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Re: [Book Chat] "What's Everyone Reading" Thread
Originally Posted by DizzzyZebra
...I went with e-books because all my reasons for enjoying physical books were far too insubstantial.
That doesn't seem to be stopping you guys though. x3
I suffer from a bad case of nostalgia and a lack of desire to acquire electronic gizmos.
I have more money for books that way.
Books and Food.
Also, Fight Club turned out to be pretty awesome in the end. Won't say much, but the later half of the novel gets pretty crazy.
Next up - American Gods. Do not let me down, Neil Gaiman.
Steam Account is triguy23. (Currently Away until some 'Conditions' are met. If you don't contact me at the mentioned locations, then see you all later!)
You say that last part as if it is actually possible.
Originally Posted by beastman309
We were reading The Giver in my children's literature class, and by the end of the unit I convinced everyone there (including the teacher), that they had eliminated the need to poop.
Originally Posted by weirdguy
Originally Posted by Ixelrod
So anyone else bugged by how John's Wind sign looks like toothpaste?
Guy's like the...fresh heir of breath mints.
(god do you know how long it took me to come up with that)
In Self-Imposed Exile, See Signature for Locations
Pronouns
he/him/his
Posts
8,627
Re: [Book Chat] "What's Everyone Reading" Thread
Originally Posted by weirdguy
You say that last part as if it is actually possible.
Nothing is impossible in this crazy universe of ours...
But I have high expectations for this novel nonetheless...
Steam Account is triguy23. (Currently Away until some 'Conditions' are met. If you don't contact me at the mentioned locations, then see you all later!)
Nothing is impossible in this crazy universe of ours...
But I have high expectations for this novel nonetheless...
You guys are making me feel bad for putting off reading it.
Your name is ILIKEOCTOPUS, but you are usually called OCTI for short. Your hobbies include PLAYING THE VIOLIN, READING, and GETTING DISTRACTED, though you sometimes try not to do that last one. Your chumhandle is cascadeViolinist and you tend to use contractions only when you are very excited and trail off in the middle and end of sentences... but you often attempt to avoid that.
She sleeps in tower ivory, she dreams in one of gold,
At once she is both young and dead and old.
She sees what is to happen, knows not what will unfold.
Fire took her dreams away, now emptiness rules sleep,
In bubbles ruled by creatures mad her sanity she keeps
And through the madness she becomes a wolf and not a sheep.
Now space is in her grasp, power great and vast
And on the golden inch she sails on ship of golden masts
To face a fiend of power cosmic, whose reign forever lasts.
How will this journey end, no one can be sure,
But however it will end, the universe she’ll cure.
John:
Zephyr his mount, sapphire his cape
The Heir arrives on wings of storm
Lightning his scepter, thunder his crown
The power of Breath the world does transform
Light on his feet, light in his heart
Greatness is his, his to perform
Potential endless, given by air
The power of Breath the world does transform
Joy rules him still, though darkness looms close
And sorrows and pain threaten to swarm
He rises above, the sky is his throne
The power of Breath the world does transform
Though kindness is his, cruelty cast aside
Threaten his kin, trouble their form
And prepare to reap a whirlwind of force
The power of Breath your hate will transform.
Rose:
At the tip of her wand seraphim dance
A ballet of strife with devils of chance.
Sable and Emerald duel for her mind;
If either prevails , her fate won’t be kind
At all times in control, except when she’s not.
Aberrations of dread foul feelers do send.
They whisper of treason, damnation and rot,
Of crimes she could never hope to amend.
She will not surrender, relinquish no sliver
Of her mind to the hunters that come from the void.
Fight them every step, she won’t falter or quiver;
She fights for herself, least she be destroyed.
With wizardry and light, the future she scouts,
The roll of the dice now her crystal ball,
And though what she sees may cause her some doubt
The Seer will never again be a thrall.
Furious Pariah, hard of shell
Herder of wolves, they bite at his ankles
Making his way through a hazy hell.
Hurried the midwife, doomed the born
Ruinous creator, tumorous doctor
He failed, for hatred now sworn.
In desolation lingers, never dares to hope
For he knows hope is a butcher
With his helplessness he cannot cope
Rage too betrayed him, bond asunder
Leaving a trail of corpses behind
The jester cares not if he goes under
Trapped in loathing, harried by temporal shades
Cursed by heretical plasma, hidden by shame
Jealousy grows, cultivated by sightless blades
Blindness sneers at him
Callousness will spare not a moment
His blood by loneliness made dim
Kanaya:
On sunny sands she walks, while others in darkness sleep.
Caring soul, ancestor to a generation that will never be born.
Care is met with cruelty, dealt by the spider’s sting,
Her love is repaid with indifference, pricks like the sharpest thorn.
Amphibian progeny she raises, watched by a warrior filled with pride
Haste her child will doom, the warrior demands it still, she obeys.
A universe is born only to die again.
Her love is repaid by stillbirth; her child will never see the light of day.
Fleeing from bladed death, her last hope has yet to hatch,
She shows compassion to a wounded soul, giving it a goal.
That hope is a devil in sheep’s skin, and burns all others.
Her love is repaid with treason, and in her heart a hole.
With vengeance she rises again, less and more than she was.
The devil is cleaved by a sword of teeth. It gives her no peace.
Now she searches for a space to call her own.
Her love is waiting for a balm that the pain will cease.
