portrait of Bram Stoker

Bram Stoker, a Primer

It’s Bram Stoker’s birthday! He was born in 1847 in Dublin Ireland. Did you know he was Irish? Let’s talk some about Bram Stoker. This Victorian Gothic literature degree should come in handy once in a while, right?

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Deathly Hallows tarot spread

I thought I’d write up something a little more practical. What’s more practical than a tarot spread, right? A lot of things, I suppose, but never mind that now. I was fiddling with my cards a few days ago and decided that the Deathly Hallows, from Harry Potter, would make a good set of interlinked images to build a spread on.

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Tolkien, Modernist

It’s not actually a revolutionary idea to suggest Tolkien is a modernist, but it’s still so counter to everything he said and tried to do that it’s worth blogging about. And, anyway, today was the Autumnal Equinox — or the Evenlength, if you like words derived from Middle English (ȝevelengðhe). It’s also Bilbo and Frodo Baggins’s birthday, so I started re-reading The Lord of the Rings. As one does. And I was reminded of the whole modernist thing by his poetry of all things.

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End of Time, End of Anxiety

I just finished re-reading Moorcock’s Dancers at the End of Time. I may actually prefer the End of Time to the Elric stories, in that they suit my temperament much more. Elric was instrumental in my formative years, so I’ll never not think of those stories as some of my favorites, but — along with my personal preference — everyone talks about Elric. What about Jherek Carnelian?

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What even???

Life as the Nuzlocke Challenge

Do you know what the Nuzlocke challenge is? If you’re interested, here’s a link (source of the above image, as well). Basically, though, it’s “hard mode” for Pokemon, something players impose on themselves to make the game harder. At its core is a rule simulating the death of Pokemon — if a pokemon faints, you have to release it. Why do we do this?

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Ghosts

This is probably my last post of 2015. It seems appropriate. I always meant to get around to writing about my dad dying. 2015 was not a great year. Terry Pratchett died. Christopher Lee died. Satoru Iwata died. My rabbit died. Two of my high school friends died. And my dad died. With the sort of vague, ambient irony the universe is sometimes fond of, it’s also the year I got married. But that’s another post. My dad died two months ago — I’m not here to tell you how I “got over it.” I’m just telling you an idea I encountered in the course of my living with it.

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