5 Jun 2015

And Then, From Beyond….

While doing my evening Blog-browsing  yesterday, I picked up on this piece over at Head Rambles and it got me thinking. At my age, suddenly finding myself thinking is a moment to savour.

The thought wot I had? I forgot it by the time the euphoria of having a thought had faded and I had to concentrate really, really hard to think what it could've been. I read {red} the aforementioned piece again and eventually got somewhat back on track and I thought, again, I can check that longevity thingy myself.

Bad move as, going on my results,  it seems I've already gone so you may well be looking at a blank page.

If you are, indeed, looking at a blank page may I suggest you give it a minute and see if any letters start mysteriously appearing. If they do a few things should become apparent to you. That gooney Web site is creepily accurate; I've become a 'tester' on Google's beta Dead To Living Translation service and I'm a rubbish typerist.

If, however, your screen remains blank, you could help me by brushing up on your channelling techniques. Try lighting some candles, holding hands with some likeminded folk while sitting in a circle and repeatedly calling out, "Are you there Foggy?" If you get through, I'll move that chair over there. No, not that one, the small one.

Of course if you are looking at a blank page you'll be blissfully unaware of any typing proceeding this bit or anything yet to come. Even this bit'll be missing will it not?

Okay, this is getting really silly so I'll check where I be right now.
"Yo, you down the sofa the ways! You see and hear me?"
"You nuts? You feel this?"
I managed to duck as the TV remote came sailing through the air in my direction. Then her down that end said, "You done forgot to take big blue pill again, light?"
"Damn. That I have. And, for the thousandth time, it's 'right'. Right?"
"Light."

With the above mention of 'light', the possibility I may now be stardust and it's Friday, let's have a little Starlight.

Quote;  Katherine McIntyre.

“Hair-braiding salons and mystic shops littered the block, but she didn’t need a psychic to predict her cards read “royally screwed.”

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