journals and pens for your sword and your gun

Happiness
by Raymond Carver


So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.

When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.

They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.

I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.

They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.

Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.

Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.

AutoREALM is a free computer program that will help you generate maps for your various worlds.

It was recommended by a few posters in the NaNoWriMo fantasy forum, I am strongly considering downloading it for some playtime.

If you have it, do tell me what you think of it.

Falcon in the Dive
(The Scarlet Pimpernel)


Hunt for the man
Comb the city, every street, every grate
You put a guard at every gate
Drag him out, shout the moment that you find him!
Damn!
Knock in the doors, lock up the city
Track him down through this town
And be quick about it...now!
How the devil do I ever prevail when I'm only a man?
But I'll never be duped by this scurrilous phantom again

I wasn't born to walk on water
I wasn't born to sack and slaughter
But on my soul, I wasn't born
To stoop to scorn, and knuckle under
A man can learn to steal some thunder
A man can learn to work some wonder
And when the gauntlet's down,
It's time to rise and climb the sky

And soon the moon will smoulder
And the winds will drive
Yes, a man grows older but his soul remains alive
All those tremulous stars still glitter
And I will survive!
Let my heart grow colder and as bitter as a falcon in the dive

There was a dream, a dying ember
There was a dream, I don't remember
But I will resurrect that dream
Though rivers stream and hills grow steeper
For here in hell where life gets cheaper
Oh, here in hell the blood runs deeper
And when the final duel is near
I'll lift my spear and fly

Piercing into the sky and higher
And the strong will thrive
Yes, the weak will cower while the fittest will survive
If we wait for the darkest hour
Till we spring alive
Then with claws of fire, we devour like a falcon in the dive

These are the days! Yes!
Days of glory, days of rage, and the dream
And the dream of Paris preys on my bones
Gnawing night and day and clawing through my brain and
No, never bend! Never kneel!
Rend him to bits! Bite!
For the beauty of the fight

I'm not a man to hunger for blood, but the spirit can cry
To be younger and fiercer and fly
Piercing into the sky and higher
And the strong will thrive
Yes, the weak will cower while the fittest will survive
If we wait for the darkest hour
Till we spring alive
Then with claws of fire, we devour like a falcon in the dive

I am He that Aches with Love
Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.

I AM he that aches with amorous love;
Does the earth gravitate? Does not all matter, aching, attract all matter?
So the Body of me, to all I meet, or know.

matociquala writes about the lies society tells about people who suffer trauma. vvgood. begins with a J.R.R. Tolkien quote and goes on.

if i had a mind that went deeper when i read Tolkien, i'd have zipped through the LotR trilogy. also, i'd be one of those who rereads it every few years. because Tolkien knew a lot about the world.

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams

~W.B. Yeats


(i first heard part of it read by Sean Bean to Christian Bale in Equilibrium. mmm, Sean Bean. mmm, Equilibrium.)

liadan_m brought this to my attention during a phone conversation (she takes good care of my adlebrained self), and so I bring it to your attention because I love and adore you all.

After the death of friend John M. Ford, Neil Gaiman got to thinking about the way his friend's literary estate is being handled, and the literary estates of others who died without wills for their writings. Here, Neil Gaiman writes about Litarary Wills, and links to a PDF file created by (I believe) lawyer/writer Les Klinger, along with Klinger's instructions for writers to use the will to care for their intellectual property after death.

X-posted to indepth_fiction and newtypeshadow.

We'll be brief: Hemingway once wrote a story in just six words ("For sale: baby shoes, never worn.") and is said to have called it his best work. So we asked sci-fi, fantasy, and horror writers from the realms of books, TV, movies, and games to take a shot themselves.
~http://wired.com/wired/archive/14.11/sixwords.html

tait's favs:

Machine. Unexpectedly, I’d invented a time
- Alan Moore

Longed for him. Got him. Shit.
- Margaret Atwood

From torched skyscrapers, men grew wings.
- Gregory Maguire

It cost too much, staying human.
- Bruce Sterling

It’s behind you! Hurry before it
- Rockne S. O’Bannon

The baby’s blood type? Human, mostly.
- Orson Scott Card

To save humankind he died again.
- Ben Bova

Epitaph: He shouldn't have fed it.
- Brian Herbert

Please, this is everything, I swear.
- Orson Scott Card