<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727</id><updated>2024-09-15T17:28:24.828-07:00</updated><category term="Sci-fic"/><category term="Fiction"/><category term="Romance"/><category term="Horror"/><category term="Poem"/><category term="non-fiction"/><category term="Crime"/><category term="Humour"/><title type='text'>.::2dAq&#39;s Mansion::.</title><subtitle type='html'>Inspiring and Enlightening the Globe...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-806350382349289879</id><published>2013-01-26T06:39:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2013-01-26T06:39:51.797-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poem"/><title type='text'>Liberty</title><summary type="text">




Author: Jared Barhite&amp;nbsp;

Into the port where Liberty stands      Inviting the nations to woo her,    Malefactors swarm from foreign lands,      Whose tenets would surely undo her.

    Criminals, paupers, the ostracised      From all countries beyond the great sea,    Flock into the land our fathers prized,      And baptized &quot;The Sweet Land of the Free.&quot;

    They come not to build a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/806350382349289879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2013/01/liberty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/806350382349289879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/806350382349289879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2013/01/liberty.html' title='Liberty'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ReJj4XCxTdMaeIt6pr0LZexFCvf2Yl32JNbFeA2hJW_gH7eeA3Vod5Gv288v3VxGoEOFT-9Q9RQJayhkflftIWMm6nrWHPuf9YQHFPmptStFJkVAaQ8u4z_FfGZs-iwRbq4cgnDvxTM/s72-c/Graphic1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-5355822717966319483</id><published>2013-01-26T05:35:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2013-01-26T05:35:09.249-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poem"/><title type='text'>Patriotism</title><summary type="text">




Author: Edgar A. Guest


I think my country needs my vote,I know it doesn&#39;t need my throat,  My lungs and larynx, too;And so I sit at home at nightAnd teach my children what is right  And wise for them to do;And when I&#39;m on the job by dayI do my best to earn my pay.

Though arguments may rage and roar;I grease the hinges on my door  And paint the porches blue;I love this splendid land of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/5355822717966319483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2013/01/patriotism.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/5355822717966319483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/5355822717966319483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2013/01/patriotism.html' title='Patriotism'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-311931735219401229</id><published>2012-12-26T06:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-12-26T06:04:36.446-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sci-fic"/><title type='text'>THE DAY OF THE BOOMER DUKES</title><summary type="text">


&amp;nbsp;

by Frederik Pohl

Illustrated by EMSH


There was a silvery aura around the kid ... the
cops&#39; guns hit him ... but he didn&#39;t notice....



I

Foraminifera 9

Paptaste udderly, semped
sempsemp dezhavoo, qued
schmerz—Excuse me. I
mean to say that it was like an
endless diet of days, boring, tedious....
No, it loses too much in the
translation. Explete my reasons,
I say. Do my reasons </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/311931735219401229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-day-of-boomer-dukes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/311931735219401229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/311931735219401229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-day-of-boomer-dukes.html' title='THE DAY OF THE BOOMER DUKES'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-8103030444908691028</id><published>2012-12-19T06:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-12-19T06:27:18.233-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sci-fic"/><title type='text'>Project Mastodon</title><summary type="text">


&amp;nbsp;

PROJECT MASTODON

By

Clifford D. Simak


The chief of protocol said, &quot;Mr. Hudson of—ah—Mastodonia.&quot;


The secretary of state held out his hand. &quot;I&#39;m glad to see you,
Mr. Hudson. I understand you&#39;ve been here several times.&quot;


&quot;That&#39;s right,&quot; said Hudson. &quot;I had a hard time making your people
believe I was in earnest.&quot;


&quot;And are you, Mr. Hudson?&quot;


&quot;Believe me, sir, I would not try to</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/8103030444908691028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/project-mastodon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/8103030444908691028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/8103030444908691028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/project-mastodon.html' title='Project Mastodon'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-912211333201429252</id><published>2012-12-15T06:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-12-15T06:25:21.815-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sci-fic"/><title type='text'>BRIGANDS OF THE MOON</title><summary type="text">


&amp;nbsp;

by

RAY CUMMINGS







ACE BOOKS, INC.