He is without equal, brain like a storm
Hateful and wretched, worthless worm
Wisdom and knowledge, power unknown
Ignorant fool, his fate does bemoan
Fierce is his mind, fierce his heart too
Cowardly maggot of red and blue
She was his best friend, she could have been more
He fired and fired, left nothing but gore
He saved her life, she kissed him and smiled
Shot through the chest, while he choked on bile
He did what he could, it wasn’t his fault
He failed like always, her death couldn’t halt
Blackness unfolds him, no more red and blue
Duality vanished, the dying shouts are gone
Peace at last, a final dark dawn.
Tranquility in emptiness
Rest in the void
Clarity in blindness
Unity in death.
Pointy shades, bulbous rump
Ironic coolness, rhymes I pump
Shatterproof sword, Causal cap
Layers of satire, I take no crap
Flashy moves, tasty grooves
Never lose, always the one to choose
Faster than sound, flashing around
Cutting fools down, fighting black clowns
Jet board, can’t be ignored, check out the sword
Slashing through imps like metaphysical gourds
Grist hoard, everything afford, won every single possible award
Shit so easy, I get bored.
Got Cal, best pal, me and him is an entire cabal
Bounce a coin, try not to look sad;
It won’t get to land before I send you
Beaten so bad like a kick to the groin
You can’t beat Bro at shit, I’m simply the best there is
Holding a monopoly on the asskicking biz.
As well you should. It's really a one of a kind book.
Crap. These... library... books...
But hey, I have two Terry Pratchett books in that pile. Does that by any chance placate you folks? Maybe?
Your name is ILIKEOCTOPUS, but you are usually called OCTI for short. Your hobbies include PLAYING THE VIOLIN, READING, and GETTING DISTRACTED, though you sometimes try not to do that last one. Your chumhandle is cascadeViolinist and you tend to use contractions only when you are very excited and trail off in the middle and end of sentences... but you often attempt to avoid that.
She sleeps in tower ivory, she dreams in one of gold,
At once she is both young and dead and old.
She sees what is to happen, knows not what will unfold.
Fire took her dreams away, now emptiness rules sleep,
In bubbles ruled by creatures mad her sanity she keeps
And through the madness she becomes a wolf and not a sheep.
Now space is in her grasp, power great and vast
And on the golden inch she sails on ship of golden masts
To face a fiend of power cosmic, whose reign forever lasts.
How will this journey end, no one can be sure,
But however it will end, the universe she’ll cure.
John:
Zephyr his mount, sapphire his cape
The Heir arrives on wings of storm
Lightning his scepter, thunder his crown
The power of Breath the world does transform
Light on his feet, light in his heart
Greatness is his, his to perform
Potential endless, given by air
The power of Breath the world does transform
Joy rules him still, though darkness looms close
And sorrows and pain threaten to swarm
He rises above, the sky is his throne
The power of Breath the world does transform
Though kindness is his, cruelty cast aside
Threaten his kin, trouble their form
And prepare to reap a whirlwind of force
The power of Breath your hate will transform.
Rose:
At the tip of her wand seraphim dance
A ballet of strife with devils of chance.
Sable and Emerald duel for her mind;
If either prevails , her fate won’t be kind
At all times in control, except when she’s not.
Aberrations of dread foul feelers do send.
They whisper of treason, damnation and rot,
Of crimes she could never hope to amend.
She will not surrender, relinquish no sliver
Of her mind to the hunters that come from the void.
Fight them every step, she won’t falter or quiver;
She fights for herself, least she be destroyed.
With wizardry and light, the future she scouts,
The roll of the dice now her crystal ball,
And though what she sees may cause her some doubt
The Seer will never again be a thrall.
Furious Pariah, hard of shell
Herder of wolves, they bite at his ankles
Making his way through a hazy hell.
Hurried the midwife, doomed the born
Ruinous creator, tumorous doctor
He failed, for hatred now sworn.
In desolation lingers, never dares to hope
For he knows hope is a butcher
With his helplessness he cannot cope
Rage too betrayed him, bond asunder
Leaving a trail of corpses behind
The jester cares not if he goes under
Trapped in loathing, harried by temporal shades
Cursed by heretical plasma, hidden by shame
Jealousy grows, cultivated by sightless blades
Blindness sneers at him
Callousness will spare not a moment
His blood by loneliness made dim
Kanaya:
On sunny sands she walks, while others in darkness sleep.
Caring soul, ancestor to a generation that will never be born.
Care is met with cruelty, dealt by the spider’s sting,
Her love is repaid with indifference, pricks like the sharpest thorn.
Amphibian progeny she raises, watched by a warrior filled with pride
Haste her child will doom, the warrior demands it still, she obeys.
A universe is born only to die again.
Her love is repaid by stillbirth; her child will never see the light of day.
Fleeing from bladed death, her last hope has yet to hatch,
She shows compassion to a wounded soul, giving it a goal.
That hope is a devil in sheep’s skin, and burns all others.
Her love is repaid with treason, and in her heart a hole.
With vengeance she rises again, less and more than she was.
The devil is cleaved by a sword of teeth. It gives her no peace.
Now she searches for a space to call her own.
Her love is waiting for a balm that the pain will cease.
