i'm putting off "root beer popsicles" one last time. today has been a weird, tiring, day. on top of yesterday, and really all of this week, i cannot write right now.
'night.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Day 56: Just a Couple of Notes
i am planning to do a "real" blog on saturday night, but today and tomorrows blogs will just be short "nothing" blogs. out and away tomorrow, and today i have not wanted to spend time in front of the pc.
so... just a couple short notes:
i started reading the dark tower again at the week's start, on the second novel, the drawing of the three, and am really remembering what about this books mean so much to me. they're amazing, simple as that.
the brea library finally sent me an e-mail telling me the final (although it is a afterward/side story to the series) sandman story arrived. picked it up and have it sitting in my room. really want to start it, but probably won't until after drawing. blog about the series sometime after that...probably.
no job yet although i am in desperate need of one. eh.
after i reread the tower novels i'll get my eye tattoo, excited and hesitant about it. we'll see, i am slowly starting to look around for the right place and the right price.
lost is great, as always, but as i have said before: phineas and ferb is growing to be one of my favorite shows ever.
i guess that's it for today, "root beer popsicles", while overdue, is coming saturday. then? i don't know.
so... just a couple short notes:
i started reading the dark tower again at the week's start, on the second novel, the drawing of the three, and am really remembering what about this books mean so much to me. they're amazing, simple as that.
the brea library finally sent me an e-mail telling me the final (although it is a afterward/side story to the series) sandman story arrived. picked it up and have it sitting in my room. really want to start it, but probably won't until after drawing. blog about the series sometime after that...probably.
no job yet although i am in desperate need of one. eh.
after i reread the tower novels i'll get my eye tattoo, excited and hesitant about it. we'll see, i am slowly starting to look around for the right place and the right price.
lost is great, as always, but as i have said before: phineas and ferb is growing to be one of my favorite shows ever.
i guess that's it for today, "root beer popsicles", while overdue, is coming saturday. then? i don't know.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Day 53: Horns (Part 3 of 3)
let me start this by saying two things; one, horns is without a doubt my favorite book this year, beating out gaiman's neverwhere and two, it is one of my favorite books ever.
---
ignatius parish is a man whose longtime girlfriend is raped, killed, and left near the town of gideon, new hampshire's abandoned foundry.
this causes the town to, somewhat naturally, presume that ig killed his girlfriend and he essentially becomes an outcast; untrusted, and, really, lost to his own devices. one day after a binge of drinking ig goes to the place where his girlfriend was killed, passes out, and wakes up with horns on his head.
from here things go out of control; ig realizes the horns give him the ability to have people tell him their darkest secrets, and as time goes on ig becomes more attuned to his newly gained powers. on top of this ig starts to unravel the mystery of who really killed his love and starts the process of going after him.
i went into the novel thinking it would be a horror novel, but surprisingly it wasn't (at least to me). it had it's moments, and of course a man becoming a devil (the devil? lucifer morningstar?) is completely off the wall, but the book was heartbreaking, exciting, funny at times (although darkly), and just all out amazing.
by the end of the novel i really felt for the man who was wrongly blamed, hated the man who killed is only real love, and thought more about what really is moral. what really defines good and evil, what really defines, and drives human nature.
one of the best books i have yet to read, to me much better than hill's first novel in 2007 (heart shaped box). i loved the story, loved the way it made me think.
thank you joe hill.
---
on a related note: i read hill's new short, "twittering from the circus of the dead" (found in the new anthology, the new dead), and although the whole idea of using the 140 character twitter format was odd at first, i really, really enjoyed it. gruesome. this short was, without a doubt, a horror story.
---
ignatius parish is a man whose longtime girlfriend is raped, killed, and left near the town of gideon, new hampshire's abandoned foundry.
this causes the town to, somewhat naturally, presume that ig killed his girlfriend and he essentially becomes an outcast; untrusted, and, really, lost to his own devices. one day after a binge of drinking ig goes to the place where his girlfriend was killed, passes out, and wakes up with horns on his head.
from here things go out of control; ig realizes the horns give him the ability to have people tell him their darkest secrets, and as time goes on ig becomes more attuned to his newly gained powers. on top of this ig starts to unravel the mystery of who really killed his love and starts the process of going after him.
i went into the novel thinking it would be a horror novel, but surprisingly it wasn't (at least to me). it had it's moments, and of course a man becoming a devil (the devil? lucifer morningstar?) is completely off the wall, but the book was heartbreaking, exciting, funny at times (although darkly), and just all out amazing.
by the end of the novel i really felt for the man who was wrongly blamed, hated the man who killed is only real love, and thought more about what really is moral. what really defines good and evil, what really defines, and drives human nature.
one of the best books i have yet to read, to me much better than hill's first novel in 2007 (heart shaped box). i loved the story, loved the way it made me think.
thank you joe hill.
