neil gaiman dusts off old stories and makes them new. he takes new stories and makes them appear antique. he shapes seemingly discordant mythologies and morphs them into a comprehensive whole. he sees the threads that connect us as a people, as a race--and he sees what divides us. many of his characters have near limitless powers but show a graceful restraint.
my favorite of his works is the sandman series, a comic book series that takes up 10 volumes and follows the story of Morpheus, the Dream King and one of the Endless. the Endless are seven entities that are constant throughout existence. the Endless are Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Despair, Desire, and Delirium. they are siblings, but have no parents. they are more than mere gods and each have their own roles and agendas in the lives of men. in this mythology gods are actually born in the Dreaming, Morpheus' realm, and walk out into the world to gain power. as their influence wanes and their worshipers desert them, gods take different roles and eventually die.
the sandman series is too complex to enter a cogent and satisfactory synopsis here. this is instead meant to be my tribute to neil gaiman the author. but when i think of gaiman, i am always compelled to think of the sandman as well. i first read the entire series the summer after junior year of college. i had somehow gotten wind of them and picked up the first book. by serendipity i found almost all the rest at a used bookstore and bought them all up ravenously. i tore threw them all.
that summer, i worked alone. i worked summer maintenance for a storage company. i would go around to all the different storage facility locations in the north/southwest chicago suburbs and paint bollards fresh coats of yellow, clean empty storage units and use a floor cleaner to clean up the hallways of a dozen or so of these places. all i had for company was my ipod and my thoughts. what i thought most about was the sandman, the different storylines and characters, the implications and presuppositions of the mythology, the allusions made throughout the work. i thought about the small things--the names of the books in the dreaming's library which were only dreamt and never written, for instance--and i relished in them. they were an occupation for a lonely mind. i thought so much about the sandman that i think i experienced at least somewhat lucid dreaming.
i have read other books by him since, and they have shown the same sort of ability to play upon the dreams and nightmares of the reader. he has the keen and unique gift of being able to write both description and dialogue exceedingly well (something very envious to me, as in my few feeble attempts to write fiction, i have never been happy with a single line of dialogue).
from an nationality perspective, he is the opposite of what i would like to be: he is an englishman living in america, and i am an american who wants to live in england. to me this is just another of the many things that appeals to me about mr. gaiman.
i could go on incessantly. i will end with three suggestions for reading material:
1. the sandman series.
2. american gods.
3. murder mysteries.
start there, and keep reading.
9.24.2006
the dream king: neil gaiman
neil gaiman dusts off old stories and makes them new. he takes new stories and makes them appear antique. he shapes seemingly discordant mythologies and morphs them into a comprehensive whole. he sees the threads that connect us as a people, as a race--and he sees what divides us. many of his characters have near limitless powers but show a graceful restraint.
my favorite of his works is the sandman series, a comic book series that takes up 10 volumes and follows the story of Morpheus, the Dream King and one of the Endless. the Endless are seven entities that are constant throughout existence. the Endless are Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Despair, Desire, and Delirium. they are siblings, but have no parents. they are more than mere gods and each have their own roles and agendas in the lives of men. in this mythology gods are actually born in the Dreaming, Morpheus' realm, and walk out into the world to gain power. as their influence wanes and their worshipers desert them, gods take different roles and eventually die.
the sandman series is too complex to enter a cogent and satisfactory synopsis here. this is instead meant to be my tribute to neil gaiman the author. but when i think of gaiman, i am always compelled to think of the sandman as well. i first read the entire series the summer after junior year of college. i had somehow gotten wind of them and picked up the first book. by serendipity i found almost all the rest at a used bookstore and bought them all up ravenously. i tore threw them all.
that summer, i worked alone. i worked summer maintenance for a storage company. i would go around to all the different storage facility locations in the north/southwest chicago suburbs and paint bollards fresh coats of yellow, clean empty storage units and use a floor cleaner to clean up the hallways of a dozen or so of these places. all i had for company was my ipod and my thoughts. what i thought most about was the sandman, the different storylines and characters, the implications and presuppositions of the mythology, the allusions made throughout the work. i thought about the small things--the names of the books in the dreaming's library which were only dreamt and never written, for instance--and i relished in them. they were an occupation for a lonely mind. i thought so much about the sandman that i think i experienced at least somewhat lucid dreaming.
i have read other books by him since, and they have shown the same sort of ability to play upon the dreams and nightmares of the reader. he has the keen and unique gift of being able to write both description and dialogue exceedingly well (something very envious to me, as in my few feeble attempts to write fiction, i have never been happy with a single line of dialogue).
from an nationality perspective, he is the opposite of what i would like to be: he is an englishman living in america, and i am an american who wants to live in england. to me this is just another of the many things that appeals to me about mr. gaiman.
i could go on incessantly. i will end with three suggestions for reading material:
1. the sandman series.
2. american gods.
