Jack Vettriano On the Border

was standing with his back to Arthur watching the very last glimmers of light sink into blackness behind the horizon. He was tallish, elderly and dressed in a single long grey robe. When he turned his face was thin and distinguished, careworn stammered Arthur. The man looked away. Again a kind of sadness seemed to cross his face. "My name is not important," he said. He seemed to have something on his mind. Conversation was clearly something he felt he didn't have to rush at. Arthur felt awkward. "I ... er ... you startled me ..." he said, lamely. The man looked round to him again and slightly raised his eyebrows. "Hmmmm?" he said. "I said you startled me."but not unkind, the sort of face you would happily bank with. But he didn't turn yet, not even to react to Arthur's yelp of surprise. Eventually the last rays of the sun had vanished completely, and he turned. His face was still illuminated from somewhere, and when Arthur looked for the source of the light he saw that a few yards away stood a small craft of some kind - a small hovercraft, Arthur guessed. It shed a dim pool of light around it. The man looked at Arthur, sadly it seemed. "You choose a cold night to visit our dead planet," he said. "Who ... who are you?"

Kroyer Tarde de verano en la playa

I do on my on a client’s topic, I try to write things that benefit others. I want to improve their lives with my work.
When I’m stuck doing some mundane task, I try to remember that it’s all part of the package. If I’m going to make a difference with I have to write about a topic that isn’t interesting to me, but is eminently interesting and useful to someone else.
I love what I do for a living. If you don’t love what you do as a freelancer, it’s time to think about another the freelance life because I was sick and tired of following orders from a corporate boss who only looked out for himself. I chose the freelance life so that, whether I rise or fall, I can say that it happened because of me, and not someone else. I so that I could have the flexibility to be there for every school play, even if it meant I had to work until 3 AM the next night to make up for it. Reminding yourself of why you choose to freelance can put a smile on your face and put the joy into even the most mundane task.
So, what about you? What techniques have you found that help you get through your days of drudgery?

Chase Sheds and Schooner Gloucester

Customer quote: “I didn't think the second season of Dexter could even come close to to the brilliance of the first season, but I was wrong. Instead of the Ice Truck Killer, Season 2 begins with the Miami P.D. hot on the trail of another mass murderer dubbed as the Bay Harbor Butcher. Dexter (Michael C. Hall) already knows the identity of the killer right off the bat, because it happens to be him.”—Melissa Niksic

9. It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia: Season 3 (available on DVD)Average customer rating: 4.5 starsCustomer quote: “Tears streaming down my face, fall off the couch, beer through the nose, crude, rude HI-LARITY! If you ain't watching this, get out of your mom’s basement, put down the PlayStation controller and glue your orbs to FX.” –-Carla D. Paschal 8. Battlestar Galactica: Season 3 (available on DVD as a single season or in the three-season set)Average customer rating: 4.5 starsCustomer quote: “…the modern BSG is fast becoming for me one of THE greatest works of film making art I have ever had the privilege to witness... To be quite honest, the story line of BSG makes Star Wars seem like a cartoon by comparison...” –-S. White

Degas After the Bath, Woman Drying Herself

Lunchtime doubly so." "Very deep," said Arthur, "you should send that in to the Reader's Digest. They've got a page for people like you." " make some sense at the time." "Alright," said Ford. "How would you react if I said that I'm not from Guildford after all, but from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse?" Arthur shrugged in a so-so sort of way. "I don't know," he said, taking a pull of beer. "Why - do you think it's the sort of thing you're likely to say?" Ford gave up. It really wasn't worth bothering at the moment, what with the world being about to end. He just said: "Drink up."Drink up." "Why three pints all of a sudden?" "Muscle relaxant, you'll need it." "Muscle relaxant?" "Muscle relaxant." Arthur stared into his beer. "Did I do anything wrong today," he said, "or has the world always been like this and I've been too wrapped up in myself to notice?" "Alright," said Ford, "I'll try to explain. How long have we known each other?" "How long?" Arthur thought. "Er, about five years, maybe six," he said. "Most of it seemed to

Gockel Hot Sassy I

toward the port side of the gondola, Trotter said, “Easy, easy.”The sudden shift of Corky’s 170 pounds could cause the mini-blimp to the pilot compensated for this further shift of weight.As the airship steadied, Corky lowered his left hand from the gunwale to a ballast-tank bracket, then his right. The metal was cold and wet, but with his leather-and-nylon gloves, he got a firm grip.Peering down, he saw that his dangling feet were still eighteen or twenty inches from the roof.He dared not drop that far. Though he would most likely keep his [538] balance, he would wallow, perhaps even bobble, which was a risk they couldn’t take this close to the roof.While Corky moved slowly, balancing breast-down on the gunwale, one leg in and one leg out of the gondola, Trotter employed his own body as a counterweight, shifting starboard on his bench, and he used the controls to fine-tune the attitude of the vessel.The blimp wallowed but not dangerously.At a signal from Trotter, Corky slid the rest of the way out of the gondola, though he did not at once drop free of it. First he hung by both hands from the gunwale, while

