fate keeps on happening

I like the way the future happens in front of other stuff... like today and yesterday. Interests: animals, art, astronomy, audiodrama, books, brain science, buddhism, detectives, diy, film, gaming, history, humor, learning, libraries, lovecraft, music, mystery, nature, podcasts, sci fi, technology, travel & weirdos.
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You’re always you, and that don’t change, and you’re always changing, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Mother Slaughter

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

Happy is the tomb where no wizard hath lain and happy the town at night whose wizards are all ashes. For it is of old rumour that the soul of the devil-bought hastes not from his charnel clay, but fats and instructs the very worm that gnaws, till out of corruption, horrid life springs, and the dull scavengers of earth wax crafty to vex it and swell monstrous to plague it. Great holes secretly are digged where earth’s pores ought to suffice, and things have learnt to walk that ought to crawl.
The Festival by HP Lovecraft
He knew that in the profundity of this deep sleep they were contemplating unplumbed vastnesses of utter and absolute Outsideness with which the earth had nothing to do…

Through the Gates of the Silver Key by HP Lovecraft (with E. Hoffmann Price)

Read the entire tale.

I loosed it down the hatch, and after undergoing the passing discomfort, unavoidable when you drink Jeeves’s patent morning revivers, of having the top of the skull fly up to the ceiling and the eyes shoot out of their sockets and rebound from the opposite wall like racquetballs, felt better.

Bertie attempts to recover from a “little dinner” he’d given the night before for his pal, Gussie Fink-Nottle.

The Code of the Woosters by PG Wodehouse. Jonathan Cecil does a wonderful job on the audiobook.

The old tale of Sleeping Beauty might end happily in French or English, but he was in Russia and only a fool would want to live through the Russian version of ANY fairy tale.
Enchantment by Orson Scott Card

Serialized audiobooks distributed via RSS (like a podcast). Receive episodes via RSS or download from the site.

I preferred to die in a military fort where they would bury me with a headstone over my urn, rather than in a roadhouse where I would be pitched into a trench with a ton of broken winejars and their run-over tabby cat.

Harry is being detained by a rookie cop. Sorta.

"Uh, hey…?", he said feebly. "Maybe you should sit down. You don’t look so good and you’re sort of under arrest still."

"I can’t be under arrest now." I said back to him. "I don’t have time."

So, because your granny can’t find the time to put pen to paper and assure me that you two will be educated, I had to get on a 5am train and sit next to a man who sniffed his own armpits over and over again for 2 hours!

Ms Smirt, caseworker for the Sisters Grimm.

The Sisters Grimm: The Unusual Suspects by Michael Buckley 

…parents never seem to sleep entire nights through anyway. They’re like a bunch of hunters taking turns watching camp in case a bear show up.

Children in Heat by Chad Fifer

That is almost the full extent of crime in our organized, dandified society: ninety-nine percent of it, let’s say. It is that last and vital one percent that keeps the police departments in business. That one percent is me.

Going for a stroll to stretch his legs after his long journey, Colonel Wedge had supposed himself to be alone with nature. The shock of discovering that what he had taken for a pile of old clothes was alive and a relation by marriage, caused him to speak a little sharply.

"Good God, Clarence, is that you? What on earth are you doing out here this time of night?"

Lord Emsworth had no secrets from his nearest and dearest. He replied that he was listening to his pig. And the statement caused his companion to wince as if some old wound had troubled him. Egbert Wedge had long held the view that the head of the family into which he had married approached more closely to the purely cuckoo every time he saw him. But, this seemed to mark a bigger stride in that direction than usual. 

"Listening to your pig?" he said, in an almost awestruck voice. And paused for a moment, digesting this information.

Just in case you don’t have enough to watch.

The Internet Archive is an amazing resource for free access to film, music, books, etc… There are several film collections, including feature films—just scroll down to find them. You might not ever get there, due to all the distracting and rather fascinating collections of home movies, propaganda films, stock film and public domain film mashups.

Open Culture has a pretty big list of links to free films. I’m not sure how up-to-date it is.

No matter how many times you see the dead walk, you always forget just how rubbish they are when they really get moving. Sure, they look okay when they first break through the wall. They get points for shock value; their gaping sockets and gnashing teeth. And sometimes, if the reanimation spell is really up to scratch, there are disembodied screams.

But then they start pursuing you clumsily around the temple; pelvises jerking, femurs high kicking, holding out their bony arms in a way that’s meant to be sinister but looks more as if they’re about to sit down at a piano and bash out a honky tonk rag.

And the faster they go, the more their teeth start rattling and the more their necklaces bounce up and get lodged in their eyeholes. And then they start tripping over their grave clothes and tumbling to the floor and generally getting in the way of any nimble footed djinni who happens to be passing. And as is the way with skeletons never once do they come out with any really good one-liners, which might add a bit of zest to the life-or-death situation you’re in.

"Oh, come on" I said, as I hung from the wall. "There must be someone here worth talking to.”

Bartimaeus from The Ring of Solomon by Jonathan Stroud. Just telling it like it is.

Well, nothing’s going to kill us in these next ten yards. That’s a sensation that isn’t going to last, believe me, so enjoy it while you can.
Bartimaeus in The Ring of Solomon by Jonathan Stroud