Posts Tagged With: Terry Pratchett

I still have nothing but some funny spam

I’ve been on a Pratchett bender the past week or so, having found six Discworld novels at Half Price books that I didn’t own already. This is a boon of massive proportions, especially seeing as one of them (although it’s not in the best of shape but I don’t even care) has the original paperback artwork. I’m fine with the generic mass-produced covers of most of the paperbacks that I find, but the style of the originals is so ornate and so damn cool that it makes me want to get a full back piece tattooed of the Discworld. Of course, I already wanted to do that, it just makes the wanting and the needing of it that much stronger.

I’ll keep trying to crawl out of my head – it mostly sounds like the zzzzztttt of a staticky television set, randomly interspersed with snippets of songs that burst out while I’m cleaning the cat box, or, more frequently than one would imagine, the doot-doot-doot of the original Mario Bros. game. The tail end of my intelligence is dangling right in front of me, so I’ll just keep fattening it up with good books and blogs, questionable television choices (hell yeah, MTV’s The Challenge: Free Agents is on tonight!), and silly ridiculous sketches that are so bad they make me laugh even while I’m still drawing them. Soon, it’ll get so chockfull of stuff that it’ll burst its seams like the Oogie Boogie Man, and genius in the form of creep-tastic animated bugs will swarm through my mind and spill onto the page.

It’s possible I haven’t gotten enough sleep. Mayhap I’ve gotten too much. Mayhap.

Until that day, please enjoy the most oddly specific spam comment I’ve gotten yet:

Individual, almost microscopic-level jokes, like Cousin Ira
grabbing a fake name from his pen and insisting that he was the contender
and she waas the ex-wife of the i need help to get my ex back contender

Categories: Non-Fiction Nonsense | Tags: , , , , | 7 Comments

Oh Muse, where art thou…

I cannot percolate story ideas for anything right now.

I’ve read some great books lately (finished Raising Steam and Mort by Terry Pratchett, both wonderfully satirically hilarious), watched art in the form of television (oh my dear lord – watch Hannibal – this show is poetry in motion, fantastic tension and so beautifully filmed/written/acted), listened to music (the new Afghan Whigs is sublime) that usually prompts more ideas than my brain knows what to do with. All of these things usually combine to kick-start my own creative juices to flowin, and I just plop down and write. Pfffft- witness the sound of my deflation ~snicker~

I’ve read submissions and prompts for new and old writing challenges. Nothing. I ended up with some disjointed brainstorming half sentences, that maybe on another day will transform into characters that I feel like I know, but not today. What do we say to the Gods of Writing? Not today. Apparently. With much ill will. *at least I have Game of Thrones to look forward to tonight*

I got nothin’. It doesn’t worry me, but it does annoy the ever loving shit out of me. When I’m in the mood to write and I find that I don’t have anything to say when I sit down, I get cranky as bugger all. It’s like having PMS while being over-caffeinated and stuck in a line at Walmart for hours surrounded by adults screaming with laughter into their cell phones while trying to pass off expired coupons and ignoring their children.

Yeah, that annoying.

I tried to think about something else, anything else – I enjoyed an hour of active yoga, a twenty minute savasana, a nice long hot shower. Trying to let go of the fact that I wanted to write today. I watched a little kid running laps around the courtyard, apparently from his dad’s yelled encouragement as conditioning for Pee-Wee Football (I thought that was the wrong sport for this season, but I admit I’m not much for the sports except for hockey) and my cat having staring contests with fat little birds sitting in our bushes. All of these things felt good, they made me happy, they made me feel calm and centered. However, coming back to sit and try again, I feel an almost instant urge to go whale away on my heavy bag. Bunged up knuckles would not be helpful for typing though, and I’m not one to provide myself with an easy out.

So, maybe today is a day to surf Netflix (I like, or love, whatever, to watch Gossip Girl whenever the manly man is out on the town on his own manly pursuits 😉 and dick around tumblr instead of create something myself. Although I feel sort of masochistically tenacious and will prolly just end up coming back to a blank screen again and again. Maybe, if come up with enough random lines, I can string them together and pretend that I was trying to write like Jack Kerouac on Benzadrine. Yeah, yeah, that’s totally what I was going for, completely on purpose.

Which is, I think, how it’s supposed to go. Sometimes, anyway…

Speaking of Kerouac, I’ll end this with my all time favorite passage from On the Road:

‘And for just a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy that I always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiances shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable louts-lands falling open in the magic moth-swarm of heaven. I could hear an indescribable seething roar which wasn’t in my ear but everywhere and had nothing to do with sounds. I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn’t remember especially because the transitions from life to death and back to life are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it. I realized it was only because of the stability of the intrinsic Mind that these ripples of birth and death took place, like the action of wind on a sheet of pure, serene, mirror-like water. I felt sweet, swinging bliss, like a big shot of heroin in the mainline vein; like a gulp of wine late in the afternoon and it makes you shudder; my feet tingled. I thought I was going to die the very next moment. But I didn’t die, and walked…’

Possibly my all time favorite literary passage of all time, ever. Shit gives me goose bumps, son 🙂

I will not die, I will walk on.

Categories: Non-Fiction Nonsense | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Long Weekends…

Life is not always the simplest of things in my world. GET OUT! I know, I know, it’s amazing the fortitude and wit with which I deal with the biggest real world problems anyone on the planet has ever dealt with, EVAH. Ha. Ahem. Anyhoo…sometimes I don’t like to leave my house. I mean, I shower and stuff and change one set of comfy clothes for another, but there are just some days where I don’t want to deal with any of society’s imposed rules. So I stay in my comfortable little zone, and zen the hell out. This was most definitely one of those weekends. An extra day where my alarm doesn’t go off at 5 am, propelling me into a world where other people get to tell me what to do? Hells yeah, gimme my coffee grinder and fresh pj’s.

One of the productive things I got done was finally pulling my inner Eminem forth and cleaning out my motherfucking closets. After 3 garbage bags of things were taken to Goodwill, 2 were taken over to a younger neighbor, and 1 just went straight in the trash (seriously, I felt like a sleep walking hoarder- I have NO RECOLLECTION of throwing these things into my closet)I sat down to go through some papers and drawings and stuff from when my kid was little. I fully understand that people, especially those who have no kids, don’t wanna be wacked in the face with the ‘adorable shit my kid did 10 years ago’ shtick, so I’m only gonna talk about one thing in particular because it’s hilarious across the board.

The kid, who is now closer to 16 than 15 (wha’ wha’ WHAT?!) and two of his buddies were hanging out while I was going through artwork and adorable hand writing samples from Kiddie Kollege and kindergarten. The thing is, almost every single picture that the kid drew had something on it that looked like a penis. No joke. Dinosaurs? Oh, those long necks can be tricky. Bicycles? The picture of he and I toodling around on them in his drawing of “My favorite thing to do with my mom is:” gracefully included a set of balls. Um, I mean wheels. And the tank? Holy crow, he and his friends laughed so hard they had to sit down when I busted out the last one. I would include a picture but he stole it 😉

Behold, the mighty red Dino-sore:
20130903-174852.jpg

In non-child related news.

I watched A Haunted House, the parody of Paranormal Activity with Marlon Wayans. I freely admit that I had a monster crush on his brother Sean when he spun the DJ magic on In Living Color when I was in middle school, and seriously these kids are still HOT. I promise that this has no bearing on the following quick review 🙂 I honestly think this is one of the funniest spoof movies that I’ve ever seen. They made sure to actually make a movie, not the slapdash from one ridiculous joke to the next like a Scary Movie type flick. It is foul, it is hilarious. I laughed out loud, hard, A LOT. The smartest part of it, I think, is that people who hated Paranormal Activity will find it really funny, and people who loved Paranormal Activity (guilty) will find it hysterical. It’s not easy to hit both those markets, but they do it and it’s great. I figured there would be some laughs, but it was much better than I had anticipated.

I also stayed up late last night to watch the James Franco Roast. Again, a disclaimer: I think that James Franco is the shit. Not that everything that he does is perfect, but because he does whatever the fuck he wants if he wants to do it, just to see what he can do. He seems like a genuinely intelligent and interesting human being who isn’t afraid to tank at something. It’s hard not to be drawn to people who so obviously get a kick out of the human condition. Again, I laughed out loud A LOT through almost the entire thing. Aziz Ansari got the least laughs from me, and it’s not even because he wasn’t funny it was just that the bar was set ridiculously high. Bill Hader, in my opinion, blew them all out of the water. The fact that the Roaster’s really are Franco’s circle made it so much better than some I’ve seen, and Hader’s reactions made me laugh easily as hard as his jokes. Again, not for the faint of heart. It’s foul, wrong, and the dirtier the better. It’s worth being tired at work today to have stayed up late to laugh so much 😉

Lastly, I finished re-reading Terry Pratchett’s Snuff. If you’ve not read any of Pratchett’s Discworld novels, my fangirl says GO BACK TO THE COLOUR OF MAGIC & START FROM THE BEGINNING. However, part of his genius lies in each stand alone story being fantastically set up all by its special own self. In this one, he somehow satirizes slavery, making you laugh while utterly breaking your heart. I believe the common sense that skims underneath all of Pratchett’s novels would be well delivered upon the people on this planet who make very important decisions for the rest of us…

So. Word.

Categories: Non-Fiction Nonsense | Tags: , , , , | 7 Comments

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