Topher Lydon
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Everything posted by Topher Lydon
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oh man, Chips from that one Chippy in Brighton... Ok Pub or Club?
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Not allowed red meat... but shhhh don't tell Lamb. Chicken Curry or Sweet and Sour Pork?
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Thanks, the dark tones of the last few chapters made me nervous about the readers. I guess I needed to hear that, thank you
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Variation on the exact same theme
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Hello My name is Chris, and I have M.C.D.D. syndrome... I too have been held hostage by characters demanding their time... and due amount of paper allotment... and I need help. LOL -
Musical Horror! Inside or outside?
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Turns out I do need to explain "Mike From Saskatchewan" as not even Google seems to remember that far back. There was a Canadian sketch show and it would feature some great Canadian comedians in a Tim Hortons usually bitching about Americans (A great Canadian past time) and the long running joke is: Americans seem to assume everyone in Canada knows each other.... We're the second largest country in the world... But they always ask "Hey do you know Mike from Saskatchewan?" and expect you to know who they are talking about. Mike from Saskatchewan is everyone's best friend in Canada, and we all joked about it for a long time. There's your deep cut, I guess I am your Google Monkey... I deserve a Banana now...
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I know we've been through it the past few chapters, and... thank you for sticking with it. The next chapter I am writing right now, is a lot lighter, Wil doing his thing to put Jimmy back together again, as he does... a lot. So... be strong and read on, please?
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Ten There is that moment, that exact pinpoint moment when you break something and would give anything ANYTHING to go back to and stop it from happening. To claw it back and beg forgiveness, and swear that you will never, ever, allow it to happen again. Jimmy broke Hugo. Look, I know this story is supposed to be a road to Wil, and we all know some irrefutable facts. Jimmy lies. Every step of this one, every single fucking step, has been about Hugo. He’s there in every mom
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Let me clarify : 哲人 Tetsujin, wiseman, or sage. Not to be confused with an Iron-man or robot thing... damn anime corrupting translations and hogging the interwebs.
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Madam Woo/Sinjin is Tetsujin, and as such she probably understands Hugo very well. And of all the places to wash up, there is probably the luckiest place for him to be. The Master of an Aggregate in Buddhist teachings, must not become a slave to it. ( I am not a Buddhist by any means, merely spent a lot of time at their temples, I met a 100 year old Monk in one who had some very interesting thoughts on the ideas behind the book and was very much the template for Sinjin. His concepts on gender being an illusion, on love being a universal truth, and knowledge being a tool to understanding and not the end goal of life... well you can see his influence) Time to learn.
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Washington D.C. – November 25th 1993 The air in the sterile room was a stark contrast to the chaotic vibrancy of the Tides of Time lounge. It was cool, institutional gray, smelling faintly of disinfectant. The only furniture was a simple metal table bolted to the floor and two chairs. Stoker sat in one of the chairs, his hands cuffed in front of him, the cold steel a constant, jarring presence against his bruised knuckles. He was a picture of defiance, his
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I believe that Henry's response to that was "Yeah not happening kid."
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Thank you, the more I tried to hide from it... the more dishonest it became. So tackling it head on was the only way to get through it. This whole project is more for my head than anything else... Wil calls it my Mid-life Crisis project, but then he can be a loveable ass sometimes.
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This is my second time writing this, dear reader. I am taking it back to a blank page and starting over. Story of Jimmy’s life, as you are all aware: blank pages and starting over. My first time writing this chapter I lost my authentic voice, I wandered, and things became a caricature. It became dishonest. And I couldn’t sleep. Older, much older Jimmy was on a train yesterday. Some of you know that I was in a train accident some years ago that turned my life over and left me in a whe
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"I ain't fuckin' bait," Stoker, 1953.
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This is Paradox Lost, every chapter, every word, beautifully summed up. Doc you have a singular way of seeing right to the heart of a story.
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Dottie makes one crucial mistake. One week is not enough time.
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It takes time to get past trauma. I didn't know how badly I was suffering back then, but some people took a broken boy and used a little glue on his soul. I am not saying I haven't broken since, but I've tried my best.
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Henry is a good egg. A damn good, salt of the earth soul. He isn't about to let Hugo drown.
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Washington D.C. – November 25th 1993 The air was a still, humid blanket of late November chill, thick with the scent of damp earth and the crisp rustle of fallen leaves. The only silence was a suburban quietude, punctuated by the rhythmic clang of a distant trash truck and the faint, tinny music from a neighbor’s radio. The house stood nestled back from the road, a nice little Craftsman-style home shaded by the broad, spreading canopies of tall oak trees.
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Nope not telling on that one, nope can’t make me
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You sir are my spirit animal
