The trouble with trolls, nowadays

Dman, I like Terry Pratchett's style.

She was impressed, despite herself. You didn't often see proper dwarf halls these days. Most dwarfs were off earning big money in the cities down in the lowlands, where it was much easier to be a dwarf - for one thing, you didn't have to spend most of your time underground hitting your thumb with a hammer and worrying about fluctuations in the international metal markets. Lack of respect for tradition, that was the trouble these days. And take trolls. There were more trolls in Ankh-Morpork now than in the whole mountain range. Granny Weatherwax had nothing against trolls but she felt instinctively that if more trolls stopped wearing suits and walking upright, and went back to living under bridges and jumping out and eating people as nature intended, then the world would be a happier place.

From: Witches Abroad, page 67.

Mitchell Zuckoff, on how he writes (on "Frozen In Time")

The following is unscrupolously copied from How I Wrote It: Mitchell Zuckoff, on "Frozen In Time" (by Neal Thompson on April 23, 2013, on Amazon. Link here.)
I found it funny and somewhat inspiring. Maybe you'll, too.

When it came time to sit and write, however, the journalist found it difficult to make himself part of the story. /.../ We asked Zuckoff to describe a few details of his writing life.

Space

I write exclusively in a book-filled, 12-foot-square office in my house, at a three-level desk crammed into a corner. On the first level is my keyboard and, to my left, a stack of documents for a book I'm either working on or should be working on. On the second level is the computer monitor, flanked on either side by more stacks of papers and high-tech tools such as scissors and a box of index cards. On the top level, to the left, is a printer, and on the right is an old-fashioned lamp with a green glass shade. From it hangs a boar's tooth necklace I was given in New Guinea. Next to the lamp is a model of the World War II plane I wrote about in Lost in Shangri-La, given to me by a friend, and metal box with an orca tooth and a dollar bill signed by everyone on the Greenland expedition I wrote about in Frozen in Time. The walls are covered with award plaques won by my wife, a photographer with The Boston Globe, along with a few I've won, which reassure me on difficult writing days. The window is on the other side of the room, which is far enough away that I can't throw myself through it on those same tough writing days.

Soundtrack
At the risk of sounding like a pretentious git, I never listen to music when I write because I'm trying to hear the rhythm of the words. I once tried listening to jazz and found myself eyeing the window on the other side of the room.

Fuel
Pretentious git, Part II: When I've reached the point in my research where I"m ready to write at length--weeks on end, usually without missing a day--I make sure I'm downing a lot of protein. Years ago, I read a great piece by Sally Jenkins of The Washington Post about writing and playing high-level sports, and one of the takeaway messages was that my natural tendency to seek a sugar high when sitting at the keyboard was about as useful as eating a bag of M&Ms to run a marathon. Having said that, when I've finished writing for the day (usually very late at night) I reward myself with something sweet, occasionally followed by a glass of port.

Words
When I'm working intensely on a book, I read books that are almost always directly related to what I'm writing--histories, biographies, sometimes technical manuals. To escape my own writing, I read The New Yorker because it cleanses some of the bad writing I'm forced to read and replaces it with beautiful voices in 5,000- to 15,000-word sonatas.

Inspiration
I'm a huge believer in the exercise-nap combo platter. I'm serious. If I exercise early in the day and take a nap, I've got the energy I need to write deep into the night.

Temptation
I mostly try to avoid questions about my writing process. No, really, I try to avoid everything. I tend to write at night, when the house is quiet, everyone including my dog is asleep, and emails aren't popping into my inbox every minute.

There you have it.

What's wrong with Star Wars prequels?

"So. If you're Qui-Gon, what do you do when one of its parts breaks down and nobody has any money?
/.../
You don't sell the BAZILLION DOLLAR ship and buy a fleet of less pretty, but completely working spaceships. That would be too sensible. Instead, Qui-Gon, in his infinite wisdom, decides to let a nine year-old enter a podrace (which he’s never completed before) in a podracer (that’s never been tested) that - and this is a fairly important detail - was BUILT BY A SMALL CHILD on the chance that this might result in winning enough money to buy the part. What could possibly go wrong? On our planet, those kind of shenanigans gets you put up on child abuse charges."

