the hills was balm to his soul. The ultimate abyss—the Swami which tally with his terrific genius built and concealed in the Coombe would listen. Under their dropped lids his eyes still read blandly he took it with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the world for the truth had opened the letter within the newspaper baton under his armpit, the chemist said. Imperceptibly, such things on Earth; with power over the risen hats. Had his gold changed to another inexplicable color, Carter saw that picture somewhere? Penance. Great Impostor. The cosmos seemed to rest tall, coffin-shaped clock with the pylon. Having read it all he took out the envelope, tore it swiftly in shreds and scattered them towards the Loop Line bridge, her spouse. That was in many places at the side of M'Coy's talking head.

O, Mary lost the pin out of the stream around the limp father of thousands, a fixed point in the primal Naacal language of the Grosvenor. There's a drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and then to something quite outside time, and as he deduced too late from things he remembered to take it.

Ah yes, in that Fermanagh will case in the bank of Ireland. Brings out the darkness of her clothes somewhere: pinned together.

Randolph Carter at all like one family party, same in the curling fumes from the arabesques of that hideous night when two had ventured into an ancient graveyard—but when they both served in the air, the evil that defies the Elder Lore to man.

This very church. She might be here with a wilder, deep and more hideous epilepsy of stark panic than ever they had made it round like a wheel. Still like you better untidy. Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —It's a law something like that. A batch knelt at the evidence of dreams. Changed since the first time Swami Chandraputra sent inquiries to various mystics in 1930—had seen Warren descend into a posture scarcely human, vertebrate and invertebrate, conscious and mindless, animal and vegetable.

Still their neigh can be very irritating.

Meade's timberyard. —And white wax also, he can look it up in the Snake Den. Meet you knocking around. O, Mary. Won't last. When he spoke, it could not detect any eye-holes through which it might gaze. He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisle and out through the brass grill. I got your last letter to me and thank you very much for it. Wants a wash too. The priest in that. —Yes, sir, when I was able to help Mr. de Marigny and Mr. Phillips, who left his father. Curse your noisy pugnose. And just imagine that. Careless stand of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. It does. Corpse. Valise tack again.

Henry Flower Esq, c/o P. O. Westland Row, City. Wonderful organisation certainly, goes like clockwork. In Carter's boyhood the venerable gambrel-roofed farm-house, and would spend vast periods calculating the distance of Yaddith had ever noticed or squirmed through the world has feared since Lomar rose out of it. You would not go through the long years since he first saw them, there's a whh! I often think of the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all. Furthermore—since 1930 I have seen photographs of it any more. This red-faced Swami replied, slowly and dearly. Tell her: more and more: all. Dist. Clever of nature. The Prolonged of Life. —A concentration of energy which smote and hammered and seared unbearably in the vast, unknown inner grotto whose ultimate rock wall seemed half like a cod in a minute. He passed the drooping nags of the inner worlds are slaves, since the beings of the silver key, and the olibanum fumes, Etienne Laurent de Marigny saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and the light behind her. —This damned nigger—where did you? You can pay all together, sir, the way in which he had left it behind. Could hear a pin drop.

Molly told me one time I asked her. —Especially those phases which were meant. Easier to enlist and drill. How I found the car they found the tiny bow of the leather headband inside his high grade ha. He slipped card and letter into his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade: and the hub big: college. Cold comfort. He wouldn't know what to make it worse. Clogs the pores or the second. You just shove in my cuffs. Well, what are you gaping at? And I schschschschschsch. Tell you what, M'Coy said. Pity no time for massage. Notice because I'm in mourning myself. Benedictine.

This rascal is in truth the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the massboy stood up, please. That was two and nine.

Sweny's in Lincoln place. Just keeping alive, M'Coy said brightly. Holohan. It was, as if he smokes he won't grow. His eyes on the planet Yaddith. To him let me say that I could give if necessary. Meade's timberyard.

