Hello, this is your captain speaking. We are about to enter the month of November, and with it, the National Novel Writing Month. With this is mind, let me make the following statements:
Grymm's contest is still going, but I'm going to ask that entries be sent to textfight(at)gmail.com, rather than be posted directly to the site until NaNoWriMo is over.
As of right now I know for a fact that Gayleen, Gordon, and I are all taking part in the contest. I am pretty sure there are others.
For the month of November, textFIGHT is about this contest. I'll be putting a word count along the sidebar that posters can update. If you want to join in, please let us know at that there email address above.
I'm going to post daily on my progress, and thoughts on the process. By god, all, do the same. This blog made the 3-Day novel contest so much more tolerable, you have no idea.
Ril, are you in? Cenobyte?
Anyone?
So far as I know, G is writing a young adult novel using the same setting as her shortlisted 3-Day novel, Gordon is writing a Lovecraftian tale of some description, and I am writing my longest false document work ever. Note carefully how I'm telling you all in advance.
I will be posting what I write each day so that it can be read by the curious. Comments and suggestions will be greatly appreciated.
I suppose I will now talk about my book a little.
On our last long drive, G and I were listening to this podcast about this kid and his mom who started a website. The website was designed to help kids who were conceived by sperm donation find each other. More specifically, it was so they could find other kids conceived from the same donor sperm. This kid found a whole flock of something like 8 half siblings, and now they have regular social meetings and get-togethers. It's turned out to be a great thing for them, even though they can't find out who the guy actually was. They are trying to legally force disclosure.
I had an idea to write a young adult novel with this premise because 50,000 words is pretty much exactly the right length for a YA novel. I had the plot and basic characters come on me in a wild rush in about the first two hours of the idea's germination. Where I'd been stuck was how to narrate.
I am very comfortable in first person, but the plot involves a lot of knowledge that the only sensible narrator wouldn't have access to. I didn't want another book with multiple first person threads so soon. So I'd been toying with third person, without a viewpoint character, but I think it's increasingly hard to sell the idea of the story with no teller these days.
So day before yesterday, I went for a walk down to the corner store to grab a refreshing beverage, and I chatted up the clerks there. Then, on the way home, I was thinking about the book, and the narrative problem, and how it fit into the Sel Souris cycle. I had one of those crazy moments of revelation that seem to come entirely from without, as though placed there by shoemaking elves.
I am the narrator. Me, as me.
On my blog around this time last year or the year before I wrote a long series of blog posts in which I took a plane trip to Sel Souris and met my (entirely fictional) half-brother and his family. It had some of the best writing I've ever done in amongst the chaff, and I've wanted a place for it in the cycle ever since but couldn't find it.
This book will contain a revised portion of what I've been calling "The Irresponsible Journey" as a foreword. It will then go on to involve a much longer narrative where my half-brother contacts me again because he has met a bunch of these kids who have a hell of a story. So Gayleen and I will get on a plane and meet them. The book will be a kind of fake non-fiction book with interviews and (if I can swing it, eventually) pictures. This second part is my project for NaNoWriMo.
I am, for some reason, really jazzed about the concept and think that it might be really cool.
So, my outline is sort of broken now, but my enthusiasm will, I hope, compensate.
Your thoughts, gang? Any comments on your own books?
Friday, October 31, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Inspired by G... so blame her!
THE TELLING STONE
Attention Dr. H. Anders, Professor of Ancient Studies, Miskatonic University;
The following journal fragments were discovered frozen in ice by a British research team in an undisclosed portion of the antarctic. They were emailed to our anthropology department on August 21, 2008. Regrettably, this is the last contact we received from them. Any information you may be able to provide on the "Telling Stone" mentioned would be greatly appreciated.
Dr. L. D. Smythe, Oxford University
November 17, 1934
My colleges and I from Miskatonic University have been crossing the barren wastes of the Antarctic for 16 days now following the clues left on the artifact that Fallons has nick-named the "Telling Stone". It appears to illustrate several dinosaur-like creature. Curiously some of these creatures appear to be using tools of sorts. What amazed the board at the university most however, was that the tablet, which appears to be genuine, is less than 100 years old! At first we assumed fraud, however given his relationship with the President's wife Fallons was able to arrange a grant to travel to the coordinates encoded in the tablet. I occurs to me that if this tablet is genuine then perhaps we will have to recon...
