Hellboy II

Jul. 19th, 2011 02:50 pm
Yeah, I know, I'm way behind on movies, what can I say? So I just finished watching Hellboy II, and it was pretty good. There was one major thing that bugged me though, the part where (spoilers) Hellboy rescues the baby and defeats the giant forest god thing, and... the cops and the lady whose baby he rescued turn against him because something something. I mean yeah, there was just this huge wrecking of that street, and they all witnessed something miraculous (in the sense of divine/supernatural intersecting the regular world) but I'm not sure why they turned against Hellboy.

There were some other bits kinda like that, where things just seemed a little sloppier than necessary. And I really with the princess had challenged her brother at the end, or done something a little more than she did. Or if they'd just made her into something more than Ms. Exposition and a girl for Abe to moon over. Maybe they're not really flaws, just places I would have done things a little differently.
... and delivers any insults with exquisite courtesy.

Like, for example, this letter, from Jourdan Anderson, an American citizen, freed from slavery by the defeat of the Confederacy, to his old master Colonel P.H. Anderson, in Tennessee, upon the latter's writing to invite Jourdan back to his plantation to work as a laborer. Jourdan's wonderful "Go @$!# yourself" letter was even picked up and reprinted in newspapers across the country. It's also available in The Freedmen's Book, which was written to help recently freed slaves learn to read.
[6:13] <TheBeav> Lucky. My dad won't buy the first edition of anything.
[6:14] <CrosbyFan> Sweet.
[6:15] <xXIKEXx> TheBeav: Did you know you have brown hair? IT'S IN COLOR.
[6:16] <TheBeav> Cool. Hang on, air raid siren. Stupid Leo down the street's in Civil Defense and running all these drills. BRB.
[6:17] <CrosbyFan> 'k.
[6:17] <xXIKEXx> Dude when you come back your text will be red, so you know.
[6:18] <CrosbyFan> What, now it's going off here. Everybody's running around. BRB.
[6:19] <xXIKEXx> What?
[6:20] *** TheBeav has been disconnected (*** NO CARRIER)
[6:21] <xXIKEXx> what.
[6:22] *** CrosbyFan has been disconnected (No Route to Host)
[6:23] <xXIKEXx> Guys this isn't funny.
[6:24] *** You have been disconnected from irc.server.doe.gov ([10050] Network is down or [10051] Network Unreachable)

(Inspired by a mention about chat logs after the apocalypse in this post over at Slacktivist and brought to you by the burning rage of a thousand suns trying to copy/paste text into semagic and not have it screw up the formatting, especially with the lessthan/greaterthan signs on the nicks. ; There may be more, 'cause I don't think I quite got this one right.) (See also, footnotes, suggested in the comment thread.)
The grey goo multiplied exponentially,like we'd long feared it might, if it got loose. It started out slow, but when each nanite builds another, they don't have to move far. It went from a baseball to a room to a building in half an hour, and in the next half hour had disassembled the entire city. Guns, bombs, any attempt to stop it was just disassembled and turned into more.

And then it stopped, for no reason we could see, and it spoke. “Oops, sorry about that,” it said,“Hang on, I think I can fix this.”

(inspired by the discussion over at this post over at [livejournal.com profile] ksleet's.)


May. 23rd, 2010 11:52 pm
Every time I go to write a paper these days, I always end up wishing I could make things links to relevant information. Which I suppose footnotes and references can do, but it's not the same at all.

What If

Oct. 6th, 2009 06:05 pm
What happens if the author of a story and the narrator of the story start fighting?
"And now is when you gloat about how simple your plan was and how no onecan stop you now?"

"What? No, it wasn't simple at all, it was horrendously difficult to arrange. I had to create entirely new technologies, subvert several governmental organizations, bribe a newspaper, and organize essentially a very large corporation, in secret. It took a hell of alot of work, that could easily be derailed, which is why you're here,and not doing that. and I'm not fool enough to leave you to escape from a shark tank. Now relax and enjoy the show.”
Part 1:

We were leaving the supermarket when it happened. Ominous thunder and dark clouds moving in far faster than they had any right too, especially on a cool fall day. Then a black shadow was seared across the parking lot by a lightning bolt that leaped from the sky to an entire row of SUVs. It was Seamus, the unnatural wind tossing his hair and sending whirlwinds of leaves in front of him. He raised a hand and said something, but none of us could hear it over the ringing in our ears from the thunder that had announced his presence.

Part 2:

We didn't have to hear what he'd said, though. The ring on his raised hand glowed with the sickly light of a radium clock and flashed with each burst of lightning. The Ring of MacGuffin, its magical powers literally legendary. Ancient, copious, and not something anybody took seriously now. Seamus obviously did, and that's a big thing with magic. With his extravagant demonstration, it was only going to get stronger. We all started to run, to get him away from the civvies. Except Dot, she rummaged in her pockets for change and walked to the toy machines by the doors.