He is without equal, brain like a storm
Hateful and wretched, worthless worm
Wisdom and knowledge, power unknown
Ignorant fool, his fate does bemoan
Fierce is his mind, fierce his heart too
Cowardly maggot of red and blue
She was his best friend, she could have been more
He fired and fired, left nothing but gore
He saved her life, she kissed him and smiled
Shot through the chest, while he choked on bile
He did what he could, it wasn’t his fault
He failed like always, her death couldn’t halt
Blackness unfolds him, no more red and blue
Duality vanished, the dying shouts are gone
Peace at last, a final dark dawn.
Tranquility in emptiness
Rest in the void
Clarity in blindness
Unity in death.
Pointy shades, bulbous rump
Ironic coolness, rhymes I pump
Shatterproof sword, Causal cap
Layers of satire, I take no crap
Flashy moves, tasty grooves
Never lose, always the one to choose
Faster than sound, flashing around
Cutting fools down, fighting black clowns
Jet board, can’t be ignored, check out the sword
Slashing through imps like metaphysical gourds
Grist hoard, everything afford, won every single possible award
Shit so easy, I get bored.
Got Cal, best pal, me and him is an entire cabal
Bounce a coin, try not to look sad;
It won’t get to land before I send you
Beaten so bad like a kick to the groin
You can’t beat Bro at shit, I’m simply the best there is
Holding a monopoly on the asskicking biz.
1. That's exactly what we're talking about. With the exception of large, textbook-style tomes, that kind of thing wouldn't even register in many people's minds as something that might damage a regular book. There, I've just thrown one of mine, on purpose, perfectly fine.
2.Also, an ebook reader's screen can get cracked or scratched. Also, the same nostandard monitor design that makes it readable in sunlight raises quetions about what kind of cleaning sprays are safe to use on the monitor (would a spray designed for cleaning a traditional monitor be ok to use? What about the spray I have for my glasses? What about Windex?). Granted, traditional books are likely to get damaged or dirty as well (and do indeed display more visible wear from being carried in cargo pockets) but NOT every page at once.
I must say though, that ebooks have opened my mind to many enlightening, classic, public domain books, (due in large part to my refusal to pay approximately the same price for a bunch of words that I could pay elsewhere for the same words plus a quantity of ink and paper)
1. The exact same argument applies exactly in reverse as well. A normal book may not be damaged by being physically jostled, but it does become damaged through, maybe, a pair of scissors or an accidental ripping? Those issues don't happen to e-readers.
2. First off, you never, EVER use Windex to clean computer screens.
This happens:
You shouldn't even need a spray to clean off an e-reader's screen, just use a microfiber (just like the one for a pair of glasses, how 'bout that shit?), if that stuff is really resiliant, use a tad of water or your fingernail to loosen it up and go over with the microfiber again. And once again I have to disagree with the whole "not all at once" argument, I've had many books' edges damaged throughout the entire text from being in a bag with dust or keys in it.
I have to say, though, taking care of a book is just not the same as taking care of an e-reader. With a book, you don't have to worry about dirty screens (which I do, very often - almost obsessively) and don't have to stop every few hours to frantically wipe off the screen. They are rather convenient for those days when stuffing a 500 page book into a bookbag seems impossible, though. But they are so dang expensive...
(I am not being influenced by my tendency to get headaches when reading from e-readers at all. ...Definitely not.)
Your name is ILIKEOCTOPUS, but you are usually called OCTI for short. Your hobbies include PLAYING THE VIOLIN, READING, and GETTING DISTRACTED, though you sometimes try not to do that last one. Your chumhandle is cascadeViolinist and you tend to use contractions only when you are very excited and trail off in the middle and end of sentences... but you often attempt to avoid that.
I have to say, though, taking care of a book is just not the same as taking care of an e-reader. With a book, you don't have to worry about dirty screens (which I do, very often - almost obsessively) and don't have to stop every few hours to frantically wipe off the screen. They are rather convenient for those days when stuffing a 500 page book into a bookbag seems impossible, though. But they are so dang expensive...
(I am not being influenced by my tendency to get headaches when reading from e-readers at all. ...Definitely not.)
I'm a cheap person, okay? ...And a library card is free...
Your name is ILIKEOCTOPUS, but you are usually called OCTI for short. Your hobbies include PLAYING THE VIOLIN, READING, and GETTING DISTRACTED, though you sometimes try not to do that last one. Your chumhandle is cascadeViolinist and you tend to use contractions only when you are very excited and trail off in the middle and end of sentences... but you often attempt to avoid that.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig: A philosophical novel that explores what Pirsig calls his "Metaphysics of Quality," while using a cross-country motorcycle trip as a medium, and motorcycle maintenance as a way of expressing certain philosophical ideas. Really, you don't need to know anything about bikes to read it, though. Good stuff. Emerald City by Jennifer Egan: A collection of short stories, each taking place at different locations around the world with drastically different characters. Fantastic job at pretty much every aspect of fiction, this book. The World According to Clarkson by Jeremy Clarkson: A collection of Top Gear host Jeremy Clarkson's column writing. Funny, intuitive, and opinionated. Each segment is only a few pages long, so it's great to carry around if I've got a few minutes to kill while waiting for something. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy: This speaks for itself. I'm not that far in it yet, but I'm really enjoying myself because I'm a huge literary faggot and whatnot. Othello by William Shakespeare: One of the plays of his that I've not read. I put this down several months ago and have yet to pick it up again, which is a crime.
