Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa

I loved Out of the Silent Planet and Peralandra, and much as I love them they really are very slow reads. I have That Hideous Strength and I'm really looking forward to reading it, but I bought it nearly a year ago now probably, and still haven't gotten around to it. I just haven't found the right time when I was in the right mood for it. Does it pick up as promised? Lemony Snicket's stories have a strange allure in spite of the fact that for a lot of reasons, they also feel really intolerable. A Series of Unfortunate Events drew me in and held me like an Extremely Deadly Viper (which was a constrictor albeit pretty harmless, right?), and like the onion Snicket often compares it to left me with a bitter aftertaste. I was so sick of the series that I read it all through again almost right away. There's something really rare and inexplicable about the way Snicket makes you sort of hate his stories and at the same time find them irresistible. Somehow you have to love him and his style anyway. I really want to read All the Wrong Questions, and also File Under: 13 Suspicious Incidents, and like many books I really want to read, I haven't had the chance and probably won't get around to springing for them for a while. But someday, I'll have to read them yet. Vale, Nuile

Sir, you are a lucky man. A BIONICLE nerd and she's got talent. These are amazing! I had to look up to pictures to remind myself of the specific stones these were based on (for the record, this is what I found), but as soon as I saw the Po-Koro carvings I was even more impressed by how accurate these are. Very nice. I'd be curious to see Mata Nui and Makuta stones, but those would be harder, and Makuta would probably be difficult beyond all reason. But even though these nostalgic baubles are incredible they're not the kind of thing I'd personally order online; I'm just not the type to order whimsical knick-knacks off Etsy. I do have to ask though, what kind of price she be asking? I wish your girlfriend the best of luck selling! Give her my compliments. Vale, Nuile

I'm no art critic nor yet a painter myself, but as far as my eye for technical quality goes it looks good to me; the drawing is neat, good details, and it's a good emulation of Vermeer's style both in color and texture. I like the way you reimagined the original, especially with some of the details (e.g. replacing the paintings with computer screens), and I think the murderous octopus alien was a creative twist. Now, the whole sci-fi update with a horror twist is admittedly a little cliched, but while it may not be fresh it captures something familiar, a spirit of creativity like a childhood fantasy. What kid wouldn't look at a 17th century painting and wish or even pretend there was a monster from outer space in it killing people? And even though we're all grown up now, it doesn't mean we don't all still wish for something a little more fantastic in the everyday, like dead guys in bloody puddles under tablecloths. Science fiction or horror wouldn't be popular if there weren't people who dream of the stars. In the end we have to settle for cheaper thrills, and in cases like this maybe that's a good thing? Nice work! Vale, Nuile

I remember reading this the first time you posted it a year or so ago. I liked it then, and I enjoyed it just as much this time. It's a very traditional style of poetry and very lyrical and whimsical, which is actually an ironic contrast to Batman - like many of his enemies are, for that matter. It has inspired amusement; so it has wrought its simple plan. Good job! Vale, Nuile

This is one of those short stories that makes you feel like you just read the incarnate of the art itself. This is what a short story should be: short, small, a brief glimpse (or brief blinks) of something much bigger that it's only a little piece of, embracing the nature of its medium by being a complete story that's not complete, only a part of a whole, telling us with an air of mystery that there's so much it's not telling us even while it's telling us so much; and all avoiding the sin of trying, which would almost inevitably mean failing, to be some grand saga that's far beyond the capabilities of the medium. A short story is not a novel, and it has an independent spirit of its own--the spirit of a fragment. (Maybe even a spirit of fragmentalism? But I think that's more a choice of the artist, not the art.) You embrace that, and use it to effectively tell the story. Well done. My only criticism is this: This one paragraph gave me mixed feelings. On the one hand, I wasn't sure until then what "it" was--Tren Krom, maybe? But that didn't explain the drips and the sizzles. As soon as you said EP Entity it all made sense. Buuut, the ride was ruined when you carved a blatant explanation on a stone tablet and threw it in the readers' face. It disrupted the beauty of the story's vague nature. I could almost excuse it on the grounds of juxtaposition, but the fact is it was jarring and I don't approve, although I'm at a loss to suggest a better way of going about it, because the explanation is necessary. I just feel like there should be a subtler way of going about the revelation, even if it's just rewording. Spherus Magna, of course, was obvious; simply removing that, letting the sentence become ". . . beneath the surface of the earth," would be a partial improvement. Other thoughts, I was fascinated by your exploration of the character. Some friends and I are planning an epic that will involve the EP Entity, and I really hadn't done much by way of researching the character (and my memory of its behavior was nil), so this was helpful to me as a bit of inspiration. Also, you mention delving more into the EP Entity's history, such as the creation of the island of Mata Nui; I agree, these could be interesting (as long as you didn't "name any names," describing them in the same indirect way you mentioned Mata Nui falling asleep or leaving the MU robot), and they would lend more to the story providing an opportunity for more of the unclear style, but I don't think it's necessary. Excellent work! Vale, Nuile