November 22, 1934
The cold is unbearable! We are nearly out of provisions and still Fallons urges us forward! We are all exhausted and prepared to turn back, all except Fallons who seems possessed of a supra-human endurance. Its as though the search for this lost civilization he has been raving about the last few days has consumed his mind! We have been discussing the idea of leaving Fallons behind and returning to the camp but whenever we are prepared to the winds seem to pick up and force us to seek shelter. Its as if some unholy...
November 27, 1934
My god, Fallons was right. We only followed him into the caves to escape the storm. Such a strange storm... it began with a phenomena much like the Aurora Borealis (though I was unaware such light phenomena occurred in the antarctic), and them a strange wind that sounded like the cries of a thousand tortured souls crying out from hell began to whip around us. Fallons found the cave and called us in. The system seemed to cut through the ice for miles as we followed it, and the warm breeze that came up through it. Then after what seemed hours we broke through into light. As bright as day and as warm any any summer I spent in California. The valley below is filled with a lush jungle teaming with life. We have stopped for a rest but Fallons is nearly frothing at the mouth and pacing back and forth without cessation. He is telling us that we must travel into the jungle and seek the inhabitants. I have no idea how he could know there is anyone living within this jungle. Again I fear madness has over taken poor Fallons. His nightly rantings have grown worse as well. He speaks of "the returning masters of the Earth". The poor man has obviously lost all grip on sanity... however, here we stand. I am..
November 30?, 1934
Little has changed since my last entry. We are still held captive by the strange lizard-like peoples of this hidden valley. One by one they have taken us. Only myself and one of the Eskimo we brought with us remains. Poor uncivilised fellow's mind will broke yesterday. He ate the fruit the creatures provide us with everyday and he fell prey to its hallucinogenic effect just like the others did. The result was also the same, raving madness. He speaks in broken English of the coming of the Dominion. I have no idea if he refers to his native Canada or perhaps some other part of the British Commonwealth. Perhaps it is just fevered delusion. I hear them coming for him now, he must have begun the regression as the others did. I have no doubt if I were to look into the shadowed corner where he now sits I would see the scales pushing through his flesh toward the surface. I despise myself for being relieved they will take him, but the screams and the raving, combined with my gnawing hunger, are beginning to push...
Date Unknown
I'm nearly at the surface. The escape was perhaps not as complete as I had hoped though. The dart that hit me as I ran was poisoned I believe. It smells of the regressing fruit. I have a fever and am finding it difficult to concentrate. Voices are getting loud. Not outside but in. Buzzing. He knows me now. Somehow I know him. Must run. Warn the surface. Like I'm drowning...
Ichto, ichto! Yig sithran!
Attention Dr. H. Anders, Professor of Ancient Studies, Miskatonic University;
The following journal fragments were discovered frozen in ice by a British research team in an undisclosed portion of the antarctic. They were emailed to our anthropology department on August 21, 2008. Regrettably, this is the last contact we received from them. Any information you may be able to provide on the "Telling Stone" mentioned would be greatly appreciated.
Dr. L. D. Smythe, Oxford University
November 17, 1934
My colleges and I from Miskatonic University have been crossing the barren wastes of the Antarctic for 16 days now following the clues left on the artifact that Fallons has nick-named the "Telling Stone". It appears to illustrate several dinosaur-like creature. Curiously some of these creatures appear to be using tools of sorts. What amazed the board at the university most however, was that the tablet, which appears to be genuine, is less than 100 years old! At first we assumed fraud, however given his relationship with the President's wife Fallons was able to arrange a grant to travel to the coordinates encoded in the tablet. I occurs to me that if this tablet is genuine then perhaps we will have to recon...
November 22, 1934
The cold is unbearable! We are nearly out of provisions and still Fallons urges us forward! We are all exhausted and prepared to turn back, all except Fallons who seems possessed of a supra-human endurance. Its as though the search for this lost civilization he has been raving about the last few days has consumed his mind! We have been discussing the idea of leaving Fallons behind and returning to the camp but whenever we are prepared to the winds seem to pick up and force us to seek shelter. Its as if some unholy...