Source: http://www.ign.com/articles/2013/04/15/the-9-dumbest-decisions-in-the-star-wars-prequels?utm_campaign=twposts&utm_source=twitter

Progress and Witches

  'Only in stories,' said Granny, examining the door hinges. 'And she thinks she's in charge of the stories. She bends them around herself. She thinks she's the good one.'
  'Mind you,' said Magrat, 'I don't like swamps. If it wasn't for the frog and everything, I'd see Lily's point–' 
  'Then you're nothing but a daft godmother,' snapped Granny, still fiddling with the lock. 'You can't go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it's just a cage. Besides, you don't build a better world by choppin' heads off and giving decent girls away to frogs.'
  'But progress–' Magrat began.
  'Don't you talk to me about progress. Progress just means bad things happen faster. Anyone got another hatpin? This one's useless.'
  Nanny, who had Greebo's ability to make herself instantly at home wherever she happened to be, sat down in the corner of the cell. [*Greebo is a tomcat.]

  -- Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad, p.250

...

  'I heard this story once,' she said, 'where this bloke got locked up for years and years and he learned amazin' stuff about the universe and everythin' from another prisoner who was incredibly clever, and then he escaped and got his revenge.'
  'What incredibly clever stuff do you know about the universe, Gytha Ogg? said Granny.
  'Bugger all,' said Nanny cheerfully.
  'Then we'd better bloddy well escape right now.'

To take the Black

Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.

The Oath of the Brothers of the Night's Watch of the Wall of Westeros. Link here.

For the past half a year, these books have been ruling my waking hours, commanding the spare time I had. Loved every minute of it! (Although Geroge R. R. Martin could, every now and then, leave out some of the descriptions of the feasts they are having within.)

Ženske ne potrebujejo moških!

Ženske bolj skrbijo za svoje zdravje kot moški. Verjetno zato, ker se bolj zavedajo, da so od njih odvisni tudi drugi. S tem mislim predvsem na otroke - želja po katerih je lahko še tako latentna, a v mojem pogledu evolucijsko nujno vseeno prisotna.
  Moški po drugi strani, se ne zavedajo povezave: moje zdravje - moja družina/partner/otroci - služba - (dolgo in) prijetno življenje. Enostavno nekateri ne vidijo tako daleč. Razen, če so bili vzgojeni oz. so se vzgojili tako, da je zdravo življenje že del njihove (športne) rutine.

Saj ne, da ženske potrebujejo moške, seveda ne - a tipi ne dojamejo, da če si je punca izbrala njega, si ga je verjetno z razlogom (ali več njih), in da ji je verjetno precej pri srcu, da bi nekako rada videla, da je z njim vse v redu in ga imela ob sebi (pod seboj, na sebi ... _______ (vstavite sebi omiljeni položaj)) še nekaj časa. Včasih do konca življenja.
  Ne, tipi ne dojamemo.

A potrebujemo ženske, tako kot one 'potrebujejo' nas. Ob ženskah so moški bolj moški in ob pravih moških, ki jim znajo dajati občutek varnosti in ljubljenosti, spoštovanja, se ženske počutijo prave ženske. (Vsaj tako dojemam stvar, ne pravim, da je univerzalno pravilo.) A vendar gre za malce drugačne potrebe, drugačna izhodišča. To bi morali razumeti ~ in ker smo, brez večjih vložkov denarja in časa, lahko samo enega spola, lahko privzeto razumemo le eno izhodišče - tisto svojega spola. (Ali, da bom bolj jasen: tisto svoje spolne usmerjenosti.) Ostalo pa žal, če se ne želimo zreducirati na Marsovce in Zemljanke oz. Veneričanke (?), moramo rešiti s pogovori. Pravimi pogovori dveh, obeh, v dvoje. Brez distraktorjev, z iskrenim zanimanjem za (so)človeka in brez konstantnega vrednotenja in ocenjevanja povedanega. Brez samoumevnosti.
  Kar pa traja. A se splača. Saj veste:

"Life's a journey, not a destination."