Machado Sul Grande Canal Venezia

Playboy. Hef had discovered a way to grow up, be a success, and yet remain a big child, indulging any whim or desire to whatever degree he one long party, living more days than not in pajamas.Mick, who worked mostly more than 150 pairs of peejays. He slept in the nude but sported pajamas during the day.He considered himself an acolyte of Hef. Casa Sachatone had nothing to do with furniture or art. Except for a suite of work rooms that Mick had [437] added to the original structure, all but two walls in the house were lined with shelves on which were stored a collection of thousands of pornographic videotapes and DVDs. Shelves had even been added to the stairwell and hallway wallsA mini-Hef. Mick was forty-two going on thirteen.“Hey, Cork, super-hip threads,” Mick declared when he opened the door and saw Corky dressed as Robin Goodfellow.This might have sounded like mockery to a stranger; but Mick’s friends knew that he had long ago stopped picking up new slang in an effort to be more in the Hef groove.“Sorry I’m late,” Corky said, stepping inside.“No sweat, my man. I’d run this pad clockless if I could.”The living room contained as little furniture as necessary. The plush sofa, plump armchair, end tables, and lamps had been bought as a set at a warehouse outlet. The quality was good; but everything had been chosen for comfort, not for looks.Mick had no a man of simple if sometimes obsessive needs.The primary decor statement in

Machado The Gallery

standing knew his address. Mostly he transacted public beaches and in public parks, shops, and churches.Without stopping at the garage in Santa Monica to change from his Robin Goodfellow costume into his regular-guy clothes and yellow slicker, Corky went directly from Jack Trotter’s funky digs in Malibu to Sherman Oaks. Thanks to Queeg and when he greeted you in person, so routinely preoccupied was he with work or with other interests.As usualwas barefoot and dressed in pajamas. Today the jammies were red, decorated with images of the cartoon character Bart Simpson. Mick bought some peejays off the rack but had others custom tailored.Even before Mick had achieved puberty, he had been enchanted by the story of Hugh von Hindenburg, collector of broken porcelains, Corky’svoice came from an intercom speaker beside the bell push, [436] “Be right there,” and Mick Sachatone himself came to the door with unusual alacrity. Sometimes, you had to wait here on the porch two or three minutes, or longer, between when Mick spoke to you via the intercom

Thomas Kinkade Deer Creek Cottage painting

years ago, his proud parents had named him Norbert James Creezel. They had no doubt loved him and, being simple Iowa farm folk, could never have imagined that Norbert would grow up to be a wigged-out piece of work like Captain Queeg von -stall units accessed by an alleyway in an industrial area.He held the lease on the garage under the name Moriarity and paid the monthly bill in cash.A black Land Rover occupied the first stall. Corky owned this vehicle under the name Kurtz Ivory International, a nonexistent but well-documented corporation.He parked the BMW beside the Land Rover, got out, put down the garage door, and switched on the lights.Redolent of the crisp limy scent of cold concrete, the sweet-and-sour fragrance of old motor-oil stains, and the faint but still lingering astringency of insecticide from a termite fumigation that had been conducted a month ago, this drab space was, to Corky, the essence of magic Hindenburg.Corky called him Captain Queeg because the guy exhibited the paranoia and megalomania to be found in the character of the same name in Herman Wouk’s The Caine Mutiny. Von Hindenburg suited him in part because—like the German zeppelin that had taken thirty-six to their deaths in Lakehurst, New Jersey, in 1937—he was a gasbag and, if left to his own devices, he would one day crash and burn spectacularly.[411] On his way to Malibu, Corky stopped at a garage that he rented in Santa Monica. This was one of forty double

Gustav Klimt The Three Ages of Woman painting

WHEN A FIERCE-LOOKING GUY COMES OUT of a mirror as though it’s a doorway, and when he grabs for you and snags your shirt with his fingertips, you could be excused for wetting your pants or for losing total control of your sphincter, so Fric was amazed that he didn’t instantly void from every orifice, that he reacted quickly enough to slip free of the snagging fingers, and that he raced away into the memorabilia maze in a totally dry and stink-free condition.He turned left, right, right, left, vaulted over a low stack of boxes from one aisle into another, knocking between two huge posters as he went, raced past Ghost-Dad-as-1930s-detective, pushed between more posters, dodged around a realistic-looking Styrofoam unicorn from the one film in the Manheim credit list that no one dared talk about in his father’s presence, turned left, left, right, and halted when he realized that he had lost track of where he’d come from and that he might be returning in a circle to the serpent-embraced mirror.

