I would greatly appreciate it if you all would do me a wee favour. You see, I’m saving up for a new Lens for me camera. Every time someone clicks on an add, I get a wee droplet of cashola in me account. I’m not one to beg for anything, but please harmlessly click on one. It won’t hurt, I promise.
To show you folks that I am a gentleman, I’ll make you a promise. From Monday ‘til the blogosphere falls off the economic precipice that we are all being pushed over, I’ll blog once a day excluding Sunday, of course. I’m not sure what ‘ll blog about. Perhaps how I’m sick of talking to wood floors and tile that don’t talk back until dark.
The blog will be eccentric in nature just like its owner. One day, I may write a wee poem. Then next day, I may rant about latex paint. You never know what you’ll find, when you click over the border to Davisville.
P.S.: Congrats to all that won and didn’t win at the IBA’s.
P.P.S.: For your musical entertainment on this grand Sunday, I present to you, Love Story by Taylor Swift. Why her you ask? Is it not obvious?
I had the wildest dream last night. I dreamt that I won the lottery. It was a magnificent dream.
Just as I left the petrol station with my ticket, I heard the numbers over the radio of a passing car and realised that I had won fifty million dollars. I leapt in the air, and yelled, “YeeHaaw”.
I ran inside, knocking people over on my way to the clerk, and slammed my ticket down on the counter, demanding my cashola. The clerk called the officials and the local news media. People swarmed around me, as I kept a tight grip on the ticket like a child to a bottle.
The state lottery officials arrived and validated the ticket. They shook my hand and offered their felicitations.
We were directed outside where hundreds of people had gathered. The media van strobe lights were beaming into my retinas, as I ran outside. The clickety-clack of camera shutters reverberated through the station, as I stood in awe of the mass of people here to see little ol’ me.
“What do you plan on doing with the money?” A reporter from a fox affiliate pleaded, whilst ramming her mic in my face.
A great silence swept over the crowd awaiting my response.
“I will give a large sum to charity, and go make things right with an ex.. And, I’ll deposit the rest of my money in the Bank of England.”
A great gasp echoed through the crowd from right to left. People stood still, with their mouths agape.
“I’m just kidding…the Bank of Ireland”, I laughing muttered, as I took in the seriousness of the matter.
I had to go to the Supreme Court to get my money. By then a quarter of it had been sucked up by blood sucking lawyers.
I put my money in an international bank just to spite the haters. I picked up Dr. Don, Brian F., and we headed for Dublin.
The last thing I remember was buying everyone in the Temple Bar district a round of drinks.
What would you do, if you won the lottery?
I’d try to make a difference in this whacky world. Of course, I’d have to have Guinness and Bulmers air shipped to me wherever I would be.
I’d have to by the Playboy mansion for weekend excursions.
I could ramble on about lost love and how much I wish I could rewind the clock, but I’m not going to. It’s not over ‘til it’s over.
Never underestimate a Davis.
P.S.: I sincerely apologise for not being around to pester the lot of you lately.
This wee sector of 0’s and 1’s on a hard drive in a case with ten other hard drives and four CPU’s…I don’t know it anymore. My little droplet of creativity in an Olympic size pool has become foreign even to me. This website was created to express who I am in a creative and artistic fashion. It used to be a grand corner of the interweb. I’d write a new story or poem that’d knock people off their heels. They’d nudge me to keep at it and suggest improvements. I’d oblige and write another fictional story better than the last. I’d give hints and codes to my own identity. It’s not that hard to figure me out, but I love mystery and intrigue.
I was welcomed into a community of worldwide bloggers from all walks of life. Some of them treated me like family, others treated me like their son. I loved them all to bits and still do. It was a grand time in my life. I have learned so much from so many people. I am very grateful to all of you.
In a strange mist that lasted for months, I verged off the creative path and went down a strange and boring trail. I let people tell me what I was better at, and what I should pursue. I conformed to one small group and have paid a dreadful price for it. This blog, if you want to call it that, was never meant to be a daily log of my life. If I had something important going on or something inspiring to share, I’d announce it. Otherwise, it was fiction and faction (non-fiction that has been fluffed up to make it interesting.) as usual.
To be honest, I’ve not felt like my old self in six months or so. It is imperative that I write fiction and pour my heart out into a poetry, even if no one else ever reads it. I’m real and everything that I’ve ever said that was factual, is, but I also have the imagination of a youngster. It’d be a damn shame to waste that! Yes, I’m a fantabulous photographer and very thankful to those that have helped me along the way. But, I’m a whole package. Not only can I take or draw the picture, I can also tell you about the scene in a way that’ll make your heart melt. My writing is certainly not up to the degree it once was, but I’ll get there again and move forward.
So, there will be no more blabbering on about weekends or boring nonsense that no one wants to read anyway. If I have exciting news or a meme to do, I’ll post it. Otherwise, I’ll be going back to the old game plan. I’ll post new photos, poems, short stories, and drawings. Jefferson Davis of auld is back baby!
Be afraid…be very afraid…
P.S.: Please continue your regularly scheduled skimming of blogs. Thank You
Whenever I need to clear my head, I go fishing. It is very therapeutic. You sit there for what seems like an eternity, then if you are really lucky, one of the slimy beast will gnaw on your bait. If you are quick enough, you’ll snag the little bastard and reel it in. Come to think of it, fishing is like dating. You put your best bait out there for the lass’ and hope that one stops to check you out. And, oh the thrill if you snag one!
I like to fish for catfish. They are the slimiest and the most atrocious critters to swim in fresh water. Once hooked, they fight, splash, run under logs, and do anything to keep from being brought into the sunlight. When you do get them up on the dock, they hiss and poo like some sort of hideous creature from the underworld. I’ve been pooped on before. My hand has also been sliced open while fighting the buggers! They are quite tasty, even if they do eat other fish’s poo.
Dr. Don and myself will be heading to the lake house in the morn. I hope we catch something!