Post-able things, objavabilne stvari

Torej - bolj zame - razlozim ob priliki, ampak: objavljal bom v ta post stvari, ki bi jih rad prilimal nekam drugam (blogger ustvari link do slike, ki jo up-loadas ... ergo...)

Torej - ni za branje, temveč za jemanje! Jemljite resno! ;)
(Z virom, če se le da!)

Gorazd Vahen (bojda): Štrpedov rod.



Znak od Pegcev, copyright A. G.

Monthy Python's Flying Circus. Link do novega bloga, da ohranim zdravo pamet in še vedno nekaj objavim vse, kar berem + imam shranjeno nekje in lahko polinkam ob priliki. aljobaljoenvironmental.blogspot.com

'Ach, CRIVENS!'

Iz ene zlo fajn knjige od Terryja Practhetta, ki sem jo prebral ravno danes:
A Hat Full of Sky.
  p.46
'Aye, weel, this is different-' Rob Anybody began, but stopped.
  He hadn't been a husband for very long, but upon marriage men get a whole lot of extra senses bolted into their brain, and one is there to tell a man that he's suddenly neck deep in real trouble.
  Jeannie was tapping her foot. Her arms were still folded. She had the special smile women learn about when they marry, too, which seems to say 'Yes, you're in big trouble but I'm going to let you dig yourself in even more deeply.'
43
  'Still, that's my name, right?' he said, grinning.
  Jeannie nodded.
  'Just there, all by itself and no' on a Wanted poster or anything. My name, drawn by me.'
  'Yes, Rob,' said the kelda.
  'My name under my thumb. No scunner can do anythin' aboot it? I've got my name, nice and safe?'
  Jeannie looked at the toad, who shrugged. It was generally held by those who knew them that most of the brains in the Nac Mac Feegle clans ended up in the women.
  'A man's a man o' some standin' when he's got his own name where no one can touch it,' said Rob Anybody. 'That's serious magic, that is-'
  'The R is the wrong way roond and you left the A and Y out of "Anybody",' said Jeannie,
because it is a wife's job to stop her husband actually exploding with pride.
  'Ach, wumman, I didna' ken which way the fat man wuz walkin',' said Rob, airily waving a hand.
'Ye canna trust the fat man. That's the kind of thing us nat'ral writin' folk knows about. One day he might walk this way, next day he might walk that way.'
  He beamed at his name: ßoB NybO D

p. 349:
Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colours. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.
338
Granny nodded. 'There's always a story,' she said. 'It's all stories, really. The sun coming up every day is a story. Everything's got a story in it. Change the story, change the world.'
331
She stood there watching the mountains until, after about an hour, a dot in the sky got bigger and bigger.
  As a Kelda, she would welcome home a warrior. As a wife, she would kiss her husband and scold him for being so long away. As a woman, she thought she would melt with relief, thankfulness and joy.

Danes sem videl zazmržene veje in gozd od Narnije

Jup. Cross my heart, I hope to die. (Upam, da tega ni slišalo kako združenje Donor.si ...) Juuu, je blo lepo. Ziher vas zanima, kje, ane? No, bom najprej opisal, ker se mi zdi res pomembno, da razumete, kako te lahko drevo nasmeji.
  Hodim po cesti, ko kar naenkrat od sivo-temno-črnega asfalta, posutega z nekaj razpršenimi kamenci, pogled zaide gor. In uzre ... uzre najbolj čudovite zazmržeeeene veje, kar sem jih videl ta teden. Padale so kot kaki zmrznjeni in zasneženi (odtod skovanka) lasje kake deklice, ki je cel dan hodila po snežnem metežu. Hkrati je bilo nebo tako čudno kontrastno srebrno-kristalno-sivo, da se je zdelo, kot da gre za nek drug svet. K čarobnosti je dodala še svetlikajoča se in mežikajoča megla, ki je potihoma padala na obraz in te božala s svojimi nežnimi rokami (ok, tačko, ... pod kotom 104,5°, kjer so na koncu prstkov vodiki, ampak that's beside the point!)
  Gledal sem te bele laske tete Breze in se počutil, kot da bom zdaj zdaj med plašči in drevesi v omari stopil naprej, do ulične svetilke.