23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y.





Copyright, 1931, by Ray Cummings




[5]

I
Our ship, the space-flyer, Planetara, whose home port was Greater
New York, carried mail and passenger traffic to and from both Venus
and Mars. Of astronomical necessity, our flights were irregular. The
spring of 2070, with both planets close to the Earth, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/912211333201429252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/brigands-of-moon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/912211333201429252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/912211333201429252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/brigands-of-moon.html' title='BRIGANDS OF THE MOON'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-8350164708958492761</id><published>2012-12-14T07:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-12-14T07:26:52.794-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sci-fic"/><title type='text'>THE BLACK STAR PASSES</title><summary type="text">




ACE BOOKS, INC.
1120 Avenue of the Americas
New York, N.Y. 10036


THE BLACK STAR PASSES


Copyright, 1953, by John W. Campbell, Jr.


Copyright, 1930, by Experimenter Publications, Inc.


An Ace Book, by arrangement with the author.


Cover art by Jerome Podwil.


Printed in U.S.A.





THREE AGAINST THE STARS
A sky pirate armed with superior weapons of his own invention....


First contact</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/8350164708958492761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-black-star-passes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/8350164708958492761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/8350164708958492761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-black-star-passes.html' title='THE BLACK STAR PASSES'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-2092772144600498479</id><published>2012-12-03T05:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-12-03T05:19:09.666-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Romance"/><title type='text'>Golden Bird</title><summary type="text">


novel by Karla Kelley 

The
 party had been fun at first, but it was now hours into the New Year and
 Sara was tired. She&#39;d had her fill of champagne, so she made her way to
 the kitchen for a glass of water. As she stepped   through the door, 
she startled a couple in a lover&#39;s embrace. &quot;Excuse me,&quot; she said and 
was just about to turn around when she found herself staring into the 
guilty </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/2092772144600498479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/golden-bird.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/2092772144600498479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/2092772144600498479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/golden-bird.html' title='Golden Bird'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheB2QJgD1G3sQyHsdPC0dC9u0HxOs6e-Tw5g7yWvfpsM4-UVCKk4Bnlo2mcR_8bR-rdhrhXCxBErIwaTx_lLLTV3gdXLd9HuanssT9MOLIN0g9yu4UuBiJMnsf_7yTgdEu8N4SYcj-2TU/s72-c/Estee-Lauder-Holiday-2010-Pleasures-Golden-Bird.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-2204607910059647797</id><published>2012-12-03T03:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-12-03T03:51:16.738-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Romance"/><title type='text'>To Thine Own Self</title><summary type="text">


novel by Linda Louise Rigsbee

Alex paid for his ticket and tucked the wallet inside his suit jacket.

Mrs. Kenan smiled. &quot;Thanks, Mr. Barnett. I&#39;m sure Carmen will be glad you&#39;re home.&quot;

Alex nodded as he turned toward the auditorium door. Everyone he met 
tonight was aware he had been gone for two weeks. Carmen was incredibly 
naïve about people. After the stabbing, she   should realize that</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/2204607910059647797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/to-thine-own-self.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/2204607910059647797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/2204607910059647797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/12/to-thine-own-self.html' title='To Thine Own Self'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-579264025759346915</id><published>2012-11-10T02:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-11-10T02:33:08.303-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fiction"/><title type='text'>A Prodigal Tale</title><summary type="text">



novel by Simon Collings


  
  

 p1

He left at night, taking with him a change of
 clothes, a blanket, and a small bag of money which he found in his 
father&#39;s room. He travelled until dawn and then all of the next day and 
well into the following night, pursued by thoughts of his angry and 
vengeful father. His route led south towards the holy city, following 
the roads he knew from the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/579264025759346915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/11/a-prodigal-tale.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/579264025759346915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/579264025759346915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/11/a-prodigal-tale.html' title='A Prodigal Tale'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-5892598340951896559</id><published>2012-09-29T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-29T06:47:51.529-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fiction"/><title type='text'>Little Eve Edgarton</title><summary type="text">


