The personal blog of author Kelly Sedinger, chronicling the adventures of one overalls-clad wanderer.
This is where I was when I sat down to read more Lord of the Rings yesterday. Those who have read the book will recognize the artwork there as the inscription upon the Doors of Durin, which lead into the Mines of Moria if one knows the password.
Today, I got up to the Mirror of Galadriel.
God, I love this book.
I shouldn’t have come to Jane’s party, Brenna thought.
She certainly shouldn't have agreed to play ‘Answer-the-Monkey’, the new party game with the computerized monkey head that read your mind and asked personal questions based on a setting from 1 to 20, with 20 being your deepest-and-darkest secrets. It was ‘Truth-or-Dare’ run by a machine. After a lot of sangria, the ladies had turned it up all the way. The ATM machine began dispensing twenties.
“Brenna,” the monkey said, “who did you last sleep with?”
Brenna glanced at the picture on the wall of Jane’s husband.
ATM was an evil game.
Given my spiflicated state (i.e., full sheets to the wind) and your persistent nanointellectual tendencies, I'd tend to think that this matter would be solved by a `Sir, your mother, under the pretense of maintaining a bawdy house, was the receiver of stolen goods,' but, I fear, this sort of comment would send you a-scampering to the nearest dictionary for a look-up a) to see if you've been insulted and b) a quick wank in conjuntion with any of the naughty words you missed in your `curmudgeon' research.
In short, sir, I must say that in general (no pun intended, but one indeed noted [ha]) you are lacking in wit, pathetic in practice and laughable in comprehension and therefore a typical representative of the common swut poster whose idea of clever rhetoric is the bit of verse s/h/it saw on the lavoratory wall the other night and, indeed, are the sort of chap whose idea of slander was passe when the dozens became a memory. In shorter, sir, you bore me with your lack of invention, raise my eyebrows in your attempts to simultaneously lower the standards and raise the gorges of whoever might be paying attention to your random flailing and flabbergast me (rhetorical device--I am overcome with ennui at your critical flatulence) with your patheticness and patheticeousity (pardon me whilst I pixilatedly coin new words for your damnedly mediocre mendacity) in shortest, sir, you are:
A turd herder, a shit shepard, a pustule-besmirched rapscallion, a fondler of other people's wilted mothers, a knee-biter, a one-man plague, a titty-baby, the sort of lad who nods a hundred and nineteen times everytime he sees one of those `wouldn't it be great' Airhead Lite commercials, the sort of chap who one could clap about his head and shoulders and reasonably expect a handful of dead insects to spew forth from his mouth, a smidge, a forgetable simper of a coward, a clodhopper, a patsy, a fat-mouthed slob, a fop, a motor-tongue, a toothless boor, a loathsome scab, a babbler at meaningless banter, a cackler, a limp, wet fish, a conceited monkey, a tooth-chatterer, a dung-drover, a dweller in other people's bottoms, a fanny fellow, a snaggle-toothed toady, a mincing milksop, a hopeless addlepate, a conousseur of caldswallop, a slabberdegullion rogue, a paltry panty-waste, a prating gobbleblorget, a lickorous glutton for cellulite women, a slapsause scaldiwag, a non-drunken unwoysterer, a drowsey loiterer in the halls of averageness and averagitude, a forlorn snippit, a drawlatch hoydon, a negligible coxcomb, a blockish grutnol, a foolish loggerhead, a turgy gut, a noddipeak simpleton, a codshead loobie, a woodcock slangam, a fondling fop, a base loon, a freckled bittor, a mangy prating gabler, a lubbardly lout, a sousening simp, a ninny lobcock, a gaping changeling, a ninny-hammer flycatcher, a noddy meacock, a grout-head gnatsnapper, a jobbernol goosecap, a clutch calf-lollie, a kib-dotterel, an idle lusk and above all, a pathetic wimper of a apology for a man.
And, having accosted you with such defamatory epithets of such profusion and so on on several counts, I say further not to address me any further until you can comment likewise with such length (appy polly loggies to hit a raw nerve, there) and so on that rather you should content yourself with provoking pederasts and others in your league and perhaps, to gain vengance with the world, victimise an earwig or something similarly your speed.
James and William crouched on opposite sides of the open door to the control room of Mars’s mightiest battle cruiser. Alarms were still blaring; smoke choked the corridors. Martian troopers were searching for the intruders, to no avail. Two men, seconds away from winning the war for Earth.
“Before we do this,” James said, “I gotta say you’ve been a hell of a partner, man. I’d catch a grenade for ya.”
“OK,” William said as he tossed James a live grenade and ran away.
“Martian double-agent,” James said, stunned. “Son-of-a--”
Boom.
And Mars conquered Earth.
