“The truth isn’t easily pinned to a page. In the bathtub of history the truth is harder to hold than the soap and much more difficult to find.”
Friday night, with malicious intent, I drove down the highway.
Friday night, with malicious intent, I made a couple of pit stops along the way.
Friday night, with malicious intent, I cracked open a new book.
Tis a harrowing tale that brings us here. A tale of such frightening aspects like counting, and buying, and staying in on a Friday eve! Proceed with caution, if you dare to proceed at all.
After waking on Friday morn, I felt the urge to… correction… I felt strongly compelled (!) to count – yes COUNT – the number of books on my bookshelves. The tally: 303. But oh frightening part, the truly truly truly knee-shaking hair-raising turning-you-into-a-quivering-mass scary part is that I realized I needed more. More!
With malicious intent I counted and knew the number 303 was vastly too small. With malicious intent, I vowed to increase this number.
And so, with no compunction for those around me or for myself, on my way home that evening, I stopped at Half-Priced Books. I had the singular goal, the goal of filling in a gap in my collection. I needed Terry Pratchett‘s Small Gods. (You may have noticed the plethora of Pratchett quotes lately – this has been the result of this growing uncontrollable urge to re-read this very book.)
Alas, Half-Priced Books failed me on this occasion. They had precious few of Pratchett’s books, and Small Gods was not one of them. So I had to settle with the following:
Having been disappointed in my quest, I pressed on. Next on my barrage of book buying: Barnes (and his friend Noble). Surely a full priced book store would help me quench my lust for the printed word. “Surely!” I exclaimed as I fishtailed into my designated parking spot at the front of the lot (Summer’s Shadow had grasped the importance of my mission – she’s a good girl and how I love to hear her growl!).
Barnes quickly pointed me to the malicious intent section (which encompasses the entire store) and I managed to find not one, not two, but three (thank you Count, ah ah ah) books that I absolutely had to have:
And so when I arrived home, after feeding myself, and feeding Riley, (Summer’s Shadow wasn’t hungry), I proceeded to do something dangerous.
With malicious intent, I cracked opened a new book to feed my mind.
The trouble with being a god is that you’ve got no one to pray to.
– Small Gods by Terry Pratchett
“Suppose… you watched an iceberg drift through the chilly waters, and you got to know its cargo of happy polar bears and seals as they looked forward to a brave new life in the other hemisphere where they say the ice floes are lined with crunchy penguins, and then wham – tragedy loomed in the shape of ten thousand tons of unaccountably floating iron and an exciting soundtrack…”
– Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time
“I meant,” said Ipslore bitterly, “what is there in this world that truly makes living worthwhile?”
Death thought about it.
“Cats,” he said eventually. “Cats are nice.”
Note from the Dingo: Please remember that Death is not of this plane of existence, and cats are not all they are cracked up to be.
There are, it has been said, two types of people in the world. There are those who, when presented with a glass that is exactly half full, say: this glass is half full. And then there are those who say: this glass is half empty. The world belongs, however, to those who can look at the glass and say: What’s up with this glass? Excuse me? Excuse me? This is my glass? I don’t think so. My glass was full! And it was a bigger glass!
Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don’t find out til too late that he’s been playing with two queens all along.