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http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0089869/quotes
IMDb
The Quiet Earth (1985)
Quotes
Joanne: I have a theory. I think peoples' faces are like plasticine malleablise, and not rigid, like bone, as doctors would have us believe. And the shape of the face is determined unconsciously by the brain. So if your brain has a low capacity, you would be both ugly and stupid. But if you've got a reasonably good brain, then it's up to you how to decide to use its energy. You could be reasonably attractive, reasonably intelligent, or you could be smart but ugly
http://hvom.blogspot.com/2017/12/excursion-stargate.html
Posted by Kerry Burgess
MONDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2017
Excursion: Stargate
Excursion planning begins: 12:50 PM Thursday 21 December 2017 Pacific Time USA.
Calendar date for next excursion undecided as of now, maybe Sunday the 24th or perhaps Saturday the 23rd. Code pattern will not be examined until after my return home from excursion.
from the private journal of Kerry Burgess: 04/04/08 8:02 PM
I had a very lucid dream just before I woke up that I was trying to catch an airline flight to some place. I might have been trying to go home but I cannot remember any details from the dream, other than what I describe that suggest I was going home. Even the one detail that does suggest that I was going home does not really have the kind of emotional attachment to it that I would describe as suggestive of going home. The dream started off with something about a group of Native Americans that I cannot remember enough detail about to articulate, other than I seemed to walk through of group of Native Americans that were walking some place. There are some other details that I also cannot fully articulate but that I can visualize somewhat and it seems I was out fishing in a lake with some relatives and I caught a fish and it seemed to the only one we had caught. Then I heard someone that I could see say to who ever was listening that we should not eat the fish out of that lake. It did not look very appetizing anyway and seemed to have bruises on it after it had been cleaned. The I was walking some where and that is when I seemed to be trying to catch the airline flight. There are some other details between there that I cannot remember now. I remember that I was carrying some luggage and also several items from the dry cleaners that I had just picked up. One of the items was slipping out the bundle because I did not have the hanger in my hand along with the others. Then I remember from the dream that I walked by Ron Howard as he was walking by me and he seemed to say to someone that I had not seen him or that I had not recognized him.
https://www.facebook.com/kerry.burgess.790/media_set?set=a.2007696629505596.1073741872.100007958347300&type=3
Kerry Burgess
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Spokane 2017 December 25
Stephen King
The Stand - The Complete & Uncut Edition
(from internet transcript)
Chapter 9
They set on him sometime after dusk, while he was walking up the shoulder of US Route 27, which was called Main Street a mile back, where it passed through town. A mile or two farther on, he had been planning to turn west on 63, which would have taken him to the turnpike and the start of his long trip north. His senses had been dulled, maybe, by the two beers he had just downed, but he had known something was wrong. He was just getting around to remembering the four or five heavyset townies down at the far end of the bar when they broke cover and ran at him.
Nick put up the best fight he could, decking one of them and bloodying another’s nose—breaking it, too, by the sound. For one or two hopeful moments he thought there was actually a chance that he might win. The fact that he fought without making any sound at all was unnerving them a little. They were soft, maybe they had done this before with no trouble, and they certainly hadn’t expected a serious fight from this skinny kid with the knapsack.
Then one of them caught him just over the chin, shredding his lower lip with some sort of a school ring, and the warm taste of blood gushed into his mouth. He stumbled backward and someone pinned his arms. He struggled wildly and got one hand free just as a fist looped down into his face like a runaway moon. Before it closed his right eye, he saw that ring again, glittering dully in the starlight. He saw stars and felt his consciousness start to diffuse, drifting away into parts unknown.
Scared, he struggled harder. The man wearing the ring was back in front of him now and Nick, afraid of being cut again, kicked him in the belly. School Ring’s breath went out of him and he doubled over, making a series of breathless whoofing sounds, like a terrier with laryngitis.
The others closed in. To Nick they were only shapes now, beefy men—good old boys, they called themselves—in gray shirts with the sleeves rolled up to show their big sunfreckled biceps. They wore blocky workshoes. Tangles of oily hair fell over their brows. In the last fading light of day all of this began to seem like a malign dream. Blood ran in his open eye. The knapsack was torn from his back. Blows rained down on him and he became a boneless, jittering puppet on a fraying string. Consciousness would not quite desert him. The only sounds were their out-of-breath gasps as they pistoned their fists into him and the liquid twitter of a nightjar in the deep stand of pine close by.
School Ring had staggered to his feet. “Hold im,” he said. “Hold im by the har.”
Hands grasped his arms. Somebody else twined both hands into Nick’s springy black hair.
“Why don’t he yell out?” one of the others asked, agitated. “Why don’t he yell out, Ray?”
“I tole you not to use any names,” Signet Ring said. “I don’t give a fuck why he don’t yell out. I’m gonna mess im up. Sucker kicked me. Goddam dirty-fighter, that’s what he is.”
The fist looped down. Nick jerked his head aside and the ring furrowed his cheek.
“Hold im, I tole you,” Ray said. “What are y’all? Bunch of pussies?”
The fist looped down again and Nick’s nose became a squashed and dripping tomato. His breath clogged to a snuffle. Consciousness was down to a narrow pencil beam. His mouth dropped open and he scooped in night air. The nightjar sang again, sweet and solus. Nick heard it this time no more than he had the last.
“Hold im,” Ray said. “Hold im, goddammit.”
The fist looped down. Two of his front teeth shattered as the school ring snowplowed through them. It was an agony he couldn’t scream about. His legs unhinged and he sagged, held like a grainsack now by the hands behind him.
“Ray, that’s enough! You wanna kill im?”
“Hold im. Sucker kicked me. I’m gonna mess im up.”
- posted by Kerry Burgess 9:06 PM Pacific Time Spokane Valley Washington USA Tuesday 26 December 2017
