It only occurred to me this week, some few days after I opened the Stories shelf with The Bestiary and The Legend of Gnat Bunker what those two pieces have in common. They are not merely "creative" but meta-creative. They're about how we create what we do, and in a deeper sense, why.
I confess these fell by the wayside recently, after having attempted to do them more regularly than my previous intermittence. I blame the end-of-term projects for Spring Semester, as I have been studying architecture with an eye to a day-job in the field. But without further ado, quotes collected via The Masculinist, According To Hoyt,… Continue reading Quotes Past Midnight, Vol. III
Nate Lapoint reviews Pyre & Ice: I didn't provide anything here but the book.
Who we are and who we will become depends on who we think we were. ~ Rod Dreher
Power always thinks it has a great soul and vast views beyond the comprehension of the weak and that it is doing God’s service when it is violating all His laws. ~ John Adams Some of these quotes will be from major celebrities. Some were from noteworthy essays and works of literature. Some of them… Continue reading Quotes After Midnight, Vol. 1
Where do you belong?God, Man, and the Hierarchy
A "Guest Post," or rather a reposting with permission, of Tom Simon's essay that started it all. The original essay is here, but the link may not cooperate with some browsers' notions of "Secure Sites". Stuff and Nonsense, say I!
Jonas had never been so far up in all his life. The sidewalks he was used to had no railings because it was only twenty centimetres to the street, not hectametres. He walked more carefully, one hand against the reassuring wall. The air was clearer up here, and the early morning light was almost blue after thousands of yellow and grey-green mornings below. He looked again at the address as a tungsten-yellow Phœnix Valkyrie roared past, freely sharing bullets with the DPD at close range. Jonas pulled his coat around himself, thanked the OneTrueGod for a day out of the factory, and prayed for Clara's safety.
Kriever didn’t like public trans, and insisted on driving his old Sting Ray everywhere. He glanced over to the passenger seat, where she sat with his coat still over her shoulders.
“Which way, doll?” he asked. The rain had eased up, for now...
“I didn't like the way you treated Sam just now,” she said when he reached her table.
“Sam was begging for it.” She was wearing something much too short, but Kriever was too busy to be impressed. “Put on a coat and take me uptown, doll,” he said.
The asthmatic death rattle of the air-scrubber was a comfortable sound, a beacon home in the crushing waves of the street. It had guided him home every night now for eight years to the same drafty building and the same putrid stairs, and the same motherless little girl at the top who made it all worthwhile. Clara was eleven and all that came with it. Her father would give his life to save hers.
“What's the word, Feng,” he asked the alien as it hovered back and forth, stirring this pot...mixing that...
“I just told the blue boy I ain't seen nothing,” he mumbled. “You eating tonight?”
Oh, for a thousand such fathers as this one!
The picture above is a colorized portrait of my father. He has been dead for a dozen years, but as I write this it chokes me up to see my father looking back at me again. He was my protector. While the rest of my family often mistreated me, when dad was home I was safe and he made sure I was treated fairly. My father was a stalwart man of principle, a genius engineer, and a servant of God. He was a formidable man who could bring gravitas to any discussion, but he could also tell hilarious jokes for two hours straight after all the serious matters had been taken care of.
My father showed me how to be a man, by being masculine for our entire life together. His Biblical frame of reference did not bend to accommodate the world, the world had to adapt itself to my…
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“Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.” H. L. Mencken, Prejudices (First Series)
Read 'em while you can, lasses and lads. They won't be up forever.