Salvador Dali The Great Masturbator painting

one thing, more in search of thrills than profits, he had dealt drugs to a refined list of entertainment-industry clients, mostly cocaine and meth and Ecstasy.More likely than not, tougher men than pretty-boy Reynerd had decided that he was poaching in their fields. With a bullet in the head, he’d been enough, and he often skipped lunch. Now, after busy hours of useful enterprise, he was famished.Nevertheless, he tarried long enough to serve chaos. The six children were a temptation that he could not resist.All were six to eight years old. Some were better dressed for the [203] rain and the cold than others were, but all remained unflaggingly exuberant, dancing-playing-chasing in the nasty night, as though they were storm petrels born to wet wind and turbulent skies.discouraged from further competition.Corky had needed Reynerd dead.Chaos had obliged.No more, no less.Time to move on.Time, in fact, for dinner. Aside from a candy bar in the car and a double latte at the mall, he had eaten nothing since breakfast.On good days filled with worthwhile endeavors, his work provided nourishment

Joseph Mallord William Turner Rome from the Vatican painting

understood the need to balance radical action with patience.He recognized the effective limits of anarchic rage.To calm himself, he ate a candy bar.Contrary to the claims, refined sugar did not make Corky hyperkinetic. Sucrose soothed and its disappointments, had long known about the mollifying effect of excess sugar. The farther their hopes and dreams receded from their grasp, the more their diets sweetened to include ice cream by the quart, rich cookies in giant economy-size boxes, and chocolate in every form from nonpareils to Hershey’s Kisses, even to Easter-basket bunnies that they could brutally dismember and consume for a double enjoyment.In her later years, his mother had been an ice-cream junkie. Ice cream for breakfast, lunch, dinner. Ice cream in parfait glasses, in huge bowls, eaten directly from the carton.She hogged down enough ice cream to clog a arteries stretching from California to the moon and back. For a while Corky had assumed that she was committing suicide by cholesterol.Instead of spooning herself into heart failure, she appeared to grow She acquired a glow in the face and a brightness in the eyes that she’d never had before, not even in her youth.Gallons, barrels, troughs of Chocolate Mint Madness, Peanut-Butter-and-Chocolate Fantasy, Maple Walnut Delight, and a double dozen other flavors seemed to turn back her biological clock as the waters of a thousand fountains had failed to turn back that of Ponce de Leon.

Sung Kim Floral Patio II painting

and branch, water and stone: they have the hue and beauty of all these things under the twilight of Lórien that we love; for we put the thought of all that we love into all that we make. Yet they are garments, not armour, and they will not turn shaft or blade. But they should serve you well: they are light to wear, and warm enough the Elf, `and I am sent now to be your guide again. The Dimrill Dale is full of vapour and clouds of smoke, and the mountains are troubled. There are noises in the deeps of the earth. If any of you had thought of returning northwards to your , you would not have been able to pass that way. But come! Your path now goes south.'As they walked through Caras Galadhon the green ways were empty; but in the trees above them or cool enough at need. And you will find them a great aid in keeping out of the sight of unfriendly eyes, whether you walk among the stones or the trees. You are indeed high in the favour of the Lady! For she herself and her maidens wove this stuff; and never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people.'After their morning meal the Company said farewell to the lawn by the fountain. Their hearts were heavy; for it was a fair place, and it had become, though they could not count the days and nights that they had passed there. As they stood for a moment looking at the white water in the sunlight, Haldir came walking towards them over the green grass of the glade. Frodo greeted him with delight.'I have returned from the Northern Fences,' said