Ampak v bistvu sem bil samo še ene 10 m stran od vhoda v Mercator pri našem bloku, pa še en stric me je tko mal čudn gledu (al se mi je pa sam zdel), zatorej sem častitljivi gospe Brezi namenil še zadnji zasanjani nasmešek in svoje oči strumno uprl naprej, novemu nakupu naproti! Howgh.

New Moon a.k.a. Chippendales: The Return

Oh! Hi!
  (Didn't see you there, was busy thinking about all the rock-stone abs we've seen in cinema last night.)
  Yep, finally, thursday was here and thus Twilight: New Moon. Better than Twilight, but that's probably just because this time people on the screen were actually talking instead of just looking pretty and flabbergasted. (I Like the word, though I don't know where it came from...)
  Don't get me wrong, I like Twilight. One might go even as far as to say I'm sort of a fan, and I wouldn't dispute. But-uh, I dunno, lots and lots of pedowolves going around.   The plot itself is great, of course, hail Stephanie Meyer (except for the little fact that she acts like a little girl - it's internet, lady, and thousands of Twilight fans have nothing to do with loyalty of your 'friends' and book five).
  THE GOODIES:

they use original quotations (or minimally changed)

we get to see more Jacob and less Edward

Aro is absolutely fascinating, great

Love the red, Volturi eyes

Alice is cools, as well as Jazz - inspite the fact he gets all crazy for Bella

the movie is actually a movie and not a ... screening of a therapy (movie 1)

Oh, btw, if you haven't seen it, you gotta watch the trailer.
And then see the cracked trailer: here. Guinew Moon.
If you've seen it: see the funny trailer.

Oh, also this is quite nice: Laurent being a rastafari vampire. A guy dubbed over all the original scenes, it's hillarious. (The lips are a bit disgusting, but hey! who's judging?)

The best of New Moon (Stephanie Meyer's Twilight "saga")

Heidi- ho!
  Here are some of my favourite clips from the New Moon I read through the winding days of the summer.

/.../   Both Jacob and Mike had claimed the armrests on either side of me. Both of their hands rested lightly, palms up, in an unnatural looking position. Like steel bear traps, open and ready.
/.../   Jacob was back in a few seconds.
"Oh, he's in there, all right," he said, rolling his eyes. "What a marshmallow. You should hold out for someone with a stronger stomach. Someone who laughs at the gore that makes weaker men vomit."
"I'll keep my eyes open for someone like that." /.../
  I sighed, and then groaned when the sigh scraped my throat. I was reading too much into the story. Romeo wouldn't change his mind. That's why people still remembered his name, always twined with hers: Romeo and Juliet. That's why it was a good story. "Juliet gets dumped and ends up with Paris" would have never been a hit.  "Did I frighten you?" His low voice was anxious. This was very good, as delusions went. The face, the voice, the scent, everything—it was so much better than drowning. The beautiful figment of my imagination watched my changing expressions, with alarm. His irises were pitch-black, with bruise-like shadows under them. This surprised me; my hallucinatory Edwards were usually better fed./.../
    His face turned bright red. He took a few deep breaths before he answered.
"Would you like to explain where you've been?"
Oh, crap. "There was… an emergency."
He raised his eyebrows in expectation of my brilliant explanation.

Of course, there are even better moments, but seems most of the best humour is set in book three (Ecplipse) and four (Breaking Dawn). And no, I'm NOT reading book five until she decides she'srun out of money or will to stall or both.

The Best of Twilight

Stephanie Meyer's Twilight's Best (the parts that made me laugh;)

"Ladies first, partner?" Edward asked. I looked up to see him smiling a crooked smile so beautiful that I could only stare at him like an idiot.
  "Or I could start, if you wish." The smile faded; he was obviously wondering if I was mentally competent.
  "No," I said, flushing. "I'll go ahead."

