Showing posts with label progress notes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label progress notes. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Conclusion
Well, that's about it for Deciphering Hob's Hog, believe it or not. I plan on keeping it up on the net (for as long as Blogger lets me, anyway) for those who are reading/writing about Voice Of the Fire, and on putting up occasional posts regarding any news I get regarding VOTF, Alan Moore's "sequel" prose novel Jerusalem (still a work in progress the last that I've heard), and any other Moore-related items I find interesting enough to post. But as the stated mission of Deciphering Hob's Hog is, well, deciphering "Hob's Hog", and said mission is completed, you can consider this blog to be, at present, in semi-retirement. I'll continue to post my reviews at Amazon, and may start another blog in the future (probably through Blogger again, because they're so easy to use), but for now I'm taking at least a week off from doing anything net-related that's more complicated than checking my e-mail. Many thanks to those of you who came along for the ride, especially those who commented. I learned a lot and had a lot of fun - I hope you did, too.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
My Amazon Review Of Voice Of The Fire
I finished Voice of the Fire - you can read my review of it here.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Page 41, Paragraphs 5 and 6; Page 42, Paragraphs 1 and 2; Progress Note
This is my 100th post. :)
***
Page 41, Paragraph 5:
At night, she's in the hut all alone with Hob. He's bigger than her, and he makes her do things. He puts his penis in her and has sex with her. No. No, it's worse than anything I want to think about. Maybe he makes her rub his erection with her hair, like she did with me - the thought of this is even worse still. Hob doesn't want her to have sex with any man except him - he's scared her, which is why she wouldn't let me put a hand on her. Now I'm upset. Why, it's like she's not hers - she's Hob's!
Paragraph 6:
I think about how it isn't good for her that she's kept all the time by a man that's as evil and crazy as Hob. He's older than the trees; he killed his son in this world, so that he can only see him in the other world. In the other world, where the Urk-kine sit on the shagfoal, beneath the cave-ceiling made of little boys' bones, where Hob makes his son go, as the spirits have indebted Hob to them with the thoughts that he can make his strange path-song [path-spell]. It's so bad that it can't be put into words. I can't let the girl stay here anymore. I'll make her go with me far away, and walk, and journey onwards, and not settle. It's not right for people to settle. There's no good in it.
Page 42, Paragraph 1:
By the white-skinned hut across from the pigpen I hear the girl - she's still looking for food. I think about how it would be if we ran off together. I don't think I'd be good at foraging on my own, but the girl's smarter than me and she can forage many things for us like my mother did. We can walk across the skeleton-woman bridge, and then across the world, the flower-scented girl and I. When she's away from Hob and isn't scared of him anymore, I can make her take off her clothes and open up her legs as far as they'll go.
Paragraph 2:
Inside my clothes, Old Will only tingles a bit, as he's still too weak to stand.
***
Progress note: Finished "Partners In Knitting" (probably the most darkly beautiful chapter that I've read so far) and "The Sun Looks Pale Upon The Wall" (it helped to read this first). Holy crap! I've only got about 50 pages left. What am I gonna do when I'm finished?
***
Page 41, Paragraph 5:
At night, she's in the hut all alone with Hob. He's bigger than her, and he makes her do things. He puts his penis in her and has sex with her. No. No, it's worse than anything I want to think about. Maybe he makes her rub his erection with her hair, like she did with me - the thought of this is even worse still. Hob doesn't want her to have sex with any man except him - he's scared her, which is why she wouldn't let me put a hand on her. Now I'm upset. Why, it's like she's not hers - she's Hob's!
Paragraph 6:
I think about how it isn't good for her that she's kept all the time by a man that's as evil and crazy as Hob. He's older than the trees; he killed his son in this world, so that he can only see him in the other world. In the other world, where the Urk-kine sit on the shagfoal, beneath the cave-ceiling made of little boys' bones, where Hob makes his son go, as the spirits have indebted Hob to them with the thoughts that he can make his strange path-song [path-spell]. It's so bad that it can't be put into words. I can't let the girl stay here anymore. I'll make her go with me far away, and walk, and journey onwards, and not settle. It's not right for people to settle. There's no good in it.
Page 42, Paragraph 1:
By the white-skinned hut across from the pigpen I hear the girl - she's still looking for food. I think about how it would be if we ran off together. I don't think I'd be good at foraging on my own, but the girl's smarter than me and she can forage many things for us like my mother did. We can walk across the skeleton-woman bridge, and then across the world, the flower-scented girl and I. When she's away from Hob and isn't scared of him anymore, I can make her take off her clothes and open up her legs as far as they'll go.
Paragraph 2:
Inside my clothes, Old Will only tingles a bit, as he's still too weak to stand.
