Showing results by author "Dean Moriarty" in All Categories

The Rebilous Exchange, or Zen's place where the poets, dreamers, writers, and those who could and would not fit in met and lived and dreamed.

This audiobook may be a conglomeration of loosely bound stories done in a stream of consciousness style to evoke the feeling of being there on the long journey home, or not as the case may be.

This is a book full of tales that are somewhat different than usual and were all done while drinking coffee in The Atlantic Coffee House, Cardiff.

This book is the best of my work over the last three years and covers jobs around the home such as painting, plumbing, and carpentry. Also there is how to play the saxophone. The last part covers quantum entanglement and the spirit world.

This is a book of short stories of all different types.

When she came to the train station she waited for the first train out of town and settled herself on a wooden seat in the empty station and hoped no one else would come along and disturb her. After a while her head began to nod, and before long, the ordeal which had worn her out drifted away as she dozed off to the hum of the trains travelling along the tracks to somewhere else. The X-ray dog settled down near her to guard her against all comers and before long was asleep too.

I don't remember my dreams normally. I come out of dreaming and let them go and become whatever reality I'm thinking, and by the time I've found out where I am the dreams have slipped away out of mind, and no matter how rich or poor the dreaming was, nothing of it remains when I'm awake, but here are a few that did remain.

When the robot came out of the closet and began charging its batteries in front of everyone there was a cry of outrage from a lounging bigamist who went on to say: "Protect our children's eyes from the machine lest they become machine-like and poop in our soup." When the robot approached the bigot to clarify a point, the bigot ran off screaming and left a hole in the breadline that the robot promptly filled to great cheers from the crowd watching.

This is about Captain Morgan Jones of the Vindaloo Curry, a submarine he found in the desert one day, and after hauling it back to the ocean by camel train, set it to floating again after repairing a few holes. After trial and error and a lot of huffing and puffing, he managed to get to the Taff River and after sailing up it to Ponty, took on a crew and then set off for the Orient and many adventures.

Why are they targeting the disadvantaged? Why are the rich not taxed fairly? Why does everyone feel so powerless to make change for the better? Why is the anger of so many not being addressed? Why do the rich keep getting richer, while the poor are kept poor? Why is austerity becoming worse while the government laugh their heads off and give themselves huge pay raises and take so much? Why are they not paying for the austerity measures that they instigated and perpetuate?

The dark night of the soul can be a wild ride full of promises of redemption and the best cure to save you where the burnt innocence of your love reaches for you on the other side of the broken bridge of dreams, and all words fall in the failure you see yourself as, and one by one all the promises turn to dust right before your eyes in the unfolding of your life as it comes to you to be burnt and to step out of the ashes anew like the phoenix rising to fly.

This is stream of consciousness writing. This is that search for something within that we all must go through one day to find it.

And then a different bandwidth, not quite a security breach came around the corner of it all as I was writing my prayers on the wall of my indisposition, and recognizing me somehow, called out my secret name. Disappearing down a hole I'd dug for just such an occurrence I left everything I'd built over the years behind me and wondered how they'd found me or if I'd been betrayed. Well maybe I'd find out and maybe I wouldn't but I wasn't sticking around to ask questions.

Some few survivors that had resisted the zombies were rounded up too, and were put in the fridges to freeze them until needed, so that one day, when they all awoke sometime in the future, there would be slaves to work for them. As they slept, the steam powered breeding machine bred workers and stored them for using when the time came. Among the frozen survivors was Blue-Jane, See-through Mary, Captain Crust, and some others that in their frozen sleep dreamed about a story that ate itself to become a paradox monkey that was hard to figure out.

Here is a book of short stories just right for coffee time. Most of them were written while drinking coffee in my favorite coffee shop. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Rumi said the wound is where the light gets in and this is a book about that.

This story sells itself by inference as it goes along and relies for its context upon the clues scattered within its generalities and has as its bearing the vagaries of the human condition in confluence with life as it flows and so should not be mistaken for anything else but what you feel after listening to it.

This is the fifth book in the Zen and her adventures series and features CQ the mermaid. This book is zany but does not come with a warning and anyone can listen to it. In this book, Zen comes back from being lost and tries to make up her mind as to what to do with all her newfound knowledge, but too many things, internally and externally, prevent her from becoming quiet enough to listen, and the pirates are, of course, no help.

This book has been designed to put you to sleep. I made it for all the insomniacs who find it hard to drift away. It comes from an old secret formula that my granny used on me when I couldn't sleep and that I have tweaked over the years.

This is a book I wrote while traveling Asia. It is about the journey taken of finding a lot of things that seem to be found when you are looking for something else.