the FRED BLOGGS blog
...sharing a random thought daily since 2007!
If you were to eat yourself, would you double in size or completely disappear?
Specialty is where passion meets purpose, and I’ve always believed that dedicating myself to a craft brings out the best in both my work and my spirit.
Eyelids flutter like whispers of secrets, veiling the dreams that dance just beyond my reach.
The cello’s deep, resonant voice wraps around my soul like a smoky night in the city, stirring memories I thought were long forgotten.
Subsidence is like a linebacker slipping through the line; one moment everything's solid, and the next, you're left grappling with the ground falling out from under you.
The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels on the tracks stirs a deep nostalgia within me, echoing the adventures of my past and the promise of journeys yet to come.
Remarking on life feels like standing in front of a mirror, where every reflection tells a story that deserves to be heard.
In the quiet of the night, your symphony of snores weaves a lullaby that tugs at my heart, both endearing and exasperating.
Eleventh, to me, feels like the quiet threshold between the familiar and the unknown, where each step forward is both exhilarating and daunting. It’s a reminder that even in the midst of uncertainty, there lies an opportunity for growth and discovery waiting to be embraced.
"Collector of empty bottles" sounds so much better than "alcoholic"!
Jade, with its rich hues and ancient allure, captivates me in a way that feels almost like an intimate conversation with history itself.
So where did barn owls live before barns were invented?
On the radio this morning, ref rail strikes, they mentioned that one service will be running, but not stopping.
Nightmares cling to me like shadows, each one a haunting reminder that even in the darkest corners of my mind, I'm still fighting for the light.
With a smooth flick of the wrist, the gearshift becomes an extension of my very being, guiding the way through life's twists and turns. There's something about that tactile connection that brings a rush of nostalgia, reminding me of the thrill of the open road and the freedom it promises.
Diplomacy is the art of building bridges where walls seem insurmountable, and I believe it is essential for fostering peace and understanding among nations.
Beneath the vast expanse of the sky, I often find myself entranced by the fleeting beauty of contrails, those delicate white ribbons that remind me of the journeys we all take, both above and within.
Sprout cooking instructions: Boil for 5 minutes, then cut them very finely, drizzle in olive oil, cremate in the oven, put in bin then drink a bottle of wine.
Bacon roll makes a perfectly good Sunday lunch.
In the smoky haze of a downtown bar, I caught her eye and felt the world fade away, lost in the melody of her laughter.
In the courtroom, I’m the king, spitting truth like I’m spitting bars, turning legal battles into lyrical scars. With every case I tackle, I’m stacking wins, proving that justice ain’t just a game, it’s the hustle that never ends.
The lute's delicate strings beckon me into a world where time seems to pause, each note unfolding like a whispered secret. With every pluck, I feel a connection to centuries of artistry, as if the very air around me vibrates with the echoes of those who came before.
Poundland are having a half price sale. That's gonna cause some confusion.
Just had a call from the lovely "Sophie Lewis" of "technical department of BT". She wanted to know about the "domain of this internet connection". I helpfully explained the difference between a broadband connection and a domain name. Oddly, by the time I finished, she was gone - must be an issue with her phone line. She'll probably need to call BT's technical department.
The moment a visitor steps into my world, I feel an exhilarating rush of possibilities, as if the skies themselves are inviting us to explore new heights together. Each encounter becomes a dance of ideas, where the essence of curiosity propels us toward uncharted realms of discovery.
Besides leap years, there needs to be hop, skip, and jump years.
There is no such thing as "the cloud". It's just someone elses computer.
The interferometer stood before me like a sentinel of precision, its delicate apparatus whispering secrets of the universe. Each beam of light danced through the intricate setup, revealing the hidden symmetries that govern our reality. In that moment, I felt the thrill of discovery, as if I were peering into the very fabric of existence itself.
In the 70s, there was an american band called "The Floaters". Surely,even then, somebody said "Guys, about the name....."......
In the delicate interplay of notes, it is the subtle nuances that transform mere sound into an exquisite tapestry of emotion.
The mayor's promises echo in my mind like a forgotten melody, leaving me wondering if they'll ever find their way back to reality.
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