Suck it, haters.
'The raven cawed from the edge of the clearing.
"You want me to follow you?" asked Shadow. "Or has Timmy fallen down another well?" The bird cawed again, impatiently. Shadow started walking towards it. It waited until he was close, then flapped heavily into another tree, heading somewhat to the left of the way Shadow had originally been going.
"Hey," said Shadow. "Huginn or Muninn, or whoever you are."
The bird turned, head tipped, suspiciously, on one side, and it stared at him with bright eyes.
"Say 'Nevermore'," said Shadow.
"Fuck you," said the raven.'
American Gods
(Page 172-173)
Rating: 4/5
The first time in the history of ever that i've signed a petition and the thing's actually happened.
I don't know where i am with music right now.
I listen every day. Without fail.
And it almost feels like too much.
I barely remember what's passed through my brain the second the music's stopped.
And i can't fathom whether that's my head telling me a particular song/band's had no effect on me or whether i've gone into auditory overload and can't tell the difference anymore.
But i can't seem to slow down.
I've never been able to dedicate myself to just a few bands/genres.
I need it all.
And for the longest time i've worn that trait like a badge of honour.
But sometimes, sometimes being so greedy bites back.
And you wade through days of music just for a glimpse of something you've been waiting what feels like forever for.
Like Wy.
Wonderful, woeful, Wy.
I am itching for this.
Itching.
Where did he come from..?
''Alice turned, and saw a split form in the trunk of the trees, just as if it had been sliced open with an axe. Thick red sap oozed from the cut, and the ground beneath made a wet sucking sound. The roots gurgled as they pumped (whatever it was) into the tree.
The crack in the tree deepened and lengthened. Alice shuddered as the bark broke apart, blood (for of course that was what it was, not sap at all) spewing from the body of the tree.
The cut seemed to shape itself into two doors and each door opened out from the tree. Alice felt drawn there, as though some inexplicable (magical) force pulled her as the tree slowly opened and revealed what was hidden beneath.
A woman lay there, her skin white and waxy in death and hair as black as a raven's wing and wearing a dress the color of the blood that ran all around her. The trunk held her like a coffin.
"The Red Queen", Pen said behind Alice. "There hasn't been a Red Queen in a long time." '
Red Queen
(The Chronicles of Alice)
(Page 185-186)
Rating: 3/5
'Ferryside' in Cornwall, Home to Daphne Du Maurier, 1943-1968 - Novel: 'Rebecca', published 1938
The Brontë Parsonage, Home to Charlotte Brontë, 1820-1855 - Novel: 'Jane Eyre', first published in 1847
Jane Austen's House, Hampshire 1809-1817, Novel: 'Pride and Prejudice', first published in 1813
Literary Houses
'In some ways, Ian is blessed with the underanalyzing mind of a goldfish. The troubles associated with deeper thought are replaced with basic instinct and a memory that spans a fraction of a second. He's more reactionary than plotting or planning. He doesn't dwell or ponder at length about anything. Just as he realizes his predicament, it blissfully slips from his mind in time to be rediscovered. He sleeps well because of this; there are no worries, and there is no racing mind.
Alternately, physiologically, the repeated realization of the terror of falling is quite draining on a body. It's the rapid-fire release of adrenaline, the repetitive pokes in his flight response, that stresses the gold-encased nugget of fishy flesh.
"Now, what was I doing? Oh my, I can't breathe. Oh shit, I'm falling off a high-rise! Now . . . what was I doing? Oh my . . ."
Blessed indeed are the thoughtless.'
Fishbowl
(Page 9)
Rating: 2.5/5
'They passed a few mermaids on a little island of rock, all covered with green seaweed and with creamy shells in their long blue hair. The mermaids laughed and pointed rudely. Jasleth was a bit disappointed that they weren't more romantic. He has always thought they sat around combing their hair and singing sweet songs. They were actually combing their hair, but they kept screaming "Ooch!" and "Ooh!" whenever they got a tangle.'
The Dragon Hoard
(Page 25)
Rating: 3.5/5
Yet another book i wish i'd read as kid.
With my very own dragon hoarding his bounty by the name of "my fucking bed, bitch".
What's the longest animal on the planet?
...
C A T
"Are you sure there's no monsters?"
"There used to be, darlin'. In the old days."
"What about now?"
"What do you think?"
"Yes," she said. "There's monsters all right. Lots and lots and lots of them. They're just waiting, is all."
Deeper
(The Hadal series)
(Page 71)
Rating: 4.5/5
I wrote about the first in The Hadal series here.
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