It looks to me like a blogging platform that is more geared to short posts, pictures, videos, and that sort of thing than Blogger or Wordpress, which handle those things but are really intended for the posting of text. A lot of bloggers I know have "real" blogs and Tumblrs where they just post pictures and whatnot that doesn't require lots of comment. Sort of a blogging "tapas bar", to make a really bad analogy. I'm sure you can use it to market your book, though!
Find images that stir your soul, that speak to your very core even if you can't figure out exactly why. Download them, scan them, snap a picture of them with your camera, then upload them to your tumblr to share with the world.
They will eventually form a collage that will tell people more truth about you than you will be able to tell with words.
Or you can just load it up with LOL cats.
Damned if I know.
I had heard of Tumblr, but had no idea what it was, so I did, you know, what you do: I Googled it. As far as I can tell, Tumblr can best be described as, "TweetBookFlickBlogr." Is it possible to be all things to all people? Time will tell.
I like M.D. Jackson's idea. Or maybe you could devote it exclusively to music. The world needs more music blogs.
I agree with MD. I use them to inspire posts and to collect images for posts. I look at my archive at times and I am proud of my collection and what it says about me. Sure, lots of Selena pics but that is okay.
I have heard mumblings and rumblings from "the kids" that they really don't want tumblr going mainstream. They say no one should really talk about it so it doesn't lose its *cool* factor.
And then I saw a funny tweet a week or so ago. Something like...
Tumblr is not Fight Club. Only Fight Club is Fight Club.
Of course there's the Lord of the Rings, which is very different when you come to it at different times of life. I go back to it every six or eight years, give or take, and part of the experience is spending time with the version of myself that read it last.
If I recall correctly, the last time I re-read The Lord of the Rings was in 2004; I was reading it when Little Quinn was born and during his initial hospital stay. I've generally re-read it every four or five years, so I'm actually overdue. It's time to return to Middle Earth!
Although, actually, I've already been there for a week; it's always been my practice to re-read The Hobbit first before any re-read of LOTR. A couple of years ago, when we were in Ithaca for the Apple Harvest Festival, one of my purchases at the amazing Autumn Leaves Bookstore was a pristine copy of The Annotated Hobbit, which turned out to be a fascinating read for the annotations as well as the wonderful story. It was like having a running commentary for the book, with notes on Tolkien's thought processes, various background materials from which Tolkien drew his material, and illustrations from many foreign editions of the book.
And now, it's on to LOTR, which makes me very happy indeed. I even bought a new copy of the book for this re-read. This is now my third copy of LOTR. Will I buy another for my tentatively-scheduled re-read in 2015? We'll see!
The world is changing....
If you grew up thinking there were nine planets and were shocked when Pluto was demoted five years ago, get ready for another surprise. There may be nine after all, and Jupiter may not be the largest.
The hunt is on for a gas giant up to four times the mass of Jupiter thought to be lurking in the outer Oort Cloud, the most remote region of the solar system. The orbit of Tyche (pronounced ty-kee), would be 15,000 times farther from the Sun than the Earth's, and 375 times farther than Pluto's, which is why it hasn't been seen so far.
Remember the short story where the Prince aspires to the Princess's hand, so the King has the Prince stand before two doors, one of which leads to the Princess and marriage whilst the other leads to a really hungry tiger? And how the story ends as the Prince chooses his door and opens it? And how the story leaves unanswered the question as to which door he opened?
No?
OK, forget it.
(On a more boring note, I'd love to be able to wear these overalls in public, but there's a hole in the butt. No, I didn't split them, they came that way when I bought them on eBay.)
Because I don't think up unimaginably nifty ideas like this: a coffee mug with a little spot underneath for holding cookies! One of my Flickr friends, a lovely woman named Denise, made this. How great is that! One idea like this and I am so retiring.
It interests me how the LED flash on my cell-phone camera can make me look like I have some kind of anemia. I'm really not this pale!
I'm not 100% certain, but I think a lot of you probably have dreamt, albeit briefly, of being a Hallmark Superstar. It's OK to admit it. You're among friends here. How can you not want to attain the absolute pinnacle of writing success...cheesy sentiments for greeting cards!
With that in mind I scoured the web searching for the perfect romantic picture for you to create a mushy Hallmark-ish masterpiece around.
"Uh, Steve? I'm not totally confident in this new plan of yours to capture the Cheetah."
From the rejection pile at Websters Dictionary:
OneTrueLove (n): That person who instinctively understands that there are some things we’ve done that should never, ever, EVER, be spoken of or referred to in any way.
Thank you for being my almost dictionary-defined OneTrueLove!
I know this is out of season, but I only just saw it on Retrospace's Flickr stream, and it's just a great photo. So here it is.
