Andron Ocean

Fiction and speculation about science, technology, and the future of humanity

Category: Life in General

Miscellanea.

There once was a grouchy old Grinch,
Who stockings and presents would pinch.
Till one Christmas Eve,
He began to believe,
And put everything back in a cinch.

*  *  *

Merry Christmas to all my readers, whether you’re just dropping by or a loyal follower of mine! Between work, life, and the holidays, I’ve been far too busy to write my usual weekly post, so I chose to compose this wee limerick instead, and spend a couple days humming carols and sipping hot cocoa with my feet up in front of a blazing hearth.

In the meantime, if you’re hankering for a bit of sci-fi yuletide fun, you might enjoy my short story Mail from Mars, in which a very special Christmas gift appears …

I will be back next week with more interesting things. Until I return, have a very happy holiday!

– Andron

Christmas candle with holly

Why I won’t be seeing the “Hobbit” movie.

Let me (proudly) confess: I am a J.R.R. Tolkien über-nerd. I’ve read The Hobbit half a dozen times, The Lord of the Rings at least ten times. I’ve conquered dozens of his other, lesser-known books. I have friends who declare themselves to be Tolkien fans, and I sit quietly and nod, smirking only slightly, as they discuss the appendices to Lord of the Rings. “I should read the Silmarillion,” they sigh. I nod. Yes. Yes, they should.

But, though Tolkien’s words are in my blood, I won’t be seeing The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug. No way. Part two of Peter Jackson’s adaptation of Tolkien’s original Middle-Earth novel opened last night in American theaters, but you won’t find me lining up for a ticket this holiday season, or purchasing the DVD, or streaming it on Netflix.

Why not? Continue reading

With the last light of day,

the coppery sun peeks out

’neath a billow of gilded foam.

Proem

Sing, Muse, through me, of these prodigal ones: the five-fingered ape-men, proud, lusty, and numerous, who throng over Earth in fervent restlessness—we whose minds are inspired and crafty, but poor in foresight. Sing of the things that have been, and those that are, and those that may yet be, that we may listen and drink of thy wisdom, beholding in ourselves the patterns of our lives, and the path of our evolution.

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