Jack Vettriano Round MidnightJack Vettriano Riviera retroJack Vettriano Ritual of Courtship
Something different from that.'
'Silver, then.'
'Ook!'
'I don't think we should name ourselves after any kind of heavy metal, Glod.'
'What's so special? We're a band of people who play music.'
'Names are important.'
'The guitar is special. How about The Band With Buddy's Guitar In It?'
'Oook.'Dibbler, Ankh‑Morpork's most spectacularly unsuccessful businessman. He was trying to sell someone a felonious hot dog, a sign that some recent sure‑fire business venture had collapsed. Dibbler sold his hot sausages only when all else failed
He gave Ridcully a wave at no charge.
The next table was occupied by Satchelmouth Lemon'Something shorter.''Er ...'The universe held its breath.'The Band With Rocks In?''I like it. Short and slightly dirty, just like me.''Oook.''We ought to think up a name for the music, too.''It's bound to occur to us sooner or later.' .Ridcully looked around the bar.On the opposite side of the room was Cut‑Me‑Own‑Throat
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Henri Rousseau The Snake Charmer
Henri Rousseau The Snake CharmerHenri Rousseau The DreamPaul Cezanne Mount Sainte VictoirePaul Cezanne Card PlayersLaurie Maitland fireWilliam Bouguereau Innocence
Death of Rats landed on the saddle. It leaned down and, with some effort, hauled another hourglass out of the pack. Susan read a moon.
It was just part of the belt of deserts, growing progressively hotter and drier, that surrounded the Great Nef and the Dehydrated Ocean. And no‑one would have thought much about it if people very like Mr Clete of the Musicians' Guild hadn't come along and made maps and put across this part of the desert an innocent little dotted line that marked a border between Klatch and Hersheba.
Up until that time the D'regs, a collection of cheerfully warlike nomadic tribes, had roamed the desert quite freely. Now there was a line, they were sometimes Klatchian D'regs and sometimes the label.It said: Imp y Celyn.Susan had a sensation of falling backwards.‘I know this name,' she said.SQUEAK.'I . . . remember it from somewhere,' said Susan. 'It's important. He's . . . important . . .'The moon hung over the desert of Klatch like a huge ball of rock.It wasn't much of a desert to be graced by so impressive
Death of Rats landed on the saddle. It leaned down and, with some effort, hauled another hourglass out of the pack. Susan read a moon.
It was just part of the belt of deserts, growing progressively hotter and drier, that surrounded the Great Nef and the Dehydrated Ocean. And no‑one would have thought much about it if people very like Mr Clete of the Musicians' Guild hadn't come along and made maps and put across this part of the desert an innocent little dotted line that marked a border between Klatch and Hersheba.
Up until that time the D'regs, a collection of cheerfully warlike nomadic tribes, had roamed the desert quite freely. Now there was a line, they were sometimes Klatchian D'regs and sometimes the label.It said: Imp y Celyn.Susan had a sensation of falling backwards.‘I know this name,' she said.SQUEAK.'I . . . remember it from somewhere,' said Susan. 'It's important. He's . . . important . . .'The moon hung over the desert of Klatch like a huge ball of rock.It wasn't much of a desert to be graced by so impressive
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Julien Dupre Returning From the Fields
Julien Dupre Returning From the FieldsCamille Pissarro The Hermitage at PontoiseMary Cassatt Children on the ShoreFederico Andreotti Discretion, The Better Part Of Valour
expect you know what that is, captain?'
'Oh, yes. The golden throne of Ankh-Morpork.'
And no-one has sat his sword, and part of it drifted gently away in a puff of dust.
'What do you think about this, captain?'
Carrot stood up.
'On the whole, sir, it's probably just as well that people don't know.'
'So I have always thought. Well, I will not keep you. I'm sure you have a lot to organize.'
Carrot saluted.
'Thank you, sir.'in it for many hundreds of years. Have you ever wondered about it?''Exactly what do you mean, sir?''So much gold, when even the brass has been stripped off the Brass Bridge? Take a look behind the throne, will you?'Carrot mounted the steps.'Good grief!'The Patrician looked over his shoulder.'It's just gold foil over wood . . .''Quite so.'It was hardly even wood any more. Rot and worms had fought one another to a standstill over the last biodegradable fragment. Carrot prodded it with
expect you know what that is, captain?'
'Oh, yes. The golden throne of Ankh-Morpork.'
And no-one has sat his sword, and part of it drifted gently away in a puff of dust.
'What do you think about this, captain?'
Carrot stood up.
'On the whole, sir, it's probably just as well that people don't know.'
'So I have always thought. Well, I will not keep you. I'm sure you have a lot to organize.'
Carrot saluted.
'Thank you, sir.'in it for many hundreds of years. Have you ever wondered about it?''Exactly what do you mean, sir?''So much gold, when even the brass has been stripped off the Brass Bridge? Take a look behind the throne, will you?'Carrot mounted the steps.'Good grief!'The Patrician looked over his shoulder.'It's just gold foil over wood . . .''Quite so.'It was hardly even wood any more. Rot and worms had fought one another to a standstill over the last biodegradable fragment. Carrot prodded it with
Monday, May 4, 2009
Cao Yong Paradise
Cao Yong ParadiseCao Yong MY BALCONYCao Yong LILY POND
strands from his pocket.
'But,' she said, trying one more time to get Boffo to understand, 'couldn't you wake up one morning and put on make-up so that you looked like a different clown?'
He looked at her. It was hard to tell his expression under the permanently downcast mouth, but as far as she could tell she might as well have suggested that he performed a specific sex act with a small chicken.
'How could I do thatwe found poor Mr Beano, he didn't have his clown wig on, but something like that could easily have got knocked off in the river. But his nose, now . . . you told Sergeant Colon that someone had taken his nose. His real nose. Could you,' said Carrot, in the pleasant tones of someone talking to a simpleton, 'point to your real nose, Boffo?'
Boffo tapped the big red nose on his face.
'But that's—' Angua began.?' he said. 'Then I wouldn't be me.''Someone else might do it, though?'Boffo's buttonhole squirted.'I don't have to listen to this sort of dirty talk, miss.''What you're saying, then,' said Carrot, 'is that no clown would ever make up his face in another clown's, um, design?''You're doing it again!''Yes, but perhaps sometimes by accident a young down might perhaps—''Look, we're decent people, all right?''Sorry,' said Carrot. 'I think I understand. Now . . . when
strands from his pocket.
'But,' she said, trying one more time to get Boffo to understand, 'couldn't you wake up one morning and put on make-up so that you looked like a different clown?'
He looked at her. It was hard to tell his expression under the permanently downcast mouth, but as far as she could tell she might as well have suggested that he performed a specific sex act with a small chicken.
'How could I do thatwe found poor Mr Beano, he didn't have his clown wig on, but something like that could easily have got knocked off in the river. But his nose, now . . . you told Sergeant Colon that someone had taken his nose. His real nose. Could you,' said Carrot, in the pleasant tones of someone talking to a simpleton, 'point to your real nose, Boffo?'
Boffo tapped the big red nose on his face.
'But that's—' Angua began.?' he said. 'Then I wouldn't be me.''Someone else might do it, though?'Boffo's buttonhole squirted.'I don't have to listen to this sort of dirty talk, miss.''What you're saying, then,' said Carrot, 'is that no clown would ever make up his face in another clown's, um, design?''You're doing it again!''Yes, but perhaps sometimes by accident a young down might perhaps—''Look, we're decent people, all right?''Sorry,' said Carrot. 'I think I understand. Now . . . when
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