Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us.
First off, thanks to Renchamp for replying. Nice to know I'm not purely talking to myself, though again, still lost as to why anyone would want to read about my life or my thoughts on things.
Anyway, after watching some TV tonight, a couple of random thoughts on quick ways to commit suicide in dramas.
Call /e-mail/text someone to inform them something that resembles "I have discovered something really important, but it's too dangerous to tell you over the phone/by e-mail/by text. Meet me at..." If you do, you've just guaranteed that you will be murdered at said rendezvous point so that whoever you contacted can find your corpse. Sure, in the plus column you'll be avenged and the secret you discovered will be rediscovered by your friend, but you'll still have died, which definitely falls into the minuses.
Similarly, if you ever discover something momentous that people might kill to keep secret, and you decide to share it with someone you trust/blackmail the secret's holder/try to win the secret's holder over by reassuring them that you know it but would never betray them by revealing it, and they ask you "Have you told anyone else about this?" the proper response, the only one that might let you live more than another couple of minutes, is "No, BUT I have arranged it that should I be killed or go missing then what I have found will be passed on to the police, army, press, put out on Twitter, Facebook and multiple forums, written over the city by skywriters, and otherwise widely promulgated." Fail to say that and the person you have told will swiftly kill you to keep things secret (especially if you didn't realise it was their secret to begin with and just thought you were sharing it with someone you trusted). And no good saying you've trusted it going to a single authority, like the cops alone - whoever you told will then automatically have a way of intercepting it.
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No idea if anyone else is reading these, and no idea why they would, but hey, got to fulfill quest requirements, so here's another blog. As I look around my apartment it's clear to me that I am, if not compulsive, then at least heavily inclined, towards collecting fiction. I have a love for the narrative, so if I get into a given story, I want to have all of it. Take Indiana Jones, purely as a single example. I like the films, some better than others, naturally. Not in the slightest interested in collecting action figures or Indy hats and whips - maybe I would be if I had endless cash and endless space to keep / display them, but I don't. But, having decided I like the films enough to own a copy of each, I went out of my way to collect all the English language novels. I'm most of the way through picking up all the comics, including trying, unsuccessfully thus far, to find copies of a newspaper strip that was never reprinted. I'm seriously tempted to purchase the French comics that were never printed in English, and I've resisted buying the German novels also never printed in English, though only thus far, and I'd snap them all up in a second if they were republished in English or any other language I was more fluent in.
I freely admit I'm blogging mainly to fulfill quest requirements. What gets me is why would anyone want to know about the events of my life? The interesting stuff is usually stuff I'd be foolish to put out where people can read, because it's private or I'd be breaking confidences or risking getting myself into trouble, like those people who have been foolish enough to rant against their employers online and then wondered why they got castigated or fired, and the mundane stuff is boring. I could do opinion pieces about stuff I'm reading/watching/doing, but again, why would anyone else care what my opinion is? Guess I'll have to put the thinking cap on as to what to write next.
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Bad spelling can be lethal. For example, the greedy Seriph of Al-Ybi was cursed by a badly-educated deity and for some days everything he touched turned to Glod, which happened to be the name of a small dwarf from a mountain community hundreds of miles away who found himself magically dragged to the kingdom and relentlessly duplicated. Some two thousand Glods later the spell wore off. These days, the people of Al-Ybi are renowned for being remarkably short and bad-tempered.
- Wyrds Sisters by Terry Pratchett (again - but he's very quotable).