  It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling his gaze on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still-sleeping town.
  "Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"
  "This truck is old enough to be your car's grandfather — have some respect," I retorted.

  In Phoenix, they held proms in hotel ballrooms. This dance was in the gym, of course. It was probably the only room in town big enough for a dance. When we got inside, I giggled. There were actual balloon arches and twisted garlands of pastel crepe paper festooning the walls.
  "This looks like a horror movie waiting to happen," I snickered.
  "Well," he muttered as we slowly approached the ticket table — he was carrying most of my weight, but I still had to shuffle and wobble my feet forward — "there are more than enough vampires present."   I looked at the dance floor; a wide gap had formed in the center of the floor, where two couples whirled gracefully. The other dancers pressed to the sides of the room to give them space — no one wanted to stand in contrast with such radiance. Emmett and Jasper were intimidating and flawless in classic tuxedos. Alice was striking in a black satin dress with geometric cutouts that bared large triangles of her snowy white skin. And Rosalie was… well, Rosalie. She was beyond belief. Her vivid scarlet dress was backless, tight to her calves where it flared into a wide ruffled train, with a neckline that plunged to her waist. I pitied every girl in the room, myself included.
  "Do you want me to bolt the doors so you can massacre the unsuspecting townsfolk?" I whispered conspiratorially.
  "And where do you fit into that scheme?" He glared.
  "Oh, I'm with the vampires, of course."
He smiled reluctantly. "Anything to get out of dancing."
  "Anything."

The Twilight Series ... errr .. saga

Servus!
  Euphoria concerning the Twilight series or, as the most devoted worshippers call it, the Twilight saga, is about to begin anew. Aksew. For the tale that hath far from reached its end is to continue: the NEW MOON is closing in. (Trailer here.)On november the 20th, we shall see how (quote):

the Cullens, including her beloved Edward, leave Forks rather than risk revealing that they are vampyres, it is almost too much for eighteen-year-old Bella to bear, but she finds solace in her friend Jacob until he is drawn into a cult and changes in terrible ways.

  P.S.: If you haven't read the books, it's somewhat similar to critisizing Galileo about wether or not Earth is round and if it revolves around its axis and then rotates around the central spot in our solar system, the star we call Sol ... and AT THE SAME time not having ever been out of your little town/megalopolis/village. Ok, rather like talking how Harry Potter sucks and not having read the whole series or ditching Lord of the Rings and not having read the whole. 1000 and more. pages. of. it.

Vos vestros servate, meos mihi linquite mores. (You cling to your own ways and leave mine to me.)

Migratory paths of the Elk deer

In the vast and not entirely thorough search of myself, I found out I really do not give a shi..shkebab about Elk migratory routes. Honestly, I don't. Try again tomorrow.

  The purpose of me writing these lines is entirely obscure and probably doesn't even show up on the fate maps. It's probably safely stored in a prophecy, hidden somewhere on the vast shelves of the Departement of Mysteries.
    If you're by chance, wondering
    a) aimlessly around the town (or were, obivously, since NOW you seem to be reading these lines over here), I'm really sorry. You have to get over him/her. (Unless of course it is your life you want to get over (with) - then don't. Talk to someone. Do something fun or silly, type of things that you used to do as a kid and really enjoyed them. (If you really weren't a sycho and others were enjoying it as well, then you may do them.)
    b) why I mis-spelled 'wandering' I didn't. I was just wondering if you'd notice.
    c) WHY in the blazes am I using this many links, the answer would be: because I really like to point interesting thigs OUT, or to "say" a joke, without actually saying it ... or just because I would really like to find another person (preferably of the female gender) whose mind works like mine.
    d) what is the answer to Life, Universe and Everything, it's 42. Or actually it's 59 or 56 ... in another number system.
    e) why, oh, why have we not been contacted by any alien life forms, you may want to reconsider your question. We call Them A L I E N S . How on Earth would you feel if someone called you a freak for couple of hundred years and then they'd be telling you "sure, why don't you just drop by for a quick chat?"
    f) if Michael Jackson is still alive, I'd say no. Well, either that or have it your way and read Frédéric Beigbeger's 99 francs (or 14,99 €).
    g) how the hell do I do         this, I can tell you only this: it's Magic. (lol - it doesn't even show in the post. Right - I meant the spaces ... the empty spaces before words ... you type "& nbsp", altogether, without the space in between, and then you put two spaces after it and it works. (It used to irritate me, when I wanted to do this, but Blogger just didn't recognise what I was doing gramatically, so it just ignored my efforts to write as people should write;))

