Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa

So readeth the Tekkōdō.

This is clearly either official or a very convincing fake. Part of me hopes it's real, because I do like the colors; brown and orange go well together, and I'm glad LEGO could compromise and use both. That should please fans. At the same time, part of me hopes this is fake because the design is just another cookie cutter. Or maybe vegetable peeler.

Either way, it's obviously not a leek. Still, I yam hoping you'll get in a lot of tuber for this.

Vale, Nuile

Is its a masssk, preciousss?

Edit: The nasssty Zox beats us to it! Can we eats it?

What I enjoy most about these anecdotes of yours, is that as a human being, you're a more intricate and far more fascinating character than any you could write. I've seen you write fiction--and this is something I have often done as well--through which you try to allegorize your experiences and your psyche in general, to little success. But here you're not writing about characters pretending to be you, here you're writing about yourself, about your own feelings, about your own dreams and desires and your own heart. Because you're genuinely writing from the depths of your own soul, it is more powerful and more real than your fiction.

Far from being a limitation, I think it's an excellent opportunity for you to expand. Lessons learned through this medium could be invaluable, translated to creative writing. I encourage you to take advantage of this exercise. In fact, it's putting ideas in my own head for ways to explore improvement in my writing.

Anyway, to comment on the entry itself, you are a disturbed man. But I can sympathize. I've had disturbed dreams before, dreams that were all too real and hurt me in a lasting way. The subconscious is a dark, enigmatic place. It has the power to bring joy and solace, or great pain. Dreams can be dangerous things--and yet, it could be difficult to live without them. Sleep would not be the same.

I'm gonna pretend to be cool and end with a quote, too.

"Let hopes pass

Let dreams pass

Let them die"

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

When I meet my future wife and find a life, I'll put so much space between you BZP chumps and me, it will boggle your minds!

It's not an "attitude," it's a fact!

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Any damage there was to be done, was done long ago. =)

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

My name is Naina and I am a feminist.

I read this, and I wasn't sure.

I am a feminist and I want a world where the word 'feminist' has no meaning.

I read this and then I understood where you were going, and I wanted to take a ride on that train of thought.

I'm not saying I agree with every word of this; partly because I don't believe in a perfect world. In my opinion that would be thoroughly imperfect. But I will say this: What you have described here is a world that would be far better than our own. You painted a picture of what the world really should be. It's an ideal we all should strive for. I wish we could all live in a world like that.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Ooh! ooh! Pick me, pick me! I'll read--

Oh, wait.

I did.

(PM this writer and ask about the book. You won't regret it.)

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

This is positively beautiful.

If only you could write fiction half as poetic. I think non-fiction is your calling.

When I said goodbye, I gave her the rest of my flowers, which she appreciated, but a minute later she said "I think these were meant for you but he's just shy," and gave the flowers to Airman.

That could have been an awkward moment, but I don't believe in awkward moments. I'm like the Most Interesting Man in the World, who "once had an awkward moment, just to see how it feels." They only happen if you make them happen, so in this case I just rolled with it.

"No, they weren't really meant for her, because if I really wanted to be romantic, I would giver her..." I reached into my backpack. "This spoon."

And he sticks the landing!

I have to give you credit, that was dexterous. Aunts and grandmothers are the first to make a comment that renders the situation awkward, and I bow to your recovery.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Baltarc--Gathered friends, listen once again to the words of this man.

To Tekulo, as well as Xccj--I refer you both to reason #1, which is as valid an answer to you both as to why, indeed, one should vote at all.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

-A murder has just occurred on the Orient Express.

Finish it.

Fiiiiniiiiish it.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

And there is only one suitable response to be made.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Evidently you agreed with my previous review, for the most part, before I even wrote it; because the extended revision you neglected to share before is such a vast improvement that most of my complaints are now rendered void.

Also, I think your story died and went to grammar heaven. So much as to say, There were a few errors, but far fewer. Thank you.

But now, as requested, as promised, I will give you my "general impressions."

Any good sci-fi needs action, and that is prevalent. It's my kind of action, too: swords and massive battles, and combat with giant monsters. No duels but, alas, these are not easy to write satisfactorily. Not to mention there was no proper place for a duel.

Early on there is some adumbration of a dream which Monosmith lives to pursue. As the story progresses, he talks of rededicating himself wholeheartedly to "his calling," which appears to be some form of knight-errantry. But I don't think that's the dream he's talking about. Whatever he goes on to do, he cans till dream. I would say it is love, if it weren't for his obvious polygamous capriciousness. Maybe he's a Casanova who aspires to find his preconceived Dulcinea, but I'm not convinced. Perhaps his dream is, after all, of the first nature: the impossible dream, the dream of Don Quixote.

