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Instant review: Episode 2 of Season 4 of #GoT - the #purplewedding #tweetstory #spoilers (sort of)4/13/2014
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This list is my personal tally of the greatest Boston Sportsmen of the last 25 years. As always, feel free to flame and argue and post your own list.
1 - TOM BRADY 2- LARRY BIRD 3- PEDRO MARTINEZ 4 - ROGER CLEMENS 5- RAY BOURQUE 6 - PAUL PIERCE 7- DAVID ORTIZ 8- KEVIN MCHALE 9 - MANNY RAMIREZ 10- VINCE WILFOLK Okay, this is good. Fun way to start off the morning is with this picture from the NHL 
The Bruins have a hard fought post-season to gear up for--- and I will be rooting them on from Las Vegas! Our second story IS from Vegas-- Manny Pacquiao reversed a controversial decision loss to Timothy Bradley from two years earlier by outclassing Bradley in the re-match last evening. 
Lastly, comments about traditional gender roles made by actress Kirsten Dunst have set the internet on fire.
She told Harper's Bazaar UK: "You Need a Man to Be a Man and a Woman to Be a Woman" She went on to complain about feminism destroying the feminine in our culture. What do we think of her comments? Do they matter? Did they make an impression on you? In writing news, I'll post new fiction today, the latest serial installment from Duchess of the Shire, a new top ten list sure to inspire controversy and also a new Journal entry. Have a great Sunday and be sure to stop by for exciting posts! From Vegas Stephen John Moran This is an instant classic for fans of the show. I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for visiting my website. The response has been overwhelming and has blown away all of my expectations for the first few months.
It's been a crazy journey getting to this point and I couldn't have done it without the constant presence and support of my readers. I truly hope you find something entertaining and thought provoking when you visit. Speaking of content, I've tried to keep the posts varied and offer diverse content. My biggest goal has been to update the site with content I enjoy when surfing the web and hope my readers agree with my choices in art/news/comedy. If you like what you see, consider sharing into the internet on your Facebook or whatnot. Or, if you want to see X post--- let me know. I truly want readers to know-- I listen to the feedback and have already changed the mix of postings a few times. Let me know what works for you and what does not. I hope A Writer's Diary can be a community of artists and fans. Join the conversation and let me know your opinions on the site, the posts or anything else on your mind. From Las Vegas, Stephen John Moran P.S. If you like this website, click like for my Facebook page-- there will be contests and freebies on my Facebook page not offered on the website. And don't forget to sign up for this website by E-mail. Each member will receive a free e-book. A PARABLE
Mary turned the radio off as she left the highway and turned onto a country boulevard lined with maple trees. She rolled down the window and switched off the air conditioning. The scents of apple blossoms and wild flowers hung in the warm summer air. She slowed the car around a small bend, which gave way to a wide field of green dotted lazily with dandelions. The car stopped, seemingly of its own desire. “I must get out of the city more often,” she said, stretching her limbs with pleasure. She smiled with satisfaction as she surveyed the field, slowly scanning her eyes over the horizon. “Help me.” She heard a voice, which seemed to come out of the very air. She turned to see a man tied to a tree, wearing nothing save a loin cloth and didn’t know what to do. “Please help me.” The voice said again, this time clearly coming from the man tied to the tree. She took a first tentative step, a second, putting one high heeled clad foot ahead of the other, the going made more difficult as the pointed heels sunk into the soft grass. “I should have worn sandals,” she said. With each step his features became clearer, revealing shoulder length brown hair. She saw signs of violent struggle or torture; deep red scratches upon his face, deep bruises on his chest and arms. Stopping a few feet away out of arm’s reach she saw the man was bound to the tree with thick ropes around the arms, torso, and around his feet. “How did you come to be tied to a tree?” She asked. “Come closer,” he said. She moved forward, within a foot, seeing his wounds with more detail. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Your smell pleases me,” he said and attempted to smile, but the effort hurt him visible, pain flashing over his face. “Who did this to you?” He attempted to shift his position, but the restraints prevented any movement and again, a looked of pain swept across his features. “I don’t know how to answer. I have been tied to this tree all of my life.” “You don’t understand me. Why are you tied to this tree?” “I hear you and understand. I repeat, I have always been tied to this tree. It is necessary and natural.” His voice was deep and pleasant to her ears, containing little hint of the pain his wounds were causing him. “Natural?” She asked, more confused. “A man tied to a tree is not the natural state of being for a human. You were born free, not shackled.” She looked at him and saw thick red welts around his wrists, skin grown raw over time through contact with the ropes. Glancing down at his loin cloth, which not being tied tightly or of much substance, covered almost nothing. She blushed and averted her eyes. “Your modesty pleases me,” he said. The voice sounded as if it belonged to someone she had known all of her life. “Do you wish for me to free you?” He let out a low laugh. “You have a strange notion of things.” “How do you mean?” “It is not possible for one responsible for my entrapment to free me.” “Listen, I didn’t tie you to this tree,” she said, feeling anger at his constant absurdity. “That is true, but maybe it is for your benefit that I am tied.” “How difficult it is to understand you!” She exclaimed, feeling a trickle of sweat on her forehead. “Listen to reason. I didn’t not tie or wish you to be tied to this tree.” “Reason? It is precisely since the age of reason that I have been tied to this tree.” She growled in frustration, balling her hands into fists. “Do you wish to be free?” “The question you pose is seen from the wrong side of logical thinking. Do you wish me to be free?” She stamped her foot and again shook blond curls in exasperation. She turned and started towards the car, half expecting him to call out to her. He remained silent for the time it took to walk to her car, retrieve a pocket knife from the glove box and to return to him. “I see you made a decision.” She nodded her head and moved to his side so as to reach his restraints. As she placed the knife against the rope, he spoke. “Take heed when changing the nature of things.” “More cryptic utterances.” She worked slowly, taking are not to cut his skin, which had been badly wounded already. Soon the ropes began to fall away, first from his hands, then his torso, and finally, his feet. He tried to stand, but he stumbled and fell into her, unable to manage on his own. Once again he inhaled deeply, slowly, which brought a dreamy smile to his face. “You are quite attractive.” He gripped her forearm, tightly, which caused her to cry out in pain. She attempted to pull away, but his strength surprised her. Her footing gave way as he pushed her, causing an explosion of pain as her head smacked on the ground. She heard, rather than felt, her skirt being ripped from her legs as the smooth skin of his palms parted her thighs. “Be still,” he said. She knew no more. She woke some time later, in the dark, but could not see him. Seeing movement to her left, she turns to see him standing over her, a thick branch in his hands. “I gave you freedom and pleasure,” she cried. He smiled and lifted the branch high over his head. “I know.” “Who are you?” She asked. Instead of receiving an answer, the branch crashed into the side of her head, killing her in an instant. “Call me James.” Entry from ELLA'S JOURNAL
All the new same places What shall I do in this city tonight? I don't want to sit around moping like yesterday. but nothing in the magazine seems at all inviting. Sometimes Vegas seems so redundant. There is always a new bar opening in a remodeled casino. Not a day passes I don't hear advertisements telling me about change in ownership and the new hip trend that guarantees I'll have the grandest time. But it's always the same grimy tourists trying to buy the usual local hookers over whatever the discount liquor of the night happens to be. I want a new distraction and a man that won't break so easily. The men. Yes, the men that come to Vegas usually leave much to be desired. Most times you have to settle for one that doesn't dress like a slob and be happy you got that much. And the locals are worse than the tourists. Most don't have two nickels to rub together and will expect you to pay the bill. I tell you this much, if I'm paying for my own drinks... This one local has been staring at me for hours and I've reached the end of my patience. Usually, I stay away from people with Nevada IDs, but...I'm too damned bored to restrain myself tonight. I don't expect much and you shouldn't either unless you want to be disappointed because men have a unique ability to underwhelm you in a particularly annoying fashion. Not only will they show up late, they usually bring poor gifts and cheap flowers. Yet, still I'm curious and wonder what your name is, sir? You look like a Ralph or Brian. Let me ask you Ralph or Brian or whatever your name really is...are you ready for an adventure? It's still coffee time and I have all day to watch and wait. Something always happens in Vegas. |
THE TERRORIST OF PROVIDENCE STREET
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