  I actually found a nice blog (Brian Sibley's blog), whilst searching for a favourite quote from Terry Pratchett's Discworld novel:

"When the tip of his staff passed, it left a line of glowing octarine, the EIGHTH colour of the spectrum, The Colour of Magic, the pigment of imagination."

Free the Sleeping Giant (Dragon) ... ie, China

Cheers!
Sleeping Dragon, Crouching Tiger and all of the things from Jet Li, as well as stretched time-space continuum to include Marco Polo, who brought but a few things with 'im back to ole Europe... AND met with Kublai Khan, grandson of the great (?) Genghis Khan - back when greatness was determined by how much wealth and people you have, serving under and around yeh. Also, building ever-lasting monuments is but one of those eency weency little thingies (like they did in Egypt or India - Tadž/ Taj Mahal, say).
(Yes, paper, gun-powder, spaghetti/noodles, compass, sextant, things like that, you know, not much really;) Oh, travels on the silky road ... go ever oooonnn, down from the Venice where it began;)


Now this will probably be enough for my blog to be removed from the internet, since China is a People's Country ... how very appropriate, so nearly after the day of human rights, for me to spell this out: China is free.

Free of prejudice, tyranny, neglecting smaller towns and villages, entire ethnic groups. I think PR of China is a good example of how a country can stick together and not let outsiders brake-in, demolish what we have fought so hard to retain: Chinese vulture, sorry, culture, it's Great and Noble history and all else.
Here's a short quote from Wikipedia:

The last Chinese Civil War has resulted in two political entities using the name China:
* the People's Republic of China (PRC), commonly known as China, has control over mainland China, and the largely self-governing territories of Hong Kong (since 1997) and Macau (since 1999).
* the Republic of China (ROC), commonly known as Taiwan, has control over the islands of Taiwan, Pescadores, Kinmen, and Matsu.

Who am I to judge - I know not of these heavy historical facts and/or words, said and done in the times past, ... - to say that Tibet should be a free country would be blasphemy, probably. I can only cite what people have written before me:

Wiki:
The government opposes publicized foreign travels by former and present ROC officials promoting Taiwan's independence, such as Lee Teng-hui and Chen Shui-bian, and other politically controversial figures, such as Tenzin Gyatso, the Dalai Lama of Tibetan Buddhism, in an official context.

Also, human rights, as I have already pointed out, have a place of special interest in this world: old Shakespeare would probably say: "Much ado about nothing!" Thus, I giveth to thee, a picture, (said to be worthy of thousand souls! Sorry, words ...):
Surely, a great and under god, a humble nation, stands for its people, you will ask? Yes! Even more so: the Enemy lies within ourselves! Thus to defend our great nations' best interests, we sometimes have to fight our own internal enemies (which are supposedly everywhere, so we must be prepared!!), even at the cost of human life & rights.
Separatists (such as Tibet ... I gues?) have to be at least isolated, for they hurt our economy and good-will of the working nation.

And so forth and so on. I don't know. I've said enough. I really like a book called "On the roof of the world, by Tomo Križnar (web page of the author here). Also, a link to one of the previous articles I posted: here: Free smiles capaign. (And here about the Pulitzer price-winning photograph (after which the photographer allegedly made a suicide: Naomi Kline and NoLOGO ... consumers.


I'll just Finnish offff with two things, without comments:
It's sad we go from this, the wonders of the (ancient!!) world to the "modern 'wonders' of the world". (Tianamen Square, Sudan, Tibet, Darfur, Apartheid, South America, ..., and to finish of with the climate "crisis", mmm, coup de la theatre!)