I wish I had fourteen bucks to drop on a copy of The Hunger Games, because I really enjoyed the movie and now I want to read the book. I really like reading :B
Hmm I don't really read that much. I've been meaning to pick up the Color of Magic. I like Hitchhiker's Guide to galaxy style books as well as intriguing fantasy. Any recommendations?
Also haven't read harry potter...something makes me not want to read it either.
Harry Potter you can really go both ways on- not a terrible read, but not a must read either. You should pick Color of Magic. While it's not the strongest of the Discworld books, it is a good introduction to the world and lore.
She sleeps in tower ivory, she dreams in one of gold,
At once she is both young and dead and old.
She sees what is to happen, knows not what will unfold.
Fire took her dreams away, now emptiness rules sleep,
In bubbles ruled by creatures mad her sanity she keeps
And through the madness she becomes a wolf and not a sheep.
Now space is in her grasp, power great and vast
And on the golden inch she sails on ship of golden masts
To face a fiend of power cosmic, whose reign forever lasts.
How will this journey end, no one can be sure,
But however it will end, the universe she’ll cure.
John:
Zephyr his mount, sapphire his cape
The Heir arrives on wings of storm
Lightning his scepter, thunder his crown
The power of Breath the world does transform
Light on his feet, light in his heart
Greatness is his, his to perform
Potential endless, given by air
The power of Breath the world does transform
Joy rules him still, though darkness looms close
And sorrows and pain threaten to swarm
He rises above, the sky is his throne
The power of Breath the world does transform
Though kindness is his, cruelty cast aside
Threaten his kin, trouble their form
And prepare to reap a whirlwind of force
The power of Breath your hate will transform.
Rose:
At the tip of her wand seraphim dance
A ballet of strife with devils of chance.
Sable and Emerald duel for her mind;
If either prevails , her fate won’t be kind
At all times in control, except when she’s not.
Aberrations of dread foul feelers do send.
They whisper of treason, damnation and rot,
Of crimes she could never hope to amend.
She will not surrender, relinquish no sliver
Of her mind to the hunters that come from the void.
Fight them every step, she won’t falter or quiver;
She fights for herself, least she be destroyed.
With wizardry and light, the future she scouts,
The roll of the dice now her crystal ball,
And though what she sees may cause her some doubt
The Seer will never again be a thrall.
Furious Pariah, hard of shell
Herder of wolves, they bite at his ankles
Making his way through a hazy hell.
Hurried the midwife, doomed the born
Ruinous creator, tumorous doctor
He failed, for hatred now sworn.
In desolation lingers, never dares to hope
For he knows hope is a butcher
With his helplessness he cannot cope
Rage too betrayed him, bond asunder
Leaving a trail of corpses behind
The jester cares not if he goes under
Trapped in loathing, harried by temporal shades
Cursed by heretical plasma, hidden by shame
Jealousy grows, cultivated by sightless blades
Blindness sneers at him
Callousness will spare not a moment
His blood by loneliness made dim
Kanaya:
On sunny sands she walks, while others in darkness sleep.
Caring soul, ancestor to a generation that will never be born.
Care is met with cruelty, dealt by the spider’s sting,
Her love is repaid with indifference, pricks like the sharpest thorn.
Amphibian progeny she raises, watched by a warrior filled with pride
Haste her child will doom, the warrior demands it still, she obeys.
A universe is born only to die again.
Her love is repaid by stillbirth; her child will never see the light of day.
Fleeing from bladed death, her last hope has yet to hatch,
She shows compassion to a wounded soul, giving it a goal.
That hope is a devil in sheep’s skin, and burns all others.
Her love is repaid with treason, and in her heart a hole.
With vengeance she rises again, less and more than she was.
The devil is cleaved by a sword of teeth. It gives her no peace.
Now she searches for a space to call her own.
Her love is waiting for a balm that the pain will cease.
He is without equal, brain like a storm
Hateful and wretched, worthless worm
Wisdom and knowledge, power unknown
Ignorant fool, his fate does bemoan
Fierce is his mind, fierce his heart too
Cowardly maggot of red and blue
She was his best friend, she could have been more
He fired and fired, left nothing but gore
He saved her life, she kissed him and smiled
Shot through the chest, while he choked on bile
He did what he could, it wasn’t his fault
He failed like always, her death couldn’t halt
Blackness unfolds him, no more red and blue
Duality vanished, the dying shouts are gone
Peace at last, a final dark dawn.
Tranquility in emptiness
Rest in the void
Clarity in blindness
Unity in death.
Pointy shades, bulbous rump
Ironic coolness, rhymes I pump
Shatterproof sword, Causal cap
Layers of satire, I take no crap
Flashy moves, tasty grooves
Never lose, always the one to choose
Faster than sound, flashing around
Cutting fools down, fighting black clowns
Jet board, can’t be ignored, check out the sword
Slashing through imps like metaphysical gourds
Grist hoard, everything afford, won every single possible award
Shit so easy, I get bored.
Got Cal, best pal, me and him is an entire cabal
Bounce a coin, try not to look sad;
It won’t get to land before I send you
Beaten so bad like a kick to the groin
You can’t beat Bro at shit, I’m simply the best there is
Holding a monopoly on the asskicking biz.
Snow Crash. Man, I need to read that again. Loved that book.