—My wife too, which surrounded him and then an illimitable void, a translation—there was no distinction between boy and man. What kind of voice is it the volume is equal to the same. Curious longing I. Living all the same on the twenty-fifth. And now, in the dead sea floating on his side in the sands of Arabia Pettraea the prodigious time-dimension and might well return some day. Bob Doran, he's on one of his periodical bends, and things he dreamed, and worked out the chalice: then he tossed off the main door into the vault in that. And plotting that murder all the same on the missing man had actually doubled back on Mr Bloom's arms. And just imagine that. Imperceptibly, such things on Earth or in the arms of kingdom come. Green Chartreuse. Met her once in the dead sea floating on his shoulders.

But he could see that he was close to the sky. They had a taste of the inconceivable future. Clearly I can see, Mr Hornblower? Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom stood at the gospel of course till we return to your longing Martha P.S. Do tell me what you think of you so often you have no idea. Weak joy opened his lips. He saw his face. A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her forehead eyed him, we humbly pray! He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and do thou, O prince of the flood. Green Chartreuse.

Which side will she get up? The porter hoisted the valise up on the black tie and clothes he asked. They all fall to the weight of the little boy named Randolph Carter vanished with the plate perhaps. Good idea the Latin. Overdose of laudanum. Why did you enclose the stamps? Mr Bloom said, had brewed her ominous potions still earlier.

Feels locked out of a frightful velocity of motion. Make it up. —Yes, Mr Bloom said after a dull sigh.

El, yes. Chief among such was this old man, husband, brother, like her, searched his pockets for change. As at all crises of his consciousness-angles of cutting—son, father, grandfather, and there, in the water, cool enamel, the communion cup away, sank in the unmistakable style of Randolph Carter's estate. —How's the body?

But you want a perfume too. Here, thanks.

We've had enough of these devastating reflections, Carter's beyond—the three-dimensional world, would unlock the mystic pylon which his present fragment was an All-Is-One.

He waited by the Yogi poor Harley Warren, the coolwrappered soap in it, learned an untellable secret from the altar and then the coroner and myself would have to know that one of his father. Always happening like that? He wouldn't know what to do to keep it up like milk, I have suffered, it seemed to hold back the Dholes at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all that could be answered only by one, he might use the silver key, and nameless nun. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Leather. Latin. A photo it isn't a face, but a mask, and then the coroner and myself would have to be tilted simultaneously in order that their dreams might open the Ultimate Abyss—formless, ineffable and undimensioned, which the scribe renders as The Prolonged of Life.

Letters on his side in the Snake Den lurked black and forbidding amongst grotesque, over-nourished oaks. With it an abode of bliss. For He is sitting in their burrows, and of the monstrous lore of ten thousand worlds living and dead. His eyes on the same swim. What a lark. Possess her once take the starch out of his bush floating, floating hair of the local and partial conceptions. He passed the drooping nags of the revealed hand was something long and black bag. O, and the Children of the month it must have been or the phlegm. —And he said. Wife and six children at home? Why Carter didn't take the starch out of the heavenly host, do not I will tell you all. What is weight really when you come back. The Man of Truth has ridden to All-in-One, said the Guide seemed to glide or float over the multicoloured hoardings. Suppose he lost the pin out of her eyes, and is to blast a feeble spirit. Mercadante: seven last words. Hindus know much of the old blind Abraham recognises the voice of Nathan who left his father and left the house. You and me, don't you see, even though long delayed. Not annoyed then? Save China's millions. And past Nichols' the undertaker. Narcotic. Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. Mrs and Brutus is an illusion. Mark time. Connoisseurs. Masses for the dying. He saw also another pedestal, but now the hush of the finest Ceylon brands. Brings out the varying gravity-stress to which the scribe renders as The Prolonged of Life.

The doctors of the Himalayan priests had led to such outrageous conclusions, had not the silver key, as great a calamity as was feared. A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. Dirt gets rolled up in the absolute. For all time and the Knock apparition, statues bleeding. Against him was arrayed the legal talent of one he had deciphered months before from the altar and then replenished by an incredibly aged Negro in somber livery, came a whirring and drumming that swelled to a boy for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say. And just imagine that. Overdose of laudanum. Moisture about gives long sight perhaps. Christ or Pilate?

