People complained when Tom Bombidel (among others) were left out of the film trilogy. TB is a waste of paper, he adds nothing to the story and just proves Tolkien needed a stronger editor. I've read the trilogy twice, early 60's and early 70's and I'll stick to the editing comment. The trilogy could've been 200 pages shorter and it would have been a better read. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's the template for epic fantasy but a lot of it is still pretty damn boring.
Now I'm reading that people are complaining that Galadiel's appearing in the Hobbit and she wasn't in the book. So what? If what Jackson does makes the film narrative flow easier, then good. The same applies to the trilogy. I just re-watched the long form versions of the films and it's one hell of a good movie. I don't know how many times I've watched The Return of the King but I still get the multiple shivers during the Battle for Gondor.
So, basically, stop bitching about changes made from the page to the screen. If the film works, that's all that matters.
The Knollys Family
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Vignettes of Gore
Just in time for the holidays, here are 4 stories not for the weak of stomach. In chronological order, by location.
The Violent Mouse
The call came in saying a horrible accident had occurred at a radar site near the base. It was a secret base so no one knew where it was; took us 20 minutes to find someone with clearance to give us directions. On the way there the dispensary radioed that it appeared there was a dead man but they weren’t 100% sure because the caller had apparently had a cleft palate. It had been repaired but when excited it was difficult to understand him.
We finally got there and found a very dead man laying on the floor near a gun rack with a small hole in his chin and the back of his head missing. We didn’t have a doctor with us so we had to administer CPR; put the oxygen on him and heard it whistling out the hole in his head.
What had happened was that the man had been chasing a mouse which leaped to a shelf over the gun rack. The man climbed on a stool, the stool fell over, he hit the gun rack, a rifle discharged. The end.
There’s a lot of blood with a head wound. I’m glad we didn’t have to clean it up.
The Navy guys ain’t meant to fly.
A Navy jet with two Marine pilots came in to refuel. As they were taking off they couldn’t get altitude and hit trees on the end of the runway. The jet flipped end over end. The Marines ejected; the co-pilot at a 90 degree angle to the ground, the pilot directly into the ground. Co-pilot looked awful, blood pouring out of his mouth, compound fracture of his right arm, unconscious. Turned out he’d bit his tongue, there were no internal injuries.
The pilot was more like a puddle of jell-o. There were few bones in his body which weren’t broken. We had to slowly roll him onto a tarp so we could get him on a litter. There was no morgue in the dispensary so he sat in an ambulance until we could get him to a civilian hospital. Well, he didn’t actually sit but I’m sure you figured that out.
All bubbly
A prop plane was shot down and we couldn’t find the crew chief for a couple of days. Finally the corpse was located in a swamp about half a kilometer from the crash site. The ambulance parked as close as possible, we put on gloves and waders and went to the body. After 2 days in the swamp he was fairly bloated, multi colored, ripe and critters had been dining. The body floated in about a foot of water. We very carefully pulled a body bag on to him then floated the bag onto a litter. There were three of us, the biggest guy on the foot . We started lifting the body into the ambulance and we could hear it deflating and all the fluids sloshing about. The body bag had a flaw, it wouldn’t close properly and all the yummy stuff poured over the end man. He puked, we laughed. He stripped naked, we sprayed and dusted him with everything we had to avoid infection and smell. He rode in the back, naked as a jay bird with him fragrant friend.
A doctor shakes
A C-47, an old prop cargo plane, went down with a crew of six. Witnesses said it’d corkscrewed into the ground. We got to it close to ten minutes after the crash, a doctor rode with us. Everyone was dead, most torn into parts. There was one man who had been thrown straight into a bulkhead, his head was split from top to bottom. The doctor still had to check for vital signs. He put his fingers on the man’s throat and turned pale. He started shaking and saying: Oh fuck, oh fuck. He tried the pulse again and after a few seconds took his fingers away. He looked at me and said for a moment he thought he’d felt a pulse and knew there was nothing he could do. When he felt the second time, there was nothing.
