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Nov 15 14 10:57 AM
That woman
Interact
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Nov 15 14 12:43 PM
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Nov 17 14 3:29 AM
Also available in trade paper
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Nov 17 14 8:14 AM
I once lived in a (curious) yellow submarine
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Nov 19 14 5:09 AM
AdministratorThe Treacherous Trencherman
MoodIndigo1 wrote:David still posts occasionally on his Lilli Pierce and the Big Trip message board. http://lillipierceandthebigtrip.yuku.com/topic/4068/Dear-Lilli As a matter of fact, he posted there on November 11, 2014. I often think of him, and of you all. I miss you.
Posts: 1939
Nov 21 14 10:27 PM
Invisible Academic
11-21-2014: Through the FlamesAliens had landed in the ravine. At the pull-off above, on the small mountain highway, black helicopters flew back and forth and sinister personnel movers began combing the area - we knew we had to find safety. People at the rest area and adjoining town began to panic; in the chaos, I was separated from my wife. I led a friend to a notch behind some boulders, where we watched as a multi-headed leviathon peered up and around, then scraped away along the ravine. I knew I had to get to the family cabin down river because my wife would also try for it. Dozens of us made the decision to head into the ravine, despite the fact that it was on fire from the alien ship. Enormous, gnarled, unearthly trees that had sprung up in the ravine during the night, and then collapsed, smoldered along with the ground as flames climbed up from the marshy, burning river that we knew we must cross. It was the only chance of reaching safety and organizing a resistance. The smoke was almost overwhelming and several people succumbed. As I leaped from tree to tree, I marveled at my agility, and realized: so THIS is how Tarzan does it! The burning trees were tottering and crumbling even as I flew through them, launching from collapsing trunk, swinging on rotten branch, and dropping across dizzying gap to the next potential hand- or foothold. I rolled quickly down stretches of slope when I found flame-free patches of ground. Military-style vehicles moved among us. Tall, muscular, human-like creatures in uniform walked close spraying flamethrowers and occasionally shooting incinerator-beams; a few of my fellows were killed. An amused voice filled our heads: "Your attempts to evade us are good sport. Please continue." Suddenly, I understood: "They are rustling us!" I shouted to my comrades. "Follow me!" As the dire meaning of my words blossomed in their minds, they shouted in anger, and splashed with me into the burning river. On the other side a familiar face beckoned. "Over there!" I cried. "Sanctuary just ahead!"
Aliens had landed in the ravine. At the pull-off above, on the small mountain highway, black helicopters flew back and forth and sinister personnel movers began combing the area - we knew we had to find safety. People at the rest area and adjoining town began to panic; in the chaos, I was separated from my wife.
I led a friend to a notch behind some boulders, where we watched as a multi-headed leviathon peered up and around, then scraped away along the ravine. I knew I had to get to the family cabin down river because my wife would also try for it. Dozens of us made the decision to head into the ravine, despite the fact that it was on fire from the alien ship.
Enormous, gnarled, unearthly trees that had sprung up in the ravine during the night, and then collapsed, smoldered along with the ground as flames climbed up from the marshy, burning river that we knew we must cross. It was the only chance of reaching safety and organizing a resistance. The smoke was almost overwhelming and several people succumbed. As I leaped from tree to tree, I marveled at my agility, and realized: so THIS is how Tarzan does it! The burning trees were tottering and crumbling even as I flew through them, launching from collapsing trunk, swinging on rotten branch, and dropping across dizzying gap to the next potential hand- or foothold. I rolled quickly down stretches of slope when I found flame-free patches of ground.
Military-style vehicles moved among us. Tall, muscular, human-like creatures in uniform walked close spraying flamethrowers and occasionally shooting incinerator-beams; a few of my fellows were killed. An amused voice filled our heads: "Your attempts to evade us are good sport. Please continue."
