24th

mantra. a long one, but a good one.
One piece a week? Sounds like a summer project…
Writer Eric Rosenfield's master feed of Wet Asphalt, his writer's blog and his twitter updates.
Eric's homepage is http://www.ericrosenfield.com
“A fantasy text may be described as the story of an earned passage from bondage - via a central recognition of what has been revealed and of what is about to happen, and which may involve a profound metamorphosis of protagonist or world (or both) - into the eucatastrophe, where marriages may occur, just governance fertilize the barren land and there is healing. [‘Eucatastrophe is a term coined by J. R. R. Tolkien which refers to the sudden turn of events at the end of a story which ensure that the protagonist does not meet some terrible, impending, and very plausible doom.’ — Wikipedia]
“The initial state of bondage, of reality-distorting constriction, is normally signaled in fantasy by wrongness, by a sense that the world as a whole has gone askew, that the story of things has been occluded. The Hobbits first sight of the Nazgul in Tolkein’s The Lord of the Rings shockingly opens their eyes to darkness, almost tangibly informs that any return to the world that has been fogged over may be profoundly taxing; that the world (and the stories that tell it) is about to undergo a dangerous and painful thinning of texture, a fading away of beingness. This thinning may manifest itself through a loss of magic, or the slow death of the gods, or a transformation of the land into desert, or a blockage of metamorphosis (so that nothing can change or grow), or an amnesia (the protagonists of the world’s) about the true nature of the self or history of the secondary world, or of any of the consequences of the rule of a dark lord whose diktats almost inevitably represent an estranging parody of just governance.
“We use the term recognition frequently to describe the moment at which - after penetrating the labyrinths of story-gone-astray, the protagonist finally gazes upon the shriveled heart of the thinned world and sees what to do. After this moment of transformative recognition comes the transition into what Tolkein calls “consolation” but which we (more secularly) call healing, a transition often accomplished (though not in Tolkein’s work) through literal metamorphosis.
“Story is central throughout. Fantasy can almost be defined as a genre whose protagonists reflect and embody the tale being told, and who lead the way through travails and reversals towards the completion of a happy ending. (Tragic fantasy exists, but is uncommon.) Genre fantasy, which dominates the marketplace, is normally structured so as to defer completion indefinitely, to lead readers into sequel after sequel; and it is for this reason, too, that our working definition of fantasy must give lebensraum to texts which have to little fantasy in them. (At the same time it needs to be recognized that a great sword-and-sorcery author like Fritz Leiber gains many of his finest effects through a kind of parodic flirtation with “full” narratives, dodging their moves to closure.) This Story-driven urge to comedic completion also distinguishes full fantasy from its siblings, supernatural fictions and horror, whose plots often terminate - shockingly - before any resolution can be achieved. This is deliberate, but the feel and the reality are different.
“As terms are used in this encyclopedia, supernatural fictions tend to focus on the experience of wrongness in the world and horror stories tend to focus on the experience of thinning, when the body and the world are progressively violated, lessened, brought to despair. A supernatural fiction which passes through its natural habitat into the full rigors of thinning tends to be thought of as horror; supernatural fictions and horror stories which pass through their natural habitats in to the transformed world of healing tend to be thought of as fantasies (or dark fantasies). When supernatural fictions or horror stories become fantasies, they become stories which can be completed.”
The Encyclopedia of Fantasy
Her rainbow wool knit hat, her green cardigan falling off her shoulder, her black trim, floral print, zipper down top with the bra strap folded over wrong, her little bit of chin fat and nose ring and birth mark on her chin, her big book and cloth print purse and horizontal striped blue and grey pants, and boots with zippers and laces, unzipped, tops folded over, soles falling off and held together with black tape and scuff marks. The brown boots most of all.
And of course she gets off at the connection to the L train
The big six publishers:
MacMillan - owned by Holtzbrink, an enormous German conglomerate
Hachette - owned by Lagadere, an enormous French conglomerate
HarperCollins - owned by News Corporation, an enormous Australian/American conglomerate
Random House - owned by Bertelsmann (BMG), an enormous German conglomerate
Simon and Schuster - owned by CBS, an enormous American conglomerate
Penguin Books - owned by Pearson PLC, an enormous British conglomerate
Awesome short film from the creator of Middleman starring Buffy alums. Hilarious.