I had actually forgotten about Buzzy's extended youth. That's interesting, and fits his personality. I wonder how long, in that state of slowed time, his absence must have seemed to others; or if, via one of the arbitrary paradoxes of time, it only affected him, thereby making his journey--that was, say, five years in his mind, but ten to the universe at large--age him only one year for all its duration. Time, indeed, is perplexing, and has always struck me as nothing more than delusive, which is why I so enjoy seeing it twisted.
Time travel, on the other hand . . . that's another topic. I'm not a fan of time travel, because it seems absurd to me to travel through something so mental.

"Why am I always such a somber presence? There are poor people in this world, Soul. You of all people should know that. There are people who strain to see the the light and only need but a little to show them the way. People have hopes and dreams of bigger and better things, and yet Death blackens the world with sadness. They lose that light, and they lose hope. I cannot be happy so long as there is injustice in this world, so long as men have been lied to and believed in vain. I cannot delight so long as there is no mercy for those who need it most. I grieve for those who don't know the light, who don't know wisdom and what they can have. My heart is not for me alone but for all who walk this world, and what joy can fill it when there are so few who have realized the joy of love and its endless comfort. Yet fine men, good men, suffer in a world filled with only false presumptions of happiness. What am I supposed to tell them? That everything's all right? Soul, oh struggling Soul, I tell you now that there are things worth believing in, but things are not as they should be."

And then he bursts into song: "I am I, Don Monosmith, the Lord of the Time Lords, my destiny calls and I go!"

Be assured, this is not mockery (though you yourself mock his monologue): in my esteem, that song is a commendation and a very high honor. I do feel this speech
savors of something Don Quixote would say, and indeed pleases me greatly as just the sort of thing I love about science fiction and space opera, from Star Wars to Out of the Silent Planet to Princess of Mars.

But it is again Don Quixote who readily comes to mind as a comparison. This is certainly a quixotic dream, but more than a mere dream: an aspiration. I have always felt a kindred for Don Quixote, and here this speech touches me, for it is an ambition I, too, share with them. Don Quixote, Monosmith and I are very similar, and yet we have very salient disparities. Monosmith, for one, is the most pragmatic of the three. Don Quixote is the wisest and most dogmatic. Monosmith is not so assured. Soul Struggle's place is one he understands by experience; and that's not an experience than can ever be completely ended.

The campfire scene, for this monologue and the discussions that follow, is easily my favorite. Buzzy also has some very wise words to share on what comes of following dreams. These are ripplings on the surfaces of deep pools of thought.

"He reached for his IDTD, not caring if he destroyed the world, so long as he destroyed this thing."

You and me; me and Stephanie Meyer; Stephanie Meyer and virtue; virtue and Stephanie Meyer.

We all have, like Monosmith, our nuadine to destroy. We all, too, have our dreams to aspire to. Captain Ahab has his Moby Dick; Don Quixote has his star.

Her green light left the melee. He didn't count on her returning. He wanted to say something, an ill-begotten platitude to mark the solemnity of their predicament, to punctuate their sense of abandonment, but he did not want to doom them. He still believed there was a way out of this, as dark as this was, as certain as his death seemed. He wouldn't let his last words be those of scorn, either. Even if his confidence proved wrong, and this really was the end, being killed fighting a nuidine was perhaps the best way to go. It then would have all ended in the same way that is all began, and his journey had come full circle.
Just in case, he prayed in Silvertongue. "De Herr ist mein Hirte; mir werd nichts mengeln..."

This--THIS--is what the story was missing before. This and all the descriptions and reflections that surround it. I spoke too soon, calling the campfire scene my favorite so easily; it deserves the title, indeed, but not by so long a margin now.

The nuadine is fascinating in its obvious monstrosity and absolute depravity; but what I wonder about is its sapience. Can it be called a devil, or does it not have enough of a mind? Is it a mere beast, or a sentient evil?