***
Progress note: Finished "Partners In Knitting" (probably the most darkly beautiful chapter that I've read so far) and "The Sun Looks Pale Upon The Wall" (it helped to read this first). Holy crap! I've only got about 50 pages left. What am I gonna do when I'm finished?
Monday, December 14, 2009
Page 41, Paragraphs 1 - 4
Back at it.
***
Page 41, Paragraph 1:
She and I stand up, but my legs are shaky and weak. "Come on," she says, and takes my hand in hers, and hand in hand we walk through the flowers and through trees and down the bare hill of stumps. All this time I think of nothing but her hand, our fingers intertwined. I feel better than I ever have in my life. We go down the hill, through the mud and bees, with rot in the stumps and in the air. The flower perfume on the girl draws the bees to us, so I'm constantly swatting them away.
Paragraph 2:
We go up the rise with the little thicket of trees and we're down in the reeds; this is the route we take to the hut and the pigpen. We were up on the hill for a long time - I can tell it's afternoon by where the sun's at in the sky. It's gotten cold, so that I pull tighter on Hob's son's clothes, since he's neither alive nor does he need them. The girl opens the gate and tells me to go back in the pen, so that she can find more food before Hob comes back.
Paragraph 3:
I do this, and then sit on the hay and think about a lot of things. The girl goes away to look in the white-skin hut to find something to eat. I think of how she shut her legs so I couldn't rub her vagina, and of how she wouldn't let me touch her breasts, and how she said no man can touch her.
Paragraph 4:
Now I understand everything.
***
Progress note: I finished "Limping to Jerusalem" (take that, Dan Brown!), "Confessions Of A Mask" (is it just Moore that's obsessed with Guy Fawkes, or are English folks in general?), and "Angel Language" (just when we thought things couldn't get any more disturbing...), and am about halfway through "Partners in Knitting".
***
Page 41, Paragraph 1:
She and I stand up, but my legs are shaky and weak. "Come on," she says, and takes my hand in hers, and hand in hand we walk through the flowers and through trees and down the bare hill of stumps. All this time I think of nothing but her hand, our fingers intertwined. I feel better than I ever have in my life. We go down the hill, through the mud and bees, with rot in the stumps and in the air. The flower perfume on the girl draws the bees to us, so I'm constantly swatting them away.
Paragraph 2:
We go up the rise with the little thicket of trees and we're down in the reeds; this is the route we take to the hut and the pigpen. We were up on the hill for a long time - I can tell it's afternoon by where the sun's at in the sky. It's gotten cold, so that I pull tighter on Hob's son's clothes, since he's neither alive nor does he need them. The girl opens the gate and tells me to go back in the pen, so that she can find more food before Hob comes back.
Paragraph 3:
I do this, and then sit on the hay and think about a lot of things. The girl goes away to look in the white-skin hut to find something to eat. I think of how she shut her legs so I couldn't rub her vagina, and of how she wouldn't let me touch her breasts, and how she said no man can touch her.
Paragraph 4:
Now I understand everything.
***
Progress note: I finished "Limping to Jerusalem" (take that, Dan Brown!), "Confessions Of A Mask" (is it just Moore that's obsessed with Guy Fawkes, or are English folks in general?), and "Angel Language" (just when we thought things couldn't get any more disturbing...), and am about halfway through "Partners in Knitting".
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Page 40, Paragraph 2; Notes
Sorry I haven't posted in awhile - I've been busy reading (among other things). I finished "The Cremation Fields" this morning and started on "In The Drownings". Really enjoyed "TCF" - not quite the virtuoso display that "Hob's Hob" was, but still pretty great. My favorite quote from it: "Here is clever deep enough to drown in." Indeed.
***
Page 40, Paragraph 2:
She bends over, and holds her head down so that her long bright hair hangs down like vines there all around my penis. Now she takes a long, thick strand of hair in her hand to wrap in her fingers around my hot erection. Oh, she rubs me with her hair, all up and down, all quick and hard so that it pulls and is likely to hurt her head, but she makes not a sound, only rub and rub, and the rubbing's good, and the thought of it is better yet, her hair is so soft and bright in the sun, and a strong sensation moves up my erection, slow like a snail, from my ass, through the width of my penis to the tip where it prickles good, and now a little circle of semen comes out of it, like the dew that comes on the grass at dawn, and she's rubbing harder, faster, and I'm imagining that this isn't the rubbing of hair in her hand, but the rubbing of hair around her vagina, and oh, and the thought of this goes quickly down my belly, up my penis and oh, and the girl is holding harder so that it hurts but the hurt is good, and harder yet to stop my semen, but it is now, and now, and now, a stream of semen falls on her cheek, in her hair, and wets the aurochs skin around her head, and more, and more, on my legs and down her fingers, wetting the grass and white on the bloody eyes of the flowers and oh, and Mother. Mother.
***
Did this remind anyone else of the last chapter of Ulysses?
