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Bloggy is two years old today. ~gives Bloggy cake, puts hat on head.~ I'm not going to bore anyone with a long, navel-gazing retrospective of the past two years, complete with Foreigner lyrics and mental masturbation masquerading as philosophy. Suffice to say that I never thought I would use it as much I have, nor did I think so many people would be interested in what I had to say. Yet I find myself here almost every day, and I am ever astonished by the number of comments I've received. More than anything else, the Internet has proven to be a place where my voice can be heard, even if its only contribution was the bewildered wail of, "By Christ, people are stupid!"
Oops. There went some of that faux philosophy to which I was referring. Sorry. I...I just can't help myself. Playing with the pretty words feels so good.
Maudlin wittering aside, today should be uneventful. The cripple cab will be here later this afternoon to drive me to the grocery store, and then the rest of the day is mine. Roomie will likely cajole me into eating at CiCi's Pizza, and then I'll wander over to EBGames to pre-order Zelda. Home again, home again, jiggity-jog, and Gary Sinise and Jack Malone. Ficcing and tea and cozy blankets. If only every day could be so nice.
I've been doing a bit of reading of late. Surprisingly, it's not the new books I've yet to read, but the ancient and yellowing Stephen King books I've read to ribbons. In the past few days, I've devoured Four Past Midnight and selected works from his Night Shift collection. These are a few of my favorite screams:
( Favorite King Short Stories )
I can't say enough about "The Last Rung on the Ladder". It is an unexpected gem, tossed among his tales of ghouls and goblins and slithering batrachian horrors almost carelessly, and if you're not careful, or in a hurry, you'll miss it. It's not very long-twelve pages, maybe, but oh, God, what a gut-punch it delivers. I cry like a boob every time I read it, and more often than not, I dream about it afterwards. Kazaa a copy if you have to. It's that good.
I'm also reading The Wizard of Oz again. It's sweet nostalgia, but for some reason, it seems much shorter now. I'm on page twenty, and Dorothy and the gang have already arrived at the poppy fields. In fact, The Wizard of Oz is only eighty-four pages. A short story. The mind boggles.
Well, off to read and dig up more King books. Needful Things should hit the spot.
Oops. There went some of that faux philosophy to which I was referring. Sorry. I...I just can't help myself. Playing with the pretty words feels so good.
Maudlin wittering aside, today should be uneventful. The cripple cab will be here later this afternoon to drive me to the grocery store, and then the rest of the day is mine. Roomie will likely cajole me into eating at CiCi's Pizza, and then I'll wander over to EBGames to pre-order Zelda. Home again, home again, jiggity-jog, and Gary Sinise and Jack Malone. Ficcing and tea and cozy blankets. If only every day could be so nice.
I've been doing a bit of reading of late. Surprisingly, it's not the new books I've yet to read, but the ancient and yellowing Stephen King books I've read to ribbons. In the past few days, I've devoured Four Past Midnight and selected works from his Night Shift collection. These are a few of my favorite screams:
( Favorite King Short Stories )
I can't say enough about "The Last Rung on the Ladder". It is an unexpected gem, tossed among his tales of ghouls and goblins and slithering batrachian horrors almost carelessly, and if you're not careful, or in a hurry, you'll miss it. It's not very long-twelve pages, maybe, but oh, God, what a gut-punch it delivers. I cry like a boob every time I read it, and more often than not, I dream about it afterwards. Kazaa a copy if you have to. It's that good.
I'm also reading The Wizard of Oz again. It's sweet nostalgia, but for some reason, it seems much shorter now. I'm on page twenty, and Dorothy and the gang have already arrived at the poppy fields. In fact, The Wizard of Oz is only eighty-four pages. A short story. The mind boggles.
Well, off to read and dig up more King books. Needful Things should hit the spot.