Part 3:

Seamus stalked across the lot, chased by his pet thunderstorm. Dot popped the cap of her plastic egg, slipped the plastic ring onto her finger, then strode forward as the wind died down. She yelled something, and fear crossed Seamus's face, he threw yanked the Ring of MacGuffin from his hand and threw it down, and ran as if the bats of hell were chasing him.

“What just happened?” I asked Dot.

“I trumped his ring with the Ring of Deus Ex Machina.”

“Wait, what? A ring from a toy machine?”

“Where else would it be?”
Nothing. I'm not even sure of an idea yet, and I had class and then lunch with my girlfriend then my last day of work at the bookstore.

Maybe I should do a mystery novel.

With dinosaurs or something, because I'm an unrepentant geek.


Oct. 27th, 2007 11:34 am
Hmm. It's that time of year almost, isn't it?

I have no idea what to write. Maybe a mystery. Or something pulp. Or a near-future sci-fi thing. Or something with giant monsters. I could do a real honest-to-goodness superhero story. Or I could write a Deep Meaningful Piece of Real Literature.
It turned out the paranoids had been right all along. There really was a giant conspiracy driving and directing history for millennia. The old men in funny hats weren't as innocent as they looked.

But when, after much danger and excitement, we unraveled the conspiracy to its core, it was empty. The old men in funny hats were, above everything, old. And in the age of iPods and text messaging, kids these days just didn't have the patience. Attrition and heart disease had hollowed out the masterminds and left a shell flexing through pointless motions.

So we blew it up.
You know, I don't even know why I procrastinate when I'm trying to write something. I LIKE writing things. It's fun. It's relaxing. Sometimes. But I enjoy doing it, that's the main thing. So why do I procrastinate? I don't know.
So I submitted a story to this short fiction contest at school, and got third place, and instead of being all "Yeah, woo!" I'm worrying more about the fact I have to come up with a hundred word bio by 4pm tomorrow. Maybe I'll make it fictional. Talk about my dinosaur ranch or something.

Man I'm bad at taking compliments. I really really am.
A man wanted to be an artist. So he took his spare room and spent several weeks converting it into a studio, looking forward all the time to the day when it would be done and he would churn out art for the ages. When he finished, it was a wonderful studio, and he filled it with all the tools of an artist and set up an easel. But none of the ideas he had for art pleased him or felt worthy of the studio he had built, so he stood in his beautiful studio with no art to make.
(Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] snarkoleptics

Most everybody's probably see this already linked on the Dinosaur Comics page, but I figured I'd link it anyway. Ryan North, Matthew Bennardo, and David Malki !, are putting together an anthology based on this Dinosaur Comic. I can vouch for the hooptiness of all three of the froods involved. Submissions are going to be open, and they're offering cash money for the entries they accept. I'll paste their own words behind a cut, pulled from

From the website )
I've been thinking about the story of my unfinished Nanowrimo thing. And I think I know what a couple of the problems were, like trying too hard to keep it about one style of music, something novel length needs to have changes of tone. And trying too hard to keep it a specific kind of awesome and not letting things shift around. But anyways, I'm thinking of going back over it and rewriting it. And if I do, I think I'll start posting segments of it in a new friends locked LJ for daily reader type peoples, so if anybody wants to volunteer, say so in the comments and I'll let you know where it is when I make it.

Also, I'm thinking of restarting daily drabbles, but to do that, I'll need ideas and suggestions. I had an idea for today, but forgot to write it down earlier so now I don't remember. Such is life.
There's a thread and post over on Making Light about editors and rejections and slushpiles. And it's... kind of astounding, really. I mean, okay, I know, on an intellectual level, and on a visceral level, how people will ignore the most bleeding obvious things. I work retail. People will put things back in places that are HARDER TO GET TO than where they got it from. But reading how almost 75% of the stuff submitted to most publishers is barely in coherent English...

And then even in the last 1%, the ones that show talent and creativity and so on, 3/4 of those don't fit for reasons unrelated to the books, it's just. I dunno. Encouraging in some strange way. Mainly because of the fact that most of the submissions they get don't even come in the right format or the right language. Which I can totally believe, looking around at much of the Internet, but the thought that somebody would write something like a myspace post in l33t and send it in on lined paper to a publisher just pretty much boggles my mind. And makes me feel sorry for the interns and the editors who get to sift through the dreck.

The fact that the comments thread includes comments by many authors whose names I recognize from books I adored has nothing to do with anything other than making me squee about how awesome the Internet is.


Nov. 28th, 2006 08:45 pm
I think I lost the plot somewhere. Now I'm just writing scenes and fragments of things that strike me as cool, and hopefully I'll be able to figure out where they all go later.



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