Suddenly, I understood: "They are rustling us!" I shouted to my comrades. "Follow me!" As the dire meaning of my words blossomed in their minds, they shouted in anger, and splashed with me into the burning river. On the other side a familiar face beckoned. "Over there!" I cried. "Sanctuary just ahead!"
With love,
Dave
"Symmetry and asymmetry are convivial. The paradox of order and chaos in simultaneous improvisation is such a challenge to hold in focus. But in that balancing, (for it is surely in infinite process and never totally balanced)--- in that conversation, -- in that music, the new enters the patterns."
~ Nora Bateson
Friends Along the Road: Sanctuary for Those in Grief * Caring Emotional Support Lilli Pierce and the Big Trip: Life, death, afterlife, grief, love, friendship, spirituality, and moreI PLUS ULTRA I
Nov 22 14 2:19 AM
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Nov 26 14 7:52 PM
Nov 28 14 4:03 PM
This discussion sent me down to the Tacoma Book Center, which claims to be (I am sure correctly) the largest used-book store in Washington State. I picked up old Ballantine pbs of Warlord of Mars, The Return of Tarzan, and War Chief. The first two because I remember them as among the best and because I had not read them for going on 50 years. The third because of Dave's recommendation about the Apache novels, which I had never read. (This shows the probable truth of TBC's boast; these three books were immediately to hand.)
Here is the opening sentence of Warlord of Mars:
"In the shadows of the forest that flanks the crimson plain by the side of the Lost Sea of Korus in the Valley Dor, beneath the hurtling moons of Mars, speeding their meteoric way close above the bosom of the dying planet, I crept stealthily along the trail of a shadowy form that hugged the darker places with a persistency that proclaimed the sinister nature of its errand."
This is pure Burroughs prose, and it immediately transported me back 50 years: I recalled the quest and exactly where John Carter was headed-- to find Dejah Thoris, imprisoned a Barsoomian half-year before in the Temple of the Sun at the conclusion of The Gods of Mars, with Thuvia of Ptarth and Phaidor, the daughter of Matai Shang, hekkador of the Therns. Amazing sensation!
Nov 28 14 9:12 PM
Nov 29 14 6:47 AM
David Pierce wrote:If it could be said that Burroughs is Vancean, it would be true, except for the fact that he came first.
Immanuel Kant: sapere aude
Nov 29 14 9:44 AM
Posts: 1863
Nov 29 14 12:07 PM
Purveyor of gently used deities
MikeTransreal wrote:'Vance is ERBian'?
Nov 29 14 4:11 PM
Matt Hughes wrote:MikeTransreal wrote:'Vance is ERBian'?Well, erbs are certainly Vancean.I haven't been around lately because of hardware issues, but I now have a new laptop that will let me continue writing in WordStar and happy to be back. Good to hear, too, from some people who also haven't been around lately.
Nov 29 14 10:51 PM
Nov 30 14 12:33 AM
David Pierce wrote:A notable exception is with his Apache characters in the War Chief novels. They all converse in a dignified-sounding manner as if Burroughs were translating the essence of their Athabascan.
Nov 30 14 4:26 AM
Posts: 3869
Nov 30 14 11:45 AM
Burned in effigy by the French on Bastille Day
Nov 30 14 12:19 PM
David B Williams wrote:Maybe it's just me, but I hate the attempts of novelists to reproduce dialects with funny spelling. We're not listening to the radio, people,
Posts: 1704
Nov 30 14 2:11 PM
Nobody tosses me!
David B Williams wrote:Maybe it's just me, but I hate the attempts of novelists to reproduce dialects with funny spelling. We're not listening to the radio, people, we are reading. Skilled writers can suggest the class and venue of characters by what they say, not how they speak. Best example that comes to mind is Jack Vance.
I agree as well, but only in the broadest general terms. There are numerous exceptions. When it's well done in limited doses, it definitely adds flavour and couleur locale to the story. Jack London comes to mind :
http://www.online-literature.com/london/80/
http://www.online-literature.com/london/102/
Nov 30 14 2:59 PM
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