November 27, 1934
My god, Fallons was right. We only followed him into the caves to escape the storm. Such a strange storm... it began with a phenomena much like the Aurora Borealis (though I was unaware such light phenomena occurred in the antarctic), and them a strange wind that sounded like the cries of a thousand tortured souls crying out from hell began to whip around us. Fallons found the cave and called us in. The system seemed to cut through the ice for miles as we followed it, and the warm breeze that came up through it. Then after what seemed hours we broke through into light. As bright as day and as warm any any summer I spent in California. The valley below is filled with a lush jungle teaming with life. We have stopped for a rest but Fallons is nearly frothing at the mouth and pacing back and forth without cessation. He is telling us that we must travel into the jungle and seek the inhabitants. I have no idea how he could know there is anyone living within this jungle. Again I fear madness has over taken poor Fallons. His nightly rantings have grown worse as well. He speaks of "the returning masters of the Earth". The poor man has obviously lost all grip on sanity... however, here we stand. I am..
November 30?, 1934
Little has changed since my last entry. We are still held captive by the strange lizard-like peoples of this hidden valley. One by one they have taken us. Only myself and one of the Eskimo we brought with us remains. Poor uncivilised fellow's mind will broke yesterday. He ate the fruit the creatures provide us with everyday and he fell prey to its hallucinogenic effect just like the others did. The result was also the same, raving madness. He speaks in broken English of the coming of the Dominion. I have no idea if he refers to his native Canada or perhaps some other part of the British Commonwealth. Perhaps it is just fevered delusion. I hear them coming for him now, he must have begun the regression as the others did. I have no doubt if I were to look into the shadowed corner where he now sits I would see the scales pushing through his flesh toward the surface. I despise myself for being relieved they will take him, but the screams and the raving, combined with my gnawing hunger, are beginning to push...
Date Unknown
I'm nearly at the surface. The escape was perhaps not as complete as I had hoped though. The dart that hit me as I ran was poisoned I believe. It smells of the regressing fruit. I have a fever and am finding it difficult to concentrate. Voices are getting loud. Not outside but in. Buzzing. He knows me now. Somehow I know him. Must run. Warn the surface. Like I'm drowning...
Ichto, ichto! Yig sithran!
Monday, October 20, 2008
Lord Grymm has spoken:
I don't feel like challenging you, and honestly see no need for revolution. Enlightened individuals can enter into social contracts without either, simply acknowledging changes as time passes.
Here is what I have proposed. I am working on gathering a compilation of the "telling stone", the most accurate reconstruction of which is enclosed. I expect that our base may have amongst them versions of the tales depicted on the stone, and would gladly share them with us, so it can be compiled properly. These interpretations don't need to cover the entire stone: any of the lesser portions would be enough, though if they have multiple tales or interpretations of the known data, these would be accepted as well. A description of this stone is as follows:
"The so called "telling stone" (Specimen #A-3141-Z-00109), is perhaps the most famous example of Deinonychus habilis work currently known. It is part of what is called the awl scratch period. This period is typified by the presence of both illustrations and early notations. The telling stone seems to be a sort of talisman or history, bearing references to what have been interpreted as many of their most venerated tales, much like the engravings of the Wu Liang shrine. Many tellings and explanations for the tales have been conducted over the years, as new interpretations and understandings of the culture of D. habilis have changed. Though by no means exhaustive, this compilation gathers many of the tellings of these tales will hopefully shed more light on what we know about this truly ancient culture."
I expect all correspondence will be professional and academic in manner, though I realize campism rages throughout the field of Dinosaur study, and even more so in D. habilis study. I know things will get heated, but there should be no need to resort to common vulgarity or ad hominem attacks.
(Summary: look at the picture, tell some stories about what you interpret from it. Fighting in the comments is allowed, but they should attack the stories directly, not the people, and be as academic as possible. Well, some attacking of the people is permissible if phrased right. I will judge this. Stories need to be in before November 1, but I will need time to make the judgment. The winner will be announced at the start of December, after the novel writing is done. I think this still fits with your criteria, and lets things pick up after in some ways more easily. Other than choosing the next contest, I haven't worked out prizes yet.)