***
Page 40, Paragraph 2:
She bends over, and holds her head down so that her long bright hair hangs down like vines there all around my penis. Now she takes a long, thick strand of hair in her hand to wrap in her fingers around my hot erection. Oh, she rubs me with her hair, all up and down, all quick and hard so that it pulls and is likely to hurt her head, but she makes not a sound, only rub and rub, and the rubbing's good, and the thought of it is better yet, her hair is so soft and bright in the sun, and a strong sensation moves up my erection, slow like a snail, from my ass, through the width of my penis to the tip where it prickles good, and now a little circle of semen comes out of it, like the dew that comes on the grass at dawn, and she's rubbing harder, faster, and I'm imagining that this isn't the rubbing of hair in her hand, but the rubbing of hair around her vagina, and oh, and the thought of this goes quickly down my belly, up my penis and oh, and the girl is holding harder so that it hurts but the hurt is good, and harder yet to stop my semen, but it is now, and now, and now, a stream of semen falls on her cheek, in her hair, and wets the aurochs skin around her head, and more, and more, on my legs and down her fingers, wetting the grass and white on the bloody eyes of the flowers and oh, and Mother. Mother.
***
Did this remind anyone else of the last chapter of Ulysses?
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Page 39, Paragraphs 9 and 10; Page 40, Paragraph 1; Note
I just finished reading this chapter last night. The ending is twisted. Alan Moore is a sick fuck. A genius sick fuck, but still a sick fuck.
***
Later: I'm now about 20 pages into "The Cremation Fields" (a.k.a. Chapter Two) and am really enjoying it - the prose is really gorgeous. As much of an interesting challenge as "Hob's Hog" was, it's nice to be in a section of the book where it doesn't take a whole day to get through four pages. I'm also gonna try to read VOTF exclusively now until I get all the way through it and will change the little widget where I have my current reading/listening/etc. listed accordingly. I will continue to post my "translations" of "Hob's Hog" as often as I can, though they will probably continue to be somewhat infrequent as I am currently trying to pick up as much overtime as I can at work.
***
Page 39, Paragraph 9:
My clothes make a little hut. She wants to see my penis, and she pulls my clothes back off from it, the way a man will pull the skin off an animal that he's caught and run to the ground. My penis is standing in the cold air of this open circle of trees, dark and hot, and now she wraps her fingers around it, and her fingers are even colder, but this is good. Her hand goes up and then down, and inside of it my foreskin goes the same way, and oh, it rubs so softly, and her fingers now become warm.
Paragraph 10:
Now I put my hand beneath her clothes so that I can put my finger up her vagina, but shuts her legs hard and catches my hand between them, all soft and strong and wet with heat. "No," she says. "If you don't take your hand off my vagina, I'm not going to rub you anymore."
Page 40, Paragraph 1 (first full paragraph):
I do as she says, but now I say, "Can I suck your breasts?" She replies, "No. No man can put a hand on me. Just lie back in the roses while I keep doing what I'm doing to your penis." I lie back, so that the roses are up high like some strange bright trees around my head as I'm looking at them from below. I lift my head, so I can see what the girl is doing.
***
Later: I'm now about 20 pages into "The Cremation Fields" (a.k.a. Chapter Two) and am really enjoying it - the prose is really gorgeous. As much of an interesting challenge as "Hob's Hog" was, it's nice to be in a section of the book where it doesn't take a whole day to get through four pages. I'm also gonna try to read VOTF exclusively now until I get all the way through it and will change the little widget where I have my current reading/listening/etc. listed accordingly. I will continue to post my "translations" of "Hob's Hog" as often as I can, though they will probably continue to be somewhat infrequent as I am currently trying to pick up as much overtime as I can at work.
***
Page 39, Paragraph 9:
My clothes make a little hut. She wants to see my penis, and she pulls my clothes back off from it, the way a man will pull the skin off an animal that he's caught and run to the ground. My penis is standing in the cold air of this open circle of trees, dark and hot, and now she wraps her fingers around it, and her fingers are even colder, but this is good. Her hand goes up and then down, and inside of it my foreskin goes the same way, and oh, it rubs so softly, and her fingers now become warm.
Paragraph 10:
Now I put my hand beneath her clothes so that I can put my finger up her vagina, but shuts her legs hard and catches my hand between them, all soft and strong and wet with heat. "No," she says. "If you don't take your hand off my vagina, I'm not going to rub you anymore."
Page 40, Paragraph 1 (first full paragraph):
I do as she says, but now I say, "Can I suck your breasts?" She replies, "No. No man can put a hand on me. Just lie back in the roses while I keep doing what I'm doing to your penis." I lie back, so that the roses are up high like some strange bright trees around my head as I'm looking at them from below. I lift my head, so I can see what the girl is doing.
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