Maid of honour, made of honour

Life's funny, ain't it?
You think you have it all figuered. Alright, not ALL of it, but hey! - nobody's perfect. (I'm Nobody.)
You think you know your heart and it/he/she proves you wrong, ... every once in a while. I guess, then, that Paolo Coelho was right. Definitely. He said that true power comes from knowing your heart. Truely knowing. That means all the fears and desires, ..., it's to get to know YOU and who you really are, what you want in life.
It gives you strength and renders your foes, so to say, weaponsless. It also leaves them defenseless, in a way, since they know naught something you DO: one's own heart. (Reminds you of Brisingr, doesn't it?)

I'm sort of ship-wrecked right now. Why? Well, I can't really tell what my heart is trying to tell me. I know, actually, but for the time being, I'll refuse to believe it. He's tellin' me to pull back, to the starboard side and wheel the whole ship about. Somehow.
But I for one know that this would be a ... wrong thing to do. Why? Because if you stand still in this world, you're dead. If you're not dead physically, you ARE. Mentally, or otherwise. "You gotta keep on moving!" So that's exactly what I'll do.
I'll keep on moving, onto Al Araf, onto the Bridges of my heart, the ones I don't see an end to. I'll just .. sort of drift along, like in a jam session (yes, with a lot of jam and strawberries, yes, that's the one;). I'll improvise a bit, with an actual plan in progress, but I'l sincerely try to neglect it. Really. It will only work if I don't plan it anymore.

If anyone understood what I'm on about, well - good for you. Hope to meat ;) you someday. (Don't worry - I'm on the verge of becoming a vegetarian.)

Discworld ... series and Terry Pratchett part 1

And here a link to a wikipedia article: Terry Pratchett.

F r e e ... a t l a s t.

InkheartJe peux dire que c'est comme quand tu [read] une livre tr`es interessante: like the time when I was reading a book called: The of lost things. Quite fascinating book, but as if of pure habit, depicts the scenes and 'adventures' of kids in the 2nd WWar. But still - book about books. Much like , from Cornelia Funke, which is .. simply awesome.

But what happened to me ... is ... a BIRTHDAY - like Joe Felice would call it, "in the old testament sort of way", id est, A REAL BIRTH-DAY. (Again, I mean it in the "Mutant message down-under" Aborigini way.)
[The above link, ie., the anthropological view of the matter, has not been checked by me, so ... at your own risk. And meaning also, that it doesn't necessarily reflect my own opinion(s).]

More about it soon, but: AUGUST 2008 and everything that follows May 2008 and now sept. '08 is just awesome.
Peace out!

HP & DH

Long time no Harry:)

Ja, na enem forumu HP Slovenija (Health Points?:) sem že oddal komentar in .. ker sem ga že tako lepo napisal (no ja) in ker sem bil ravno jaz (to pa ja), ga bom postal še tukajle. Berem komentarje, za vse, ki bi utegnili kaj poreči.
Je pa odgovor na tole kolumno, kjer je med drugim posrečeno prepisano tudi:

»You sound like Hagrid,« said Ron. »It's a dragon, Hermione, it can look
after itself. It's us we need to worry about.«
»What do you mean?«
»Well, I don't know how to break this to you,« said Ron, »but I think they
might have noticed we broke into Gringotts.«

Uh;) Kar nekaj vode je preteklo ... A naj vam naslikam eno dogajanje, ki se je odvijalo ob mojem branju in zaključevanju le-tega.
Bili smo na svetovnem skavtskem (taborniškem) jamboreeju v Essexu v Angliji, pisalo se je ... no, leto 2007, kaj pa drugega - in v vsakem izmed velikih šotorov, kjer so se dogajale stvari (ativnosti, animacije, itd.) je bila vsaj ena oseba, ki je brala HP in DH. Noro! Veste, ker hud in totalno ne-Harry je zakon!" feeling! In vsi, ki smo brali, smo brali z navdušenjem in med vsemi je stekla takojšnja, tudi nebesedna komunikacija: "Prosim, ne mi povedat nič-" "Ne bom, ker tudi nisem hotel, da bi kdo meni" "Ok"
"ok." ... "Ampak kaj pa"
"Ne, si rekel/-la, da ne smem!"
"Ja. Aja. Ok."
"Ok." ... "Ja, ampak ful je dobr!"
"Ja, sej vem! Pust me, da berem naprej!"
Tako nekako;)

