Tuesday, 24 January 2012
Ten Years Ago
Simon and Garfunkel
Friday, 20 January 2012
Hello World
Monday, 16 January 2012
Creative Writing Group on Daily Telegraph
I just noticed people were joining the Creative Writing Group at this time of night, are we all night owls?
I used to listed to Radio4 in bed with my brother 40years ago and more. THe World Tonight with Douglas Stuart reporting, following by The Book at Bedtime, I even remember THe Ghost and Mrs Muir. It was thanks to 20years of religious listening to Radio4 that I lost most of my Brummie accent, it also meant that when I started to write I had heard a lot of writing previously.
Writing a story is having a baby, of course your baby is beautiful, how dare anybody say otherwise. However you have to be honest with yourself, you also have to tell the whole world GO **&$&^ because you must always have faith in yourself. I have faith in my play Shoplife, I have faith in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker which on Leap Years Day 2012 will be 24years old. I never bothered looking for a publisher and then finally I did, but thats another story. From Leap Year to Leap Year the story of.... I can hear the byline being typed.
It would kill my writing if somebody told me how to type, I meant how to write, but writing is more than typing, its al about ideas. You are a writer because you write, not because you type. Its a thought process, its having ideas, not the physical action of typing. Here's my idea from this evening at Mass. The Arch Bishop was having a Visitation at Saint Mary's in Harborne, so I wondered what it must feel like. It is like having an Ofsted but for a church, so as I left I asked the Arch Bishop as I shook his hand "YOU must be like the Mother-in-Law", the Arch Bishop still shaking my hand laughed and said that he was more like a cousin visiting.
Now that's what writing is all about, its about ideas, sometimes they come when you should be paying attention at Mass, but ideas always come, even if typing doesn't.
Saturday, 14 January 2012
Through My Letter Box
Through My Letter Box ©
By Michael Casey
I don’t know about you but I’m sick and tired of junk mail coming through my letter box. Where we live we have tons of fast food outlets, maybe 15 all within a ten minute walk of the house. A young man’s delight no doubt, not to mention 3 pubs, and it used to be 4 pubs.
Now if the junk mail, or should I say leaflets were for local fast food places it wouldn’t be so bad, but it’s for places you have to catch a bus to find them. Can I borrow the Sat Nav love? I’m going to buy some chips and a pizza, its only 99p at the Truly The Best Chip Emporium Ever. So clutching the leaflet I’ll set off to find this chip heaven, walking not driving either, I cannot drive after all. You cannot drive and eat chips at the same time after all, well legally you cannot, but don’t get me started on all the illegal driving companion activities, are they all just trying to kill me while I cross the road. When you get there it’s so far away they have a different English accent, so you point to the sign on the wall, it would have been better to go to MacDonalds. So why do they put their rubbish leaflets through my door?
Recycle bins are ugly, we have 3 huge ones in our back garden, no wonder we have so many burglaries, thieves just stand on them to break into peoples’ houses. I suppose after eating so much fast food, as advertised by all the leaflets coming through all the letter boxes; the thieves only break in so that they can raise money to go to health farms. At the health farms young girls wearing plastic gloves squeeze out all the spots created by eating all the junk food as advertised by the junk food leaflets coming through my letter box. I feel like a victim and have a complex, why me, why me, why do I have to suffer from sick letter box syndrome, sob, it’s too much for me.
I did think of getting a crocodile that was trained to eat the fingers of junk mail deliverers, I wouldn’t need to feed it either as finger food would be enough. But the children want a cat so I suppose we’ll have to get a cat. But it will be an evil cat who will scratch any junk food leaflet deliverer. Or perhaps I should get some Chinese scientist friends to develop a sensor that pukes back any junk leaflet all over the leaflet deliverers, and it would spay a scent of puke all over the deliverer.
Now that’s what I’m tempted to do, but instead we have an overweight recycle bin that’s covered in spots, thanks to all the junk food leaflets inside it. If the Council did some market research perhaps they’d be a byelaw stating “NO JUNK FOOD LEAFLETS” Global Warming would be sorted in one fell swoop too.
Tuesday, 10 January 2012
TSPS. The Secret Prayer Society
Saturday, 31 December 2011
What If
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