Unfortunately, " 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves / Did gyre and gimble" inside the black hole . . . but we'll never know now what that means because it so confused the black hole (which thought itself to be a black hole but was so confused that it started thinking it was a wormhole) that it turned itself inside out and pulled all the universe through itself, producing a paradox that made all times one, which explains why all this can happen in past tense and still be in the present tense of this topic, and in case you're missing the gist by now, the "tl;dr" version is that all times are now one so uniting all dimensions no longer takes time, because there isn't any time, and I'm going to go hide under my bed. Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

I've taken similar tests before, but never this one. The results seem more accurate than tests I've taken in the past, although iPersonic came close, although the questions as well as the results were a little more generic. The only downside is that neither iPersonic nor the Myers-Briggs tell you which Avenger you are. But apparently, out of renowned Victorian-era novelists I'm Mark Twain. I'm happy with that. The test says I'm an ENFP, which I can't argue with in the least. It's a bit eerie how accurate it is, actually. So many times while reading the description I just said to myself, "EXACTLY." Amen. For instance, I found this. This is exactly what my life is like. XD According to your charts I'm a Merry Jinn the Orangutan. I don't see how any of them connect. Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Wait, so is this good or bad? Good point. I meant to imply that this was good, because you didn't expect to find the cookies there and that means there are two more; but I guess they could also be stale and possibly unsanitary. All right, more like two more presents under the tree you forgot to unwrap? From someone whose taste you trust, so probably no indecently colorful hand-knit sweaters. Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Last book I read was Mogens and Other Stories by Jens Peter Jacobsen, I believe. Although I actually learned that the copy I had was missing two of the stories, which is like finding two more cookies at the bottom of the box that had fallen out of the plastic packaging. And we're talking really good cookies here. Jacobsen has a very plain but penetrating style with a simple descriptive beauty. I learned about him from Rilke via Letters to a Young Poet, a very great read also, by the way. I'll have to pick up Jacobsen's Niels Lyhne at some point. Right now I'm reading Diana Maryon's O Love How Deep. An emotional, intellectual, and spiritual novel. I'm taking it at a slow pace and really enjoying it. Oh, and this will shock you: I'm also reading through all my Calvin and Hobbes collections right now. Couldn't have guessed that, could you? Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Dimension of the Pink Ones "What foul, Great Being forsaken, debauched, and most likely boring world have you taken me to today?" But the mask was characteristically silent. Vezon looked around. There was sunlight here. There wasn't always. Once there hadn't been any light at all, which had made it difficult to tell the voices of the natives from the voices in his head. He preferred it when there was light. "Only one sun here. I liked the place with 37 suns, now that was a hot hangout. My dear, Vezon, did you just say that out loud? You burn me up. By the Great Beings! That was terrible. Shut up." Vezon looked around again. "At least it has trees . . . I like trees." Vezon raised his staff—no Spear of Fusion, just a handy toy he'd picked up in a pocket dimension inhabited by sentient sand—aimed at random, and an energy bolt shot from the tip. It arced into a tree and exploded. The remaining branches flamed pitifully. "I like trees. Nature is so beautiful." He didn't know exactly why he'd done that, but then, he rarely knew why he did anything. Sometimes a little voice in his head said, "Here's an idea . . ." Vezon's response was usually either, "What the Karzahni, why not?" or "Gear off, I'm trying to think." More often the first. He walked on. With each step he took, some new shrill-voiced forest fluffball squealed in horror and ran away from him. Some of them were birds, some of them were little furry things, some of them were pretty soon dead. He was beginning to think that there was nothing in this dimension but trees, and Rahi he found frankly too small and too cute, and if that was true, it was going to be a dull day. He was warming up his staff again when he saw a break in the trees up ahead. He stepped out from under the canopy and into the full, unadulterated sunlight. "It has buildings. A little primitive, but I've seen worse." Suddenly something screamed, and several other somethings started screaming, and many somethings started shouting and screaming and it got very loud very quickly. Vezon was looking around. The city street seemed to be lined up and down with the most revolting creatures he had ever seen, and we can take his word for that; he had seen a lot of revolting creatures. "What the Tren Krom are these unearthly Makuta spawn?" He retched on the words. He could hardly breathe in the air filled with their Great-Spirit-awful stench. He was horrified. These filth were a stain in the universe and an offense to the dignity of being. If the woodland critters had personally repelled him, the very existence of these new abominations scandalized existence itself. They were small, soft, skinny, and pink, with strange, indecently colorful cloths draped on their feeble bodies. They were walking anatomical comedies. Their feet were barely bigger than their twiggy ankles, their arms smaller and shorter than their legs, and their heads defectively small, not to mention deformed. The tallest of them was still at least two feet shorter than Vezon. He grabbed one as it was trying to run out of a large metal box, and picked the creature up in his hands to examine it closely. He tried to ignore its ear-splitting screams. It battered his face and chest with punches, which felt about as painful as being beaten up by an adolescent Ussal. But the moment he'd touched it he felt sick, and he dropped it soon. Their bodies were so squishy it was like holding Muaka droppings. "Why, Teridax, that Kavinika!" Vezon murmured to himself. "He must have put the moves on Roodaka. And what lovely children they have!" Vezon sprang up on one of the metal boxes in the street, which creaked and dented under his feet, and one of its glass windows shattered. He tutted. "Pathetic." In a louder voice, he announced: "Attention, all you mindless, smelly pink inhabitants of this egregious waste of creation's resources! This is a public service announcement! I am now going to vaporize you all, as a public service to the universe. On the other hand, if you can understand me, you can all bow down to me immediately and name me your supreme potentate and I'll spare a few of you to keep as slaves. If you can't understand me, please just keep screaming and I'll just vaporize you all. Thank you." The frail pink creatures kept screaming. Vezon jumped down from the metal box. "Right. Well, what's first? Caustic shots of crackling explosive energy stuff, a violent and possibly messy melee, or hey, maybe I can topple one of these buildings and watch a bunch of the pink things get flattened. You think so?" Before he could test, he heard a loud wailing sound, something like a Doom Viper being bestially tormented. Vezon turned to look, and he saw one of the metal boxes down the street. It was moving, so obviously it was some kind of vehicle, and this one sported bright lights flashing red and blue. But what interested him most was the fact that it was coming toward him instead of carrying its passengers in the opposite direction at high speed in hopes of preserving their lives a little bit longer. Either these pink things were particularly courageous, or particularly stupid. The vehicle swerved and stopped, and two of the pink disgraces got out and pointed little metal objects at him and shouted something. They seemed to be trying to communicate. They weren't so primitive that they didn't have a language, it seemed. Vezon regarded the pink ones curiously, shrugged, and blasted their vehicle and them to the Red Star. Two more screamed toward him from opposite directions. They pulled up short, pointed their little metal objects, which Vezon realized were weapons, and opened fire. It was like being peppered with pebbles. Really fast, really really tiny pebbles. They glanced harmlessly off his armor, and Vezon sighed. "Look," he began, "I admire what you're trying to do here, truly I do, but—" He broke off as one of the pebbles flew into his open mouth and he gagged on it. As soon as he recovered, he stood up again and pointed his staff. One of the pink ones ducked behind the door of the vehicle, as if that would protect him. Vezon resumed, "Anyway, you're just bugs. Pointless, insignificant bugs. I'm sorry to tell you, but it's the truth. You're pathetic. But see, this is your purpose. You're meant to be destroyed." His staff hummed as it warmed up for another blast. "What else could you possibly exist for?" Vezon stopped. He put a hand against his face. He felt a tingling sensation in his head. Now, Vezon knew that meant one of three things: one, that he was upside-down, which he was not; two, that he had been hit very hard in the head, which he had not; or three, that the mask was warming up again. "Karzahni," Vezon muttered. "Never mind!" he yelled to the pathetic pink Makuta spawn. "Forget everything I said. Carry on with your lives." The next moment in a bright flash Vezon was gone. ~ ~ ~ ~ I almost put this in Comedies, but I figured it wouldn't quite have fit in there. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. I always have a great time writing for Vezon, and actually, I have a few ideas (and at least one definite plan) to use him in some more serious work. His could be a fun character to explore on a less superficial level. Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Wow. Creepy, dreamlike, a little pensive, a little sad, and actually in a strange, dark way, rather beautiful. Great inspiration, too. I really enjoyed this piece. Definitely one of its outstanding qualities is the style. You used almost nothing but short, snappy sentences, which made the story flow faster and contributed to the ethereal, dreamlike feel. My only complaint there is that it started to be too much; short sentences are powerful, but in excess they begin to lose that power. That said, there's no denying that there were moments when you used them to great effect. For instance: These were powerful sentences, and they stood out because of the way they were placed: in a paragraph by itself, and at the beginning of the last paragraph, right before a longer sentence. The juxtaposition in the end there was just beautiful. And that's something else I would like to point out, that when you're using so many short sentences, the long ones begin to stand out, too, and that can be effective as well. I think these two sentences were the longest in the whole story: The latter is the last sentence, and like I said, very well done with the contrast there. The former came at a perfect time, too, rushing in just as the action was coming to a head. I actually would have liked to have seen you take advantage of that juxtaposition a little more; it would have helped to balance things out more, too. But on the whole this was very well done. You experimented with a style and used it very effectively, and I commend that. As far as plot, like I said, I really liked where you drew your inspiration from. Those little gaps in the main storyline, where there are questions unanswered and little details left unknown, can be the best places to get ideas and to have some fun coming up with a story to fit into the hole. You did a great job of that. I did think the backstory was a little hard to follow, partially because of the dreamlike quality of the story which makes that sort of detail a little harder to swallow, but mainly I think because I'm so out of the BIONICLE universe these days and it took me time to realize this was Karzahni. Also, though it seems a little unnecessary when your story is already deformed by whatever recent coding hiccup, I only noticed two typos and when the number's that small, I figure I might as well point them out: Otherwise, excellent work. Keep it up! Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

I always enjoy reading your work. You have a streamlined, pithy style that always makes for a fun, smooth read. Simple story, but excellent, dramatic without being cheesy, strong dialogue. Really good work. Keep writing, Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Nick beat me to the topic and Katie beat me to the kittens and Kraggh beats me to the bad puns . . . well, gee, what's left? Oh, yes, the cake! There seems to be something in the frosting . . . but I think most of it's still salvageable. Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

The wind whipped into the compartment. Passengers screamed as papers ripped themselves out of their hands and briefcases and bags and hats tumbled along with the rushing air, joining tumbling books and empty cups and expensive fur stoles in a whirling dance. I shattered the remains of the window and heaved half my body through. An attendant grabbed me by the foot, but I kicked him in the face. The momentum propelled me out the window and I plunged downward through the sky. I slung the parachute over my back, fumbling with the harness while struggling to keep it from flying out of my grip. It worked itself free of one shoulder and I barely caught it before it absconded into the blue yonder. It probably would have been smarter to put this on before I had jumped through the window, but I might not have fit that way. Besides, I like to work on the fly. Or rather, on the fall. I managed to strap on the pack and pull the ripcord. As soon as I was descending at a safe speed and my heart rate had a chance to slow, the view of the city strangling the Seine was actually quite beautiful. I was right on course to land in a lovely little park, but the wind had other ideas and I descended on a church spire instead. I guess it was a spiritually uplifting experience. Apparently I had attracted a lot of attention, because a large crowd of people were pointing and shouting, but I couldn’t be sure because they shouted in French and pointed in French too, of course, and they might just have been admiring the architecture for all I knew. Pretty soon I started hearing sirens. I was surprised the sirens didn’t siren in French, but I guess you can’t have everything. Wait, is siren a verb? After the fire department got me down from the spire, the police started asking me questions. I tried to communicate yo no hablo francés by gesture, but that got us nowhere. I tried to translate his French—something, I thought, about passing harbors or possibly wine, and maybe something about a crazy, stupid derriere—but one year in high school Francais didn’t cut it. I was taken downtown, talked to someone who spoke English, I was asked if I had a passport, I said No, and all said and done I ended up in a cell. And as the French say, voilà! A holiday in Paris without having to pay for reservations. Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

I'm here to share my birthday wishes because Tekulo forced me to you're both awesome people. Now imagine I said something wishful, maybe dramatic, maybe even inspirational. And don't sell me short, imagine I said something very clever and creative. And preferably imagine it has something to do with your shared birthday. Something good. Just remember to be imaginative, because if you're going to imagine I said it it has to be very imaginative. Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Dear Mr. Jerkface, It’s really more of a tableau than an actual story, isn’t it? But that’s just an observation. I don’t mind it as long as it’s done well. Is it done well? I had mixed feelings; we’ll take the bad first. My first criticism, my only criticism, but a big criticism, is the lack of any emotion. Soooo much neglected potential. He should be confused, he should be trying to figure out what’s going on. Think about what it’s like when you first wake up suddenly: you’re surprised, and your first thought, perhaps a frantic one, is to get your bearings on where you are and what’s going on. Factor in that he’s in a strange place he doesn’t recognize and he can’t remember a thing: he should be bewildered, and just because it’s Tahu, maybe even a little angry. There’s a lot to of emotion to look at here, but instead, all we get is a cold pensiveness. It’s a missed opportunity. Now for the subjective. Early on in the story, I was wondering why you didn’t take advantage of the experience of being built. That’s an important part. But then I found you had a good reason. Personally, I’m not a fan of making BIONICLE characters into humans. It seems pointless to me. It can be done well, but in a piece like this, I don’t see it as being worth it. Just a matter of taste, really. Now for what I did like. Your style: very straightforward, very smooth, very few instances of awkward or confusing sentence structure. Your descriptions: simple but informative. I especially liked the first few sentences, you did a powerful job of setting the scene; with a little more sensory detail (roar of the waves, call of the seabirds, maybe the salty tang of the air, etc.) it’s golden. Also, no typographical errors: always a plus. Like I said, the “story” itself was pretty simplistic: Tahu wakes up, gets a grip on his mind and his senses at least, remembers his name, and wanders instinctively toward Ta-Koro. But you end on a successfully ominous note that portends Tahu’s arrival, conjuring for any diehard fan the scene from MNOLG (except now we have Orlando Bloom cast as Tahu). On the whole, it wasn’t done poorly, but it wasn’t done quite well, either; there was too much missed opportunity. There’s promise in it, definitely. But you said yourself that it was “a doodle-type deal,” so from that perspective it’s pretty good. I hope to come across more of your work . . . particularly, work written this year. Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

I suppose I otter wish you a happy birthday, since I forgot yesterday . . . I especially owe you compensation for that pun. So happy birthday, Hairy-Nosed European Tarsier. Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

For those of you who are busy with finals, good news - we're extending the deadline another week! You now have until Tuesday, December 17th to write something for Unfortunate Event. Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

. . . Next time I minutely examine every word before posting. Thanks for catching that. =P Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith