Happy Birthday, O Cliffs

I've been going through all the posts (almost 10k) and I'm pernear overwhelmed by the fuckton of public stupidity. The LJ is quite well-named methinks. I've toddled up through the last half of 2008 and, honestly, I'm too freaked out to go any further for now.

Honestly, I can't believe I've kept this blog current for so long. I figured it would only last a few weeks before I lost interest.

Sort of like the only five Tim Roth Tutorials I was going to make.

Things get out of hand. Crap gets said. In public. That which is unleashed cannot be re-chained with complete success.

The Cliffs of Insanity is my Kraken. Someone needs to hold up a gorgon's head and stop the madness.

BUT...

Although tempted to lock down the whole thing and set fire to the Internet to raze this monstrous creation from existence, I'm gonna trudge onward, but doubtfully upward. Because, apparently, that's how I roll; refusing to learn lessons smacked upside my head.

::blows little paper birthday horn thingie and tosses a few scraps of confetti::

The Shrieking Eels

Awesome Vizzini scene. Dude can do no wrong.

I Have Found My Ultimate Bedtime Story

Of course, it'll keep me awake cackling. So maybe it's not the best thing to break a jag of insomnia.

What the Hell? How Is He Doing THIS?

Oh wow. wow. WOW.

I did not realise I still had this. It's the reason I thanked Tim in the acknowledgements of The Chalice. He planted the seeds just a bare few months before the sudden birth of Cadmus Pariah. I think he wrote this in response to my nattering about Lilith (who eventually became Kelat in the final drafts), when she was the initial villain in the bare bones of the story I was trying to write. The cup was his idea. The first Relic belonged to him. Many times I wished I'd kept the chalice drabble. And I did. I find it really ironic and symbolic that I found this on the ten-year anniversary of the Cliffs of Insanity. Here is what he wrote.

The first rays of morning searched and probed its way through the canopy of dark and steamy equatorial cypress and fern, until at last it softly touched the rim of the chalice which seemed almost to flinch as if being branded with a hot iron. Still half buried in a mixture of rotting mulch and silt, the chalice breathed its first breath of moist air in almost four hundred years. The golden cup, still crusted with red rubies and diamonds from Imperial English Court had lost none of its lustre or forboding power. Tropical rains usually raise the rivers over their brims to spread over the marshes and glens, but last night's thundering downpour had elevated the water to new heights and, for the first time in centuries, the vein-covered temple ruins were washed clean of leaves and soil. Even the sacrificial mould was literrally carried in half by the torrent to reveal the secrets that lay buried for generations. The time had come for the evil shadow to raise its despised head and once again greedily consume men's hearts and souls. The modern world could scarcely dream of such dark secrets and powers that that would shortly camp about their realm of security and lighted cities.

-Tim Hutchins
8-22-'89

I am gobsmacked. Just completely and utterly gobsmacked.

Keanu Reeves Whoa

Someone on Tumblr did this edit of Tim Roth. Check the eyes. Flint's eyes. Tapeta lucida. Just accurate enough to piss Cadmus right off.

The Birth of the Tarmi

I'm finding the birth of a lot of things today. It must be the 10-year Paper Bag Jubilee Effect. But this one, it actually predates the Tim/Chalice connection by about 6 years or so. It's the song, the actual version of the song, that gave me the first bones of the Tarmian language (which I think I actually put in one of the Relics books, but I can't remember for sure and I don't have my files right now). I can remember the words, though.

Tarmalae Tarmalah
Charledael am pfillah
Par tima sil llomil
Tarmalae Tarmalah

Tarmalae Tarmalah
Charledael am pfillah
Par tima sil llomil
Tarmalae Tarmalah

Chel Ghathrim ampa tur llinel antan
Tur llinel llomil
Chel Ghathrim ampa tur llinel antan
Tarmi am t'homil

Tarmalae Tarmalah
Charledael am pfillah
Par tima sil llomil
Tarmalae Tarmalah

Tarmalae Tarmalah
Charledael am pfillah
Par tima sil llomil
Tarmalae Tarmalah

Chel Ghathrim ampa tur llinel antan
Tur llinel llomil
Chel Ghathrim ampa tur llinel antan
Tarmi am t'homil

Tarmalae Tarmalah
Charledael am pfillah
Par tima sil llomil
Tarmalae Tarmalah

Tarmalae Tarmalah
Charledael am pfillah
Par tima sil llomil
Tarmalae
Tarmalah

It was years later before I learnt it was a Henry Mancini theme for an Irish-based film.

what...the...fuck?!

This was just posted on Facebook. I think my head has finally exploded.

He Is Saying...

Thank you God, for making me the second Most Beautiful Man in the World. ...even though I still contend I'm #1.

Those eyes. Those lovely lovely eyes.



Kinda funny I'm ending my 10-Year Blog Birthday with a Rothian picture. I'm off to Diane's for the evening.

As The Roth recently Tweeted ('cos he's in Paris), "Bonnie Nuit!"