So like, currently?
Snookms is outside shooting a home-made spud gun. Made of pvc pipe and couplings. I can smell the delicious pvc cement from here. Just heard a big DUWOOOOB!! which Brian is making fun of me about for impersonating as I type. Fukken douch(e)baggery.
Also nursing a Chocolate Truffle Mocha that I got from the Starbucks inside Barnes & Noble in one hand, and a Jones Co. Candy Cane flavoured soda in the other. Oh how I love the packaging for them sodas. I'm thinking of submitting Snookms' "Happy Holidays" underwear Christmas special photo that I took last year to them. Wouldn't you love to see this as you take sips of your Egg Nogg flavoured soda on a warm Christmas Night??
I know I would.....
Sandman Series number 3 Dream Country is waiting patiently for me to read on my bed, as I had to settle for volume 4 in the series last week. The B&N Snookms took us to last week didn't have Dream Country (which is volume number 3) in stock, so Season of Mists it was. Beautifully written, btw....Dream has to venture to Hell yet again, in search of a lost and forgotten love, and gorgeous Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Fallen Angel, has taken it upon himself(themself?) to surrender the keys to the Gates of Hell to Good Ol' Morpheus. THAT'S the reason I was on the whole "A Heav'n of Hell and a Hell of Heav'n" kick. Such a marvelous fucking piece of literature.
So far, my favorite intro into the story has got to be Steve Erickson's perspective on Neil's prose.
Here is but a mere sample for your reading pleasure:
I'm writing this on the fine edge of that blade that's consciousness on one side and dream on the other, that thin silver horizon where you hover right before falling asleep, and right before comepletely waking. Neil Gaiman lives here all the damn time. He scribbles his stories and sends them out from the thin silver horizon whose bridge the rest of us traverse just twice a day. Gaiman is the troll who lives beneath the bridge; he exhales into word ballons the visions that flash only fleetingly across our gaze and then are gone with the next memory. Dreams of what we've loved and lost, dreams that are more vivid than our lives, dreams that tell you they aren't dreams, from which come the questions that trouble and entrall and finally free our spirits,if were' brave enough for the answers. Gaiman's ideas, in other words, of a good time.
....How I would secrete gold persimmons from my vaginal glands to get a fucking review like that in regards to the blather that is my writing one day. The sighs are an endless bunch here, so I will cease the bullshit musings.
In the beginning of Dream Country, this writer, whom is suffering major writer's block makes a deal with this infamous novelist and gets this "muse" in female form, and everytime he rapes her, he is embued with the ability to belt out a great work in progress, continually making millions contingent upon whenever this douch(e) fuck decides his weenie needs a party. So this "muse" of sorts finally summons the courage to call upon her higher power for help, only to discover that she is bound by the ridiculous law of the land to continue to serve this slave driver of an ass as muse for eternity. Alas she calls upon "Oneiros" as a last resort, remembering once that they were lovers in a previous life, and "Oneiros" who is Dream, has the ability to transcend the laws of many dimensions that most inhabitants would be otherwise bound to....
Morpheus...Dream....Sandman....Oneiros....they are one in the same, no?? Kinda reminds me of the way Tolkien used to give each of his characters 20 different names depending on where the main characters in each chapter hail from. I like the ideal though, as you get to use all the cool names for characters you thought you were gonna have to trash evidently. Like Aragorn is Strider, and Gandalf is....is SOMEBODY else, I can't fukkin remember. And Gollum was/is Smeagol. I dunno. It's just cool and all.
At least the last volume, Sandman series number 11, Endless Nights is now available for my reading pleasure. Hopefully I get my grubby little paws on it before someone else does. It usually only takes me 2-3 days to finish reading these graphic novels, so it's usually costing me 20 bucks a week to keep this habit. I tell you what though, it's far better than any DRUG I've smoked. Yee-haw.
I must venture back to reality now. There is a potato cannon sitting outside with my name on it.
Currently reading :
Dream Country (The Sandman, Vol. 3)
By Neil Gaiman
Release date: 1991-09-24
P to the S....
I know I've just been copying and pasting what I've written on my Myspace blog to here lately, But honestly? I just really don't fucking have much to say these days. I'm at a loss fer words, yo.
This bitch gotz plenty to say though. The workings of a fucking writing genious. Has the future all laid out for themself and doesn't even know it. Yer cluelessly awesome Jess and I hope you don't mind that I'm sharing with everyone else just how much of a badass you are. Maybe I should ask first? Just give me the word and I'll have it down ASAP, mmkay?
