And my mind explodes

As a reader I find myself involved in the same basic plots over and over again. I accept this and find beauty in the words, the images and the emotions they invoke. Reading is for me a type of meditation...most of the time. Then there are rockets that seem to come out of left field. Shadow of the Wind, Across the Nightingale Floor, The Lovely Bones, The Silmarilion, My Sister's Keeper, Kushiel's Dart, Beowulf, Lamb. They made me laugh, cry and think far beyond what I wanted for dinner.

Another book has joined their ranks. The Malazan Book of the Fallen. Comprised of ten separate books (7 of which are now in print) it is by far the most mind blowing epic I have ever encountered. There are characters that have made me bawl tears, others that I don't trust, some that I even would like to kill personally and a few who I continuously cheer for no matter what they do.

Steven Erikson is a genius. I love these things, they're like crack to me. So why, in all the holy heavens can I not finish the newest one? I have excuses, alot of them. I can even come up with a couple of good lies too. But the truth shall be revealed.



I got epics.



Oh Yeah :)

My world of words is slowly morphing into a world of pixels. Perhaps I am just catching up to the 21st century. Maybe I can finally, definitely declare myself to be an American otaku. Is it possible that by watching too many videos on my laptop that I've permanently hurt my brain so badly that is can no longer comprehend intricate plot details unless they are laid out in visual form? Meh, probably not.

I think I've just hit a whole new level of laziness. Ask Jup, he'll tell you. Last night was the first time in something like 8 days he got a real walk. Poor thing was panting out of breath before we even turned around to go home. But he loved it and so did I.

There is a distinctly serene quality to my neighborhood at night. The trees are merely deep shadows, so dark that they stand out against the sky. In the city I can't see all the stars but the ones that are there sparkle enough that the occasional street lamp cannot dampen them. It's so quiet at night, even the peat bog seems to be asleep. Of course this all hinges on me staying awake long enough to get us out there. But damn is it beautiful.