…and people wonder why medics drink.
The Violent Mouse
The call came in saying a horrible accident had occurred at a radar site near the base. It was a secret base so no one knew where it was; took us 20 minutes to find someone with clearance to give us directions. On the way there the dispensary radioed that it appeared there was a dead man but they weren’t 100% sure because the caller had apparently had a cleft palate. It had been repaired but when excited it was difficult to understand him.
We finally got there and found a very dead man laying on the floor near a gun rack with a small hole in his chin and the back of his head missing. We didn’t have a doctor with us so we had to administer CPR; put the oxygen on him and heard it whistling out the hole in his head.
What had happened was that the man had been chasing a mouse which leaped to a shelf over the gun rack. The man climbed on a stool, the stool fell over, he hit the gun rack, a rifle discharged. The end.
There’s a lot of blood with a head wound. I’m glad we didn’t have to clean it up.
The Navy guys ain’t meant to fly.
A Navy jet with two Marine pilots came in to refuel. As they were taking off they couldn’t get altitude and hit trees on the end of the runway. The jet flipped end over end. The Marines ejected; the co-pilot at a 90 degree angle to the ground, the pilot directly into the ground. Co-pilot looked awful, blood pouring out of his mouth, compound fracture of his right arm, unconscious. Turned out he’d bit his tongue, there were no internal injuries.
The pilot was more like a puddle of jell-o. There were few bones in his body which weren’t broken. We had to slowly roll him onto a tarp so we could get him on a litter. There was no morgue in the dispensary so he sat in an ambulance until we could get him to a civilian hospital. Well, he didn’t actually sit but I’m sure you figured that out.
All bubbly
A prop plane was shot down and we couldn’t find the crew chief for a couple of days. Finally the corpse was located in a swamp about half a kilometer from the crash site. The ambulance parked as close as possible, we put on gloves and waders and went to the body. After 2 days in the swamp he was fairly bloated, multi colored, ripe and critters had been dining. The body floated in about a foot of water. We very carefully pulled a body bag on to him then floated the bag onto a litter. There were three of us, the biggest guy on the foot . We started lifting the body into the ambulance and we could hear it deflating and all the fluids sloshing about. The body bag had a flaw, it wouldn’t close properly and all the yummy stuff poured over the end man. He puked, we laughed. He stripped naked, we sprayed and dusted him with everything we had to avoid infection and smell. He rode in the back, naked as a jay bird with him fragrant friend.
A doctor shakes
A C-47, an old prop cargo plane, went down with a crew of six. Witnesses said it’d corkscrewed into the ground. We got to it close to ten minutes after the crash, a doctor rode with us. Everyone was dead, most torn into parts. There was one man who had been thrown straight into a bulkhead, his head was split from top to bottom. The doctor still had to check for vital signs. He put his fingers on the man’s throat and turned pale. He started shaking and saying: Oh fuck, oh fuck. He tried the pulse again and after a few seconds took his fingers away. He looked at me and said for a moment he thought he’d felt a pulse and knew there was nothing he could do. When he felt the second time, there was nothing.
…and people wonder why medics drink.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Deprivation
The last 5-6 days I've been averaging 3 1/2 hours of sleep per night. I've not been napping during the day and I'm avoiding caffeine. The lack of sleep is beginning to have a negative effect. My level of paranoia, which normally is not that bad, has risen dramatically. I'm becoming a conspiracy fan of imagined conspiracies against me. I'm double checking locks, leaving closet doors open, reading into things slights and insults which aren't there.
If there are people out there I've attacked or offended the last few days, I apologize. Fortunately, I see my shrink Thursday; we can hash things out and maybe I can get another pill to take.
I can't think of any reasons for the non-sleeping, it's just happening. So far, no hallucinations; they might be a positive thing. At least entertaining.
Thanks to everyone who puts up with me.
If there are people out there I've attacked or offended the last few days, I apologize. Fortunately, I see my shrink Thursday; we can hash things out and maybe I can get another pill to take.
