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zotzAnother frosty morning - the third in a row, and the hardest. I came to work under a cloudless and glassy blue. I went home from the pub last night in sub-zero temperatures, with Orion huge in the south ahead of me. Sirius was low on the horizon, and the Pleiades high to the right. I don't remember Mars, but it had been hanging low earlier. I love the winter sky.
So. Conrad Black as well, eh? The Great and the Good are getting careless.
Gordon was right again? Christ, this is getting tedious. Fuck up, man, for Gods sake!
Irving's likely to be held in the cells for at least a week, apparently. Right treatment, very possibly, but the wrong charge.
Gene Wolfe may be or possibly has been writing Soldier of Sidon.
The Guardian today says "Little Britain is now indistinguishable from its true ancestor, The Dick Emery Show."
There's a documentary on BBC4 tonight about Josephine Baker.
I'm in two minds about these circulating memes, but this one was too obviously written to appeal to my inner grandiosity:
Nick Cave... dark and creepy. You're a bi-polar
genius, with equal passion for the most
degrading aspects of humanity, as well as the
beauty & wonder of God and Heaven.
Which fucked-up genius composer are you?
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Yeah. In my dreams, mate.
You can stop reading here. It would be wise.
There was a discussion in the pub last night about Sf and fantasy books with titles that can be usefully combined with the names of their authors - such as The Sheep Look Up John Brunner or The Power That Preserves Stephen Donaldson. Because I was very bored today (can you tell?) I tried to find a few more.
In the same vein as those two, there are The dark beneath Alan Gibbons and The realm beneath Brenda Clough. A certain horror writer is very generous, contributing both The burrowers beneath Brian Lumley and The caller of the black Brian Lumley. These weren't as intriguing as The I inside Alan Dean Foster, though, or The enemy within L Ron Hubbard.
The pair A Time to Hate Bob Greenberger and A Time to Love Bob Greenberger is surpassed by A Time to Heal David Mack and A Time to Kill David Mack, but even better is a License to kill John Gardner.
Single-verb titles seem fruitful. We can Burn Bill Ransom, Bite Laurell K Hamilton and Charlaine Harris, Curse Alan Grant, Chase Dean Koontz or even Squeeze Ellen Steiber. But Don't tell Elizabeth Chandler.
The dread trilogy is well-represented by The Gods awaken Alan Cole, The warrior returns Alan Cole, and The dragon in the stone Alan Cole, inwhich presumably it hides inside a statue. More involvingly, we can read The ship who won Anne McCaffrey and Jody Lynne Nye (in a raffle, one presumes), The ship who searched Anne McCaffrey and Mercedes Lackey (what for?), and The city who fought Anne McCaffrey and SM Stirling (very wise).
Some authors resort to self-description. Howling mad Peter David and Beyond the pale Mark Anthony. for instance, as well as the frankly puzzling A clockwork orange Anthony Burgess, which sounds like something out of the Innovations catalogue. I will fear no evil Robert A Heinlein, however, is both sinister and perceptive. A Brit supasses it, though, with the frankly precognitive Last Chance To See Douglas Adams & Mark Carwardine. Those struggling with the loss of literary heroes, though, can console themselves with a copy of We can build you Philip K Dick.
The last word, though, goes to the frankly boastful - the author of Betcha Can't Read Just One Alan Dean Foster.
So. Conrad Black as well, eh? The Great and the Good are getting careless.
Gordon was right again? Christ, this is getting tedious. Fuck up, man, for Gods sake!
Irving's likely to be held in the cells for at least a week, apparently. Right treatment, very possibly, but the wrong charge.
Gene Wolfe may be or possibly has been writing Soldier of Sidon.
The Guardian today says "Little Britain is now indistinguishable from its true ancestor, The Dick Emery Show."
There's a documentary on BBC4 tonight about Josephine Baker.
I'm in two minds about these circulating memes, but this one was too obviously written to appeal to my inner grandiosity:
Nick Cave... dark and creepy. You're a bi-polar
genius, with equal passion for the most
degrading aspects of humanity, as well as the
beauty & wonder of God and Heaven.
Which fucked-up genius composer are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Yeah. In my dreams, mate.
You can stop reading here. It would be wise.
There was a discussion in the pub last night about Sf and fantasy books with titles that can be usefully combined with the names of their authors - such as The Sheep Look Up John Brunner or The Power That Preserves Stephen Donaldson. Because I was very bored today (can you tell?) I tried to find a few more.
In the same vein as those two, there are The dark beneath Alan Gibbons and The realm beneath Brenda Clough. A certain horror writer is very generous, contributing both The burrowers beneath Brian Lumley and The caller of the black Brian Lumley. These weren't as intriguing as The I inside Alan Dean Foster, though, or The enemy within L Ron Hubbard.
The pair A Time to Hate Bob Greenberger and A Time to Love Bob Greenberger is surpassed by A Time to Heal David Mack and A Time to Kill David Mack, but even better is a License to kill John Gardner.
Single-verb titles seem fruitful. We can Burn Bill Ransom, Bite Laurell K Hamilton and Charlaine Harris, Curse Alan Grant, Chase Dean Koontz or even Squeeze Ellen Steiber. But Don't tell Elizabeth Chandler.
The dread trilogy is well-represented by The Gods awaken Alan Cole, The warrior returns Alan Cole, and The dragon in the stone Alan Cole, inwhich presumably it hides inside a statue. More involvingly, we can read The ship who won Anne McCaffrey and Jody Lynne Nye (in a raffle, one presumes), The ship who searched Anne McCaffrey and Mercedes Lackey (what for?), and The city who fought Anne McCaffrey and SM Stirling (very wise).
Some authors resort to self-description. Howling mad Peter David and Beyond the pale Mark Anthony. for instance, as well as the frankly puzzling A clockwork orange Anthony Burgess, which sounds like something out of the Innovations catalogue. I will fear no evil Robert A Heinlein, however, is both sinister and perceptive. A Brit supasses it, though, with the frankly precognitive Last Chance To See Douglas Adams & Mark Carwardine. Those struggling with the loss of literary heroes, though, can console themselves with a copy of We can build you Philip K Dick.
The last word, though, goes to the frankly boastful - the author of Betcha Can't Read Just One Alan Dean Foster.
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No, no, it can't be true!
Date: 2005-11-20 09:30 am (UTC)Tom Waits... charismatic story-teller with a
penchant for freaky people and unusual
settings. You thrive on the concept of the
underdog coming out on top.
Which fucked-up genius composer are you?
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