3. murder mysteries.
start there, and keep reading.
my favorite of his works is the sandman series, a comic book series that takes up 10 volumes and follows the story of Morpheus, the Dream King and one of the Endless. the Endless are seven entities that are constant throughout existence. the Endless are Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Despair, Desire, and Delirium. they are siblings, but have no parents. they are more than mere gods and each have their own roles and agendas in the lives of men. in this mythology gods are actually born in the Dreaming, Morpheus' realm, and walk out into the world to gain power. as their influence wanes and their worshipers desert them, gods take different roles and eventually die.
the sandman series is too complex to enter a cogent and satisfactory synopsis here. this is instead meant to be my tribute to neil gaiman the author. but when i think of gaiman, i am always compelled to think of the sandman as well. i first read the entire series the summer after junior year of college. i had somehow gotten wind of them and picked up the first book. by serendipity i found almost all the rest at a used bookstore and bought them all up ravenously. i tore threw them all.
that summer, i worked alone. i worked summer maintenance for a storage company. i would go around to all the different storage facility locations in the north/southwest chicago suburbs and paint bollards fresh coats of yellow, clean empty storage units and use a floor cleaner to clean up the hallways of a dozen or so of these places. all i had for company was my ipod and my thoughts. what i thought most about was the sandman, the different storylines and characters, the implications and presuppositions of the mythology, the allusions made throughout the work. i thought about the small things--the names of the books in the dreaming's library which were only dreamt and never written, for instance--and i relished in them. they were an occupation for a lonely mind. i thought so much about the sandman that i think i experienced at least somewhat lucid dreaming.
i have read other books by him since, and they have shown the same sort of ability to play upon the dreams and nightmares of the reader. he has the keen and unique gift of being able to write both description and dialogue exceedingly well (something very envious to me, as in my few feeble attempts to write fiction, i have never been happy with a single line of dialogue).
from an nationality perspective, he is the opposite of what i would like to be: he is an englishman living in america, and i am an american who wants to live in england. to me this is just another of the many things that appeals to me about mr. gaiman.
i could go on incessantly. i will end with three suggestions for reading material:
1. the sandman series.
2. american gods.
3. murder mysteries.
start there, and keep reading.
7.12.2006
"i've seen it all. i've seen it all through the yellow windows of the evening train."
tom waits is the bum prophet on the corner, shouting obscenities with disregard. he is the man shuffling by with a heavy weight in his heart. he is the dark figure of obscure menace. he gives you an unsettling stare and laughs. he is the nowhere man weary of everywhere. he is in the grungy diners and mildewed motel rooms. he makes a noise you can't ignore. he is an american institution, self-mythologizing and willfully crumbling.
tom waits is a relatively recent influence, but then again so is dylan. i only started listening to dylan seriously maybe 2 summers ago, and now he is in my top 3. but tom waits confronts you. he forces you to have an opinion on his music, and it's usually one of the two basic extremes: love him or hate him. for my part--and in my small way--i love tom waits.
the music that tom waits makes itself has two extremes. one is a soft, melodic, piano-based style; the other is a harsh, percussive sound. granted, even waits' singing voice brings one word to mind: gravel. given this, even his most lilting piano song (a la "Tom Traubert's Blues")
has a phlegmy sound that will make some think "clear your damn throat" and others will love.
waits is a fantastic lyricist. he can be a drunken jester or the most mean-spirited blue collar bastard. take these two songs, both set in a bar or saloon, and compare them:
the piano has been drinking /as the bouncer is a sumo wrestler /cream puff casper milk toast /and the owner is mental midget /with the iq of a fence post / cuz the piano has been drinking
the piano has been drinking /and you can't find your waitress /with a geiger counter /and she hates you and her friends /and you can't get service without her /and the box office is drooling
and the barstools are on fire
"the piano has been drinking(not me)"
i get lost in the window / and i hide in the stairway and i hang in the curtain and i sleep in your hat / and noone brings anything small into a bar around here / they all start out with bad directions / and the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear / one for every year he's away, she said / such a crumbling beauty / ahh, there's nothing wrong with her a hundred dollars won't fix / she has that razor sadness....
"9th & Hennepin"
he can take you anywhere. and although his lyrics are amazing, it's his sound that affects you most. he drums on dressers. he sings through megaphones. he can only speak over dissonance and haunt you.
he reveals that hidden side of ourselves, walking into the darkness with only the light of his cigarette. and if you're a fan, light up and follow.
tom waits is a relatively recent influence, but then again so is dylan. i only started listening to dylan seriously maybe 2 summers ago, and now he is in my top 3. but tom waits confronts you. he forces you to have an opinion on his music, and it's usually one of the two basic extremes: love him or hate him. for my part--and in my small way--i love tom waits.
the music that tom waits makes itself has two extremes. one is a soft, melodic, piano-based style; the other is a harsh, percussive sound. granted, even waits' singing voice brings one word to mind: gravel. given this, even his most lilting piano song (a la "Tom Traubert's Blues")
has a phlegmy sound that will make some think "clear your damn throat" and others will love.
waits is a fantastic lyricist. he can be a drunken jester or the most mean-spirited blue collar bastard. take these two songs, both set in a bar or saloon, and compare them:
the piano has been drinking /as the bouncer is a sumo wrestler /cream puff casper milk toast /and the owner is mental midget /with the iq of a fence post / cuz the piano has been drinking
the piano has been drinking /and you can't find your waitress /with a geiger counter /and she hates you and her friends /and you can't get service without her /and the box office is drooling
and the barstools are on fire
"the piano has been drinking(not me)"
i get lost in the window / and i hide in the stairway and i hang in the curtain and i sleep in your hat / and noone brings anything small into a bar around here / they all start out with bad directions / and the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear / one for every year he's away, she said / such a crumbling beauty / ahh, there's nothing wrong with her a hundred dollars won't fix / she has that razor sadness....
"9th & Hennepin"
he can take you anywhere. and although his lyrics are amazing, it's his sound that affects you most. he drums on dressers. he sings through megaphones. he can only speak over dissonance and haunt you.
he reveals that hidden side of ourselves, walking into the darkness with only the light of his cigarette. and if you're a fan, light up and follow.
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