Dark tower illustrations (part 7)

“And will I tell you that these three lived happily ever after? I will not, for no one ever does. But there was happiness. And they did live.”
― Stephen King, The Dark Tower

“Time flies, knells call, life passes, so hear my prayer.
Birth is nothing but death begun, so hear my prayer.
Death is speechless, so hear my speech.
This is Jake, who served his ka and his tet. Say true.
May the forgiving glance of S’mana heal his heart. Say please.
May the arms of Gan raise him from the darkness of this earth. Say please.
Surround him, Gan , with light.
Fill him, Chloe, with strength.
If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing.
If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.
May his life on this earth and the pain of his passing become as a dream to his waking soul, and let his eyes fall upon every lovely sight; let him find the friends that were lost to him, and let every one whose name he calls call his in return.
This is Jake, who lived well, loved his own, and died as ka would have it.
Each man owes a death. This is Jake. Give him peace.”

Dark tower illustrations (part 6)

“Susannah realized, with dawning bitterness, that she could now give the perfect definition of a ka-mai: one who has been given hope but no choices. Like giving a motorcycle to a blindman, she thought. Richard”
― Stephen King, Song of Susannah


“The magic went away. Maerlyn retired to his cave in one world, the sword of Eld gave way to the pistols of the gunslingers in another, and the magic went away. And across the arc of years, great alchemists, great scientists, and great—what?—technicians, I think? Great men of thought, anyway, that’s what I mean, great men of deduction—these came together and created the machines which ran the Beams. They were great machines but they were mortal machines. They replaced the magic with machines, do ya kennit, and now the machines are failing. In”

 

Dark tower illustrations (part 5)

“Ka works and the world moves on.”
― Stephen King, Wolves of the Calla

 

“Eddie saw great things and near misses. Albert Einstein as a child, not quite struck by a run-away milk-wagon as he crossed a street. A teenage boy named Albert Schweitzer getting out of a bathtub and not quite stepping on the cake of soap lying beside the pulled plug. A Nazi Oberleutnant burning a piece of paper with the date and place of the D-Day Invasion written on it.

He saw a man who intended to poison the entire water supply of Denver die of a heart attack in a roadside rest-stop on I-80 in Iowa with a bag of McDonald’s French fries on his lap. He saw a terrorist wired up with explosives suddenly turn away from a crowded restaurant in a city that might have been Jerusalem. The terrorist had been transfixed by nothing more than the sky, and the thought that it arced above the just and unjust alike. He saw four men rescue a little boy from a monster whose entire head seemed to consist of a single eye.

But more important than any of these was the vast, accretive weight of small things, from planes which hadn’t crashed to men and women who had come to the correct place at the perfect time and thus founded generations. He saw kisses exchanged in doorways and wallets returned and men who had come to a splitting of the way and chosen the right fork.

He saw a thousand random meetings that weren’t random, ten thousand right decisions, a hundred thousand right answers, a million acts of unacknowledged kindness.

He saw the old people of River Crossing and Roland kneeling in the dust for Aunt Talitha’s blessing; again heard her giving it freely and gladly.

Heard her telling him to lay the cross she had given him at the foot of the Dark Tower and speak the name of Talitha Unwin at the far end of the earth. He saw the Tower itself in the burning folds of the rose and for a moment understood its purpose: how it distributed its lines of force to all the worlds that were and held them steady in time’s great helix.

For every brick that landed on the ground instead of some little kid’s head, for every tornado that missed the trailer park, for every missile that didn’t fly, for every hand stayed from violence, there was the Tower.

And the quiet, singing voice of the rose. The song that promised all might be well, all might be well, that all manner of things might be well.”

Dark tower illustrations (part 4)

“Who can remember the pangs and sweetness of those early years? We remember our first real love no more clearly than the illusions that caused us to rave during a high fever.”
― Stephen King, Wizard and Glass

“Men were funny, aye, so they were, and the most amusing thing about them was how little they knew it. Men, with their swaggering, belt-hitching names for themselves. Men, so proud of their muscles, their drinking capacities, their eating capacities; so everlastingly proud of their pricks. Yes, even in these times, when a good many of them could shoot nothing but strange, bent seed that produced children fit only to be drowned in the nearest well. Ah, but it was never their fault, was it, dear? No, always it was the woman—her womb, her fault. Men were such cowards. Such grinning cowards. These three had been no different from the general run. The old one with the limp might bear watching—aye, so he might, a clear and overly curious pair of eyes had looked out at her from his head—but she saw nothing in them she could not deal with, came it to that. Men! She could not understand why so many women feared them. Hadn’t the gods made them with the most vulnerable part of their guts hanging right out of their bodies, like a misplaced bit of bowel? Kick them there and they curled up like snails. Caress them there and their brains melted. Anyone who doubted that second bit of wisdom need only look at her night’s second bit of business, the one which still lay ahead.”

Dark tower illustrations (part 3)

“All is silent in the halls of the dead. All is forgotten in the stone halls of the dead, Behold the stairways which stand in darkness; behold the rooms of ruin. These are the halls of the dead where the spiders spin and the great circuits fall quiet, one by one.”
― Stephen King, The Waste Lands

“The lessons which are remembered the longest, Roland knew, are always the ones that are self-taught.”