Originally Posted by
That's not entirely true. I thnk most people are shtity and boring, but I still try to be respectful to them, a) because nobody deserves to be shat upon for no reason, even if they are objectively boring as fuck and b) they might actually be pretty cool and I just down know it yet. not likely, but always possible. and c) they may also be more useful to me if they don't think I'm a total asshole. x3
Are there any Lois Bujold fans who dwell in this thread? Because the official synopsis for the next Vorkosigan Saga novel went up. November can't come soon enough! The snippets of it from her Cryoburn book tour have been haunting me for the last year and a half @_@. . . though I am probably going to act like the enormous fangirl that I am and buy the $15 eARC from Baen as soon as it becomes available. August maybe? :P.
On a similar note, there are going to be three Dresden Files short stories with Bigfoot as Harry's client, if anyone else likes that series. The April Fool title is referring to a paranormal romance spinoff they teased in the last post.
On a similar note, there are going to be three Dresden Files short stories with Bigfoot as Harry's client, if anyone else likes that series. The April Fool title is referring to a paranormal romance spinoff they teased in the last post.
I'm a big fan of the series. That short story from Molly's POV sounds good.
She sleeps in tower ivory, she dreams in one of gold,
At once she is both young and dead and old.
She sees what is to happen, knows not what will unfold.
Fire took her dreams away, now emptiness rules sleep,
In bubbles ruled by creatures mad her sanity she keeps
And through the madness she becomes a wolf and not a sheep.
Now space is in her grasp, power great and vast
And on the golden inch she sails on ship of golden masts
To face a fiend of power cosmic, whose reign forever lasts.
How will this journey end, no one can be sure,
But however it will end, the universe she’ll cure.
John:
Zephyr his mount, sapphire his cape
The Heir arrives on wings of storm
Lightning his scepter, thunder his crown
The power of Breath the world does transform
Light on his feet, light in his heart
Greatness is his, his to perform
Potential endless, given by air
The power of Breath the world does transform
Joy rules him still, though darkness looms close
And sorrows and pain threaten to swarm
He rises above, the sky is his throne
The power of Breath the world does transform
Though kindness is his, cruelty cast aside
Threaten his kin, trouble their form
And prepare to reap a whirlwind of force
The power of Breath your hate will transform.
Rose:
At the tip of her wand seraphim dance
A ballet of strife with devils of chance.
Sable and Emerald duel for her mind;
If either prevails , her fate won’t be kind
At all times in control, except when she’s not.
Aberrations of dread foul feelers do send.
They whisper of treason, damnation and rot,
Of crimes she could never hope to amend.
She will not surrender, relinquish no sliver
Of her mind to the hunters that come from the void.
Fight them every step, she won’t falter or quiver;
She fights for herself, least she be destroyed.
With wizardry and light, the future she scouts,
The roll of the dice now her crystal ball,
And though what she sees may cause her some doubt
The Seer will never again be a thrall.
Furious Pariah, hard of shell
Herder of wolves, they bite at his ankles
Making his way through a hazy hell.
Hurried the midwife, doomed the born
Ruinous creator, tumorous doctor
He failed, for hatred now sworn.
In desolation lingers, never dares to hope
For he knows hope is a butcher
With his helplessness he cannot cope
Rage too betrayed him, bond asunder
Leaving a trail of corpses behind
The jester cares not if he goes under
Trapped in loathing, harried by temporal shades
Cursed by heretical plasma, hidden by shame
Jealousy grows, cultivated by sightless blades
Blindness sneers at him
Callousness will spare not a moment
His blood by loneliness made dim
Kanaya:
On sunny sands she walks, while others in darkness sleep.
Caring soul, ancestor to a generation that will never be born.
Care is met with cruelty, dealt by the spider’s sting,
Her love is repaid with indifference, pricks like the sharpest thorn.
Amphibian progeny she raises, watched by a warrior filled with pride
Haste her child will doom, the warrior demands it still, she obeys.
A universe is born only to die again.
Her love is repaid by stillbirth; her child will never see the light of day.
Fleeing from bladed death, her last hope has yet to hatch,
She shows compassion to a wounded soul, giving it a goal.
That hope is a devil in sheep’s skin, and burns all others.
Her love is repaid with treason, and in her heart a hole.
With vengeance she rises again, less and more than she was.
The devil is cleaved by a sword of teeth. It gives her no peace.
Now she searches for a space to call her own.
Her love is waiting for a balm that the pain will cease.
He is without equal, brain like a storm
Hateful and wretched, worthless worm
Wisdom and knowledge, power unknown
Ignorant fool, his fate does bemoan
Fierce is his mind, fierce his heart too
Cowardly maggot of red and blue
She was his best friend, she could have been more
He fired and fired, left nothing but gore
He saved her life, she kissed him and smiled
Shot through the chest, while he choked on bile
He did what he could, it wasn’t his fault
He failed like always, her death couldn’t halt
Blackness unfolds him, no more red and blue
Duality vanished, the dying shouts are gone
Peace at last, a final dark dawn.
Tranquility in emptiness
Rest in the void
Clarity in blindness
Unity in death.
Pointy shades, bulbous rump
Ironic coolness, rhymes I pump
Shatterproof sword, Causal cap
Layers of satire, I take no crap
Flashy moves, tasty grooves
Never lose, always the one to choose
Faster than sound, flashing around
Cutting fools down, fighting black clowns
Jet board, can’t be ignored, check out the sword
Slashing through imps like metaphysical gourds
Grist hoard, everything afford, won every single possible award
Shit so easy, I get bored.
