More than once a month?
Too much! Too much!
Even once’s more than enough.
More than once a month?
Too much! Too much!
Even once’s more than enough.
Strongest son of Zeus,
Bane of lions and boars.
By papa’s jealous wife.
Wooer of Amazons,
(And lover of pretty boys,)
Groom of two wives,
Sire of many sons.
(But no girls?)
Completer of Twelve Labors,
(And sometimes 13,)
Killed by a centaur’s trick,
And a friendly pyre.
Especially lame, I know. But it’s 1 minute to 10 pm, and nada’s been posted yet.
It was a last minute post the first time, too.
Originally posted 1/18/16
The Story of the Many Moons
Once, when it was very dark, the horned moon felt curious and went to speak to Mother Sky. “How many sisters do I have?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Mother Sky answered. “Does it matter?”
“Maybe not,” the horned moon admitted, “but I still want to know.”
“I really can’t tell you. You’ll have to find out for yourself.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do,” the horned moon concluded, and left Mother Sky’s side.
She didn’t know how to find out how many sisters she had, but she was determined that she would, no matter what.
“Do you know how many sisters we have?” she asked the first of her sisters she came across.
“I have no idea,” her sister, the waxy moon, replied. “What does it matter? There are always moons in the sky.”
The horned moon asked several of her other sisters the same question, but their answers were no different. The wide moon didn’t know, the new moon had no idea, and the silvery moon was clueless. Even the full moon herself was without a clue.
The horned moon decided she would have to set out on a journey to seek her answer. Surely down in the lands below someone would have counted the number of moons in the skies above their heads. Surely!
Soon after she arrived on the flat lands by the curved mountains, she found the face of Mother Earth. “Mother Earth, how many sisters do I have?” the horned moon asked. If Mother Sky didn’t know, then maybe Mother Earth knew!
“I don’t really know,” Mother Earth admitted. “Doesn’t Mother Sky know? They cross her face, after all.”
The horned moon shook her head. “No, she doesn’t know, either. That is why I am on a journey to find out how many moons there are.”
“Very admirable of you, my dear,” Mother Earth told her proudly. “Be sure to take care on your trip. Not everyone on the surface of the lands below is as kind as your mothers and sisters.”
The horned moon promised to take care, and went on her way.
“A Tale o’ Seven Suns”
Once upon a time, there were seven suns in a land that was very, very bright.
“Where are you going?” the eldest sun asked one morning, as the youngest was leaving the sky.
“I’m going to shine on the land below,” the youngest sun answered. “And I don’t need your permission to do anything!” he added, leaving in a snit.
But he didn’t come back.
The other six were very lonely without the youngest around. But they carried on shining, even though the light was a little less bright without him.
Several days later, the next youngest sun decided to leave the sky, too. The eldest sun asked him where he was going. “What do you care? I can go where I want!” he snapped, and departed even more quickly than his younger brother had.
And he, too, didn’t come back.
The remaining suns were a bit more somber when they realized two brothers were missing, but the sky was still very bright, so they soon put their worries aside and resumed shining unconcerned.
Only the eldest sun continued to worry. And his worries grew to the point where he almost stopped shining when he saw the third sun heading towards the lands below.
“Where are you going?”
The third sun didn’t even answer.
And he didn’t come back.
When the three youngest suns had been gone many days, the eldest sun said that none were to leave the house, and then went to speak to Mother Sky. He explained to her what had happened to her three youngest suns.
“I thought it had become a bit darker,” she commented, with a yawn. “They’re probably just lighting the world below. Don’t worry so. They’ll come home when they get hungry.”
“But we don’t eat!” the eldest sun objected.
“What could happen to my precious suns?” Mother Sky assured him. “Go home and try to relax. You worry too much.”
The eldest sun was not reassured by his mother’s words, but he relented and unlocked the door to their home, and reluctantly allowed the middle sun to leave when he wished to go down to the world below.
Postman brought a box this morning, and a thin pack with a book in it.
And a box also as I was at lunch.
That’s all cool and good.
But with box and book was box #3…
…and that got took away again.
Postman’s suppos’d to ring 2x! Not skipping ringing for taking away again!
(And I was in; “pick up tomorrow” slip was in mailbox with book.)
