Books for Lunch

A Bibliomaniac' s journal


Rules Of The House
This Blog 's meant to be fun. For me, to be precise. Doesn't mean anyone stumbling in here isn't welcome. Loiter away and say something about something, if you like.
Just keep in mind :
No one likes trolls.
txtspk iz gr8 n sml ammounts, bt sux n a propper conversation. srsly.
Negative feedback as such is fine, but make it constructive. And stay ****ing polite, will ya ?

Art project
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I haven't done anything art-related in quite some time, if you discount near endless doodling on any scrap of paper in close vicinity to me.
And that's more due to "idle hands" then the genuine wish to create anything of value.

And now, I've decided out of the blue that hey, let's do a major project that will very likely require weeks of work and most certainly more skill and patience then I actually possess.

Go, Me!

My current shot at megalomania is a painting project on a wooden box once upon a blue moon purchased at IKEA to store my pens, colors and assorted art stuffs in. The goal is to use acrylic to paint motives from The Last Unicorn, AKA one of the bestest books/movies ever, onto it.

So far I painted a foundation of white onto the box to avoid having the lines of the wood shine through the finished painting and a penciled outline of the unicorn standing on a meadow in "her" woods on the front part.

For the sides I plan "group portraits with villains". One side should feature the unicorn and Mommy Fortuna, the Harpy and the Midnight Carnival. On the other it would be the unicorn, Haggard, the Red Bull, the skeleton and the castle. For the top then the unicorn (in both forms) and her allies: Schmendrick, Molly Grue,and Liir.

Tomorrow I'll have to go and get some more acrylic, since I almost exhausted my tube of white, some more small paint brushes as well as some turpentine.

Pictures will follow as soon a I find my damn connection cable for my camera.

Writer's Block: Between a rock and a hard place
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Very simple equation:  pit S = ( c + f1 )*f2

Mean amount of horribleness ( x ) per individual creature ( c ) is 1.  For each leg ( f1 )  add 2 x. For each eye ( f2 ) multiply with 100 x.

If two pits ( pit S ) are given, with 100 individual creatures each ( pit Sn and pit Sp ), and we average the number of f2 per c in pit Sp as 8, the equations are as follows:

pit Sn = ( 1+ 0 )*200  -->  pit Sn = 1*200 --> pit Sn = 200

pit Sp = ( 1 + 8 )*800 --> pit Sp = 9*800 --> pit Sp = 7200

Therefore, a pit of spiders is 36 times more horrible than a pit of snakes.

Simple.






:p

Writer's Block: Subtitles please
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What is your favorite foreign film? Do you think there should be an American remake?

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LOL. I love how my favourite "foreign" film can't POSSIBLY be American. And when I say "love", I mean rolling my eyes so hard they threaten to drop out of my head.

Newsflash: America is NOT the center of the world. Especially not on livejournal.

PS: For a nice illustration of my point, observe how many russian answers are below mine.  :)

Writer's Block: Mother Monster returns
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In three words, how would you describe Lady Gaga?

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Over-hyped. Simplistic. Boring.





(*duck, run and hide*)


Writer's Block: Soul together
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If you could have the ability to hear everything your best friend or romantic partner was thinking, but you couldn't switch it off (or tell them), would you want it?

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Of course I woudn't want it!

Apart from the fact that I would be spying on my best friend/lover, I would also be subjected to any passing thought of them.

If they are annoyed, but don't show it. If they think something in anger, but don't voice it because these thoughts are so awful, they would never be able to make up for them. If they indulge in their own little inconsequential musings and daydreams, and I just couldn't help and listen in?

I wouldn't be able to stand hearing them think about me as a bitch, or worse, in anger. And I wouldn't be able to resolve that issue, right? Since I couldn't tell them about my telepathy, I would be doomed to listen and to swallow everything I learn while receiving their endless white noise, without being able to resolve anything.

That's the stuff nightmares are made of.

And the of whatever relationship I would have.


A special litle snowflake...
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So, amidst the chaos that is currently my life, I decided that now is the right time to get serious with writing.

As always, my timing is impeccable.