Got Cal, best pal, me and him is an entire cabal
Bounce a coin, try not to look sad;
It won’t get to land before I send you
Beaten so bad like a kick to the groin
You can’t beat Bro at shit, I’m simply the best there is
Holding a monopoly on the asskicking biz.
She sleeps in tower ivory, she dreams in one of gold,
At once she is both young and dead and old.
She sees what is to happen, knows not what will unfold.
Fire took her dreams away, now emptiness rules sleep,
In bubbles ruled by creatures mad her sanity she keeps
And through the madness she becomes a wolf and not a sheep.
Now space is in her grasp, power great and vast
And on the golden inch she sails on ship of golden masts
To face a fiend of power cosmic, whose reign forever lasts.
How will this journey end, no one can be sure,
But however it will end, the universe she’ll cure.
John:
Zephyr his mount, sapphire his cape
The Heir arrives on wings of storm
Lightning his scepter, thunder his crown
The power of Breath the world does transform
Light on his feet, light in his heart
Greatness is his, his to perform
Potential endless, given by air
The power of Breath the world does transform
Joy rules him still, though darkness looms close
And sorrows and pain threaten to swarm
He rises above, the sky is his throne
The power of Breath the world does transform
Though kindness is his, cruelty cast aside
Threaten his kin, trouble their form
And prepare to reap a whirlwind of force
The power of Breath your hate will transform.
Rose:
At the tip of her wand seraphim dance
A ballet of strife with devils of chance.
Sable and Emerald duel for her mind;
If either prevails , her fate won’t be kind
At all times in control, except when she’s not.
Aberrations of dread foul feelers do send.
They whisper of treason, damnation and rot,
Of crimes she could never hope to amend.
She will not surrender, relinquish no sliver
Of her mind to the hunters that come from the void.
Fight them every step, she won’t falter or quiver;
She fights for herself, least she be destroyed.
With wizardry and light, the future she scouts,
The roll of the dice now her crystal ball,
And though what she sees may cause her some doubt
The Seer will never again be a thrall.
Furious Pariah, hard of shell
Herder of wolves, they bite at his ankles
Making his way through a hazy hell.
Hurried the midwife, doomed the born
Ruinous creator, tumorous doctor
He failed, for hatred now sworn.
In desolation lingers, never dares to hope
For he knows hope is a butcher
With his helplessness he cannot cope
Rage too betrayed him, bond asunder
Leaving a trail of corpses behind
The jester cares not if he goes under
Trapped in loathing, harried by temporal shades
Cursed by heretical plasma, hidden by shame
Jealousy grows, cultivated by sightless blades
Blindness sneers at him
Callousness will spare not a moment
His blood by loneliness made dim
Kanaya:
On sunny sands she walks, while others in darkness sleep.
Caring soul, ancestor to a generation that will never be born.
Care is met with cruelty, dealt by the spider’s sting,
Her love is repaid with indifference, pricks like the sharpest thorn.
Amphibian progeny she raises, watched by a warrior filled with pride
Haste her child will doom, the warrior demands it still, she obeys.
A universe is born only to die again.
Her love is repaid by stillbirth; her child will never see the light of day.
Fleeing from bladed death, her last hope has yet to hatch,
She shows compassion to a wounded soul, giving it a goal.
That hope is a devil in sheep’s skin, and burns all others.
Her love is repaid with treason, and in her heart a hole.
With vengeance she rises again, less and more than she was.
The devil is cleaved by a sword of teeth. It gives her no peace.
Now she searches for a space to call her own.
Her love is waiting for a balm that the pain will cease.
He is without equal, brain like a storm
Hateful and wretched, worthless worm
Wisdom and knowledge, power unknown
Ignorant fool, his fate does bemoan
Fierce is his mind, fierce his heart too
Cowardly maggot of red and blue
She was his best friend, she could have been more
He fired and fired, left nothing but gore
He saved her life, she kissed him and smiled
Shot through the chest, while he choked on bile
He did what he could, it wasn’t his fault
He failed like always, her death couldn’t halt
Blackness unfolds him, no more red and blue
Duality vanished, the dying shouts are gone
Peace at last, a final dark dawn.
Tranquility in emptiness
Rest in the void
Clarity in blindness
Unity in death.
Pointy shades, bulbous rump
Ironic coolness, rhymes I pump
Shatterproof sword, Causal cap
Layers of satire, I take no crap
Flashy moves, tasty grooves
Never lose, always the one to choose
Faster than sound, flashing around
Cutting fools down, fighting black clowns
Jet board, can’t be ignored, check out the sword
Slashing through imps like metaphysical gourds
Grist hoard, everything afford, won every single possible award
Shit so easy, I get bored.
Got Cal, best pal, me and him is an entire cabal
Bounce a coin, try not to look sad;
It won’t get to land before I send you
Beaten so bad like a kick to the groin
You can’t beat Bro at shit, I’m simply the best there is
Holding a monopoly on the asskicking biz.
She sleeps in tower ivory, she dreams in one of gold,
At once she is both young and dead and old.
She sees what is to happen, knows not what will unfold.