It May Be Too Late For Me
So I went to see the Rifftrax Live Show last week.
It was a collection of summer shorts.
(Okay, actually, just the skits in between were summery. The shorts weren’t at all.)
It was a fun show.
The name of one of the shorts was “Rhythmic Ball Manipulation.”
OMG…the perverse thoughts that ran through my brain!
I am apparently sick.
If there is an illness where all the symptoms are not-safe-for-work thoughts.
It can’t be contagious.
(Maybe you better run.)
(Just in case.)
Delayed post again, another six hours and I’d be a day late.
I’ve been forgetful lately.
Thinking about everything but what I should be.
So now you get this post full of ex– er — laughable attempts at explanation.
Why am I still doing this, anyway?
A post I read recently covered the notion of the way writers use dialog tags in their fiction. Mostly, it was advice. And it set me to thinking, regarding how I use them.
The advice in the post was pretty much the standard advice I’d heard everywhere. “Said” and “asked” slip under the reader’s radar, identifying without intruding. Some writers avoid them since they’re dull, yet this is supposed to drag down the finished product.
And perhaps it does. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s dead dull actually writing “said” over and over and over again with no use of alternate tags. No matter what it does for the eventual reader, not using “said” all the time makes the actual act of writing more fun.
Anyway, when I was writing over the weekend, so soon after seeing that post, I paid attention to what I was doing. (And my writing is mostly dialog, so there was a lot to pay attention to!) I try to put in a plain “said” at least every third or fourth tag. (I’m not counting “asked” at all, since there aren’t too many other words you can use that actually make sense in its place. Most of the alternatives just come off as ludicrous.) The rest of the tags are usually words that give a little more information, though I pretty much never follow up those other tags with adver– uh, that has the letter I can’t use today, so let’s just call them “-ly” words. Anyway, I almost never use those with anything other than “said” or “asked,” and I try to go easy on “-ly” words anyway, since everyone’s always saying not to use them.
I try to follow everyone’s blogs. (Well, not everyone, but…y’know…lots of folks.)
But then I got sick. Didn’t feel up to keeping up with it. Plus I’d gotten in the custom of checking out blogs during lunch at work.
Only when I got better, I got my work week cut down, too. Now I’m pretty much just there on weekends.
Consequently, I’m one full month behind.
(So does this post.)
It seemed like a very long time before Trang’s soldiers of fortune were ready to set off to rescue Cloxlan from the sub-elves, and Princess Spiderweb felt sure that Mr. Tiktox was just as agitated by the delay as she was. He kept fidgeting with his jeweled egg, turning it over in his hands restlessly, and passing it pointlessly between one set of hands and another. (She sometimes envied him for having six arms!)
As soon as the mercenary army was finally ready, Trang came to speak to Mr. Tiktox, though he kept casting uncomfortable glances up at Princess Spiderweb’s horse as he did so, as if he thought it was going to breathe fire on him and burn him up to a crisp, just because it could.
“Look, metal man,” Trang said, scowling at Mr. Tiktox, “when we show up in Cloxlan, are your people going to rise up and help us fight the sub-elves? We don’t have enough men here to fight them all by ourselves.”
“The tiktox will do nothing without the executive function,” Mr. Tiktox told him, shaking his head. “I am only capable of independent function in this manner because that is part of my function. I am a servant of the court; I must be capable of acting when there is no executive function.”
‘”Like talking to a bloody wall,” Trang sighed. “What do we gotta do to make your people rise up and defend themselves?”
“Once the executive function is restored, then the tiktox will rise against their oppressors,” Mr. Tiktox assured him.
Princess Spiderweb didn’t think Trang was entirely convinced, but at least he didn’t keep arguing. Instead, he returned to the mercenary army, and told them to prepare to march.
An army on the march was a very boring thing, and Princess Spiderweb didn’t like being part of one. She suggested to Mr. Tiktox that maybe they could fly ahead and work on ‘restoring the executive function’ (whatever that meant) of the tiktox, but he insisted that their arrival would attract too much attention, without the army to distract the enemy. The princess knew he was probably right, but she didn’t much like the fact.
She thought it would be a great relief when they finally arrived in Cloxlan.
She was wrong.
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