sandman.
i've been reading the sandman volumes that jason so kindly decided to share with me. what a read. every volume is different and the same (this is the kind of cryptic things that all the writers of the various introductions come up with). every story its own yet with subtle references that tie it to another in the world of sandman.
and i've found my favourites. seasons of mist, brief lives and the kindly ones (where Dream dies and his death begins the final ending).
the whole series is peppered with beautiful poignancy.
in the volume brief lives, Dream and Delirium embark on an eventful search for their lost brother, Destruction, made in faith at least on Delirium's part. they find him of course. he declines to return with them, naturally. but the three talk and they step out of his hut into the night...
(Destruction to Dream and Delirium and perhaps, to himself.)
I like the stars. It's the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they're always flaring up and caving in and going out.
But from here, I can pretend...
I can pretend that things last. I can pretend that lives last longer than moments.
Gods come and Gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade.
Worlds don't last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust.
But I can pretend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
there's lots more where that came from. stuff that touches and makes me feel like crying, stuff that makes me think, stuff that sometimes borders on the pretentious. but mostly, very good stuff. if i weren't so tired and if it weren't the middle of the night/morning/whatever, i'd be more coherent.
as much as i feel like making up for two weeks of virtual absence in a night, it'd probably take whatever life i have left out of me. as it is, i plan to live a while longer and write some more. besides, i really shouldn't bother with trying to kill myself this way what with a crazy epidemic out there that might do the job for me. plus, there's a funny smell coming out of my monitor. not a good sign.
must sleep now to avoid zombification over the next few days.
gonna call wayne now to say goodnight. he's up watching a football match.
okay then. bye bye now.
and i've found my favourites. seasons of mist, brief lives and the kindly ones (where Dream dies and his death begins the final ending).
the whole series is peppered with beautiful poignancy.
in the volume brief lives, Dream and Delirium embark on an eventful search for their lost brother, Destruction, made in faith at least on Delirium's part. they find him of course. he declines to return with them, naturally. but the three talk and they step out of his hut into the night...
(Destruction to Dream and Delirium and perhaps, to himself.)
I like the stars. It's the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they're always flaring up and caving in and going out.
But from here, I can pretend...
I can pretend that things last. I can pretend that lives last longer than moments.
Gods come and Gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade.
Worlds don't last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust.
But I can pretend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
there's lots more where that came from. stuff that touches and makes me feel like crying, stuff that makes me think, stuff that sometimes borders on the pretentious. but mostly, very good stuff. if i weren't so tired and if it weren't the middle of the night/morning/whatever, i'd be more coherent.
as much as i feel like making up for two weeks of virtual absence in a night, it'd probably take whatever life i have left out of me. as it is, i plan to live a while longer and write some more. besides, i really shouldn't bother with trying to kill myself this way what with a crazy epidemic out there that might do the job for me. plus, there's a funny smell coming out of my monitor. not a good sign.
must sleep now to avoid zombification over the next few days.
gonna call wayne now to say goodnight. he's up watching a football match.
okay then. bye bye now.