Fire took her dreams away, now emptiness rules sleep,
In bubbles ruled by creatures mad her sanity she keeps
And through the madness she becomes a wolf and not a sheep.
Now space is in her grasp, power great and vast
And on the golden inch she sails on ship of golden masts
To face a fiend of power cosmic, whose reign forever lasts.
How will this journey end, no one can be sure,
But however it will end, the universe she’ll cure.
John:
Zephyr his mount, sapphire his cape
The Heir arrives on wings of storm
Lightning his scepter, thunder his crown
The power of Breath the world does transform
Light on his feet, light in his heart
Greatness is his, his to perform
Potential endless, given by air
The power of Breath the world does transform
Joy rules him still, though darkness looms close
And sorrows and pain threaten to swarm
He rises above, the sky is his throne
The power of Breath the world does transform
Though kindness is his, cruelty cast aside
Threaten his kin, trouble their form
And prepare to reap a whirlwind of force
The power of Breath your hate will transform.
Rose:
At the tip of her wand seraphim dance
A ballet of strife with devils of chance.
Sable and Emerald duel for her mind;
If either prevails , her fate won’t be kind
At all times in control, except when she’s not.
Aberrations of dread foul feelers do send.
They whisper of treason, damnation and rot,
Of crimes she could never hope to amend.
She will not surrender, relinquish no sliver
Of her mind to the hunters that come from the void.
Fight them every step, she won’t falter or quiver;
She fights for herself, least she be destroyed.
With wizardry and light, the future she scouts,
The roll of the dice now her crystal ball,
And though what she sees may cause her some doubt
The Seer will never again be a thrall.
Furious Pariah, hard of shell
Herder of wolves, they bite at his ankles
Making his way through a hazy hell.
Hurried the midwife, doomed the born
Ruinous creator, tumorous doctor
He failed, for hatred now sworn.
In desolation lingers, never dares to hope
For he knows hope is a butcher
With his helplessness he cannot cope
Rage too betrayed him, bond asunder
Leaving a trail of corpses behind
The jester cares not if he goes under
Trapped in loathing, harried by temporal shades
Cursed by heretical plasma, hidden by shame
Jealousy grows, cultivated by sightless blades
Blindness sneers at him
Callousness will spare not a moment
His blood by loneliness made dim
Kanaya:
On sunny sands she walks, while others in darkness sleep.
Caring soul, ancestor to a generation that will never be born.
Care is met with cruelty, dealt by the spider’s sting,
Her love is repaid with indifference, pricks like the sharpest thorn.
Amphibian progeny she raises, watched by a warrior filled with pride
Haste her child will doom, the warrior demands it still, she obeys.
A universe is born only to die again.
Her love is repaid by stillbirth; her child will never see the light of day.
Fleeing from bladed death, her last hope has yet to hatch,
She shows compassion to a wounded soul, giving it a goal.
That hope is a devil in sheep’s skin, and burns all others.
Her love is repaid with treason, and in her heart a hole.
With vengeance she rises again, less and more than she was.
The devil is cleaved by a sword of teeth. It gives her no peace.
Now she searches for a space to call her own.
Her love is waiting for a balm that the pain will cease.
He is without equal, brain like a storm
Hateful and wretched, worthless worm
Wisdom and knowledge, power unknown
Ignorant fool, his fate does bemoan
Fierce is his mind, fierce his heart too
Cowardly maggot of red and blue
She was his best friend, she could have been more
He fired and fired, left nothing but gore
He saved her life, she kissed him and smiled
Shot through the chest, while he choked on bile
He did what he could, it wasn’t his fault
He failed like always, her death couldn’t halt
Blackness unfolds him, no more red and blue
Duality vanished, the dying shouts are gone
Peace at last, a final dark dawn.
Tranquility in emptiness
Rest in the void
Clarity in blindness
Unity in death.
Pointy shades, bulbous rump
Ironic coolness, rhymes I pump
Shatterproof sword, Causal cap
Layers of satire, I take no crap
Flashy moves, tasty grooves
Never lose, always the one to choose
Faster than sound, flashing around
Cutting fools down, fighting black clowns
Jet board, can’t be ignored, check out the sword
Slashing through imps like metaphysical gourds
Grist hoard, everything afford, won every single possible award
Shit so easy, I get bored.
Got Cal, best pal, me and him is an entire cabal
Bounce a coin, try not to look sad;
It won’t get to land before I send you
Beaten so bad like a kick to the groin
You can’t beat Bro at shit, I’m simply the best there is
Holding a monopoly on the asskicking biz.
In Self-Imposed Exile, See Signature for Locations
Pronouns
he/him/his
Posts
8,627
Re: [Book Chat] "What's Everyone Reading" Thread
Originally Posted by Dmatix
Me too. I don't like buying 10 short stories from guys I never heard of just for the one I want. Better to wait for another Side Jobs sort of deal.
...I would be willing to give a deal like that a shot.
I mean, how do you know that the other ten stories aren't of equal or superior quality to the one you want, huh?
Come to think of it, there are a ton of books in my room that I've only partially finished or haven't even started yet...For example, that anthology of Stephen King short stories I have on me...that's been a fun collection to work through so far...
Steam Account is triguy23. (Currently Away until some 'Conditions' are met. If you don't contact me at the mentioned locations, then see you all later!)
...I would be willing to give a deal like that a shot.