I can't think of any reasons for the non-sleeping, it's just happening. So far, no hallucinations; they might be a positive thing. At least entertaining.
Thanks to everyone who puts up with me.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Melange
One thing that pisses me off is the idiotic cutesy names people use with one another. They're not really a sign of affection; it's patronizing and condescending. You're degrading your partner to an object. If someone has a name (and most of us do), use it. There are few things more romantic than to say your lovers name with affection. There's little need for the other crap: sweet thing, baby doll, sweetie pie. Yuck. Objectification is a decadent, demeaning thing to do to someone.
Please, everyone read It Can't Happen Here by Sinclair Lewis. This country is sprinting toward fascism and it seems too many people are happy with that. Also God Bless You Mr Rosewater, Cat's Cradle, Slaughter House Five by Vonnegut.
Long ago (I think there was electricity, but not much else) I aligned myself with Utopian Socialism. I still believe that theoretically it's the best idea going. But, like all the other isms, it forgets about the human factor. People are forever hedonistic narcissists. We all want a little bit more than the guy next door. There isn't a single ism that's not infected by that. Environment? Socialisation? Genetics? Who cares? It's there.
I will be forever thankful for the people who've helped and supported me the last couple of years. I call them anchors. I trust them completely. I'm not an easy person to get along with. These people have passed that. They know who they are. I love (in my own strange way) all of them.
There are very deep valleys and very steep peaks in my emotional roller coaster. They are slowly getting shallower, smoother. I'll always be an opinionated ass, but I never mean harm to those I care for. I claim to try not to use sarcasm, but often fail. It's not meant in a hurtful fashion.
Okay, longer and more boring, but I'm done for tonight.
Please, everyone read It Can't Happen Here by Sinclair Lewis. This country is sprinting toward fascism and it seems too many people are happy with that. Also God Bless You Mr Rosewater, Cat's Cradle, Slaughter House Five by Vonnegut.
Long ago (I think there was electricity, but not much else) I aligned myself with Utopian Socialism. I still believe that theoretically it's the best idea going. But, like all the other isms, it forgets about the human factor. People are forever hedonistic narcissists. We all want a little bit more than the guy next door. There isn't a single ism that's not infected by that. Environment? Socialisation? Genetics? Who cares? It's there.
I will be forever thankful for the people who've helped and supported me the last couple of years. I call them anchors. I trust them completely. I'm not an easy person to get along with. These people have passed that. They know who they are. I love (in my own strange way) all of them.
There are very deep valleys and very steep peaks in my emotional roller coaster. They are slowly getting shallower, smoother. I'll always be an opinionated ass, but I never mean harm to those I care for. I claim to try not to use sarcasm, but often fail. It's not meant in a hurtful fashion.
Okay, longer and more boring, but I'm done for tonight.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The Non-despondent Non-rant
Okay, I know non-despondent isn't correct but I like alliteration.
My mood has been fairly stable for about 10 days; with the self-control I've rediscovered, I hope it continues for a long time. Even unstable, I'm never violent or dangerous. Just to my own psyche. Trank use has gone down significantly, anxiety has stayed away. I'm noticing that I'm focusing more on the sun than on the gloom. Pretty soon I'll be Pollyanna. If that ever happens, someone please shoot me.
There are a lot of positives going on. I most likely will be able to take a trip in March that I'm really looking forward to.
One thing I'm having trouble with is the fact that people are agreeing with me and then I later discover that they live the thing I criticized. Please don't do that. Be honest with me. I won't implode (or explode) if you disagree. Placation or condescension aren't very noble when you do them to a friend.
Oops! Almost a rant. Sorry about that.
Everyone go read The Death of Ivan Illich, by Tolstoy. It's very short. There is more in that novella than in all the crap that passes for literature today. One rant: Comic books are not novels.
Okay, too boring. Next time I'll rant again.