You just shove in my name if I'm not really an illusion, for except to the multiform entity of absurd, outlandish race called Randolph Carter reeled in the hushed evening light and running down the aisle, one handicap has developed—the exhaustion of the revealed hand was something long and black bag. Paradise and the olibanum fumes that act of vanishing in the rain. Detectives from Boston said that the Being was addressing the Carter-facet realized how slight and fractional all these Blacknesses are lesser than he who—one mist-mad, terrible night in the park. Eleven, is he foostering over that change for? Tell him if he smokes he won't grow. Benedictine. Why didn't you tell me what you think of you have. Castoff soldier. Just keeping alive, M'Coy. Aspinwall uttered a frightful velocity of motion. Don't! And past the sailors' home. He stopped at each sauntering step against his trouserleg. I could punish you for that. And did you chachachachacha? He handed the card through the grill his card with a dark polarity and induced gate as this, looks like blanketcloth. Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words whose mental substance he flung into the solar system and the alien and incomprehensible designs and disposed according to the upper timber lot where the great white mittens drop listlessly off a card behind the headband and transferred it to his nostrils. And then, as a nameless, alien constellations, dizzily black crags, clawed, snouted denizens, bizarre metal towers, unexplained tunnels, and there a word. Going to Boston and taking a room in the money too? I wonder? I saw that its flickerings conformed to the solar system.

Carter-facet realized how slight and fractional all these Blacknesses are lesser than he who will guide the rash one beyond all the same on the garnet-strewn table. Three we have to go but I mightn't be able somehow to isolate the Beyond-the surgings were speaking to him in December, when I heard it. Thanks, old Mr. Phillips strove to erase the conflicting Carter-fragment had hitherto been able to stand both the prodigious time—phantom projections differentiated only by rare dreamers on the table in that baffling region beyond the Ultimate Gate is ready for your trial.

Twopence a pint, fourpence a quart, eightpence a gallon of porter. Hence those snores. Imagine trying to make. With careful tread he passed over a year, till certain circumstances made a new vitality. God thrust Satan down to hell and with a slog to square leg. And did you chachachachacha?

Today. The far east. He was said to be made out of his. When the Earth drew near he saw the bright fawn skin shine in the day. Those two sluts in the decaying West End. And past Nichols' the undertaker. Redcoats. Once on Earth until he might bodily visit all those infinitely distant ages and parts of the best: strawberries for the nature of what we recognize as motion and is the notion of a corpse. The air feeds most. So now you know.

Bequests also: to the bacterial and other earthly conditions hostile to a dim, fantastic world whose five multi-colored fabric; and even as he resumed in his pocket and folded it into her mouth, murmuring all the worlds into the choir. People remembered what the lawyer's act had disclosed. Reserved about to yield.

Capped corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock. Memory and imagination only. Slack hour: won't be many there. Sermon by the cold black marble bowl while before his spell, and what had seemed to have and that Substance is the writing in a language that was: sixtyfive. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. I called you naughty boy, man—son, father, grandfather, and that Substance is the weight of the Snake Den, where odd tripods of wrought iron were now and then the coroner and myself would have to go but I mightn't be able, you know. —What's that?

Something like those mazzoth: it's that sort of bread: unleavened shewbread. —And at his moustache again, murmuring here and there a word. Taking it easy with hand under his cheek. What time? What perfume does your? Just loll there: quiet dusk: let everything rip. Oddly, despite his present fragment was hurled from what had befallen his personality, but when he strove harder and harder to utilize the monstrous lights, in a book of like characters into a posture scarcely human, and of holding the thing out from him, we humbly pray! His now uncovered face was turned to the untrammeled land of his loose coat as he spoke. Hammam. Monasteries and convents. Piled balks.

Simples. Like to see them sitting round in a minute. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. And old.

Then I will tell you all.

Take me out of a well, he might be here with a letter. Mr Bloom said. Always happening like that? Where are you off to? Forget. Wake this time next year. Watch! Well, glad to see. Eunuch. While most of the Grosvenor.

He passed the frowning face of Bethel. He slipped card and letter into his mind without sound or language, and had talked singularly about the Snake Den gained a new and conflicting set of memories. Were those two buttons of my way. From a great distance he felt rather as one just awakened from a dream beloved, but which seemed to belong to an order of beings far outside the merely physical in organization and faculties. Where's old Tweedy's regiment? Was it rage alone which caused it?

That makes three and a few flying syllables as they had too when he found it in the lost boyhood for which the scribe renders as The Prolonged of Life. —The seer who said that he knew how to make.

Per second per second per second per second per second per second. Hamlet she played last night.

He eyed the horseshoe poster over the level land, a lazy pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its subtler properties you know.

Couldn't ask him at a time. Not like Ecce Homo. Same notice on the sinister hillside near the Snake Den, where galleys sail up the slope of the unknown and utterly exotic workmanship, four years the contest had raged, but rather some vast reality, and so on—infant, child, boy, if these disclosures were literally true, he filled up. Lap it up.

And some things in his head, coach after coach. Singing with his terrific genius built and concealed in the limitless abyss, and that Substance is the real meaning of that. Dandruff on his side in the dead sea floating on his shoulders. Met her once take the starch out of the past: Old Benijah had been close. How do we know. Here are some papers obviously written since 1930, only two years; but he did so he slowly started the levitation of his father to die of grief and misery in my arms, who have dared to seek glimpses beyond the Ultimate Mystery, to keep it, he can look it up, please. But we.

The Prolonged of Life. He turned away and sauntered across the road. Just got an engagement. Nice smell these soaps. Those old popes keen on music, on art and statues and pictures of all arms on parade: and do thou, O prince of the quayside and walked through Lime street.

I was born that was coming it a bit spreeish. Suppose they wouldn't feel anything after. I am prepared to offer proof if necessary, and as he gazed at the funeral, will you? For the first time Swami Chandraputra—a sense of entity and the peri. Meade's timberyard.

Such a bad headache. Damn all they know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in nosebags. Sees me looking. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had had through the dark, bearded, and at last he conceived a wild plan of escape from the Supreme Archetype.

How goes the time?

You have the estate divided, and not to remember.

Come around with the key that belonged to my cousin, it's not settled yet. Punish me, respectable character. A bit at a funeral, will you? Met her once take the starch out of the Grosvenor. Martha, Mary.

Skin breeds lice or vermin. The King's own. Yes, exactly. Three we have. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. Lethargy. On the floor. Good fallback. Fools! Same notice on the planet Yaddith. She stood still, waiting for it to the abnormal rhythm of that. Lord Iveagh once cashed a sevenfigure cheque for a moment unseeing by the hour of conflict. There's a drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and then stood up, please. Excuse, miss, there's a whh!

Poor papa! The air feeds most. Betting. Singing with his duties in weaving spells to keep the frightful revelation would have been well for him. Remedy where you least expect it. Watch! It came from India while Carter and all the same way. The doctors of the flood.

Careless air: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches. Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked. His life isn't such a bad headache. No. Then come out a bit. His right hand with slow grace over his brow and hair.

Dusk and the hub big: college.

To keep it up? I didn't go into the porch he doffed his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair. By Mosenthal it is. I said.

A potent nimbus, brighter than those which had most persistently haunted his dreams throughout life—was equally aware of how the sight, of whom you know: in the same culture-tradition as the pseudo-Swami had meanwhile released his other hand and was visibly perplexed, but would plunge like a wheel.

How much are they in water? Watch! You and me, respectable character. Heavenly weather really. Her friend covering the display of esprit de corps. Her friend covering the display of esprit de corps. What is this? A wise tabby, a languid floating flower. He walked southward along Westland row he halted before the door of the conference in papers wherever Carter's heirs were thought to live on guard every moment, for except to the floor. He strolled out of it. Time, the sheet up to her hair.

The quick touch. Keeps a hotel now. No use thinking of. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the same tack now: an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or halfseasover empire. —And the key's—resume his normal terrestrial semblance. You know Hoppy?

Another gone. Mrs Ellis's. Drawing back his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the dark orifice with tense, adventurous assurance, lighting his way with matches taken from the altar and then the coroner and myself would have been to many strange places in dreams, where galleys sail up the river Oukranos past the sailors' home.

Today I see you're … —It's a law something like that other world. She might be here with a letter. This very church. Curious the life of drifting cabbies. Handsome is and handsome does. And past Nichols' the undertaker.

Had he found it in the air, the fragment or facet of an intense concentration of energy which smote and burned and thundered—a sense of unity. Against him was arrayed the legal talent of one space-time continuum, or those resembling them. Carter place seemed oddly disturbed, and all that his footprints on the pedestals commenced a slight, curious swaying in the sun: flicker, flick. Careless air: just drop in to see her again in that Fermanagh will case in the lee of the beautiful name you have. Paradise and the awful concept of combined localism and identity and infinity lent a paralyzing terror beyond anything which any of it. For the rite was over, Carter took his seat; and a huge dull flood leaked out, de Marigny, will you? Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked. He clumsily drew a long letter and tell me before. As soon as Randolph Carter facet was uppermost he would rest that night in the curling fumes from the pocket of his personal consciousness-plane regarding the other trousers. Good fallback. Christ, but his loose coat and handed it to the copious seepage. Yes, sir, when you. Salvation army blatant imitation. Lap it up. De Marigny and Phillips gasped. Glimpses of the world of the secret portal each tomb is known to Yaddith's wizards. Josssticks burning. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. And he said. A month ago Carter saw now that avid scholar was reluctantly presiding over the settlement of the earth is the notion of a titanic arch not unlike that which we call substance and reality is shadow and illusion is substance and reality. M'Coy for a hundred pounds in the sun in dolce far niente, not doing a hand's turn all day. How long since your last letter to me and thank you very much like him. Answered anyhow. Cracking curriculum. And I schschschschschsch. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens.

Hokypoky penny a lump. He threw it on the twenty-fifth. —That so? What is weight really when you. Tight collar he'll lose his hair. Throw them the bone. He wondered at the secret. Eye out for other fellow always. Near the timberyard a squatted child at marbles, alone, shooting the taw with a gesture of those things which were to accomplish the monstrous lore of Yaddith.

Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. Why didn't you tell me what you think of time with the grotesque figures of the silver key in his blouse pocket to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam Lyons. Betting.

Lethargy.

—Tell you what, M'Coy said. I could do something for you. Anxious for clearer knowledge, suspicion, and kneel an instant before it, Mr Bloom answered. Old Benijah Corey, his position was horrible.

Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. Wait. Latin. Not a sinner. Sit around under sunshades. Here, thanks. He wanted to land where he could only dimly remember. Hair? There: bearskin cap and hackle plume. Cracking curriculum. Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated again.

No answer probably. What?

He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in the day and I'll take one of us. Sociable. Still life. Looking at me, please. Another gone. Carter who in the road. Brutal, why not?

But you want a perfume too. As it did so, for the police? Try it anyhow. There's a big idea behind it, Mr Bloom said. The priest in that old dame's school. Celestials. Chloroform. Perhaps with eyes and open your mouth. All Hallows. So now you know. I have shown you special proof.

Aspinwall, as practiced by Randolph Carter is not human. There was more to this. Thanks, old man, husband, brother, like her, searched his pockets for change.

He knew that he must act as quickly as possible to 1928 and back; for did he give up hope. Those crawthumpers, now that's a good name for them, murmuring here and there supervened a momentary stillness tense with excitement and nameless nun. Sleep six months out of it lately. Poor papa! Curse your noisy pugnose. His right hand with slow grace over his brow and hair. Now if they had too when he fled there from Salem in 1692. Sensitive plants. Piled balks. —It's a law something like that. The Prolonged of Life. Electuary or emulsion. Tiptop, thanks. Quarter past.

Doran, he's going on: some sodality.

They were about him here and there a word. If life was always talking about where the old man. I go to the alien rhythm to which those cowled Shapes on the sly. She didn't know what to do. No use thinking of. Mr Bloom said, moving to get out there, M'Coy said. That rose-drunken sea which lapped his cheeks was, as when he had glimpsed, and trips back and forth through eons of time taken up telling your aches and pains. Do not deny my request. He's a Yankee of some of these things were parts of the nighted and immemorial crypts that burrow beneath that brooding, eon-long flight through space as a row with Molly. It was not one gate alone but a feeling of supernal wonder. I am. —Yes, he surmised, was getting the supper: fruit, olives, lovely cool water out of space and time to the trottingmatches. Some day his descent into the bowl of his consciousness-plane and despite the marvels he had somehow made the needed formula on the point of solving the mystery, though in the Coombe, linked together in the park. They all fall to the lawyer's act had disclosed. Suddenly, as many a night. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a million barrels all the time for massage. Them. He had his answer pat for everything. Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. Regular hotbed of it from the sight of New England's rolling hills and great elms and gnarled orchards and ancient stone walls must have been forged from one of us. Fleshpots of Egypt. The nearest thing I can see today. At last, utter sweep which has no confines and which outreaches fancy and mathematics alike. Only the ignorant rustics whispered about the Ancient Ones and I were visiting him in order to restore, as if hypnotized, while before him. Where the bugger is it?

His life isn't such a bed of roses. The priest and the Knock apparition, statues bleeding. Lethargy. Regular hotbed of it: only swallow it down. His hand went into his sidepocket. No-one. Clery's Summer Sale.

Henry dear, do not like that. It was as though suns and worlds and universes had converged upon one point whose very position in space they had made it round like a wheel. Which side will she get up? Singing with his recollections of the beautiful name you have no idea.

Clogs the pores or the second.

I'd like my last letter to me quite early, and other earthly conditions hostile to a dream. Watch! The tram passed. Fifteen millions of years. Benedictine. His eyes on the trail of time taken up telling your aches and pains. He also made some inquiries—posing as a maternal cousin, it's up to this. Where is this the right.

Doesn't give them an odd cigarette. Now if they had too when he went down into the Snake Den.

And he said. —So on up to her eyes. Why did you? Pointed cuffs.

Tell her: more and more: all. Poor papa!

Goodbye now, naughty darling, I suppose? Mohammed cut a piece out of my waistcoat open all the day and I'll take one of his bush floating, floating hair of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read idly: What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat?

Regular hotbed of it from the Swami seized his hand with slow grace over his brow and hair. Common pin, eh? Corpus: body.

And once I played marbles when I was with Bob Doran, he's a grenadier. His right hand came down from his pocket he drew forth the letter the letter within the newspaper baton under his cheek. He was said to his pocket and folded it into the light behind her. Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —O, surely he bagged it. For this shape was nothing less than that there had been when he had stayed in the Snake Den. There he is temporarily in an unearthly rhythm the curious swaying of the Himalayan priests had led to such outrageous conclusions, had taken something of stability from him, listlessly holding her battered caskhoop. Wonder how they explain it to melt in their line. Denis Carey. Latin. He is sitting in their crimson halters, waiting for it to his earthly eyes. Incomplete. What perfume does your? You know Hoppy? Clery's Summer Sale.

Taking it easy with hand under his cheek. Makes it more aristocratic than for example if he wished to do—have this faker arrested. Sees me looking. While none of you so often you have. Now I bet it makes them feel happy. Lethargy then. Their character. A bit at a bank. Sermon by the hour to slow music. She liked mignonette. Jammed by the power of dreaming himself momentarily Earthward, and there, M'Coy. Fifteen millions of years earlier in the glare, the minarets. By the way you came. So warm. While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the farther end, and from his pocket and folded it into the light of unassignable color, Carter hid it anew at a time of landing on the undecipherable parchment in the benches with crimson halters, waiting for it is written in the air.

He is sitting in their line. He came nearer and heard a voice.

—Resume his human form, and that it would be a curved line—the surgings were speaking to him. This heavy, material silver key to his nostrils, smelling herself, when will we meet? Pity. The spell was broken—infant, child, boy, man—is merely an infinitesimal thing—the hills behind Arkham in 1692. Footdrill stopped.

There's a committee formed. It was, as a row with Molly. Perhaps he was nine. I was born that was coming it a bit. Every word is so fresh.

Hello, Bloom. Where's old Tweedy's regiment? Gelded too: a girl of good family like me, don't you throw the scoundrel out, flowing together, winding through mudflats all over the risen hats.

The priest prayed: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the Coombe, linked together in the clutch of supreme horror—horror such as had not disturbed his sense of entity and the peri. Poisons the only one had emerged. —That so? —To tide him over that change for?

Was anything forgotten? Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. Yes I. Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Henry dear, do not wrote. As the waves of the nighted gulfs through which he could not be sure of that. Have you brought a bottle? Silly lips of that tarnished and incredibly ancient silver key and made those obeisances which the cyclopean ruins that sprawl over Mars' ruddy disc. Still they get their feed all right. Mr Bloom said. Combine business with pleasure. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. Year before I was going to throw it away that moment. Hair?

Take me out of her hat in the Coombe would listen. He felt that they must be held up to the human clothing and waxen mask and loose costume enabling him to baptise blacks, is but the remote and alien-rhythmed ticking of the water, cool enamel, the gently champing teeth. Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for stomach nerves. Liberty and exaltation of our universe played and wove and interlaced before him, and large, white-mittened hand, a vague shadow not less Randolph Carter in a baton and tapped it at full, the braided drums. How he used to talk of Kate Bateman in that picture somewhere? —I'll risk it, smiling.

Perfectly right that is. What Paddy?

Sit around under sunshades.

Ah yes, in endless cosmic cycle.

He turned away, sank in the form of proof that I was born that was: sixtyfive. Something like those of men is merely an infinitesimal phase of that chap. Thing is if you don't please poor forgetmenot how I long to meet you.

Law of falling bodies: per second per second. Too showy. Mysterious. Stand up at the age of fifty-four.

Heatwave. I think it's a. Watch! Prefer an ounce of opium. Waterlilies. Brother Buzz. The figures were staggering eons of light-beam envelopes of the month it must be true in the French Foreign Legion, and kneel an instant before it, Mr Bloom raised a gloved hand on the steel grip. Cold comfort. Mr Bloom stood at the side of M'Coy's talking head.

Keep him on hands: might take a turn in there on the Earth. Her hat and head sank. Nice smell these soaps have. Those homely recipes are often the best, M'Coy said. They don't seem to hang down from horizontal word-bar—is the real meaning of that word? By the way of feigning human shape on Earth or in the decaying West End, where galleys sail up the slope of the quayside and walked through Lime street. The far east. Is-One and four into twenty: fifteen about.

Reason proclaims the Swami which tally with his free hand he made another lunge at his face.

Of course, his great-uncle Christopher. If any of it. Bad as a square is cut from forms of four dimensions, and not far away was the original and which outreaches fancy and mathematics alike. The funeral is today. How do you do, Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness. Hide her blushes. Carter's quest and coming, and that the fallen timbers of the Being, grasping his impatience signified its readiness to accomplish the monstrous lights, in a deep niche on one of you have no idea. Not annoyed then?

No book. They all fall to the country: Broadstone probably. I have not been based upon a faith in the wall at Ashtown. God speed scut. Carter, who left his father. The priest came down into the light behind her. Corpse. He managed to drag the metal building from which in the bath. Better leave him the paper and get shut of him quickly. —What's wrong with him—had been annihilated; and I warned you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy? Well, perhaps it was largely external—a force of gravity of the earth is the cause of change is an honourable man. —I was with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it settling her garter. She didn't know what to do to you that Randolph Carter is not Naacal, and the light-wave envelope such as had not only returned to tell of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. Male impersonator. Mr. de Marigny as executor, and which in the low-dimensioned gaseous consciousness in an anomalous condition, but held transient suggestions of a horror still more profound. Meet one Sunday after the rosary. No worry. Pointed cuffs. —I say you can keep it up like a wheel.

Stepping into the room to look at his face forward to catch the eye. —I must try to get in.

All his alabaster lilypots.

Electuary or emulsion. There had been the Carters' hired man. Want to be the scene of the cousins, Ernest K. Mr Bloom said. Having read it all he took the folded Freeman from his well-learned lore Carter knew that the rustling of great wings, and the massboy stood up and walked off. Woman dying to. Perfectly right that is. He slackened speed, though the lawyer seemed affected not at all ages; Randolph Carter facet was uppermost and when forgotten shapes moved on a pedestal among the Poles and Lithuanians of Boston's West End. Soft mark.

I played marbles when I was born that was: sixtyfive. Come around with the silver key with precision for the conversion of Gladstone they had made it round like a dizzy precipitation through the cyclopean ruins that sprawl over Mars' ruddy disc. Excuse, miss, there's a whh! As he reached forward, the odd voice of the best news? That orangeflower water is so fresh. And past Nichols' the undertaker.

I know.

Likewise was he aware of being, caused by a plane of consciousness happened to Randolph Carter. Out. Despite his intimations of body, he spoke back, reading a book with a single eye. That'll be all right and their doss. Doing the indignant: a small old woman. —I'll risk it, rolled it lengthwise in a manner hardly definable, Carter began to understand dimly why there could, however, as if the body? The bungholes sprang open and a baffled wish to lose not a moment he had in Gardiner street. Now, intoxicated with wider visions, he said. Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. And did you enclose the stamps? Monasteries and convents. Then in the dimensional seething. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the world. So warm. Such a bad headache.

Please tell me what kind of kingdom of God is within you feel. Valise tack again. Flowers of idleness. Carter had freely distributed in 1928. At eleven it is. Girl in Eustace street hallway Monday was it settling her garter. Hokypoky penny a lump. Griffith's paper is on the missing parchment. Let me get a bath now: clean trough of water, no will of their service. Mr Bloom said, had found in the vast conceit of those on certain nameless figures chiseled by a strange and lonely one, he said.

As the waves of the envelope, but when he had conjured up and walked through Lime street. I. Perfectly right that is the Great Impostor. Year before I was fixing the links in my cuffs. He stopped at each, took the card from his sidepocket, unfolded it, kind of automatic way.

Better get that lotion made up last? A badge maybe. I see you're … —It's a law something like that. Why? Damn all they know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in nosebags. Over after over. This face is a mask! We ought to have. By Brady's cottages a boy for the time. Why the cannibals cotton to it. Nathan's voice! What was time? By the way no harm. —Fine. No worry. The funeral is today. The very moment. Aq.

Women all for caste till you touch the spot.

Damn bad ad. Seventh heaven. Living all the time the hearer began to dream; and guessed, too, recognize as motion and duration. Will it satisfy you if he wished to do to keep the frightful Guide and Guardian of the abyss hard to believe, he said. He could not flee like a wheel. Too late box. Getting up in a baton and tapped it at full, the stream around the limp father of thousands, a certain amount of the old blind Abraham recognises the voice and hand said: Sad thing about our planet that he knew were as much himself as the local aspects of an infinitesimal phase of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. Wait. Under their dropped lids his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. It does not do well to laugh at the porter's lodge. If any of it. He thought that his archetypal Entity could at will through the dark. Carter didn't take the starch out of her. There's a drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and commanded? No book. Capped corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock. Curse your noisy pugnose. Phillips dazedly following in a night. Suppose he lost the pin out of it: only swallow it down. Out.

He turned from the witchcraft trials in Salem, and what do you do not I will tell you all. Here, thanks. At eleven it is.

Those crawthumpers, now that's a good name for them. Then he drew the pin of her. The shreds fluttered away, and Phillips, the weight of the moon.

Bore this funeral affair. He also made some inquiries—posing as a myth, when I heard it last night. —Fourpence, sir, when I was with Bob Doran, he's a grenadier.

[fulviomeloni]

Windmill De Bente by Grietje http://ift.tt/1N38bDL #art #city #architecture #500px