Monday, September 30, 2019

Some of my favorite words

I want to share some of my favorite (and sometimes surprising) pieces from the book I'm writing.
The book is going to be called, Lies Loki Told Me

from Chap 1 of Loki and Thor's Mysterious journey South

“Its Loki’s expression for a complicated origin story with a simple Hail Mary ending,” explained Verdandi.

  Loki’s world turned into a grayscale landscape. A deep cold fog seeped up from the ground. Images emerged from the fog, speaking in water-static voices that time could not touch. People he knew and those he did not. Some cursed his name, others praised it. As they did, the images melted back into the cloud from whence they came. A kneeling Freyja looked up at him in agony. Thor in underwear sat cross legged in a cage. A spectral woman rose as a human and slowly changed into a monster with eight legs. An army of men burst through a treeline towards him. A large woman carried a half-dead child, looked at him and smiled. A satyr holding a wooden sword rose from the mist and melted back again. A misty girl turned to him and thanked him in multiple voices.  Finally, a phantom doppelganger rose from the fog. He was bound to a boulder, and the gaping mouth of a serpent hovered above him. Its maw was pried open and its saliva was dripping down his back. The spectral Loki screamed but not in pain. The water-static voice pleaded for the freedom of another. “Please go. I love you. I can’t bear to see you suffer too. Leave me! Leave, you stupid bitch! Leave!” The visions melted back into the cloud. The fog sapped back into the earth. Color returned to the world and Loki found himself on his knees.
Sometimes writers will write something and then go back and read it and say, "OMG, did I write that?" For us, it inspires a sense of awe. It helps keeps us writing.

Chapter 2 of LTMJS

“Sure you do. You could disagree with the terms and go south with no plan. But let’s be honest,” Hod smacked Loki on his arm and gave it a little squeeze. “When has Loki ever entertained the thought of going in blind, eh?”

 “Oh, she’s mad as a rabid squirrel!” Loki’s eyes widened. “It was already hard enough sneaking and secret-keeping. Now, it’s going to be a while before we can get back together again. Fortunately, she doesn’t have to endure any direct pressure, since no one knows about us. But what’s worse is that I can’t confide in her. We’ve spent so long together, we know everything about each other, and I can’t breathe a word of this, not even to her. Things were getting a little rocky with us and this situation is not helping. So, she is livid that she’s blind and that we have to wait this out.”

Saturday, September 28, 2019

Sonnet 130 to the Razor

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; (She doesn't use eyebright)

Coral is far more red than her lips' red; (She doesn't use lipstick)

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; (She doesn't powder her chest)

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. (She doesn't wear a powdered wig)

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks; (She doesn't use rouge)

And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. (She doesn't bathe in perfume)

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound; (She will not change the pitch of her voice when speaking)

I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. (She isn't trained to walk like a 'lady')
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
   As any she belied with false compare. ('False' women wear masks of make-up. This lady doesn't not, he loves her better without the mask)

For all the 'analysis' I have yet to see this sonnet put to the razor. If you ask me, the razor says this woman wore no makeup in the Tudor fashion. And yet, he found her more pleasing than all other women who claimed noble birth.

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

Dickens and Fog

Too high is the price of admission
For this rendition of ambition
Of wisdom gained and lost love-lorn
Actor cast in quick intermission

Curtains rise to Blonde composition
Requisition his exposition
Of words, voice, Dickens and Fog reborn
Chance victim to wordsmith magician

A Weakened heart in remission
This supposition of transition
Meant to ease a mind torn
Fails without blue-eyed recognition