Here is what I have proposed. I am working on gathering a compilation of the "telling stone", the most accurate reconstruction of which is enclosed. I expect that our base may have amongst them versions of the tales depicted on the stone, and would gladly share them with us, so it can be compiled properly. These interpretations don't need to cover the entire stone: any of the lesser portions would be enough, though if they have multiple tales or interpretations of the known data, these would be accepted as well. A description of this stone is as follows:
"The so called "telling stone" (Specimen #A-3141-Z-00109), is perhaps the most famous example of Deinonychus habilis work currently known. It is part of what is called the awl scratch period. This period is typified by the presence of both illustrations and early notations. The telling stone seems to be a sort of talisman or history, bearing references to what have been interpreted as many of their most venerated tales, much like the engravings of the Wu Liang shrine. Many tellings and explanations for the tales have been conducted over the years, as new interpretations and understandings of the culture of D. habilis have changed. Though by no means exhaustive, this compilation gathers many of the tellings of these tales will hopefully shed more light on what we know about this truly ancient culture."
I expect all correspondence will be professional and academic in manner, though I realize campism rages throughout the field of Dinosaur study, and even more so in D. habilis study. I know things will get heated, but there should be no need to resort to common vulgarity or ad hominem attacks.
(Summary: look at the picture, tell some stories about what you interpret from it. Fighting in the comments is allowed, but they should attack the stories directly, not the people, and be as academic as possible. Well, some attacking of the people is permissible if phrased right. I will judge this. Stories need to be in before November 1, but I will need time to make the judgment. The winner will be announced at the start of December, after the novel writing is done. I think this still fits with your criteria, and lets things pick up after in some ways more easily. Other than choosing the next contest, I haven't worked out prizes yet.)
Sunday, October 19, 2008
A winner is declared
After consultation with my lickspittles, a winner has been declared. Lord Grymm is this winner. His entry was excellent both visually and linguistically. We are pleased.
The Item of Magnificence is soon to be mailed.
A choice now stands before you. Declare revolution, and determine a new contest or challenge me to a literary duel and try to usurp me as God Emperor.
Please do let us know.
We have one request. Let this contest, should you choose it end before November 1, as we wish to devote textFIGHT to NaNoWriMo exclusively that month. Thank you.
The Item of Magnificence is soon to be mailed.
A choice now stands before you. Declare revolution, and determine a new contest or challenge me to a literary duel and try to usurp me as God Emperor.
Please do let us know.
We have one request. Let this contest, should you choose it end before November 1, as we wish to devote textFIGHT to NaNoWriMo exclusively that month. Thank you.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Obviously....
You may ignore that twerp.
My citiens have until midnight tonight to submit their entries. Two such have come in already.
The first is from Miss Harper.
It came to pass that on the God-Emperor's birthday, there was a great procession in the city, and the God-Emperor rode through the streets in a magnificent chariot with his chosen advisors and lickspittles in attendance. And everywhere the people cried, "All hail the God-Emperor and his glorious pants!"
And lo, a small boy in the crowd shouted, "But the God-Emperor wears no pants!"
The procession stopped then, and the Chief Lickspittle said, "In a sense this is true, for the pants fit to grace the backside of the God-Emperor have not yet been created. Indeed, if such pants were to be created, we would know that this personage is not in fact the God-Emperor, but an imposter."
And the boy was enlightened. And there was much feasting and rejoicing and showing-off of pants. For this is how the God-Emperor's birthday should be celebrated.
The second is from our Ambassador to Medieval China, Lord Grymm.
Like Liebniz or Tesla, the world has not been ready for your vision.
For too long, your Newton has held the world of the progressive
science (some would say mad, but it is mad to do so) against you like
the royal society. For too long, your Edison has kept the world from
your greatest invention.
No longer. Though I may only be the Huxley to your Darwin, Darwin
could only wish that Huxley would be so effective. For unlike Huxley,
I follow Robespierre's method of scientific advancement and critique.
With that, and the most humble help of both Dr. West and our newly
returned ally, as one needs at least someone as great as Durer to make
this moment proper, I present to you a small feast for the eyes, both
the work of our freshly returned Germanic friend and the sight of the
head of Wem. No longer will he keep back the hover-pants with his
intolerable adherence to the works of Montpelier. Glory to the
god-emperor.
This last was accompanied by a piece of art:
We await the entries of the multitudes with delight and anticipation.
And would someone do me the kindness of murdering the apostate?
Thanks muchly.
My citiens have until midnight tonight to submit their entries. Two such have come in already.