And you've gotta love the Aardses. As the nuadine is mysterious the Aardse is enigmatic. Demoniacal, cunning, delusively self-righteous; with more dubiety lurking at the back of the mind than they admit, even to themselves. Beings of a high intelligence and a judicious sagacity, if not much true wisdom. Monosmith, of course, is in himself such an incongruency amongst his own kind that he becomes an enigma in his own right. Soul Struggle is, as her name suggests, something of an intermediate; I do not think she ever could have become as Monosmith, nor sunk completely to the level of her debauched race. There was good in her, but there was also the insuperable evil of her kind. In fact, I doubt whether even Monosmith has or can completely conquer that innermost turmoil. It is a constant battle. It is, indeed, a battle we all fight: those of us, that is, who fight it.


The story hints of something bigger lurking behind the scenes: the secret hand of the Aardses, the heinous scourge that are the nuadines, war, a universe torn and tattered by strife, tainted by evil. Yet--and this I would not have said before, but since reading the revision, I shall--this was enough in and of itself. It was a simple action/romance, and it told the story that was meant to be told, while yet giving "impressions" of some greater story, and dipping its hand in the surface of profound waters.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Old green: Warrior of the forest.

New green: Minty freshness.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

. . . I am astoundished . . . and astonded . . . and in ignominy . . . because I never realized this.

It's so . . . so obvious . . . and yet . . . XD

I guess it takes a common mind to observe the obvious, eh? ;D

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

I have reviewed Cederak's Little Broken Words.

No story of my own demanding review right now so I'll request a review for this neglected short story: Fall of a Toa, by Legolover-361.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

It happens that I have recently reviewed Kraggh's Pathfinder, though I know that on this the 19th day of February the review has not yet been approved by the blogger.

Requesting a review for Ether.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Ancient promises . . . oaths that bind the future . . . a destiny at long last fulfilled. . . . In other words, sorry I took so long, but better late than never.

Now, on the whole, I was very much confused with some of the story detail. I don't like being dropped in amidst information that, without explanation, makes no sense. There's obviously a deeper story behind this one, but as a reader it doesn't make me happy that you're keeping it a secret from me. Immediately you plunge me into an inexplicable tangle of long-distance communication and glow-in-the-dark swords and laser-flashlights and demons. It only gets worse later on with Aardses and Craytus and some nubilous nuance about Nuada or something such. And the "everybody with a brain should know what an Aardse is" air with which you introduce all this fictional information is highly irritating.

I think this could be smoothed over in the opening by, for one thing, cutting out the first seven paragraphs and going straight to the action scene. That scene was pretty straightforward--until the part about the laser-flashlight, which of course demands further illumination already. Problem is, at least the initial paragraphs introduced the flashlight, whereas without them it would really come into the story out of nowhere.

A guy named Monosmith has a sword named Thomas. I chuckled. "I am the mighty warrior Tjakifridelr! Fear the wrath of my mighty blade, Bob!" But that's a ridiculous exaggeration and I honestly don't see anything wrong with the sword's name. I only find it mildly amusing.

Okay, so I read the story through and I still don't know what an Aardse is. I cannot understand why Soul Struggle was not described. It bewilders me that it was revealed with such abrupt suddenness that Monosmith is one. And I wonder why Monosmith hasn't any wings, because Soul Struggle, fellow Aardse, does.

The development of the relationship between Monosmith and Soul Struggle was unnaturally hasty. Soul Struggle has some vaguely adumbrated power to inspire comfort in her companions, all right, that's an excuse; but it's a small and obscure one, not to mention a cheap one even if the point was elaborated further. Monosmith warmed up to her too quickly.

He has, it seems, a propensity for doing that. And yet, he never smiles, suggesting a character far less warm than he seems to possess. I love Monosmith--he's intriguingly mysterious, with a stolid, husky charisma. But his capriciously amorous ways are stereotypical, and moreover seem incongruent with his personality. As for Buzzy and Soul Struggle, they didn't seem to have much personality at all. Buzzy struck me as the jovial, effervescent type; I'm not quite sure what gave me that impression, but I got it, and was disappointed that he never acted in accordance with that impression. He himself said he was a friendly type--but his conduct was not as friendly as it should have been. Soul Struggle was, I thought, meant to be impersonal; she was something of a phantom, intended to be vague and ethereal in character. But against all this she displays an amount of emotion that, without personality, makes her all the emptier.

The attack on their campsite was abrupt. Why did the creatures attack so suddenly? And why did it occur to him that they would just in time to turn around and see them coming? If his Aardse sense was tingling I would have liked to know.

One moment the IDTD was stolen by the creatures, and the next Soul Struggle had it. That, too, was confusing and abrupt.

