Twisted Deviant

March 15, 2005 Death Valley It was a place of brutal beauty, where jagged rocks of red cut into the crystalline blue sky, and tuffs of tumbleweed bled into dashes of color as fragile flowers rose up from dry earth. It was a desolate land, often full of stark nothingness, where serrated fissures of rock separated the lush Californian coast from the east. In a space of pure desert, hardy flowers climbed out of the barren sand, clinging to large granite rocks that rose out of the earth like giant teeth. Josie Rutledge hoisted up her Pentax Ds 35MM with a telephoto lens, trying to frame the right shot as the air rippled over the sand. In her back pocket, she had a super slim Pentax Optio digital camera, to catch those moments where a click and point might work better than the manual focus camera. The very air seemed to shimmer with anticipation as she moved back, her fingers working the lens to bring the rippling effect into sharp focus. As soon as she took the first shot, her fingers

Saturday, June 8th Craig Mhor “A cat?” Hermione asked with a puzzled expression, looking over at where Molly sat. Molly shook her head, as if to say she hadn’t any idea. “Oh, yes, it was all black, and it had a white spot just on the tip of its nose,” Alice responded excitedly, squirming on Hermione’s lap. “I tried to pet it, but it wouldn’t let me. So, I tried to get Mummy, but it had disappeared.” She leaned back and tugged Hermione’s head down. “Do you think it’s a magic cat?” she asked in an awed whisper. “I don’t know,” Hermione whispered back, wrapping her arms around the girl’s waist. “Mummy said,” Alice began, leaning her head on Hermione’s shoulder, “that if you said it was all right, that I could keep it. Can I keep the kitty?” “I – errrmmm,” Hermione sputtered, staring down into Alice’s eager, earnest face. She looked up at Molly again, only to see the older woman trying to stifle a laugh over her predicament. “I can’t give you permission to keep that cat,” she said with a s

Friday, June 7 th Hermione Granger’s Flat Hermione was in the middle of changing her clothes for bed when the sound of someone pounding on her door drifted to the back of her flat. Reaching for her robe, she strolled, barefoot, to the front room. Her eyes wandered to the clock on the mantle of her fireplace, noting that it was nearly midnight before she peeked through the eyehole to see who it was. “What are you doing here?” she asked sharply, pulling the door open. “Do I need a reason to be here, Granger?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe. “If I invite you over, no. If you just randomly pop in, then yes.” “Ah, so, I’m only allowed when it’s convenient, how utterly cosmopolitan of you. Though, after spending nearly every night here for the last few weeks, I thought I’d warrant a better reception than this.” “Contrary to what you might believe, I don’t need to have you underfoot at every juncture to live a fulfilling life. This isn’t a relationship; we fuck, and that is it

OMG I just heard what happened this morning on the Underground. My deepest sympathies are with everyone from England this morning. I don't know if anyone on my Flist is from London, and most of my MSN friends are from northern England, but if you are, give me a shout so I know that you're okay. Cyrus, you're in London, goodness and so is English_Gent Alan, oh dear and Andy(vainrogue)... Guys give me a shout out when you can. *Cross posting this to my Livejournal, HmmmFactor on MSN groups, my Blogger, and AOL Journal*