Wednesday, 28 August 2019

Old England




His clothes are dirty shade of blue 
And his ancient shoes worn through 
He steals from me and he lies to you 
Old England is dying

Today our unelected Prime Minister got the Queen to suspend Parliament, in order to push through Brexit.

RIP British Democracy. The end of our civilisation is just that one step closer.

Friday, 23 August 2019

Dig that

I've been VERY busy in the garden this summer, in fact it's been my Big Project. You have NO IDEA how much time, effort and money it has taken to transform this:


Into this:

Woohoo!

Basically that raised area is an old carp pond that a previous householder filled with rubble and topped off with gravel. I shovelled and barrowed out most of the gravel and made an area onto which I'm going to put raised fruit beds:




Then we got the guys with the diggers in for 3 days...


Look - buried treasure!

Dug out everything for half a meter...



Filled it back up with decent soil...


And now I'm planting it up:


The centrepiece is a Wild Service Tree which I planted this morning:


Sorbus Torminalis, or the Chequers tree, is a fairly rare UK native. It produces fruit that you eat only after it starts to rot - and which tastes like dates. I am looking forward to fruit like this in, say, 20 years...



In the meantime I'm digging up the surrounding flagstones piecemeal:


... so that I can plant birch trees. I will have a Druidic Grove in which to sacrifice to Shub-Niggurath, so watch out South Yorkshire ;-)

Shout-out to Adam!

Monday, 19 August 2019

Blue Monday: Mourning Doves in Limbo

Every Monday I'll be posting an excerpt from one of the stories in Lust in the Dust.

Mourning Doves in Limbo by Gregory L. Norris is the second zombie story in the anthology and this one puts the Undead squarely onstage, in a M/M story of love, grief and horrifying choices:



They fucked, and so much more.

“Stop it,” Tom said playfully.

“No,” Gray fired back. “You have sexy feet.”

Feet? Seriously?”

He didn’t understand, but he allowed Gray’s personal lusts to be explored and play out. Between sucking each of Tom’s toes as though they were smaller versions of his cock, Gray pointed out their many good qualities — how his second toes were longer than his big, like the feet on classic statues; how handsome they were, perfectly in proportion to the rest of his athletic physique. Huge feet, hairy legs, Tom’s above-average cock with its helmeted head and the balls to match — there was so much to appreciate in the man’s body, below the waist.

Tom drew Gray back up from his feet and tackled him onto the bed. “How about you come up for air and focus on the rest of me?”

“If you insist.”

They kissed again. Tom’s cock reanimated to life under Gray’s strokes. Tom reached down and temporarily stilled the building momentum.

“There’s this place I know for sale, out near Echo Ledge,” Tom said. “I drive past it on patrol all the time. Been on the market for a while. I bet we could get it for a steal if you wanted to.”

“We?” Gray asked. He nestled into the warmth of Tom’s arm. “I like the sound of that. Does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

Tom whistled a warm sigh. “I was your boyfriend from the moment I set my sight on you, only you didn’t know it.”

He delivered a mildly painful smack to Gray’s bare ass. Gray squealed. Tom flashed one of those crooked yet smoldering smiles Gray recognized for their mischief, an instant before the policeman rolled him over, onto his stomach. Tom then pecked little kisses down his spine, licking his way to Gray’s ass. There, he feasted.

“Eat me,” Gray moaned into the pillow. “Oh, Tom… eat me!


Buy Lust in the Dust:


It's the end of the world as we know it.

Peace and plenty are ideals barely remembered. Everything we used to rely upon has crumbled away, and pleasure is something few can afford. Every joy has to be fought for. When all the trappings of a civilised life are taken away, all we can hope to truly call our own are our bodies and our hearts. In the ashes, we make alliances where we can, and find solace and humanity in unexpected places. And maybe even a little hope for the future…

Lust in the Dust brings together ten erotic short stories set in times where civilisation and the rule of law have crashed and burned. The aftermath of a terrible war, a zombie invasion, a cityscape over-run by nature, a medieval fortress. Wherever there is life, there is lust.

Edited by Janine Ashbless - with stories by S. Nano, Elizabeth Coldwell, Raven Sky, Sommer Marsden, Cara Thereon, Jones, Gregory L. Norris, Nicole Wolfe, Janine Ashbless, Quiet Ranger.

Sunday, 18 August 2019

Naff


I know it's the trashiest thing a book-lover could possbibly own ... but I don't care. I think it's funny πŸ˜†πŸ˜†πŸ˜†

Thursday, 15 August 2019

Vasily Vereshchagin

[Click on pics for full size]

Caravan of Yaks loaded with Salt

Last week I turned in edits for a short fantasy story that was set in "Russian Turkestan" - imperial Central Asia in the 19th century. It was inspired by my Silk Road travels of course, but in the course of my research I came across Russian artist Vasily Vereshchagin (1842-1904) and thought I'd share some of his pictures here because he's quite brilliant, was extremely controversial in his lifetime, and deserves to be better known.
 