My mood has been fairly stable for about 10 days; with the self-control I've rediscovered, I hope it continues for a long time. Even unstable, I'm never violent or dangerous. Just to my own psyche. Trank use has gone down significantly, anxiety has stayed away. I'm noticing that I'm focusing more on the sun than on the gloom. Pretty soon I'll be Pollyanna. If that ever happens, someone please shoot me.
There are a lot of positives going on. I most likely will be able to take a trip in March that I'm really looking forward to.
One thing I'm having trouble with is the fact that people are agreeing with me and then I later discover that they live the thing I criticized. Please don't do that. Be honest with me. I won't implode (or explode) if you disagree. Placation or condescension aren't very noble when you do them to a friend.
Oops! Almost a rant. Sorry about that.
Everyone go read The Death of Ivan Illich, by Tolstoy. It's very short. There is more in that novella than in all the crap that passes for literature today. One rant: Comic books are not novels.
Okay, too boring. Next time I'll rant again.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Poetry
These are 4 poems I wrote about two years ago. Three of them are on the same theme but in different forms. The sonnet was read to the Queen on 3 different occasions. Thank you for your indulgence.
Caress
My fingers to her hair gently brushing
Then to her cheek, soft and smooth
I touch the tips to her ear, to her neck
Feeling the sudden warmth of her
The eyes, dark, full of light and laughter
I circle easily, touching the lids
Tracing gently the bridge of her nose
Tracing slowly the line of her jaw
To her golden, silken throat, I linger
Then lay my hand upon her chest
To feel her heart racing
Our breath quickening together
Quietly to her lips, full, soft and moist
They slowly part and I feel her soul
My fingers cease, then pull away
And my lips, again and again, follow the path
Merlin's Lament
I will howl into the wind
that now in my autumn
I do find the nymph, the dryad Nimue.
Long of leg, dark of hair
Ivoried skin with eyes of haunting coal,
this beauteous nymph,
this glorious Nimue.
I will curse the moon
for power to change
my gnarled age to surging youth,
to gather at the skirts of she,
the enchantress, the tormentor,
that wondrous nymph,
that glorious Nimue.
I will stumble and fall,
left within the oak
as she goes her way unshod upon
the frosted paths of forgotten forests
Toothless, I will watch her leave
the smiling, the touching
this fickle nymph
that sorceress Nimue.
Iambic pentameter version, same title:
I will howl into the wind, I, Merlin,
that now in my autumn, my end of days,
I do find the nymph, the dryad Nimue.
Long of leg, dark of hair, ivory skin
and eyes of haunting coal, burning my soul
this beauteous nymph who owns my old heart,
this glorious and wonderful Nimue.
I will curse the moon for power to change
my gnarled dotage to surging raw youth,
to gather at the silken skirts of she,
the enchantress, the tormentor, my love
that wondrous nymph, that glorified Nimue.
I will stumble, fall, unable to chase.
Left within the oak, eternity waits
as she does make her way to walk unshod
the frosted paths of forgotten forests
Toothless, sightless, I will sense her leave me.
Gone the smiles, the touches; the kisses.
Fled has this fickle nymph, this sorceress,
the keeper of my soul, this Nimue.
Finally, the sonnet:
I will howl into the wind, I, Merlin,
that now in my autumn, my end of days,
I do find the nymph with ivory skin
and eyes of haunting coal, she ever lays,
this beauteous nymph who owns my old heart,
this glorious and wonderful Nimue,
within my arms, we will never part,
She lies with me now and will ever stay.
But I will stumble, unable to chase
Left within the oak, eternity waits
Toothless, sightless, she will leave me abased
Fled has Nimue from my cold, crumbling gates
Gone with the touches, the kisses this day,
the poisoner of my soul, fair Nimue
Caress
My fingers to her hair gently brushing
Then to her cheek, soft and smooth
I touch the tips to her ear, to her neck
Feeling the sudden warmth of her
The eyes, dark, full of light and laughter
I circle easily, touching the lids
Tracing gently the bridge of her nose
Tracing slowly the line of her jaw
To her golden, silken throat, I linger
Then lay my hand upon her chest
To feel her heart racing
Our breath quickening together
Quietly to her lips, full, soft and moist
They slowly part and I feel her soul
My fingers cease, then pull away
And my lips, again and again, follow the path
Merlin's Lament
I will howl into the wind
that now in my autumn
I do find the nymph, the dryad Nimue.
