I Grok Moq

I have recently been introduced to the pleasures of generating AI pictures using Grok, and have been working on images illustrating concepts and characters from my proposed series, The Wizard, The Prince, The Warrior, and His Son. I am currently working on Episode Five. 

This is what Grok came up for me for the Wind-Wagon, the principal mode of transportation during the Quest that fuels the series. It is pretty accurate except for the ports for cannon; no gunpowder in my fantasy world. I am trying to produce portraits of the whole Crew who make up the principal characters. I've had some success except for Moq (the Son of the title). He is a young Morg, a member of our original fantasy race, and Grok can't seem to bend its mind around my descriptions.

John was able to produce a pretty good picture of Roth, another Morg and the Warrior of the title, but had to use as a prompt an actual picture I drew years ago (see elsewhere in this blog). I'm not sure which program he used and it didn't come out perfectly either.

I guess I'm going to have to brush up my old drawing skills and see if my stiff, numb fingers can produce a prototype for Grok to fill out. If it works, I'll have the whole Crew available to help me visualize stuff. 

Meanwhile here's a picture of Dunwolf, a wizard who has appeared in several related stories on the Niche. Easier to produce, as he's mostly human. At the time of the series he is basically history, but his teachings and philosophy are still a big influence.

Me, ME, ME!

This represents a little project I did back in the last years of the 20^th Century, when I had my first computer and copy ink was cheap and plentiful. What I did was makes scans of photos of me through the years, blow them up to a page size, and then made a sort of collage/paneled pin-up on my bedroom door.

I did this not so much out of vanity but more as a psychological experiment, a sort of record of how I developed, ballooned, grew hairy, then scrimpled with age. To see my past selves all staring at me, through various stages of hopefulness and expectation (and yes, somehow, judgement) produced a peculiar feeling of responsibility, an indefinable feeling of continuity that might best be summed up as “Get busy, old man.” And, in an odd way, it was a cheering section. You’ve come this far; make it count.

I decided to memorialize it with a Polaroid (do you remember Polaroids? More clumsy and expensive than just snapping a picture with a phone), but I could only fit it in in two go’s. It’s just as well I did, because in due time I tripped and spattered some tea across it. I took it down and I still have the splashed pages tucked away somewhere in the Family Files. But I have these scans of the Polaroids, themselves now a reminder of the past Brer who made them.

 

The Horror. The Horror.

Well, it has become obvious that Netflix, having excreted on Tolkien’s world, is all set to vomit on Lewis’s Narnia this November in the form of their new film of The Magician’s Nephew. There are certain parasites that attach themselves to higher life forms, hollow them out, and force them into suicidal actions. They kill the host and benefit themselves. The comparison is apt. Principal photography wrapped on January 31^st. Listen to all these empty buzz words. Most of them are direct quotes.

According to Netflix CEO Rich Gelfond, Greta Gerwig’s Narnia will feature a contemporary, rock-influenced sound, with artists like Pink Floyd and The Doors cited as examples of the tone fans can expect. The film’s score is composed by music producer Mark Ronson, who recently worked on Barbie. Producer Amy Pascal made a remark in 2024, when she said “This is a real blockbuster movie that’s being made for [IMAX and Netflix] and you know, I guess I do have to talk a little about why I’m so excited about it. This is not your mother’s or your grandmother‘s Narnia. The music in it is unbelievably contemporary music, which IMAX fans like. I’m not going to say specifically, but things like Pink Floyd and The Doors. You know that kind of music which people go to see in IMAX.”

 IMAX Investor Day presentation IMAX’s Executive VP and Chief Content Officer Jonathan said, “And of course, in November, we are bringing visionary filmmaker, Greta Gerwig’s [who did uncedited work on the recent live-action Snow White] bold, reimagining of the world of Narnia, exclusively to IMAX screens around the globe as a Filmed for IMAX title.”

“We have one of the most singular creative voices and commercial forces in film, making a truly epic blockbuster film that will only be available in IMAX for fans around the world,” he added.

““Gerwig, whose films have found fresh, original ways into beloved stories, brings her singular vision to Lewis’s iconic world explored in The Chronicles of Narnia series.”

 The film’s producer Amy Pascal had also previously claimed, “It’s a very new take on Narnia. It’s all about rock and roll.”

Additionally, during the IMAX Investor Day presentation IMAX’s Executive VP and Chief Content Officer Jonathan Fischer made it clear the film is a “reimagining” of Lewis’ work.

They have made it clear that they are ignoring the protests of millions of faithful Narnia fans: they own the rights and will do whatever they want.

Finally, the film is also rumored to have cast Meryl Streep to play a sex-swapped Aslan.  “Oscar winner Meryl Streep is in talks to play Aslan the Great Lion in Greta Gerwig and Netlfix’s Narnia movie, we have confirmed with sources.” We haven’t heard yet if this is true. Will Aslan appear wearing a Gerwig? One thing we can almost be sure of is that the "rock'n'roll" (which is probably a reference to the Music of Creation that Aslan uses to sing Narnia into being) will not be up to the quality of Pink Floyd OR The Doors.

