Can’t brain my think is broken. Spring came today (I even got a little sunburn all over my back) and I feel like I just woke up from a long angsty dream. And now I feel like I can’t write anything serious or angsty or emotions.

So I have decided just to riff and amuse myself. I feel like a lot of times I get good ideas just by writing out stuff that is extremely true for me. So now I’m writing a story around my hate for Tom Bombadil in The Hobbit.

For a really long time after Groucho grew up he would think about Tom Bombadil and feel his skin creeping. There was something about Bombadil, a cheery and singing Santa-Claus-looking character in Tolkien’s Hobbit, that had really freaked him out as a child. Dad would tuck Groucho in most nights, covers pulled almost too taut, and read Tolkien and C.S. Lewis and even sometimes, in the colder months, some nice John Wyndham or Ray Bradbury. 

But even when including all the balls to the wall shit in the sci fi and the horror stories, there wasn’t anything scarier than Tom Bombadil giggling in the forest. It was probably that the character was really aloof. That was probably it. Come to think of it, that’s the worst, isn’t it? People who put on a sweet face and then don’t bat an eye if somebody else tries to murder the shit out of you?

Groucho did not like that Tom Bombadil part of the book and would try to get his dad to skip it whenever the chapter came around. This was probably two or three times a year, since dad always chose the book and dad had a real boner for Tolkien. 

The kid is named Groucho because originally he was going to be a dog. But he’s not. He’s a kid. A story is born. -rainbows-

defranco:

Only 358 more days…..

I’m so excited for this T__T if I end up in grad school next year, I’m not going to be able to hide my nerdiness. I’m going to the midnight show. Martin Freeman is even better than I expected.

I want to live in this house. Looks like Hobbiton. 

[via yahoo real estate]