The first is from Miss Harper.
It came to pass that on the God-Emperor's birthday, there was a great procession in the city, and the God-Emperor rode through the streets in a magnificent chariot with his chosen advisors and lickspittles in attendance. And everywhere the people cried, "All hail the God-Emperor and his glorious pants!"
And lo, a small boy in the crowd shouted, "But the God-Emperor wears no pants!"
The procession stopped then, and the Chief Lickspittle said, "In a sense this is true, for the pants fit to grace the backside of the God-Emperor have not yet been created. Indeed, if such pants were to be created, we would know that this personage is not in fact the God-Emperor, but an imposter."
And the boy was enlightened. And there was much feasting and rejoicing and showing-off of pants. For this is how the God-Emperor's birthday should be celebrated.
The second is from our Ambassador to Medieval China, Lord Grymm.
Like Liebniz or Tesla, the world has not been ready for your vision.
For too long, your Newton has held the world of the progressive
science (some would say mad, but it is mad to do so) against you like
the royal society. For too long, your Edison has kept the world from
your greatest invention.
No longer. Though I may only be the Huxley to your Darwin, Darwin
could only wish that Huxley would be so effective. For unlike Huxley,
I follow Robespierre's method of scientific advancement and critique.
With that, and the most humble help of both Dr. West and our newly
returned ally, as one needs at least someone as great as Durer to make
this moment proper, I present to you a small feast for the eyes, both
the work of our freshly returned Germanic friend and the sight of the
head of Wem. No longer will he keep back the hover-pants with his
intolerable adherence to the works of Montpelier. Glory to the
god-emperor.
This last was accompanied by a piece of art:
We await the entries of the multitudes with delight and anticipation.
And would someone do me the kindness of murdering the apostate?
Thanks muchly.
Friday, October 17, 2008
The Appointed Hour Is Upon Us!!!
Behold I have returned to you from my exile bearing a new message of truth!
The man who has proclaimed himself God-Emperor is not the real Ryan States! He is an impostor set upon us by an evil group of elite individuals bent upon world domination through him. I dare not identify the group for the safety of my family and friends but lets us just say it rhymes with Billuminati.
The Ryan States we all know and love would not ask us to dance like trained monkeys to these false demands of "peace" and "brotherly love". NO! He would in fact encourage our petty bickering and strife. He would join us in the mocking of poor grammar and punctuation mistakes. He would rake us across the hot coals of self-doubt and ego-crushing, knowing it would burn away the impurities and forge us into loquacious and verbose word-smiths. There is no way my Ryan States would have allowed all the spelling mistakes I have slipped in over the last few entries go without comment. The Ryan States I love would never allow his cherished textFIGHT to become a haven of wussiness.
And so I entreat you my fellows, join with me. Tear down the false-giant-penis-idols of this "God-Emperor" and unite against his unholy reign of terror on this site. Together we shall find and free the real Ryan States and bring him back to his rightful place in our lives and in our hearts. The man who cannot control his pants, who loses food in his beard, and is nearly as foul mouthed and dark humoured as I. Who will stand with me?
-Gordon, rebellion leader and friend of the true Ryan States
The man who has proclaimed himself God-Emperor is not the real Ryan States! He is an impostor set upon us by an evil group of elite individuals bent upon world domination through him. I dare not identify the group for the safety of my family and friends but lets us just say it rhymes with Billuminati.
The Ryan States we all know and love would not ask us to dance like trained monkeys to these false demands of "peace" and "brotherly love". NO! He would in fact encourage our petty bickering and strife. He would join us in the mocking of poor grammar and punctuation mistakes. He would rake us across the hot coals of self-doubt and ego-crushing, knowing it would burn away the impurities and forge us into loquacious and verbose word-smiths. There is no way my Ryan States would have allowed all the spelling mistakes I have slipped in over the last few entries go without comment. The Ryan States I love would never allow his cherished textFIGHT to become a haven of wussiness.
And so I entreat you my fellows, join with me. Tear down the false-giant-penis-idols of this "God-Emperor" and unite against his unholy reign of terror on this site. Together we shall find and free the real Ryan States and bring him back to his rightful place in our lives and in our hearts. The man who cannot control his pants, who loses food in his beard, and is nearly as foul mouthed and dark humoured as I. Who will stand with me?
-Gordon, rebellion leader and friend of the true Ryan States
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
We at the God-Emperor Communication Centre Organization (GECCO) have been working around the clock to provide His Lord Pants' people with words of encouragement to see them through their troubling times. Our God-Emporer can not YET be in each of out bedrooms, but with these posters of encouragment you can remember that he loves you while you sleep away in the security and peace that he brings you.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Glory to the Pants!!!
The natal day of our benevolent God-Emporer doth approach swiftly. I emplore of of thee kind and pious servants to post His praises!
For thou art mine brothers and sisters in His service I wish the fondest blessings of the Holy Pants upon you and your loved ones as we enter the seven days festival dedicated to Him who has freed us from our hateful and angry ways. I bid you prepare yourselves and quiet your hearts so that you may better hear the will of the God-Emporer as the first day of Pantsashannan begins on the 12th day of this the most holy of months and ends not until the celebrated natal day of our majestic master.
-Gordon, Prophet of the God-Emporer
For thou art mine brothers and sisters in His service I wish the fondest blessings of the Holy Pants upon you and your loved ones as we enter the seven days festival dedicated to Him who has freed us from our hateful and angry ways. I bid you prepare yourselves and quiet your hearts so that you may better hear the will of the God-Emporer as the first day of Pantsashannan begins on the 12th day of this the most holy of months and ends not until the celebrated natal day of our majestic master.
-Gordon, Prophet of the God-Emporer
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Great Sadness
Some time has now passed since I declared this contest. It would be entirely correct to say that I am disappointed. You have made the God-Emperor sad.
Am I such the tyrant that the only one among you willing to devote your considerable talents and energy to glorify me is an obvious apostate?
The "Prophet" who has posted here is no prophet of my glory. I am not a shy or soft spoken person. All who live in my realm know this as truth. Never have I been shy to speak my own will, too spread my own demands.
This so-called prophet believes that he can take some of my power onto himself through an intrusive clinging to my legend. He possesses no such status. I suspect him of seeking power for his own sake, and not to the good of you, my people, and certainly not mine. He has presumed too much, and a close reading of his text will reveal a mind more focused on the glory of the prophet himself than on your God-Emperor.
I will be merciful and assume the best, that my glory overwhelmed common sense. I invite you to try again, and this time to think more of my greatness, and less of your petty aspirations.
I expect poems, statues, paintings and songs.
Right quick.
I have spoken
Am I such the tyrant that the only one among you willing to devote your considerable talents and energy to glorify me is an obvious apostate?
The "Prophet" who has posted here is no prophet of my glory. I am not a shy or soft spoken person. All who live in my realm know this as truth. Never have I been shy to speak my own will, too spread my own demands.
This so-called prophet believes that he can take some of my power onto himself through an intrusive clinging to my legend. He possesses no such status. I suspect him of seeking power for his own sake, and not to the good of you, my people, and certainly not mine. He has presumed too much, and a close reading of his text will reveal a mind more focused on the glory of the prophet himself than on your God-Emperor.
I will be merciful and assume the best, that my glory overwhelmed common sense. I invite you to try again, and this time to think more of my greatness, and less of your petty aspirations.
I expect poems, statues, paintings and songs.
Right quick.
I have spoken
Monday, October 6, 2008
Pants So Magnificent
Continuing Excepts from the Book of the Prophet Gordon...
For his pants were unlike any those seen before by mortal man. Unto us in all his glory the God-Emporer did bring God's own pants. None since Prometheus had dared defy laws of Heaven as did the God-Emporer, for none had so heard the plight of man.
"Unto you do I bring pants of comfort!" declared the God-Emporer. And all who witnessed th pants were silent. "For these are the pants of a god! A crotch which is is not overly tight but doth still provide support. A waist which shall remain a consitent size upon infinite washings even if thou shouldst accidentally dry them on the hottest setting. They are madeth from a material spun from the very dreams of vigins and shalt never wrinkle. And they doth give a fine curveture to any ass they may be placed upon invoking desire in all those around."
The Prophet cried out, "Praise be to the God-Emporer for he hath brought these pants unto us and made a covenant with us that we may where such garments of comfort!"
-Gordon, Prophet of the God-Emporer
For his pants were unlike any those seen before by mortal man. Unto us in all his glory the God-Emporer did bring God's own pants. None since Prometheus had dared defy laws of Heaven as did the God-Emporer, for none had so heard the plight of man.
"Unto you do I bring pants of comfort!" declared the God-Emporer. And all who witnessed th pants were silent. "For these are the pants of a god! A crotch which is is not overly tight but doth still provide support. A waist which shall remain a consitent size upon infinite washings even if thou shouldst accidentally dry them on the hottest setting. They are madeth from a material spun from the very dreams of vigins and shalt never wrinkle. And they doth give a fine curveture to any ass they may be placed upon invoking desire in all those around."
The Prophet cried out, "Praise be to the God-Emporer for he hath brought these pants unto us and made a covenant with us that we may where such garments of comfort!"
-Gordon, Prophet of the God-Emporer
Friday, October 3, 2008
Thy Will Be Done My God-Emporer
An Exerpt From the Book of the Prophet Gordon
"... and lo, the Chorus of Heaven broke through the fabric of the night sky and was witness unto the conception. The mountains shuddered and spewed forth great clouds of ash and the hot red seed of the earth itself, engulfing the city of Pompei and destroying the inhabitants who had mocked the Prophet who had heralded the birth of the God-Emporer. It was at the appointed hour and on the most holy of days when the Prophet witnessed the seed of the earth enter the ocean's cool womb. The Chorus sang forth, a sound so pure as to bring tears of blood to the Prophet's face, 'Thou hast witnessed to the wrath of the earth; now thou shalt witness its true glory and mercy; for unto to this world the God-Emporer hath come; glory be to the God-Emporer!'
And thus bid the Prophet gazed out where the seed touched the womb. Here the Prophet witnessed a sight of majesty so beyond mortal comprehension he was struck blind. But in his darkness and fear a voice, so gentle it filled him with longing, reached out to him. 'Servant,' it spake, 'thy heart is known unto me, I shall return thy sight for mine shall be a reign of benevolence.'
At this the God-Emporer reached down and touched the Prophet, and praise be he was healed. The Prophet dared not look again upon the face of the God-Emporer but only upon the wonder of his pants. And thus the Prophet proclaimed, 'For you have chosen me I shall shall serve the God-Emporer and His Magnificent Pants!'"
-Gordon, Prophet of the God-Emporer
"... and lo, the Chorus of Heaven broke through the fabric of the night sky and was witness unto the conception. The mountains shuddered and spewed forth great clouds of ash and the hot red seed of the earth itself, engulfing the city of Pompei and destroying the inhabitants who had mocked the Prophet who had heralded the birth of the God-Emporer. It was at the appointed hour and on the most holy of days when the Prophet witnessed the seed of the earth enter the ocean's cool womb. The Chorus sang forth, a sound so pure as to bring tears of blood to the Prophet's face, 'Thou hast witnessed to the wrath of the earth; now thou shalt witness its true glory and mercy; for unto to this world the God-Emporer hath come; glory be to the God-Emporer!'
And thus bid the Prophet gazed out where the seed touched the womb. Here the Prophet witnessed a sight of majesty so beyond mortal comprehension he was struck blind. But in his darkness and fear a voice, so gentle it filled him with longing, reached out to him. 'Servant,' it spake, 'thy heart is known unto me, I shall return thy sight for mine shall be a reign of benevolence.'
At this the God-Emporer reached down and touched the Prophet, and praise be he was healed. The Prophet dared not look again upon the face of the God-Emporer but only upon the wonder of his pants. And thus the Prophet proclaimed, 'For you have chosen me I shall shall serve the God-Emporer and His Magnificent Pants!'"
-Gordon, Prophet of the God-Emporer
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Next bout...
As I ride through the town square, looking down on all the little people, I smile. Upon my glorious steed, Smug Victory, I make may way to the dais, dismount, and speak:
People, let peace descend upon this troubled land. For too long (or at least two weeks) have we fallen on one another like wild beasts with our words. We have torn down all beauty, and each other, leaving the literary landscape of these parts blasted and maimed. Now that I have risen to triumph as your ruler, it is time for us to breathe in a deep breath of healing, and for reconciliation to begin.
Hence do I declare:
1) For the duration of the next contest, all on this website must address me as God-Emperor, or His Magnificent Pants, and with the respect inherent. Further, discontent and cruelty will not be allowed. You must speak one to the other with words of sweetest honey. Provide only encouragement and kindness in your words and sheathe your daggered tongues.
2) The contest shall begin upon the posting of this proclamation, and shall end at the stroke of midnight on my natal day, October the 18th. You may post once, twice, or even a thousand times (all numbers between two and a thousand are also permissible).
3) The winner of the contest will be the man or woman or androgyne or machine-entity that composes the finest exaltation of my own excellence. This may be in poetry, prose, song, sculpture, or any other form of artistic expression. The contest is to commemorate my time as God-Emperor
4) Any commenter who shall break the rules and speak a direct insult to my personage, or to any of my subjects here, shall be disqualified from the contest, and subject to a penalty task upon which all of their future honour rests.
5) I shall judge this contest, but I shall not do so alone. As the time draws closer, I shall be electing a Pair of Lickspittles. These two most esteemed grovelers shall be chosen based on their efficacy at ingratiating themselves to their fellows, and to my Esteemed Presence.
6) To assist in this selection, I will be posting a daily assessment of each participating scribes' Lickspittle Points. This will allow one and all to see which subjects are most deserving.
7) Lickspittle Day will be October 15th. At noon on that day I will select my Lickspittles. In the event of a tie, there shall be a Sudden Death round, rules to be announced at that time.
8) Lickspittles will be given a vote with power equal to that of the God Emperor in deciding the winner of the larger contest.
9) The winner of the overall contest shall win:
a)the right to either a Glorious People's Revolution, and thereby install an entirely new form of government and rules or may challenge me to a literary duel for the position of God-Emperor of textFIGHT, the victor to be decided by popular acclaim.
b)a physical object of immense power and glory (TBD)
c)stewardship of the contest until the end of November, and with it the NaNoWriMo, after which, we hope will begin a regime of guest celebrity-esque judges. (No fooling)
10) Let the festival of words commence!
People, let peace descend upon this troubled land. For too long (or at least two weeks) have we fallen on one another like wild beasts with our words. We have torn down all beauty, and each other, leaving the literary landscape of these parts blasted and maimed. Now that I have risen to triumph as your ruler, it is time for us to breathe in a deep breath of healing, and for reconciliation to begin.
Hence do I declare:
1) For the duration of the next contest, all on this website must address me as God-Emperor, or His Magnificent Pants, and with the respect inherent. Further, discontent and cruelty will not be allowed. You must speak one to the other with words of sweetest honey. Provide only encouragement and kindness in your words and sheathe your daggered tongues.
2) The contest shall begin upon the posting of this proclamation, and shall end at the stroke of midnight on my natal day, October the 18th. You may post once, twice, or even a thousand times (all numbers between two and a thousand are also permissible).
3) The winner of the contest will be the man or woman or androgyne or machine-entity that composes the finest exaltation of my own excellence. This may be in poetry, prose, song, sculpture, or any other form of artistic expression. The contest is to commemorate my time as God-Emperor
4) Any commenter who shall break the rules and speak a direct insult to my personage, or to any of my subjects here, shall be disqualified from the contest, and subject to a penalty task upon which all of their future honour rests.
5) I shall judge this contest, but I shall not do so alone. As the time draws closer, I shall be electing a Pair of Lickspittles. These two most esteemed grovelers shall be chosen based on their efficacy at ingratiating themselves to their fellows, and to my Esteemed Presence.
6) To assist in this selection, I will be posting a daily assessment of each participating scribes' Lickspittle Points. This will allow one and all to see which subjects are most deserving.
7) Lickspittle Day will be October 15th. At noon on that day I will select my Lickspittles. In the event of a tie, there shall be a Sudden Death round, rules to be announced at that time.
8) Lickspittles will be given a vote with power equal to that of the God Emperor in deciding the winner of the larger contest.
9) The winner of the overall contest shall win:
a)the right to either a Glorious People's Revolution, and thereby install an entirely new form of government and rules or may challenge me to a literary duel for the position of God-Emperor of textFIGHT, the victor to be decided by popular acclaim.
b)a physical object of immense power and glory (TBD)
c)stewardship of the contest until the end of November, and with it the NaNoWriMo, after which, we hope will begin a regime of guest celebrity-esque judges. (No fooling)
10) Let the festival of words commence!
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