Almost sort of exactly 201 years ago, Jane Austen died. I must confess I haven’t read much (any) of her work despite Pride and Prejudice and Zombies being on my reading list for some time. Never being one to allow a lack of knowledge to get in the way of a good opinion however, I’m prepared to wager that her collective works didn’t contain many references to the humble kilogram.
Young Jane would have been almost sort of exactly 18 when the French said pas plus to the grain related measurements of the time and invented the kilogram. She would have been far too busy working on her short novel Lady Susan to bother with such new-fangled frippery. She no doubt noted however that the initial name for this kilogram was a grave and as such the literary seed for her zombie based works was sown.
I was wondering this week if I should offer my seat to older people when I am on the bus? What if they are younger and fitter than me but just don’t look it? Granted that might be difficult due to my white beard, fucked side, bags under my eyes, limp and general scowling.
Hello there folks, here we are at Week 193.
I am glad to report that the site has never been healthier. We are getting a very steady stream of stories and it is a pleasure reading them all.
Here we are at Week 192.
We have decided to try something new starting next week. There’s a chance for you to tick off a social / literal must from all of your bucket lists and have even more involvement on the site.
Well here we are at Week 191.
I was thinking on what to write yesterday morning and this came to me.
You see, I travel to work by bus. I like buses but I hate passengers. Why can’t folks simply be quiet. I don’t want to hear someone on their phone talking a lot of pish. I don’t want to hear old people talking about their many, many varied, oozing ailments and I especially don’t want to listen to young mothers talking complete nonsense to their noisy little shit-machines. I had one woman hushing her screaming kid for around three miles. The kid had shut up after two but this Sean Connery snake woman continued to ‘Shhhh’.
Here we are at week 189, doesn’t time fly when you are having your last hour in your bed? Any other time it is just its usual slow mundane shite.
Now this has been done in a bit of a rush, but no matter what, I really need to warn you not to read on if you are a wee bit sensitive. I’ve got myself into enough trouble lately with my words so I thought I would give you all plenty of time to bail out.
If you like religion and cherish pregnancy, you may be a bit perturbed with a couple of parts, so walk away now.
If you don’t then don’t moan as you will just look like a twat.
This week, I thought I’d give you all a wee bit of insight into a part of our process. It is regarding acceptance and rejection letters.
Now just like being on the hunt for an interested person of the opposite sex, it is easier to be accepted than rejected. Not many of my rejections had ever been written, normally a ‘Fuck off’ would suffice. In the same way none of my acceptances ever produced a letter, just a very grateful me and a lady that I would later judge. (OK, I may have written some poetry, but it was the eighties and I had hair.)
It’s easy to say yes to a submission but we wouldn’t be doing anyone any justice if we did this as a given. So we try to keep the site’s integrity.