I mean, how do you know that the other ten stories aren't of equal or superior quality to the one you want, huh?
Come to think of it, there are a ton of books in my room that I've only partially finished or haven't even started yet...For example, that anthology of Stephen King short stories I have on me...that's been a fun collection to work through so far...
Don't get me wrong, I bought anthologies before, and even enjoyed some, but you really never know what your'e gonna get with them. Sometimes it's all good stuff, and sometimes 90% of the stories are worthless. I just prefer knowing what I'm going into.
She sleeps in tower ivory, she dreams in one of gold,
At once she is both young and dead and old.
She sees what is to happen, knows not what will unfold.
Fire took her dreams away, now emptiness rules sleep,
In bubbles ruled by creatures mad her sanity she keeps
And through the madness she becomes a wolf and not a sheep.
Now space is in her grasp, power great and vast
And on the golden inch she sails on ship of golden masts
To face a fiend of power cosmic, whose reign forever lasts.
How will this journey end, no one can be sure,
But however it will end, the universe she’ll cure.
John:
Zephyr his mount, sapphire his cape
The Heir arrives on wings of storm
Lightning his scepter, thunder his crown
The power of Breath the world does transform
Light on his feet, light in his heart
Greatness is his, his to perform
Potential endless, given by air
The power of Breath the world does transform
Joy rules him still, though darkness looms close
And sorrows and pain threaten to swarm
He rises above, the sky is his throne
The power of Breath the world does transform
Though kindness is his, cruelty cast aside
Threaten his kin, trouble their form
And prepare to reap a whirlwind of force
The power of Breath your hate will transform.
Rose:
At the tip of her wand seraphim dance
A ballet of strife with devils of chance.
Sable and Emerald duel for her mind;
If either prevails , her fate won’t be kind
At all times in control, except when she’s not.
Aberrations of dread foul feelers do send.
They whisper of treason, damnation and rot,
Of crimes she could never hope to amend.
She will not surrender, relinquish no sliver
Of her mind to the hunters that come from the void.
Fight them every step, she won’t falter or quiver;
She fights for herself, least she be destroyed.
With wizardry and light, the future she scouts,
The roll of the dice now her crystal ball,
And though what she sees may cause her some doubt
The Seer will never again be a thrall.
Furious Pariah, hard of shell
Herder of wolves, they bite at his ankles
Making his way through a hazy hell.
Hurried the midwife, doomed the born
Ruinous creator, tumorous doctor
He failed, for hatred now sworn.
In desolation lingers, never dares to hope
For he knows hope is a butcher
With his helplessness he cannot cope
Rage too betrayed him, bond asunder
Leaving a trail of corpses behind
The jester cares not if he goes under
Trapped in loathing, harried by temporal shades
Cursed by heretical plasma, hidden by shame
Jealousy grows, cultivated by sightless blades
Blindness sneers at him
Callousness will spare not a moment
His blood by loneliness made dim
Kanaya:
On sunny sands she walks, while others in darkness sleep.
Caring soul, ancestor to a generation that will never be born.
Care is met with cruelty, dealt by the spider’s sting,
Her love is repaid with indifference, pricks like the sharpest thorn.
Amphibian progeny she raises, watched by a warrior filled with pride
Haste her child will doom, the warrior demands it still, she obeys.
A universe is born only to die again.
Her love is repaid by stillbirth; her child will never see the light of day.
Fleeing from bladed death, her last hope has yet to hatch,
She shows compassion to a wounded soul, giving it a goal.
That hope is a devil in sheep’s skin, and burns all others.
Her love is repaid with treason, and in her heart a hole.
With vengeance she rises again, less and more than she was.
The devil is cleaved by a sword of teeth. It gives her no peace.
Now she searches for a space to call her own.
Her love is waiting for a balm that the pain will cease.
He is without equal, brain like a storm
Hateful and wretched, worthless worm
Wisdom and knowledge, power unknown
Ignorant fool, his fate does bemoan
Fierce is his mind, fierce his heart too
Cowardly maggot of red and blue
She was his best friend, she could have been more
He fired and fired, left nothing but gore
He saved her life, she kissed him and smiled
Shot through the chest, while he choked on bile
He did what he could, it wasn’t his fault
He failed like always, her death couldn’t halt
Blackness unfolds him, no more red and blue
Duality vanished, the dying shouts are gone
Peace at last, a final dark dawn.
Tranquility in emptiness
Rest in the void
Clarity in blindness
Unity in death.
Pointy shades, bulbous rump
Ironic coolness, rhymes I pump
Shatterproof sword, Causal cap
Layers of satire, I take no crap
Flashy moves, tasty grooves
Never lose, always the one to choose
Faster than sound, flashing around
Cutting fools down, fighting black clowns
Jet board, can’t be ignored, check out the sword
Slashing through imps like metaphysical gourds
Grist hoard, everything afford, won every single possible award
Shit so easy, I get bored.
Got Cal, best pal, me and him is an entire cabal
Bounce a coin, try not to look sad;
It won’t get to land before I send you
Beaten so bad like a kick to the groin
You can’t beat Bro at shit, I’m simply the best there is
Holding a monopoly on the asskicking biz.
I'd rather not spend two hundred bucks to get ten short stories when I could get them for twenty. Sure, I'd be missing out on other short stories that I might have liked, but I don't have to spend as much money.
Also I started reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I like it so far.