Dark tower illustrations (part 2)

“He walked out of nowhere toward nowhere, a man from another time who, it seemed, had reached a point of pointless ending.”
― Stephen King, The Drawing of the Three


“The Tower. He would come to the Dark Tower and there he would sing their names; there he would sing their names; there he would sing all their names. The sun stained the east a dusky rose, and at last Roland, no longer the last gunslinger but one of the last three, slept and dreamed his angry dreams through which there ran only that one soothing blue thread: There I will sing all their names!”

 

Dark tower illustrations (part 1)

“Yet suppose further. Suppose that all worlds, all universes, met at a single nexus, a single pylon, a Tower. And within it, a stairway, perhaps rising to the Godhead itself. Would you dare climb to the top, gunslinger? Could it be that somewhere above all of endless reality, there exists a room?…’

You dare not.’

And in the gunslinger’s mind, those words echoed: You dare not.”
― Stephen King, The Gunslinger

“The greatest mystery the universe offers is not life but size. Size encompasses life, and the Tower encompasses size. The child, who is most at home with wonder, says: Daddy, what is above the sky? And the father says: The darkness of space. The child: What is beyond space? The father: The galaxy. The child: Beyond the galaxy? The father: Another galaxy. The child: Beyond the other galaxies? The father: No one knows.

You see? Size defeats us. For the fish, the lake in which he lives is the universe. What does the fish think when he is jerked up by the mouth through the silver limits of existence and into a new universe where the air drowns him and the light is blue madness? Where huge bipeds with no gills stuff it into a suffocating box and cover it with wet weeds to die?

Or one might take the tip of the pencil and magnify it. One reaches the point where a stunning realization strikes home: The pencil tip is not solid; it is composed of atoms which whirl and revolve like a trillion demon planets. What seems solid to us is actually only a loose net held together by gravity. Viewed at their actual size, the distances between these atoms might become league, gulfs, aeons. The atoms themselves are composed of nuclei and revolving protons and electrons. One may step down further to subatomic particles. And then to what? Tachyons? Nothing? Of course not. Everything in the universe denies nothing; to suggest an ending is the one absurdity.

If you fell outward to the limit of the universe, would you find a board fence and signs reading DEAD END? No. You might find something hard and rounded, as the chick must see the egg from the inside. And if you should peck through the shell (or find a door), what great and torrential light might shine through your opening at the end of space? Might you look through and discover our entire universe is but part of one atom on a blade of grass? Might you be forced to think that by burning a twig you incinerate an eternity of eternities? That existence rises not to one infinite but to an infinity of them?”

The Dark Tower Movie * The Beams still stand, barely

I just got back from the 19:19 showing of The Dark Tower. Guess what, folks?

It didn’t suck. I loved it. (Even though it scored a meagre 19% on Rotten Tomatoes)

For those of you who are determined to not go for whatever reasons, I pity you. You are missing another turn of the wheel. This movie was fast paced, had great special effects, good casting, and it sets things up perfectly for the upcoming TV series.

Sure, like all fans, I would have loved to see them Peter Jackson the shit out of this. You know, six epic films. But, that isn’t what happened.

This is another turn of the wheel.

It’s NOT the books. It starts all over.

Roland has given up on saving the Tower and he’s only after revenge. Things are different for Jake too. In this turn, his father has died and his step father is trying to get him sent away. The dreams are driving him crazy. He’s having a tough time. I think that the movie does a good job of providing enough context that anyone unfamiliar with the Dark Tower series will understand what is going on. I found I followed all of the action perfectly. It all made sense. Continue reading “The Dark Tower Movie * The Beams still stand, barely”

The Dark Tower is coming!!

This has been around for a couple of years and after having read all 7 books (and only hated half of the last one), and ALL the comics, and Robin’s Guide to the Dark Tower, I was psyched to see a movie adaptation coming along. Then disappointed when I saw Idris Elba cast as Roland. Not Racist here, just basically raising my fist to the producer who thought casting a black actor to play a white guy’s role (same as in the Netflix adaptation of Death Note – Netflix’s ‘Death Note’ accused of ‘whitewashing’).

Roland Deschain, for those of you who have not read the epic series, is the last Gunslinger, a descendant of Eld with blue bombardier eyes and a Clint Eastwood look about him.
Doesn’t the strong eye color hint more than a stern stare? When you look at him, Last Gunslinger of Mid-World, even his big guns are the reforged metal from the sword of Eld.
I personally always think of it as the way the eyes of the main character is described in Lois Lowry’s The Giver, that the blue is special. Continue reading “The Dark Tower is coming!!”

Dark Tower Tees would make my world spin faster

As seen on http://www.teefury.com/shop/dark-tower
1400687314_b-MCO-Beam

“The road and the tale have both been long, would you not say so? The trip has been long and the cost has been high… but no great thing was ever attained easily. A long tale, like a tall Tower, must be built a stone at a time.”

Continue reading “Dark Tower Tees would make my world spin faster”