Johannes Vermeer Girl with a Pearl Earring painting

star shone out briefly and faded again. Then silently a great doorway was outlined, though not a crack or joint had been visible before. Slowly it divided in the middle and swung outwards inch by inch, until both doors lay back against the wall. Through the opening a shadowy stair could be seen climbing steeply up; but beyond the lower steps the darkness was deeper than the night. The track. The opening word was inscribed on the archway all the time! The translation
should have been: Say "Friend" and enter. I had only to speak the Elvish word for friend and the doors opened. Quite simple. Too simple for a learned lore-master in these suspicious days. Those were happier times. Now let us go!'He strode forward and set his foot on the lowest step. But at that moment several things happened. Frodo felt something seize him by the ankle, and he fell with a cry. Bill the pony gave a wild neigh of fear, and turned tail and dashed away along the lakeside into the darkness. Sam leaped after him, and then hearing Frodo's cry he ran back again, weeping and cursing. The others swung round and saw the waters of the lake seething, as if a host of snakes were swimming up from the southern end.Out from the water a long sinuous Company stared in wonder.`I was wrong after all,' said Gandalf, 'and Gimli too. Merry, of all people, was on the right tentacle had crawled; it was pale-green and luminous and wet. Its fingered end had hold of Frodo's foot and was dragging him into the water. Sam on his knees was now slashing at it with a knife.

Gustave Caillebotte paintings

That is the purpose for which you are called hither. Called, I say. though I have not called you to me, strangers from distant lands. You have come and are here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it is not so. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we, who sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for turned t= Elrond in fear and wonder as he told of the Elven-smiths of Eregion and their friendship with Moria, and their eagerness for knowledge, by which Sauron ensnared them. For in that time he was not yet evil to behold, and they received his aid and grew mighty in craft, whereas he learned all their secrets, and betrayed them, and forged secretly in the Mountain of Fire the One Ring to be their master. But Celebrimbor was aware of him, and hid the Three which he had made; and there was war, and the land was laid waste, and the gate of Moria was shut.the peril of the world.`Now, therefore, things shall be openly spoken that have been hidden from all but a few until this day. And first, so that all may understand what is the peril, the Tale of the Ring shall be told from the beginning even to this present. And I will begin that tale, though others shall end it.'Then all listened while Elrond in his clear voice spoke of Sauron and the Rings of Power, and their forging in the Second Age of the world long ago. A part of his tale was known to some there, but the full tale to none, and many eyes were

Godward Yes or No

the Riders see?' asked Merry. 'I mean, they seem usually to have used their noses rather than their eyes, smelling for us, if smelling is the right word, at least in the daylight. But you made us lie down flat when you saw them down below; and now you talk of being seen, if we move.''I was too careless on the hill-top,' anssoon as we came here, and before we saw them; they feel ours more keenly. Also,' he added, and his voice sank to a whisper, 'the Ring draws them.''Is there no escape then?' said Frodo, looking round wildly. 'If I move I shall be seen and hunted! If I stay, I shall draw them to me!'Strider laid his hand on his shoulder. 'There is still hope,' he said. 'You are not alone. wered Strider. 'I was very anxious to find some sign of Gandalf; but it was a mistake for three of us to go up and stand there so long. For the black horses can see, and the Riders can use men and other creatures as spies, as we found at Bree. They themselves do not see the world of light as we do, but our shapes cast shadows in their minds, which only the noon sun destroys; and in the dark they perceive many signs and forms that are hidden from us: then they are most to be feared. And at all times they smell the blood of living things, desiring and hating it. Senses, too, there are other than sight or smell. We can feel their presence - it troubled our hearts, as

Simple Times

later for a sniff of the air. Mind your Ps and Qs, and don't forget that you are supposed to be escaping in secret, and are still on the high-road and not very far from the Shire!''All right!' said Pippin. 'Mind yourself! Don't get lost, and don't forget that it is safer indoors!'The company was in the big common-room of the inn. The gathering was large and mixed, as Frodo discovered, when his eyes got used to the light. This came chiefly those that had come up the Greenway, stared at them curiously. The landlord introduced the newcomers to the Bree-folk, so quickly that, though they caught many names, they were seldom sure who the names belonged to. The Men of Bree seemed all to have rather botanical (and to the Shire-folk rather odd) names, like Rushlight, Goatleaf, Heathertoes, Appledore, Thistlewool and Ferny (not to mention Butterbur). Some of the hobbits had similar names. The Mugworts, for instance, seemed numerous. But most of them had natural names, such as Banks, Brockhouse, Longholes, Sandheaver, and Tunnelly, many of which were used in the Shire. There were several Underhills from a blazing log-fire, for the three lamps hanging from the beams were dim, and half veiled in smoke. Barliman Butterbur was standing near the fire, talking to a couple of dwarves and one or two strange-looking men. On the benches were various folk: men of Bree, a collection of local hobbits (sitting chattering together), a few more dwarves, and other vague figures difficult to make out away in the shadows and comers.As soon as the Shire-hobbits entered, there was a chorus of welcome from the Bree-landers. The strangers, especially