Anyway, my main problem when it comes to writing, has always been my inability to word-vomit. When meeting with my little writing circle, I would offer up the two small, meager paragraphs I wrote in the ten minutes allotted to flash-writing, while the others could show at least a page. When I don't know which direction I want to go, I stay where I am. While my best friend can write and write and edits later, I have trouble putting sentences together when I have no clue for what purpose.
That's the one thing I definitely learned at University, while being whipped through the Language Practice classes: That the outline is my savior. While my classmates were moaning about mandatory essay-plans, I rejoiced. Hey, if I know what I want to do, I can actually do it! Yay!
So, after registering for NaNoWriMo last September, I sat down on my ass to write my first long work. I would write ... a novel! And I was prepared, too! I had a storyline I would follow. I knew the beginning and the ending, and some key scenes in between, and I had a rough image in mind for my main players. That should do the trick! So on day one, I went to the library, started the computer and typed away enthusiastically.
Three hours later, I had one and a half pages.
I never wrote the damn thing.

But I wont give up!

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Writer's Block: The start of something wonderful
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What is your favorite opening line of a book, and why?

First question listed was submitted by theropod. (Follow-up questions, if any, may have been added by LiveJournal.)

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"It was a dark, blustery afternoon in spring, and the city of London was chasing a small mining town across the dried-out bed of the old North Sea."
-- Mortal Engines (The Hungry City Chronicles) by Philip Reeve.

A good opening line is, like a good title, a promise. It tells you something about what to expect, about the tone and the attitude of what is coming next. "This", it says, "is gonna be good." Not every such promise is kept, of course, but even if that's the case that initial spark of exitement and anticipation will remain.

Mortal Engines made this promise in it's very first line, heralding to this fan of Fantasy of a world that was original, and whimsical, of a setting she had not yet encountered in countless books before. For someone who has dropped books onto the table or shelf of the store halfway through the cover blurb because it talked about chosen half-elfs defeating ancient evils, a first line like that is like leaving a confined cave with stale air and tasting something fresh for a change. Sometimes, I take the book from the shelf and read aloud that first sentence and the paragraph that follows. And it exites me still.

Writer's Block: In the jungle
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Which animal would you choose to be for a day, and why?

First question listed was submitted by bornbutterfly. (Follow-up questions, if any, may have been added by LiveJournal.)

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Cat. Always a cat.
Some fat kitten, sitting on ovens and under chairs. Eating and sleeping and playing my days away. Impressive strength and ability for my size (I could jump so high).  And I could treat people meanly, with indifference or affection, swinging from mood to mood without much ado, and people would say: "Well, that's how a cat is."

Writer's Block: Time after time
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If you could cast one type of magic spell, which would you choose, and why?

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I was recently thinking about just that, Someone had asked me what my favorite book as a child was. I had no idea, since I consider myself to be a 'serial monogamist' when it comes to books, i.e. my favourite is always the one I'm currently reading and that I can't put down. (Credit for that term 'serial monogamist' to the author D. Schwanitz, btw.)

So when I was asked about my favourite book, I tried to determine which one I liked best. That's how I noticed that there are books on my shelf that I liked quite a lot when I read them back then, but never re-read . There are some exceptions, of course, for example books from a series with a new book coming up, or books I didn't get into at first reading and which I sometines apreciate more when I've grown a bit older.

And then there are others that I re-read on average every 1-2 years. Usually, because I would think, "How'd that scene go? What was that line of dialogue you liked so much?" I grab the book, and before I know it, I've read it again. Watership Down by Richard Adams is one of those. I must have read it a dozen times since I bought my used copy for 1 DM at a library sale when I was about, whoah, 12 or 13? That's
15 years down the memory lane for me.  Less frequently, but ever so often,  I pull out Michael Ende's  Wunschpunsh (Wishing Punch) when I crave cute and simple, or Ottfried Preußler's Krabat, when I can stand bittersweet. Or the Discworld novel that I still like the most (according to number of readings) Guards! Guards!

I'll read a bad book once. (If I finish it. I hated The Fifth Sorceress. So. Much. Seriously.)
I might read a soso-lala book twice. (And sometimes, soso-lala becomes better then I remembered. Obviously, sometimes my mind has to ripe. Like wine.)
My favorites I'll read as often as my eyes fall on them. (And they never grow old. Never.)


Edited because the wrong question get's displayed O.o:
Original Writers Block question: If you fall in love with a book or movie, do you tend to watch/read it again and again? If so, what's your upper limit on repeats?

Random
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