I just thought of this, because the George RR Martin newsgroup is awake again for the first time in ages, with a minor kerfuffle about Martin apparently telling someone to fuck off because he doesn’t like it when people speculate about his life expectancy and who will carry on his work when he dies.
Totally unreasonable, right? What an old grouch.
Funny fact, back in the day I wrote a piece of fan-fiction featuring a buddy of mine as a myrddraal from Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series (speaking of carrying on the artist’s work when he dies). It was funny because my friend was pale and skinny and we all had a good laugh.
He had a black Shayol Ghûl blade, and had nicknamed it Stormbringer Sting Snaga, after three famous weapons of modern fantasy.
The other day, I learned that Snaga, the infamous axe of Druss, was actually already a pop reference of sorts. Did you know that snaga was an orc word for slave? It was what the big orcs called the smaller ones.
Maybe you did know that.
Anyway, it’s another weekend away from the computer. I think we’re chopping wood most of the day today. Which is probably going to be a bummer (I pre-write), because I had a double-header former-customer and departing-colleagues pair of Christmas parties last night. Not feeling particularly sparky, but it’s one of those “drink like grim death” sort of events that will either result in me going home early, or possibly staying really late and then not being fit to handle heavy machinery today.
Guess we’ll see.
[Follow-up: Ended up being a weird old night, will blog it up tomorrow. Long story short, got home at about 04:00 and yet am not hungover.]
Happy Independence Day, Finland.