He painted some places I've been myself! (Only with more severed heads)

Triumph, Registan Square, Samarkand


He's known primarily as a war artist, and he traveled extensively with Russian troops during the Russo-Turkish and Russo-Japanese wars, being both wounded and decorated for his courage (and in fact he eventually died when his ship hit a mine).

At the Fortress Wall

But his emphasis was very much on the horrors of war and he was banned and derided all across Europe for his uncompromising portrayals of just how shitty the military life was...

All Is Quiet - tryptych
Night Halt of the Great Army

... sometimes literally:

Russian Camp in Turkestan

He painted aftermaths of battles, POW corpses, wounded soldiers being abandoned to the crows, and soldiers dying in hospital.


After the Attack
Defeated: Memorial Service

This is his most notorious painting, The Apotheosis of War, which he dedicated "to all conquerors, past, present and to come":


War-paintings aside though,Vereshchagin was an extraordinary recorder of his travels across Asia. He visited India, the Himalayas, Tibet, Siberia,  China, Japan, Cuba, the Phillippines, Palestine and Syria.  He loved painting the landscapes:

Glacier on the road from Kashmir to Ladakh





Mount Kazbek

the people:

Residents of Western Tibet

Chorus of Dervishes, Tashkent

Parsee Priest, Bombay

the ruins;
The Gur-Emir Mausoleum, Samarkand
Ruins in Chuguchak

the temples

Entrance to the Temple of Niko

and OMG the costumes:

Buddiskogo Lama
Warrior of Jaipur

A Rich Kyrgyz Hunter with a Falcon

 If you want to look through (many) more of his paintings there's a good gallery HERE

Monday, 12 August 2019

Blue Monday: Hollywood

Every Monday I'll be posting an excerpt from one of the stories in Lust in the Dust.

The most "lit-erotica" tale in the anthology, Hollywood by writer and photographer Jones, is a dreamlike portrait of a F/F relationship painted in a near-hallucinogenic palette of reds and blacks: flames and ash. 


“You're safe now,” Ruby said, moving over her. And everything was happening; everything seemed happening and possible all at once. Everything was vanishing around them, flowers and trees, birds burnt up in a lick of flame, massive swaths of land and sky were poisoned, everything rusted, so hot and broken, red light all the time, at morning and the hard sharp edges of evening, the sound of World War 3 always at the door, dust. Like stars, everything they could call theirs burst out of existence and still their hearts hummed and hammered like tiny engines and Ruby kissed her. Slid her arms around her waist and pressed her lips to Miami’s. Miami kissed her back long and full of hesitation, half taken breaths. They smiled at the end, into each other's mouths.

“No matter how massive this is, it is inevitable, necessary, that we try to understand it through our bodies,” Miami said, and Ruby laughed, still kissing her, kissing her again. Miami shivered as Ruby's fingers touched the nape of her neck. All the space between them collapsed in want, a hard weight deep in the center of them. Searching fingers gently ran the length of Ruby’s throat and shoulders, the dip of her spine. Miami’s hands stopped just above Ruby’s hips, then floated back up under the hem of her t-shirt. Ruby leaned in closer, feeling Miami’s length against her, breathing her in she gasped softly, Miami’s hands gathering around her breasts, her skin coming alive from the touch, palms and grazing over her nipples so long tendrils of pleasure slid through her. Exerting a little more pressure, Miami ran her hands over Ruby’s stomach, hard fingers, nails, and another moan escaped them, deepening their kiss. Soon Miami’s hand was cupping Ruby’s sex, and Ruby knew that she could feel the heat and want of her through her jeans.

The heavy sheet rustled, the fold and laughter of linen as Ruby pulled off their clothes, mouths and hands and hips always touching, growing frantic. Almost at once Ruby’s skin was slick with fresh sweat, a deep hard heat burning under her skin. She wanted touch. Miami’s hand tangled in her hair and held her still, kissing her more deeply. Miami let her go only to slide her hands up her back. Ruby pulled cotton over the landscape of Miami’s honey and burnt sugar skin. They locked eyes and Miami smiled at her, mouth red and wet, a fruit begging to be eaten. They touched again, kissing with growing heat, letting clothes fall around them, sheets dripping off the bed as they tied themselves together. They smelled like chlorine and smoke and the cool, sharp no-scent of the house. Miami’s skin was kissed by sun’s gradient, darkest at the tops of her shoulders, lightest on the heavy swell of the underside of her breasts. Ruby touched every part of her, legs and knees, the hill and valley of her hips, the small of her back.

“Is this right? To give up trying to survive, just to stay in this place and fuck you every day?”

Ruby felt herself go weak with want when she heard desperation in that voice, answering her with a kiss. There was so much she wanted to say, but the fire took her words, burned them up. But they didn’t need them. They spoke through kiss and touch, fingers pulling hard across the curl of a hip and thigh.

“Please…” The word escaped Ruby, only a little, only a moment “Don’t stop.”