(Source: youtube.com)
Yeah, clearly the best part of the movie.
I mentioned this tumbl-essay on twitter last night, but I think it’s worth reposting in a more semi-permanent form.
As much as I love tumblr, it’s sometimes hard to track down who wrote the words, who provided the re-tumbl, and who made the animated gif (the three parts to any successful tumbl).
So as best I can tell, credit goes to theumbrellaseller for adding words to hemsworthss’s moving images, and that it came to my attention via ashleeta.
But I concur with all of them: the comparative $1 worth of good writing and acting in the talkin’ quadrants of the gif make the $100,000 and <30 seconds of CGI in the action quadrant actually meaningful, and suddenly NOT a total waste of time and money.
science bros.
There are no words to describe my feelings about this relationship. But I’m going to try.
First of all, their parallels. Both geniuses, top of their field. Both suffered an accident that physically changed them, forever, and not in a wholesome Spider-Man kind of way. Both try to do what they can to help others despite their own issues; Banner heals people, Tony works on developing clean energy. And both struggle, in their own way, with duality; Tony and Iron Man, Bruce and the Hulk. Two identities, one body. Only difference is Iron Man’s bad side is Tony.
I mentioned somewhere that Tony sees a bit of himself in Banner because they both have a monster inside them that they can’t control, a creature that springs fully formed from the id, the base impulses and the nasty stuff at the back of the mind. Bruce’s is a giant green rage monster. Tony’s trashed a party in Iron Man 2. Banner has a control over his that Tony hasn’t quite achieved yet; don’t think I didn’t notice Tony pouring himself a whiskey when confronting Loki. Tony is envious, fascinated, and most of all, impressed by Bruce’s control.
So he doesn’t walk on eggshells around Bruce like the others, because that’s not what Bruce needs. Tony sees Bruce’s restraint, sees the quiet, brilliant man making self-deprecating jokes in the corner of the room, sees the way people look at him like he’s going to snap any second, and thinks “nope”. Tony does what no-one else aboard that Helicarrier does. He trusts him. He makes jokes and jabs him and teases him and above all, treats him exactly how he would treat anyone else— he has a great regard for Bruce’s brilliance, and tells him so, but he doesn’t try to ignore the Hulk in the room. When he says “wow, you’ve really got a handle on this, haven’t you?” he’s not saying “gosh, it’s incredible you haven’t snapped yet and killed everyone on board” he’s saying “I know you have a handle on this, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t, so I’m gonna poke you with this sharp object to prove it”. And you can see Bruce relax, and smile, and trust him back.
But then Tony goes even further, and invites Bruce to come to his R&D department. I’m pretty sure the two of them drive off together in Tony’s car at the end of the movie to do just that. And, okay, sure, Bruce is smart, but Tony’s tech is his baby. How many people get invitations to come and see his work? He invites Bruce because he recognises his brilliance, yes, but there’s another reason. He’s inviting Bruce to come down and work with him after this is over. He’s giving Bruce something to do next, a purpose, an alternative to disappearing into the ether to be alone with his monster. Tony knows from experience that being alone with your issues doesn’t end well, so for what’s only the third time in his life he extends the hand of friendship to a guy he’s known barely an hour.
And then, he tells Bruce to let the beast loose. Not just because they need him to fight, but because it will help him. If Bruce can take this thing that he sees as a curse and turn it into a gift, well, that’s going to lift him out of a very dark place. I’m not saying Tony knew about Bruce’s attempted suicide, but I think he had a suspicion that Bruce had been, in his words, “low”. So he encourages Bruce to take all that crap and pain and the Other Guy and use him to help people; after all, that’s what he did.
And it pays off. Nobody— nobody— thinks Bruce is going to turn up for that final battle. You can see the look on Natasha and Steve’s faces when Tony asks if Bruce turned up yet. They’ve counted Bruce out. Guy’s a mess, right? He’s too volatile. Doesn’t play well with others. He could never work as part of a team. No-one thinks he’ll come through when it matters. Except Tony. He has faith in him, and that faith is rewarded. It’s no wonder the Hulk is the one to catch Tony. Tony’s the one who helped let him out. He’s just returning the favor.
(via areasofmyexpertise)