I'm not in the mood to watch TV, not in the mood to mess around on the computer, and it's too danged early to go to bed.
The box of "
Feed Your Head" books hold no appeal, nor do the Lankhmar books that I put in the same box. Of course, the rest of my fiction is all tucked away in
quelonzia's garage, awaiting the purchase of satisfactory bookshelves
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Hm. If it were me, I'd propose re-reading LeGuin stuff, or maybe tackling George R.R. Martin's quasi-medievalism, or maybe trying to tackle the Black Company books. But I don't know whether those really fit your tastes.
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Maybe it's what the genre would have looked like if it hadn't taken that long, long diversion into mimicking Tolkien: Lankhmar meets Lovecraft meets Cyberpunk.
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I'll pick it up again some other time, when things aren't so ... acute.
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He's got all the RIGHT parts of D&D. The crazy, off-the-wall, inexplicable parts.
(And yeah, this dovetails right into my continued constant refrain that most of the WRONG parts are the stuff cribbed from Tolkien.)
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