The Lord of the Rings: The Houses of Healing (Part Two)

‘Now as the sun went down Aragorn and Eomer and Imrahil drew near the City with their captains and knights; and when the came before the Gate Aragorn said: ‘Behold the Sun setting in a great fire! It is a sign of the end and fall of many things, and a change in the tides of the world.’

He declares he will not enter Minas Tirith just yet. It has been in the rule of the Stewards for many years and to enter it unbidden might seem like a challenge, and cause upheaval among the people at this time of trouble. He’ll camp outside until welcomed in.

Eomer says that he’s already risen the standard of Elendil and the kings; will he let that be humbled? But Imrahil says he is wise; Denethor (whom he still believes is alive) is proud but old and set in his ways, and he’s been acting odd since Faramir was stricken down. ‘Yet I would not have you remain like a beggar at the door.’

‘Not a beggar,’ said Aragorn. ‘Say a Captain of the Rangers, who are unused to cities and houses of stone.’ He has his banner furled and takes off the Star of the North-kingdom and gives it to Elladan and Elrohir to keep for him.

But Eomer and Imrahil go into the City and go up to the Citadel, looking for the Steward to report and confer with. But when they come to the Hall of the tower his chair is empty, and before it is the body of Theoden, covered in a cloth of gold, laid in state with sword and shield and guarded by twelve knights of Rohan and twelve knights of Gondor. The peace of death is upon him, and he seems young, and wise beyond the reach of youth.

Imrahil asks of a guard for the Steward and is told he is in the Houses of Healing. And Eomer asks about Eowyn. Shouldn’t she be lying here with Theoden, in no less honor? Imrahil answers that she was still alive when they bore her in; didn’t Eomer know?

‘Then hope unlooked-for came so suddenly to Eomer’s heart, and with it the bite of care and fear renewed, that he said no more, but turned and went swiftly from the hall; and the Prince followed him.’ It is evening outside, and stars shine in the darkness above. Outside the Houses of Healing they meet Gandalf and ‘one cloaked in grey.’ They ask for the Steward; has he been hurt? And what of the Lady Eowyn?

Gandalf says she is inside, but near death. And the Steward is the wounded Faramir, for Denethor is now dead and his house in ashes. ‘And they were filled with grief and wonder at the tale he told.’ Imrahil says it is a sad day when both Rohan and Gondor lose their rulers. Eomer is new King of Rohan; with Faramir in peril, shouldn’t they now send for Aragorn?

‘And the cloaked man spoke and said: ‘He is come.’ He throws back his hood and it is Aragorn, wrapped in the grey cloak of Lorien, his only token the green stone Galadriel gave him. Gandalf has begged him to come. He is here not as king, though, but only as Captain of the Dunedain of the North. He says by his counsel Imrahil, as the Steward’s near kinsman, should rule until Faramir awakes, but that all their actions should be ruled by Gandalf in their ‘dealings with the Enemy.’ And Eomer and Imrahil agree.

‘Then Gandalf said: ‘Let us not stay at the door, for the time is urgent. For it is only in the coming of Aragorn that any hope remains for the sick that lie in the House. Thus spake Ioreth, wise-woman of Gondor: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.’

Notes

“The peace and youthfulness of the dead often represent a transition from earthly suffering to a state of calm, eternal rest, as described in literature and spiritual, as well as scientific, contexts. This state is frequently characterized by a release from fear, shame, and physical limitations, creating a "marble sleep" or serene, unchanging, and youthful stillness.” – AI summation.

Aragorn is very careful not to enter as merely a conquering hero, lest he seem too high-handed. All his claims to the kingdom must be established and proved first; he is not merely a victorious warrior; he is rightful king. His humility seems a little wry when says to tell people he is shy and not used to such high falutin’ stone buildings.

Ioreth seems to be a name that simply means old woman. That the hands of a king have the power to heal is an old medieval idea; the power was supposed to descend on them when they were sacramentally anointed. It is mentioned in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, where Edward the Confessor is mentioned as having the power. It is a form of laying on of hands, called the Royal (or King’s) Touch, and was said to cure the King’s Evil (scrofula, a tubercular infection). The last monarch of England to perform the Royal Touch was Queen Anne in the early 1700’s. The infant Samuel Johnson was among the people she touched, to indifferent results.

Mike at Sixty-Four

Today would have been my brother Mike’s 64^th birthday. My mind kind of baulks when I try to imagine a 64-year-old Mike; would he wear a grey beard? Would he be fatter or thinner? How much of his great strength would he have left? Would he be plagued with any of the other health problems that bedevil the rest of us boys or would he have his own peculiar ailments? Where and how would he live? Would he, could he, finally be happy? Speculations that can never be known or will ever be known, now. For good or ill, the matter is settled.

I was watching Crimes and Misdemeanors the other day, and I was reminded by the accent of the little old professor in it that in the past I could do a passable version of him and that Mike had wanted me to do it as a voiceover on a project he was speculating on. And that led me to thinking about his favorite movies and music and above all authors, and how his own Archive was scattered to the winds, and of how much it revealed about him, and of how much of it could I remember.