So Miami didn’t.



Buy Lust in the Dust:

It's the end of the world as we know it.

Peace and plenty are ideals barely remembered. Everything we used to rely upon has crumbled away, and pleasure is something few can afford. Every joy has to be fought for. When all the trappings of a civilised life are taken away, all we can hope to truly call our own are our bodies and our hearts. In the ashes, we make alliances where we can, and find solace and humanity in unexpected places. And maybe even a little hope for the future…

Lust in the Dust brings together ten erotic short stories set in times where civilisation and the rule of law have crashed and burned. The aftermath of a terrible war, a zombie invasion, a cityscape over-run by nature, a medieval fortress. Wherever there is life, there is lust.

Edited by Janine Ashbless - with stories by S. Nano, Elizabeth Coldwell, Raven Sky, Sommer Marsden, Cara Thereon, Jones, Gregory L. Norris, Nicole Wolfe, Janine Ashbless, Quiet Ranger.

Wednesday, 7 August 2019




Pre-apocalyptic song - because I'm seeing Frank Turner play this weekend πŸ’–

Monday, 5 August 2019

Blue Monday: Virtual Insanity

Every Monday I'll be posting an excerpt from one of the stories in Lust in the Dust.

Today's tale, Virtual Insanity by Cara Thereon, is where the dystopian future gets really dark...


"Let me go, you fucker."

I was seething. I'd gone out at dusk as always to scavenge, leaving Winnie home to take care of Mom. I was usually very careful, hence the timing and going alone. Today I'd gotten cocky because I was under the mistaken assumption that the last of this section of D-Troop of Russia had long cleared out.

They were the latest country to invade this part of the U.S. — right in time to raze the minimal harvest that grew up in fall. I'd hoped to grab some leftovers to sustain us through the harder nights to come. What was supposed to be a quick trip into an overgrown section of field went sideways. I stumbled out of the brush into a group of gray-geared Grunts out scouting. My shock made me slow to react. They recovered from their own shock fast, the nearest man grabbing me before I could scramble back into the brush.

It was humiliating to be trussed up, my hands tied behind my back as they marched me frog-legged to their encampment. They reverted to Russian, but it didn't take much to figure out what they were saying. The groping hands that slipped beneath my shirt were communication enough.

They escorted me into the main camp. I realized how stupid I was to believe they'd all moved out when I saw how many men occupied the area. As I moved down the line of tents, clumps of dead grass catching in my ratty sneakers, I prayed Winnie wouldn't try to come looking for me. The last thing I needed was both of us dying as whores of war.

One of the Grunts ushered me into the bigger tent of the troop head. I had a moment to look around. It was well furnished for a makeshift encampment. A big bed sat toward the back of the tent and there was a nice carpet to hide the muck. They'd been here a while, or planned to stay.

My heart threatened to jump out of my chest. God, I hoped Winnie didn't get scooped up.

The Grunt pushed me to the ground in front of a long wood table, pressing at the back of my head to get me to lower my eyes.

I snapped my head around and growled. "Fuck you."

"Found a feral one, did ya?" There was hardly any accent to his English, which surprised me

I turned back to glare at the gruff man standing before me, and I realized now why they didn't just take advantage of me back in the field.

He towered over me, forcing me to strain to meet his black gaze. War had aged him, adding lines to his weathered face that made determining how old he was impossible. It was clear he fought more than sat around amassing spoils, given his a lean appearance beneath his puke-green fatigues.

"One of the Unwilling."

That made me sneer. Damn right I was unwilling.

The man reached out to touch my cheek and I snapped my teeth. I tasted the dirt on his fingertips as I bit down. The Grunt wrapped an arm around my neck, but I refused to let go. I'd go down fucking swinging before I'd submit, I told myself!

But a well-placed slap dazed me enough that I let go as quickly as I bit.

He lifted his hand to examine the nipped digits. I didn't think it was possible for his eyes to grow any darker.

"Leave her with me." His eyes raked over me. "Leave the cuffs and rope as well."


 Buy Lust in the Dust:

It's the end of the world as we know it.

Peace and plenty are ideals barely remembered. Everything we used to rely upon has crumbled away, and pleasure is something few can afford. Every joy has to be fought for. When all the trappings of a civilised life are taken away, all we can hope to truly call our own are our bodies and our hearts. In the ashes, we make alliances where we can, and find solace and humanity in unexpected places. And maybe even a little hope for the future…

Lust in the Dust brings together ten erotic short stories set in times where civilisation and the rule of law have crashed and burned. The aftermath of a terrible war, a zombie invasion, a cityscape over-run by nature, a medieval fortress. Wherever there is life, there is lust.

Edited by Janine Ashbless - with stories by S. Nano, Elizabeth Coldwell, Raven Sky, Sommer Marsden, Cara Thereon, Jones, Gregory L. Norris, Nicole Wolfe, Janine Ashbless, Quiet Ranger.

Saturday, 3 August 2019