CHAPTER I
&quot;But you live like such a fool--of 
course you&#39;re bored!&quot; drawled the Older Man, rummaging listlessly 
through his pockets for the ever-elusive match.
&quot;Well, I like your nerve!&quot; protested the Younger Man with unmistakable asperity.
&quot;Do you--really?&quot; mocked the Older Man, still smiling very faintly.
For
 a few minutes then both men resumed their cigars, staring blinkishly 
out all the</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/5892598340951896559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/little-eve-edgarton.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/5892598340951896559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/5892598340951896559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/little-eve-edgarton.html' title='Little Eve Edgarton'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi27eLGZk-JecSdtlmQzYufPhnur0lidJGrnTKG1GeI0w5yk6kF-Qd-Qv5Z7uHHYMA7pnksHfnJBdacEdtT4COd_OcobxD9YzRZAT7CSQkWYEdAY3lmcRZfZsPunbImDBRnIPseTZJn6zo/s72-c/ggg.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-3949916340639362134</id><published>2012-09-21T10:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-21T10:54:15.043-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poem"/><title type='text'>Demetrius</title><summary type="text">


I.
THE SUCCESS OF THE BEGGAR.
 In my life I have had two idols, one my country, one my wife,   And I know I loved them faithfully, and both with one accord; But the day came, beaded falsely on my brittle leash of life,   When perforce I chose between them, through the wisdom of the Lord.
 High upon the rocky summit of a cliff in red Algiers,   Raised against the sky of sunset, like a beaker </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/3949916340639362134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/demetrius.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/3949916340639362134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/3949916340639362134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/demetrius.html' title='Demetrius'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-7925082063666558314</id><published>2012-09-21T10:40:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-21T10:40:35.915-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poem"/><title type='text'>An Exhalation From Withered Violets</title><summary type="text">


I.
THE VENDER OF VIOLETS.
 &quot;Violets! Violets! Violets!&quot; This was the cry I heard As I passed through the street of a city; And quickly my heart was stirred To an incomprehensible pity, At the undertone of the cry; For it seemed like the voice of one Who was stricken, and all undone, Who was only longing to die.
 &quot;Violets! Violets! Violets!&quot; The voice came nearer still. &quot;Surely,&quot; I said, &quot;it is</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/7925082063666558314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/an-exhalation-from-withered-violets.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/7925082063666558314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/7925082063666558314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/an-exhalation-from-withered-violets.html' title='An Exhalation From Withered Violets'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-195747495778133986</id><published>2012-09-21T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-21T08:54:37.279-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fiction"/><title type='text'>The Big Bow Mystery</title><summary type="text">




CHAPTER I
On a memorable morning of early December, London opened its eyes on a
 frigid grey mist. There are mornings when King Fog masses his molecules
 of carbon in serried squadrons in the city, while he scatters them 
tenuously in the suburbs; so that your morning train may bear you from 
twilight to darkness. But to-day the enemy&#39;s manoeuvring was more 
monotonous. From Bow even unto </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/195747495778133986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-big-bow-mystery.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/195747495778133986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/195747495778133986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-big-bow-mystery.html' title='The Big Bow Mystery'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-6336827416819398632</id><published>2012-09-19T09:51:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-19T09:56:37.193-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Horror"/><title type='text'>The Death of Halphin Frayer</title><summary type="text">novel by Ambrose Biercep1   For by death is wrought greater change than hath been shown. Whereas in general the spirit that removed cometh back upon occasion, and is sometimes seen of those in flesh (appearing in the form of the body it bore) yet it hath happened that the veritable body without the spirit hath walked. And it is attested of those encountering who have lived to speak thereon that a</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/6336827416819398632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-death-of-halphin-frayer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/6336827416819398632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/6336827416819398632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-death-of-halphin-frayer.html' title='The Death of Halphin Frayer'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-3527592638121657388</id><published>2012-09-14T09:59:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-14T10:18:17.515-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sci-fic"/><title type='text'>Professor Panini</title><summary type="text">novel byMattew Griggp1Before my many years&#39; service in a  restaurant, I attended a top science university. The year was 2023 and I  was finishing the project that would win me my professorship. In the  end, it resulted in my becoming a kitchen employee.            My  forty-second birthday had made a lonely visit the week before, and I  was once again by myself in the flat. Like countless other </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/3527592638121657388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/professor-panini.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/3527592638121657388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/3527592638121657388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/professor-panini.html' title='Professor Panini'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-5521992456626915694</id><published>2012-09-14T07:39:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-14T08:27:57.698-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sci-fic"/><title type='text'>Fear No More</title><summary type="text">novel by George Antonyp1&quot;Fear no more the heat o&#39; the sun…&quot;(William Shakespeare, Cymbeline, IV, ii) Jonte  faced playtime with mixed feelings. When the bell rang, the others  would rush into the open air, laughing and chattering. He felt left out.  Yet these were also times he enjoyed. He could daydream about how  things might have been.            Sometimes, though, he would  watch the play − </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/5521992456626915694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/fear-no-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/5521992456626915694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/5521992456626915694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/fear-no-more.html' title='Fear No More'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-5995820923139231577</id><published>2012-09-10T06:44:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-10T06:52:29.092-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sci-fic"/><title type='text'>Paris, at Night</title><summary type="text">novel bySung J. Woop1Today was rice day, fifty-pound sacks of  white rice in trucks bearing an elephant logo. The same happy elephant  appeared on the bags, its head raised to the sky, the trunk curved like  an S.            &quot;Elephant,&quot; Todd said.            He said it because a laborer was staring at it intently. Which meant he wasn&#39;t working.            &quot;That&#39;s right,&quot; the man said. &quot;I couldn&#39;t</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/5995820923139231577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/paris-at-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/5995820923139231577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/5995820923139231577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/paris-at-night.html' title='Paris, at Night'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-1229742524690673828</id><published>2012-09-10T05:34:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-10T05:58:36.852-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sci-fic"/><title type='text'>Occupation</title><summary type="text">novel by Charlie Taylorp1It was late morning when the soldiers came  knocking on the door. Such a polite knock. A bit like Mr Marsden from  the Pru used when he came to collect his money every month. &quot;I&#39;m here  again,&quot; he would say to Jimmy&#39;s mother, laughing. &quot;Doesn&#39;t time fly!&quot;  And he would collect his half a crown which he would put into the small  leather bag he carried around his waist </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/1229742524690673828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/occupation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/1229742524690673828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/1229742524690673828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/occupation.html' title='Occupation'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-5464798304344809839</id><published>2012-09-10T05:19:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2013-05-18T06:16:10.298-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="non-fiction"/><title type='text'>The Night Afore Christmas</title><summary type="text">

novel by Jamie Cameron

p1

The Christmas party had been sillier than  usual, and I felt some satisfaction that it would be my last. In  September Joe and I&#39;d come to the parting of the ways, at least  temporarily, as he strode off with all the confidence in the world to  the school on the hill.  
You could see Ancrum Road  Primary School if you stood on the wall outside St Mary&#39;s Catholic  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/5464798304344809839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-nicht-afore-christmas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/5464798304344809839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/5464798304344809839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-nicht-afore-christmas.html' title='The Night Afore Christmas'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-6161592059844840202</id><published>2012-09-10T05:12:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-10T05:19:49.638-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="non-fiction"/><title type='text'>High Times in Jamaica</title><summary type="text">novel by Richard Jacobsp1March 1954. Ashore in Kingston, Jamaica. As  Scotty and I are walking up Princess Street, someone behind us is  yelling, &quot;Scotty, Scotty, Scotty&quot;. We both turn round to look. There is  this huge Negro woman running down the street with a big straw hat on  her head which she has to hold down with one hand. This is Agnes. She  runs a saloon in Kingston called Aggie&#39;s Place </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/6161592059844840202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/high-times-in-jamaica.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/6161592059844840202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/6161592059844840202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/high-times-in-jamaica.html' title='High Times in Jamaica'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-2684888138592874063</id><published>2012-09-07T04:58:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-07T05:16:39.001-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="non-fiction"/><title type='text'>Sacrifice</title><summary type="text">novel by Jamie Cameronp1Paul plays with the image of his sister&#39;s  doll. It is difficult to remember what Bessie looked like before he  sacrificed her to the darker gods of his temper. He remembers how the  red hot poker seared the thick plastic making scars across her cheeks  and forehead. Paul had taken his inspiration from a drawing in the  Wizard; he prefers the Wizard to illustrated comics </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/2684888138592874063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/sacrifice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/2684888138592874063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/2684888138592874063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/sacrifice.html' title='Sacrifice'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-6705729943229681797</id><published>2012-09-07T03:25:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-07T04:45:44.616-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="non-fiction"/><title type='text'>Crimson Pirates</title><summary type="text">novel by Jamie Cameronp1At first they took no notice of Benny Black.  He was just the &#39;funny wee man&#39; who lived at the top of the stairs.  Squat, swarthy, dark and muscular, flat-capped Benny was a charge-hand  at one of the Dundee mills. They didn&#39;t see much of him during the week,  but he seemed to spend most of the weekend sitting at the top of the  outside stairs in front of the toilet door. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/6705729943229681797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/crimson-pirates.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/6705729943229681797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/6705729943229681797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/crimson-pirates.html' title='Crimson Pirates'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-1855975087842066519</id><published>2012-09-06T06:12:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-06T06:50:22.215-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fiction"/><title type='text'>The Gift of the Magi</title><summary type="text">novel by O. Henryp1One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was  all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a  time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher  until one&#39;s cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that  such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and  eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/1855975087842066519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-gift-of-magi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/1855975087842066519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/1855975087842066519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-gift-of-magi.html' title='The Gift of the Magi'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-9135400809537418921</id><published>2012-09-06T05:43:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-06T06:09:00.912-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fiction"/><title type='text'>The Bride Comes to Yellow Sky</title><summary type="text">novel by Stephen Cranep1The great Pullman was whirling onward with  such dignity of motion that a glance from the window seemed simply to  prove that the plains of Texas were pouring eastward. Vast flats of  green grass, dull-hued spaces of mesquite and cactus, little groups of  frame houses, woods of light and tender trees, all were sweeping into  the east, sweeping over the horizon, a precipice</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/9135400809537418921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-bride-comes-to-yellow-sky.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/9135400809537418921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/9135400809537418921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-bride-comes-to-yellow-sky.html' title='The Bride Comes to Yellow Sky'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5113558854541466727.post-1110650028304730530</id><published>2012-09-06T04:43:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-06T05:27:39.093-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fiction"/><title type='text'>To Build a Fire</title><summary type="text">novel by Jack London          p1Day had broken cold and grey, exceedingly  cold and grey, when the man turned aside from the main Yukon trail and  climbed the high earth-bank, where a dim and little travelled trail led  eastward through the fat spruce timberland. It was a steep bank, and he  paused for breath at the top, excusing the act to himself by looking at  his watch. It was nine o&#39;clock. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/feeds/1110650028304730530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/to-build-fire.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/1110650028304730530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5113558854541466727/posts/default/1110650028304730530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://2daq.blogspot.com/2012/09/to-build-fire.html' title='To Build a Fire'/><author><name>mAchaveli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07098980571839879431</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHIyRCXTnroHzUyb0cCWTRCW0lGb1vQkoIsSHpZtfAuwI4JVO-bllGstePxluqaYIc5_bTKFxr9nfXdnqNX2cQ6CwECiKsRLegY8AbBpsYUAEeX-d8DQwea2QW7JRMA/s220/pencil_sketch_1414651888195.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>