The description of the giant nuadine beast was probably the most disappointing part of the entire story. This was a moment to inject the reader with the very fear the characters felt, but it was so fraught with poor word choice and general inelegance that the creature came across as nothing more than grotesque.

Soul Struggle's death was sudden, abrupt, and anticlimactic. It was only natural for Monosmith to shed no tears; he had no reason to care that much about her. But I was surprised that his reaction to her death was as passioante as it was. And what was this about her turning around in the end? What, after all, did she really do that was so heroic? So she didn't selfishly save herself; even that was left vague. If you had emphasized the potential of her betrayal it would have been better, but as it was she died by mere happenstance after doing precious little worthy of any recognition.

What did I like about the story? I loved the concept. I loved the characters and I wanted more out of them, and to see more of them. I wanted to know what an Aardse was and what they did. I wanted to know where the characters were and what these semi-invisible native demons were. I wanted to know more about Craytus and nuadines and I wanted to know where that random beast at the end came from. In general I wanted what this story severely lacked. But this is just the sort science fantasy I like, a mingling of classic sci-fi with mythology and spiritualism, filled with wisdom, big-picture profundity, and allegorical significance.

My overall thoughts: I want to read more; unless it means I have to suffer your mercilessly lax grammar, vacuous word choice, uninformative descriptions, undeveloped characterization, vagueness, and precipitation. These are, I must say, problems I did not come across in your other works, problems I did not at all expect from you. I've seen stories like this, but I never thought I'd see one from you. To its credit it had, at least, its redeeming qualities: the concept behind it, chiefly, but others as well, such as well-written action scenes and a profound causerie, both of which are things I very much adore. I was mainly disappointed because I know you can do so much better.

On an impertinent note, I have to say, this was the best line in the story:

"Bite me."

By the way, I've heard you're not a fan of circumlocution.

. . . and with the proper intensity it is my hypothesis that a focused beam of ten terrajoules per second would be sufficient in smiting this fiend!"

I was okay with most of it until you came to "smiting this fiend." That outright murdered the sentence. And in the middle of a battle this is way too much eloquence.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

The magic of a good book is in the words--but some of it is in the binding, too. I agree with you there, Tekulo. Alas, I couldn't resist having hundreds of thousands of free classics at my fingertips. =P That's the main reason I got my Kindle.

Automaton, there's no rush, but I'm glad you got your hands on the free copy. =) Enjoy!

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Prolix, dull, but brilliant. If you don't mind wading through an excess of detail, there's a compelling mystery buried in there.

Do so, it's a great book, and deserves the occasional re-read.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

My only regret is that the ONE New Year resolution I made this year wasn't accomplished. Besides that, I'm looking forward to the new year, too.

Friday the 13th brightens your outlook. Truly, that makes perfect sense. That's an admirable way of looking at the day, and I can easily see the logic behind it. I often feel the same about such things; for example, 12/21/12. XD Philosophically speaking, that was a fun day.

Wait--we're--we're allowed on your lawn? . . . *grins malefically toward a can of gasoline*

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Cheer--especially that ineffable, almost irrational cheer--is a wonderful thing.

Especially when it comes with a mug.

Belatedly, Merry Christmas, Tekulo! =D

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Thanks, guys. I appreciate the feedback and I'll take this all into consideration.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

In response to Kraggh, your insertion of blue urges me, inexplicably, to sing. Only I don't quite know what I want to sing, and when I'm left to the freedom of concocting a lyrical something to suit the chimera of inspirations within me, it doesn't turn out well.

As for calling this depressing, well, I think that may be a superficial view of the story. I'd call it a satire, proving cheer through comedic melancholy. It gladdened me to write it, and it

Yes, well, if you of all people have to go to such desperate lengths to find something to criticize, that's something. Now, I'm just trying to figure out what sort of something it is. But it is nice that there's a happy medium somewhere between our highly conflictive tastes, even if it's on the field of comedy.

And I think this story abounds with circumlocution, albeit a different kind than I habitually use. ;P

As for you, my windy friend, I rather thought you would. =P

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Thank you for reminding me that short stories need to be denoted as such. XP

I was going for a Snicket feel, actually.

I'm the type who looks for metaphors and magic in everything. I assure you, however, that my reflections are typically more positive and optimistic.

But it would seem that I have wrought my simple plan, for I have gotten you thinking. I agree absolutely that the world around us is what we make of it. What we see reflects who we are.

Do I have to take it? Why in the world would I want a Miru pasted upon anything that's mine?

(In other words, thank you; I am honored.)

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith