und obwohl ich ernsthaft bezweifle, daß ich mein vorbestelltes Exemplar des Graveyard Book auch direkt nach Erscheinen bekomme (Amazon scheint sich über den Erscheinungstermin noch ein bißchen unklar zu sein), finde ich diesen Countdown-Kalender (via Neil Gaimans Blog) doch eine nette Idee. Hoffentlich löst er sich nicht in Luft auf, wenn er bei Null angekommen ist, dann könnte dieser Eintrag etwas seltsam wirken...

Wieder gelesen:

Nachdem ich The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay beendet hatte, mußte ich - natürlich - wenigstens mal kurz in ein paar Comics reinsehen:

"Sound and Fury" und "The Sound of her Wings" aus "The Sandman, Preludes and Nocturnes", von Neil Gaiman und Mike Dringenberg. Die letzte Geschichte in Band 1 ist eine meiner absoluten Lieblingsgeschichten im Sandman.

Conan and the Songs of the Dead, von Joe R. Lansdale und Timothy Truman. Für mich mit seinem schwarzen Humor immer wieder unwiderstehlich. Conan mal ganz anders.

... als Neil Gaiman, der diese Neujahrswünsche schon 2001 in seinen Blog gestellt und nun noch einmal hervorgeholt, abgestaubt und erneuert hat?

May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't to forget make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.

The same to you Neil. All the best for 2008.

which nobody can deny!

Happy birthday

dear

Neil Gaiman

and many many happy returns of the day!

Ein paar nette Zitate von der Hexe Lamia hätte ich noch ganz gerne hier drin, aber vielleicht kommen ja noch welche ..

Narrator: A philosopher once asked, "Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?" Pointless, really...”Do the stars gaze back?" Now *that's* a question.

Yvaine: The little I know about love is that's unconditional. It's not something you can buy.
Tristan: Hang on! This wasn't about me trying to buy her love. This was to proove her how I felt.
Yvaine: Ah... And what's she doing to proove how she feels about you?

Tristan: Look Yvaine, you'll understand when you meet her, all right? If we don't get murdered by pirates first.
Yvaine: Mmm... Murdered by pirates, heart turned out and eaten, meet Victoria... I can't quite decide which sounds more fun...

Yvaine: You know when I said I knew little about love? That wasn't true. I know a lot about love. I've seen it, centuries and centuries of it, and it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable. All those wars. Pain, lies, hate... It made me want to turn away and never look down again. But when I see the way that mankind loves... You could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful. So yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing... What I'm trying to say, Tristan is... I think I love you. Is this love, Tristan? I never imagined I'd know it for myself. My heart... It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it's trying to escape because it doesn't belong to me any more. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I'd wish for nothing in exchange - no fits. No goods. No demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine.

Tristan: [dazed just after returning to human form] Victoria!
Yvaine: I think I preferred "Mother."

Yvaine: Are you tempted?
Tristan: Tempted, by what?
Yvaine: Immortality. Let's say it wasn't my heart. Not me. Just a star you didn't know.
Tristan: You seriously think I could kill anybody. Even if I could, I mean, everlasting life? I imagine it would be kind of lonely. Well, maybe if you had someone to share it with. Someone you loved. Then it might be different.

23. April 19*

Jessica Bertram

hat an diesem Tag Geburtstag und als ihr Exfreund Richard Mayhew ihr mit seinem plötzlichen Auftauchen die Party verdirbt, muß sie einsehen, daß sie ihn doch nicht so gut im Griff hatte, wie sie dachte.

(Neil Gaiman, "Neverwhere", 1997)