Favourite Books - American Gods by Neil Gaiman
Without individuals we see only numbers: a thousand dead, a hundred thousand dead, “casualties may rise to a million.” With individual stories, the statistics become people — but even that is a lie, for the people continue to suffer in numbers that themselves are numbing and meaningless. Look, see the child’s swollen, swollen belly, and the flies that crawl at the corners of his eyes, his skeletal limbs: will it make it easier for you to know his name, his age, his dreams, his fears? To see him from the inside? And if it does, are we not doing a disservice to his sister, who lies in the searing dust beside him, a distorted, distended caricature of a human child? And there, if we feel for them, are they now more important to us than a thousand other children touched by the same famine, a thousand other young lives who will soon be food for the flies’ own myriad squirming children?
(inspired by mmorrow’s magazine-type photosets)
(Source: afterlithe, via functionalmorons)
I felt guilty for posting something I’d posted here before. Even if there were only about 200 people following me on Tumblr then as opposed to 55,000 now.
So here is a Lomo photo I took of Amanda one morning in a hotel room. It’s the smile that gets me every time.
(I have many rolls of Lomo film to get developed. You would be amazed at how many of the photos are Amanda in the morning. No, you wouldn’t would you?)
Mark Sheppard is a brilliant actor, a lovely man, and my favourite time spent with him was spent wandering the streets of San Francisco singing Ian Dury’s “This is What We Find” together, very enthusiastically.
Neil Gaiman [x] (via parabellumeve)
There’s never been a true war that wasn’t fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe that they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous.
– Mr. Wednesday
One of my favourite photos of Amanda. We were in the Mona Museum in Hobart, a couple of days before it opened.
Taken on 35mm film with my LCA+ camera
The light bulbs pulse to your heartbeat.
I’ve used this whole day going through folklore, mythology and Super Wiki and I found this:
"Dean keeps the trenchcoat with him, even moving it from car to car after they stop using the Impala to avoid the police." -here
Also, I was on here for awhile. Went through the Wikipedia page about Hellbazer and alksgkjbdlgsdbf.
and then sometimes i cry because neil gaiman and amanda palmer
"Czernobog grasped Shadow’s arm. "Quickly, come here," he said, pulling him over to a large glass box by a wall. It contained a diorama of a tramp asleep in a churchyard in front of a church door. THE DRUNKARD’S DREAM, said the label, explaining that it was a nineteenth-century penny-in-the-slot machine, originally from an English railway station. The coin slot had been modified to take the brass House on the Rock coins.
"Put in the money," said Czernobog.
"Why?" asked Shadow.
"You must see. I show you."
Shadow inserted his coin. The drunk in the graveyard raised his bottle to his lips. One of the gravestones flipped over, revealing a grasping corpse; a headstone turned around, flowers replaced by a grinning skull. A wraith appeared on the right of the church, while on the left of the church something with a half-glimpsed, pointed, unsettlingly birdlike face, a pale, Boschian nightmare, glided smoothly from a headstone into the shadows and was gone. Then the church door opened, a priest came out, and the ghosts, haunts, and corpses vanished, and only the priest and the drunk were left alone in the graveyard. The priest looked down at the drunk disdainfully, and backed through the open door, which closed behind him, leaving the drunk on his own.
The clockwork story was deeply unsettling. Much more unsettling, thought Shadow, than clockwork has any right to be.
"You know why I show that to you?" asked Czernobog.
"That is the world as it is. That is the real world. It is there, in that box.""
Hello. I’m Neil Gaiman, I’m a multi-award-winning author of lots and lots and lots of different things, lots of awards. So when I heard that I won the SFX Screenwriting Award for Excellence for my Doctor Who episode The Doctor’s Wife, my reaction was just…
Actually, what I was really just trying to say, was, Thank You. So much.
(Source: snakehipshiddlestom, via stopitsgingertime)