I'm sorry if I'm a little bleary eyed; I've just been reading the new edition
that's come out. I do so enjoy reading about Turin and his
broody ways. He was quite the definitive rock star of his time, wasn't he? He so liked tearing up the scenery, you wonder if Morgoth's curse really made that much of a difference for him, really. But as frustratingly arrogant as he was, you just can't help feeling sympathy for his bad Byronic self because he really did mean well, and was living in a time before serotonin uptake inhibitors were available. Of course, better taste in head ware
might have turned things around for him. And I do wonder if all his name changes were a sign of a dissociative personality or perhaps an escape from bad credit ratings. Still, I can't imagine how woe struck he must have been to have taken on the name, Fred of the Classified Pages. No, that much had to have been Morgoth's work.
And reflecting on recent news, I do have to say that sometimes the idea that death is a gift
to mortals makes very much sense. He didn't say exactly who the gift was for anyway. I must remember to make
Iluvatar an offering
In other news, can you believe it has been five years since I returned to this very Shire
? Well, it has. How turbulent those first 2 years of my return were, and yet marvelous and grand in a some what sick kind of way. Ah, Nostalgia! How the world was changing then without a dressing room in sight, and we were too horrified with fascination to look away, I suppose.
Lately, I am working on my book about the hobbits of Umbar, housekeeping with my smialmates, tending my houseplants
--I so wish I had the Gamgee touch with the garden outdoors--it so needs work
Well, I have a box of Grey Istari's Best
and the matchstick
Kevin brought to set them off. Who wants to help me light them? Oh, what fun this will be!