On the Road again...

You have biked 365 miles.
You have passed Another camp in the Trollshaws.
It is 4 miles to the next landmark.
You have 93 miles to reach Rivendell.

The hills now began to shut them in. The Road behind held on its way to the River Bruinen, but both were now hidden from view. The travellers came into a long valley; narrow, deeply cloven, dark and silent. Trees with old and twisted roots hung over cliffs, and piled up behind into mounting slopes of pine-wood.
http://www.barrowdowns.com/walktorivendell.php

Creepy Song of the Day

One of my favorites.

Paranormal excerpt of the Day

From Alive on the Inside:

Torturo set the flask on the table as he got up and went to soak in the
tub again. From the tail of his eye, he saw Nick slide off the bunk
to his knees and bury his face against the mattress with his arms
folded under it. He emerged about an hour later, naked. Nick
hadn’t moved and Torturo suspected he was praying. Nick would
be broken of that soon enough.

“You’re no saint, Nicholas. You’re just a serpent, a false
believer. And you know how to deal with snakes, don’t you? From above and behind.”

Torturo seized the back of Nick’s neck with both hands. Nick
caught his breath, terrified.

“If I ever catch you at a display like this again, I’ll send you on
to your God a little quicker than you planned.” Torturo tightened
his grip, twisting Nick’s neck as if to break it.

“Go ahead,” Nick snarled. “Go on and send me to hell. It won’t
be any different. I’ll find myself right back here while a demon
with your face sodomizes me over and over.”

Furious, Torturo tightened his grip on Nick’s neck again,
prepared to break it. He couldn’t live with this. Nick was never
going to be his lover, only a whining nuisance. He twisted, hearing
Nick whimper at the pain. Then, Torturo caught a glimpse of them
in the mirror. Half of Nick’s face was gone, sheared away leaving
only wet, starkly white bone poking through raw meat and bloodclotted
brown hair. Shards of glass perforated the other half,
including a large piece in one blue eye. His own face was dark
with asphyxiation and a livid rope burn encircled his throat. He
blinked and shook his head and only saw the two of them, still
dressed for work. The Phantasmagoria showed things like that
sometimes. Those times had grown more frequent in recent stops.

He pulled Nick to his feet and turned him around and kissed
him. “You’re just homesick,” he whispered. “It happens to
everyone.” Torturo stroked his face and hair, catching one
forgotten tear with his thumb. “I could have left the Show, too, but
I joined it to eat. And I had no other options on that front."

Have some Lols

Mostly spelled right.
(Most people forget Wookiee has more than one e)

( sparing your flist )

State of the Sooky

Work: not bad at all. Broke the antenna wire for my satellite radio.

Bike: 6 miles.

Kids: Obi off to Jonesboro for marching band

Mudd: phone died. the touch-screen quit touching.

Health: icky tummy made me spend most of the new-phon etrip in the Dillard's bathroom.

Media: Read more of "A Study in Scarlet."

Writing: Subbed "Orion Rising" to Circlet for LIKE AN IRON FIST. Added 500 words to "Thigh to Thigh" for AQ. The rest of the month is strictly editing, no new creation.

Scent of the Day: Arachnina, the Spider Girl. A swirling, hypnotic perfume of black currant, poppy, red and black musk, lilies, nicotiana, and patchouli. pretty much musk and patchouli. The lilies never develop on my skin. Diasppointing.

Putting things in perspective

A friend was saying how pathetic it felt to play Facebook games while talking on the phone.

I responded with, "At least we're not watching porn together over the phone." (X-Files ref)

"I can always count on you to put things in perspective. Weird perspective, but it works."

And the guys were grumbling at work.

"Any day our job does not involve castrating sheep with our teeth is a good day on the job," I reminded them.

Suddenly the freight looked shiny and new...