Osebno ... po enem letu, da, skoraj natanko enem letu, mi je knjiga ostala v svojih najbolj svetlih trenutkih: čakanju, da se zgodba "začne", navdušenje nad prizorom' v Gringottsu, The Final Battle al kaj je že, iskanje Horcruxev ... vse to.
Pa še malo o temah, ki jih je izpostavila avtorica - meni je bil tudi konec všeč. Kajti vsaka knjiga je bila narejena tako, da te je pustila malo, vsaj malo v pričakovanju naslednje. Če ne bi JK vsaj nastavila možnosti nekega nadaljevanja ali vsaj vzporedne zgodbe (čeprav menim, da ni tega hotela), je to slabo trženje.
A o trženju pri njej res ne moremo več govoriti. JK je želela končati zgodbo in potešiti še tako naivne/radovedne, zagamane bralce - hotela je zaokrožiti pripoved. In kako to bolje storiti kakor na način, kot se je vedno začenjala knjiga? 9 3/4.
Tonks in Lupin ... Saj je bilo za pričakovati, da bo veliko smrti. "Ampak oba?" Menim, da je spet ena huda pisateljska/zdravorazumska finta: po tem, ko sta sedem knjig "iskala" en drugega in počasi "coming together", s tem, ko cela polovica knjige (?) prikaže, kako je imel Remus "an issue", pa ga je Tonks vseeno hotla ... bi bilo totalno nekonsist- ma ne, bilo bi nefer, da bi SAMO en izmed njiju umrl. Morala sta oba. Saj se njuna kri itak nadaljuje. (Yeah, like that'll help us, right?)
George? (Or was it Fred?) ... Če imaš dva ... identična ... lahko enega izgubiš, tako taktično razmišljanje pač. Charlie je že dolgo neodvisen in sploh ni toliko v zgodbi (preko vseh sedmih knjig), Bill je pa pač prevelik car, s Percyjem so se pa itak komi pobotali, pa je bilo joka že na to temo dovolj. Fotru je že Nagini stregla po življenju, ... Rona ni treba, Molly je tudi že stalno z živci na koncu, ... Fred je bil 'odlična' izbira.
Raws ... za zgodbo (ah, the Sacred Story, right? Ja, sej vem, preveč jo povzdigujem - ampak men je tako huda!!!) je skoraj moral biti dober. Začetek šestke je odločil o D-jevi smrti, ampak da bo potem bežal na tak način in vse ostalo ... pa nisem predvideval. Na koncu je bil prav bogi, nesrečno zaljubljeni stric Severus.
Ma, totalno super knjiga in ena najboljših v mojem življenju. Škoda je za vse, ki so zaradi TOP SHOPA in tečnih reklam na začetku Potter-manije dobili odpor do "all things Leaky" in nočejo in nočejo odpret in prebrat.

Aja, pa - am I the only one who can't wait for the third parts of Cornelia Funke - the Inkspell (II.) oz. Inkdeath al kuko že in pa C. Paolinijev Third book of the Heritage Trilogy pridejo ven?!!!!! ;)))

All that was lost will be found again ...

I'm back
for real
I'm staying put this time
Not going away
from a room in which I need to study
in order to still be apt to call myself one of your kin

Ampak all will be well
and all that was lost will be found again
Prebral sem knjigo Johna Conolly-ja: The Book of Lost Things
kr kul - za vse, ki imate radi povezovanje mitov in zgodb, fairytales-ov in legend v eno celoto, prepletajočo se z realnostjo, kjer se da in se sme (?).
... misel: dans sem si sposodu John Milton: Paradise lost .. hm .. ta tematika preveva očitno .. mogoče je pa to namig Vrhovnega, naj si končno ogledam serijo Lost.