Og så kom jeg til at jeg kan dele dem med dere. Så, her kommer altså Terjes favoritter fra RJs blogg!
Sword? I don't need no stinking sword, gringo!
I can make a living doing what I enjoy more than anything except sex.
And I'm ashamed to say that when I first saw your post on wotmania about having a secret, I thought, "Ah-ha! Palm or hairbrush?"
yes, the bearded man ter'angreal could be said to be my Alfred Hitchcock moment.
Agents who want reading fees and the like are to be distrusted, in my book.
After all, he can channel, right? Sword? I don't need no stinking sword, gringo!
I have misspelled characters names now and then; when I am typing very fast, sometimes my fingers get dyslexic. I believe my grammar is very good, though I sometimes use constructions that I doubt any English teacher I ever had would approve of. First you learn the rules. Then you can start learning when and where you can break the rules.
the last movie I saw in a theater was Junebug. It has some truly sad parts, but Harriet and I laughed through most of it. Then she took a couple of her friends to see it, and they thought it was the most depressing thing they had ever seen. Go figure.
But I didn't take it to the point of trying to make the Two Rivers folk seem like Hobbits. I mean, I love The Lord of the Rings and have read it at least a dozen times, but when you have too many Hobbits together, they can be so bloody cute that I need a stiff drink.
And for MJJ, as posted by DomA, pillow friends are not just good friends. Oh, they are that, too, but they also get hot and sweaty together and muss up the sheets something fierce.
Sorry, but I just go where Tor sends me, and they make their choices based on some arcane ritual in the basement of the Flatiron Building that involves killing a white rooster at midnight. No; don't take that seriously. No threads about white roosters!
Of course, I also see posts that make me chuckle. Somebody who though he was taking the train to Boston but jumped on a roller-coaster instead.
And remember, if you can look at absolutely anything without at least a desire to weep, then you've lost part of your humanity.
I have never had cancer. Never. That was one of those rumors that float around without a shred of truth to them, thank God. I understand that I have been dead or near dead several times according to the rumors. I was run down by a bus once, so I recall hearing. Not true.
For the poster at Dragonmount who thinks I'm "whipped," boy do you have the wrong end of the stick. The smelly end, in fact.
My publisher is always trying to get me to commit to a time frame. I just do a little sand dance until he goes away. I carry a small bottle of sand with me in New York for exactly that purpose.
And Lanfear being Lanfear, there was a touch of the dramatic in it. She was always a drama queen.
For Sodas, when you are balefired, you are dead, dead, dead. It almost seemed redundant to say so.
So what he had expected to be a chess game where he knew the positions of all the pieces and Rand did not suddenly turned into a close-quarters slugging match. Surprise!
Now when a very pretty roughly twenty-year old girl, trembling mind, said to me, "You're a god!", that I liked a lot.
I'm a little worried about the first signing, I'll admit. I know I can pull a good evening crowd in NYC; I've done it before. But 12:30 on a Tuesday? That's the slot where they put politicians, movies stars and celebrities. Yes, I'm a little concerned.
Can you spell hectic? I knew that you could.
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Hey, it always worked with the vicar.
When thinking about the Forsaken, you might factor in the effects of dream deprivation.
For Comet Sedai, no, Slayer didn't kill Laura Palmer. But Lanfear can tie a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue. In fact, she can tie it into a square knot. Or a bowline. Or.... Well, the list goes on too long.
Can you imagine being around a ta'veren who is teething? <shudder>
And, no, ta'veren is not Old Tongue for Deus ex machina.
Okay, not such a long post today, but it's getting late here. We're having venison tonight, and I need to pick out a good wine.
For Deadsy, you want to know what I wear when I'm writing? If I worked out in the morning, I may wear my sweats all day. If not, then it's a shirt, trousers and suspenders. Oh, yes, and shoes and socks. Thought you'd found a sneaky way to an answer to your "boxers or briefs" didn't you?
For Sidious and various others, my comments about arrangements in case of my death (burning the notes, doing triple Guttman wipes on the hard drives, etc.) were mainly a defense against any fans who became so frantic to see the end that they thought knocking me off might result in somebody else finishing the books faster.
For Packersfan52, I never laugh at how lame anyone's conclusion is. Except for yours, of course. Just kidding. Bet I made you flinch, though.
I hate using the word magic.
The real surprise to me was that while I was designing these gender balanced societies, people were seeing matriarchies.
People have bellybuttons. If you want to see someone who always behaves logically, never tells small lies or conceals the truth in order to put the best face for themselves on events, and never, ever tries to take advantage of any situation whatsoever, then look for somebody without a bellybutton.
I'm slowing down for the Thanksgiving descent of family on the house. And our descent on various other relatives. You know how it goes.
Seems to that a year or so back, maybe a little longer, Amazon let a glitch slip in so the reviews were no longer anonymous. Turned out some well known mainstream authors were putting up posts lauding their own books. And others criticizing the work of writers they didn't like. Red faces all around. Amazon fixed the glitch and nobody talks about it much any more.
Jeg kan være enig i at enkelte av dem muligens ikke er like morsomme utenfor sin originale kontekst, men pytt sann!
Morro lell!