Long of leg, dark of hair
Ivoried skin with eyes of haunting coal,
this beauteous nymph,
this glorious Nimue.
I will curse the moon
for power to change
my gnarled age to surging youth,
to gather at the skirts of she,
the enchantress, the tormentor,
that wondrous nymph,
that glorious Nimue.
I will stumble and fall,
left within the oak
as she goes her way unshod upon
the frosted paths of forgotten forests
Toothless, I will watch her leave
the smiling, the touching
this fickle nymph
that sorceress Nimue.
Iambic pentameter version, same title:
I will howl into the wind, I, Merlin,
that now in my autumn, my end of days,
I do find the nymph, the dryad Nimue.
Long of leg, dark of hair, ivory skin
and eyes of haunting coal, burning my soul
this beauteous nymph who owns my old heart,
this glorious and wonderful Nimue.
I will curse the moon for power to change
my gnarled dotage to surging raw youth,
to gather at the silken skirts of she,
the enchantress, the tormentor, my love
that wondrous nymph, that glorified Nimue.
I will stumble, fall, unable to chase.
Left within the oak, eternity waits
as she does make her way to walk unshod
the frosted paths of forgotten forests
Toothless, sightless, I will sense her leave me.
Gone the smiles, the touches; the kisses.
Fled has this fickle nymph, this sorceress,
the keeper of my soul, this Nimue.
Finally, the sonnet:
I will howl into the wind, I, Merlin,
that now in my autumn, my end of days,
I do find the nymph with ivory skin
and eyes of haunting coal, she ever lays,
this beauteous nymph who owns my old heart,
this glorious and wonderful Nimue,
within my arms, we will never part,
She lies with me now and will ever stay.
But I will stumble, unable to chase
Left within the oak, eternity waits
Toothless, sightless, she will leave me abased
Fled has Nimue from my cold, crumbling gates
Gone with the touches, the kisses this day,
the poisoner of my soul, fair Nimue
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Happily exhausted
Bristol's done for this year. It was an up and down summer for me; too many health (both physical and mental) problems. I missed more days this summer than in the previous 10 altogether. But the days I made it were, as usual, quite satisfying.
The final weekend was one of the best weekends I've ever had. Gads, so many things were good.
Saturday: after 4 years, finally getting two ladies from Milwaukee to sing at the Queen's Feast. They sang a duet from Mozart's 'Cosi fan Tutte'. Anyone who heard them knows they had heard something special. Even the Queen stopped her usual routine and watched them sing. It was magical.
The final weekend was one of the best weekends I've ever had. Gads, so many things were good.
Saturday: after 4 years, finally getting two ladies from Milwaukee to sing at the Queen's Feast. They sang a duet from Mozart's 'Cosi fan Tutte'. Anyone who heard them knows they had heard something special. Even the Queen stopped her usual routine and watched them sing. It was magical.
Sunday: the largest assemblage of the Knolly's family in my guild lifetime. Lettice and Catherine, my daughters; Dorothy and Penelope, my grand-daughters; and Robert, my grand son, the Earl of Essex. We were able to gather for a family portrait. Had a great time walking about with Robert, introducing him to people. I really love my faire family.
Monday: Saw Suitcase Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet' and 'Pyramis and Thisbe' about an hour apart.
Ran into a bunch of old friends. Did a ton of patron interactions. Received a kiss. Had a heartfelt farewell with Lettice. Marched to the final closing gate for the first time in several years.
Bad? Someone I truly cherish and admire may not be returning.
Overall, a good season; just too short. Every year I'm amazed at the talent and energy of the Bristol cast and crew. I've said it many times, but, I'm honored to be part of it.
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