night film: a novel

If the world ever leaves you feeling hopeless, remember that Star Trek was cancelled twice and deemed an utter failure; then rose from the ashes to become the flagship for all of science fiction, spawning six spin-offs, fourteen movies, and enough novels to keep the fires burning through the Long Night. Oh, and inspired new technology, popularized fan fiction, created slash, forged the foundation for modern fan culture, and pushed young people to the sciences. A show that was fucking cancelled. CANCELLED!

So. When it gets bad out there, just… be Star Trek.


      Although there are many of these promotions floating about, I’ve found this is the most efficient way of reaching out and meeting writers. I fervidly assign my attention to strictly canon material, and I anticipate woking with all verses.  

     If at all you are interested in writing with an Ahkmenrah of the Night at the Museum trilogy, (novelization, film, and script) I would be thrilled to delve elements of a storyline with you! Please, Like or reblog if you are interested in working with this muse, and I’ll gladly take a look! 

anonymous asked:

what are some of the most downright magical books you've ever read? xxx

Here are 10!

1. Artful, Ali Smith 

“It’s about the connecting force from form to form. It’s the toe bone connecting to the shoulder bone. It’s the bacterial kick of life force, something growing out of nothing, forming itself out of something else. Form never stops. And form is always environmental.”

2. The Rings of Saturn, W.G. Sebald

“This then, I thought, as I looked round about me, is the representation of history. It requires a falsification of perspective. We, the survivors, see everything from above, see everything at once, and still we do not know how it was.” 

3. Bough Down, Karen Green

“Before I went to work we were under the olive tree and you were doing what you called psych patient smoking and you said, I don’t want to be Satan but will you join me and we pulled up our shirts to rub bellies and yours was so much flatter but filled with garden bread anyway anyway up went our shirts, solar to solar plexus, and it was a comforting ritual we daily did and I said, Let’s do this for the rest of our lives. You said, You look lovely.

It’s hard to remember tender things tenderly.”

3. Adam Bede, George Eliot

“Our caresses, our tender words, our still rapture under the influence of autumn sunsets, or pillared vistas, or calm majestic statues, or Beethoven symphonies, all bring with them the consciousness that they are mere waves and ripples in an unfathomable ocean of love and beauty: our emotion in its keenest moment passes from expression into silence, our love at its highest flood rushes beyond its object, and loses itself in the sense of divine mystery.”

4. Housekeeping, Marilynne Robinson

“To crave and to have are as like as a thing and its shadow. For when does a berry break upon the tongue as sweetly as when one longs to taste it, and when is the taste refracted into so many hues and savors of ripeness and earth, and when do our senses know any thing so utterly as when we lack it? And here again is a foreshadowing – the world will be made whole. For to wish for a hand on one’s hair is all but to feel it. So whatever we may lose, very craving gives it back to us again.”

4. Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, David Foster Wallace

“There’s been time this whole time. You can’t kill time with your heart. Everything takes time.” 

5. The Portrait of a Lady, Henry James 

“Take things more easily. Don’t ask yourself so much whether this or that is good for you. Don’t question your conscience so much–it will get out of tune like a strummed piano. Keep it for great occasions. Don’t try so much to form your character–it’s like trying to pull open a tight, tender young rose. Live as you like best, and your character will take care of itself.”

6. My Poets, Maureen McLane

“Love is an outrageous experiment in the pathetic fallacy, the machinery of projection–O let us call it hope, let us call it trust, let us call it desire–set in motion so the space between lovers might vibrate. The anxiety about and for the other: Do you feel as I do? Do I know how you feel? Do your words align with your feelings, your thoughts? Does your body respond in tune? Are we in tune? Do you know yourself? How shall I know you? I shall I know if I know you?”

7. Dubliners, James Joyce

“Sometimes he caught himself listening to the sound of his own voice. He thought that in her eyes he would ascent to an angelical stature; and, as he attached the fervent nature of his companion more and more closely to him, he heard the strange impersonal voice which he recognised as his own, insisting on the soul’s incurable lonliness. We cannot give ourselves, it said: we are our own.” 

8. The Night Sky, Ann Lauterbach

“We make music, painting, sculpture, films, novels in order to mediate our mortal visiting rights: a specifically human wish to intercede, to punctuate the ongoingness of time and the seemingly random distributions of nature. This punctuation is called history or, more precisely, culture, or, more precisely still, history of culture, now understood as a great plurality: histories, cultures. It turns out they–the its of history and the itsof culture–are multiple and various, not linear and single. And so “the night sky” is a simple overarching rubric, a way of naming this variation and multiplicity, and to suggest that the way words make sentences and sentences paragraphs is also a kind of constellating, where imagined structures are drawn from an apparently infinite fund: words, stars.”

9. Bluets, Maggie Nelson

“I want you to know, if you ever read this, there was a time when I would rather have had you by my side than any one of these words; I would rather have had you by my side than all the blue in the world.

But now you are talking as if love were a consolation. Simone Weil warned otherwise. ‘Love is not consolation,’ she wrote. 'It is light.’

All right then, let me try to rephrase. When I was alive, I aimed to be a student not of longing but of light.” 

10. The Renaissance, Walter Pater

“Every moment some form grows perfect in hand or face; some tone on the hills or the sea is choicer than the rest; some mood of passion or insight or intellectual excitement is irresistibly real and attractive to us, — for that moment only. Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself, is the end. A counted number of pulses only is given to us of a variegated, dramatic life. How may we see in them all that is to seen in them by the finest senses? How shall we pass most swiftly from point to point, and be present always at the focus where the greatest number of vital forces unite in their purest energy?

To burn always with this hard, gemlike flame, to maintain this ecstasy, is success in life.”