---
on a related note: i read hill's new short, "twittering from the circus of the dead" (found in the new anthology, the new dead), and although the whole idea of using the 140 character twitter format was odd at first, i really, really enjoyed it. gruesome. this short was, without a doubt, a horror story.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Day 52: Breathing
she's breathing, but slow. seizers have stopped, but every few minutes she kicks her back legs feebly and her front legs grab unto my arm, leaving welts and blood streaks. these weak kicks are her last ditch efforts to stand, or she is
---
running next to me, as i run, she runs. it's not quite a race, but my six year-old mind defines it as so. whoever can reach the sign post reading candor will be the winner, and i know she'll beat me. she has every time we have run this short marathon, my breath coming is great whooping gasps, her legs kicking like some small race horse.
the street's end is coming, she is starting to dart just a tad bit ahead and i know
---
that this is just a deathwatch. the tears are coming down my face, and i cannot stop thinking to myself that this will be the last time i am able to be with her. dieing or not, i hear her purring, purring.
weakly, but i think the purrs are a sign that she is somewhat comforted. that maybe she feels my presence in whatever state her mind is in.
i sniffle, it feels as if this watch as gone on and on, and i keep thinking
---
of birds. lizards. sometimes mice. she brings them in and my brother and i always marvel at the fact that these gifts that she brings to us are usually still living. they show signs of struggle, bite marks, sometimes scratches along their flanks.
my mom, my dad, ronnie; they always end up shooing the weak animal out of the back sliding door, but i always marvel
---
at how long she is holding on to life. no one is sure whether or not she has sunk into some sort of coma yet, her breath is weak, and she has lain in a single position throughout the night. crying out once, but otherwise quiet.
unmoving.
just breathing.
and i keep thinking, worrying, if in the depths of her mind and body she is thirsty. hungry? i keep asking myself this and the
---
tears come, buck had just died and i am sitting outside crying. 15, and my cat had just died, but sin comes to me, sits on my lap.
purring, trying to cheer me up. trying to catch the tears as the fall from my wet face and unto
---
her fur is so matted. she hasn't been able to groom herself in weeks, not well in months. my mom is holding her, and i know these minutes are her last.
she is breathing harder now after so long of breathing so slowly, so weakly. she is trying to hold onto life. trying to stall what is inevitable. she breaths, and i see her eyes, blind now, widen impossibly
and i know, know that her
---
breathing hard, i see her jump upon the wall. carrying a bird, or a mouse, or a something in her mouth. this one isn't a gift, i know. i look at her striding across the wall, slowly, almost preening. proud, a showoff with something to show.
hunting is what she is good at, and not all her captures have to be a
---
gift to us, she was, is, a gift to us.
goodbye sin.
---
running next to me, as i run, she runs. it's not quite a race, but my six year-old mind defines it as so. whoever can reach the sign post reading candor will be the winner, and i know she'll beat me. she has every time we have run this short marathon, my breath coming is great whooping gasps, her legs kicking like some small race horse.
the street's end is coming, she is starting to dart just a tad bit ahead and i know
---
that this is just a deathwatch. the tears are coming down my face, and i cannot stop thinking to myself that this will be the last time i am able to be with her. dieing or not, i hear her purring, purring.
weakly, but i think the purrs are a sign that she is somewhat comforted. that maybe she feels my presence in whatever state her mind is in.
i sniffle, it feels as if this watch as gone on and on, and i keep thinking
---
of birds. lizards. sometimes mice. she brings them in and my brother and i always marvel at the fact that these gifts that she brings to us are usually still living. they show signs of struggle, bite marks, sometimes scratches along their flanks.
my mom, my dad, ronnie; they always end up shooing the weak animal out of the back sliding door, but i always marvel
---
at how long she is holding on to life. no one is sure whether or not she has sunk into some sort of coma yet, her breath is weak, and she has lain in a single position throughout the night. crying out once, but otherwise quiet.
unmoving.
just breathing.
and i keep thinking, worrying, if in the depths of her mind and body she is thirsty. hungry? i keep asking myself this and the
---
tears come, buck had just died and i am sitting outside crying. 15, and my cat had just died, but sin comes to me, sits on my lap.
purring, trying to cheer me up. trying to catch the tears as the fall from my wet face and unto
---
her fur is so matted. she hasn't been able to groom herself in weeks, not well in months. my mom is holding her, and i know these minutes are her last.
she is breathing harder now after so long of breathing so slowly, so weakly. she is trying to hold onto life. trying to stall what is inevitable. she breaths, and i see her eyes, blind now, widen impossibly
and i know, know that her
---
breathing hard, i see her jump upon the wall. carrying a bird, or a mouse, or a something in her mouth. this one isn't a gift, i know. i look at her striding across the wall, slowly, almost preening. proud, a showoff with something to show.
hunting is what she is good at, and not all her captures have to be a
---
gift to us, she was, is, a gift to us.
goodbye sin.
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