Welcome 2018

Well who would have thought we would see another year? With all the fuss in world politics and those who oppose its long fingers into world affairs. My hope is that we start to look more at the world outside our homes to get the real picture of what’s going on. Are your neighbours happy? Healthy? Properly nourished? It is all our responsibility to ensure our community is well. Let’s be concerned of the world, but our true happiness is right here. If we let news makers do what they want to do (make news of course), they will do it no matter what. It is what makes our global economy work. So in 2018 let’s make news they way it should be made. Locally produced and sourced. We all know someone who lives somewhere. So if we share the news lets do so via our local channels.

I hope that my work in community TV has influences some of you to actually follow it. Local sports, arts, and events are all there. I wish you to spend more time with your local media content. If you have a guest or even an idea for a show, you can be part of the solution of fake news. How about that?

Lots of love and understanding to you all in 2018!

– Martin @ the Crossroads

You can:
2130

Statistics Look Promising

Well it seems that since the show started, I have a lot of positive feedback in the sense of online visits to my site. A new design and of course, a new show give me all the promise of an even better 2018 for my program and the creative content I produce for many companies and projects around the world.

Here is a sneak peek at the stats since the show went on air. Given a zero advertising budget and just some simple web SEO have brought around 200 daily visitors to the site and around 400 page visits per day. You can see when the program went “live” and the views increased dramatically. Although my focus is on paying clients for my web design, for my own projects, it’s nice to see some activity here.

Thanks for “clicking”! – Martin @ the Crossroads

You can:
2130

Seasons Greetings and Welcome 2018

Well the end is near and 2017 has been quite a year. I was able to co-produce seven shows this year. Of course, with the best co-producers I have ever worked with. Not to mention the amazing guests supporters and sponsors.

The last week of the year on ShawTV is reserved for the yule log, special shows and events, so I get a week off! Well off air that is. The show usually airs throughout the two week rotation and then on YouTube from there, well, forever.

Although the show is off air, I’m still busy planning for 2018. I will however take this week to stay off social media and let the automated posts do their work. I may not interact with all you wonderful people during this week, however, I can always be reached via direct and private means. So we’re going to have to talk directly. Use the contacts page, messenger, iMessage, FaceTime, my phone number, my text number, and of course, by commenting on this post.

Lots of love, lots of peace, and many happy moments are what I wish for you all!

Love,

Martin @ the Crossroads . tv

You can:
2130

The Raven

I heard a strong whoosh of air…

and then a commanding voice…

above me in my back yard…

I aimed my camera and took this shot…

the exact moment as the visitor rushed off…

for its next important meeting…

This visit, of course, reminded me of the great literary masterpiece by Edgar Allan Poe

The Raven
[First published in 1845]

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door –
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore –
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door –
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; –
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; –
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore –
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door –
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door –
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore –
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door –
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered –
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before –
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore –
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of “Never-nevermore.”‘

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore –
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! –
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted –
On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore –
Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore –
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting –
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!

You can:
2130