For a moment I was panicked by how little came to mind. There was of course first and always Ernest Hemingway, whom Mike looked upon almost as a father figure and role model. Straight-forward, hard-writing, hard-drinking, a man’s man who knew his hunting and who could throw a punch and write a lean, sinewy prose. The fact that Heminway ultimately committed suicide was an unfortunate element in the mix; it always suggested it as an alternative to suffering. Thankfully it never came to that.

But as I thought more and more about it, more authors sprang to mind. The trouble was there were almost too many to remember, and John recalled more. John Steinbeck, F. Scott Fitzgerald, William Faulkner, John Gardner, Herman Melville, William Shakespeare, William S. Burroughs, Jean-Ferdinand Celine, Charles Bukowski, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Leo Tolstoy, Cormac McCarthy, Thomas Harris. They came in layers through his life, first American Modernism, then Russian Realism, then Outsider stuff, then Modern American Gothic; with Shakespeare and Melville sprinkled liberally throughout.

And almost inextricably linked with that was his taste in music. The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, Tom Petty, Van Morrison, Boomtown Rats, Pink Floyd, Roger Waters, David Bowie, The Clash, Big Audio Dynamite, Nine Inch Nails. Music that tended to struggle with Issues, and Dark Emotion, and Troubled Relationships. There had to be real meat in the stew, something to get your teeth into and chew a bit.

Along with Books and Music, I wanted to include Movies, but fewer examples sprang to mind. The Godfather I & II, Apocalypse Now, The Seven Samurai, The Seventh Seal, M, and Jaws, of course. These are films that I can definitely state had his loyalty. I’m sure there were many more, but again, my mind baulks. He was less demonstrative about film, but again, you can see the themes of Struggle and Survive, with very little Sentiment.

Which I think contradicts an ultimate truth about my brother, which is that he was a man of great love and loyalties. But he had been hurt: the disillusionment of religion (the hypocritical JW’s), a tragic high school romance (rejection), our parents seeming indifference to his future (what did they know about college?); all had made him wary about where to place his trust. I think his approach to art, whether literature, music, or movies, was the rejection of sentiment and the development of a hard outer armor, that tested and turned whatever was flung at it. Something tough to protect the tender soul underneath.

Before he passed away, I think he was beginning to come out of his shell. As an uncle, he could be a better kind of a parent, and get love that was sincere and adoring. His caregiving job was a good outlet for his inner teacher and guard-dog. He was responding to the arguments of a cleaner kind of religion. If he had lived, who knows where he would be now?

Happy Birthday, Mike. We remember. We remember, though we can forget so much.

 

2021 Diary: A Day Early and $2 Short

2/9/2021: Mike’s 59^th birthday. Prayers, Bible. Wished Mike happy birthday on FB. Showered, dressed. Had some olive loaf and cheese sandwiches for breakfast. At 8 AM saw Kameron off to school. Cleaned the house up. At 11 AM went out to wait for John. He rolled up and we sat on the porch and talked about Mike and the world situation and Goldfire. After a bit Susan and Andy rolled up and they talked a bit. Later at 1 PM they were to take Kam for his Social Security appointment. John and I decided to go to town to the Dollar Store (got a couple of lobster eggrolls and some flatware and a spatula. Then we went into Walmart, and besides a few groceries I bought a $15 Robbie the Robot, which makes a good companion to my Lost in Space Robut. Back home by 1:30 PM, and John headed on home. About 3 PM started supper (sausages and cabbage etc.). At 4:30 PM went in. Heard them back about 5 PM. Posted on NOT about Mike. Went in and washed up at 7:30 PM. They’d had some of the birthday cake I made for Mike so that’s good. Made Kam some corndogs and taquitos. Came back and had my cake, watched GA. Ready for bed at 9 AM, I think. Found clipping from 1972 for SHS “The Hobbit” [play].

 

2/10/2021: Up about 5:30. Prayers, Bible. Got dressed, cartoons on METV. Had spring-rolls and a piece of cake for breakfast. Wrote about a page of AF, then went out a bit before 8 AM to start rosary. The weather’s gone cold again, in the 40’s. Waited with Kameron for bus. Came in, finished rosary. Now 8:30 AM.

Gee, what did I do all day? Posted on NOT, worked on a Tolkien Timeline for my personal interaction with Middle-earth over the years, ate fried eggs, sausage links, met Kam at 1 PM, made stuffed bell peppers and baked potatoes between 3 and 4:45 PM, went in at 8 PM and cleaned up. Weather got colder over the day and a light rain at evening. Watched a few episodes of “In Praise of Shadows” on YT; it is a bright, colorful experience if lacking in scholarship and understanding. It has a rather jackdaw way of taking the kitchen sink and throwing it at the wall to see what sticks. It seems to think that because Gandalf wears a pointy hat and does magic that he can be termed a witch, which is a rather superficial reading at best. Bed 10 PM.

 

2/11/2021: Woke up a little before 3 AM, with a pain in my leg up from my little toe to my hip. Washed dishes. Prayed, Bible, and rosary. Dropped off. Up at 6 AM to alarm. Cartoons. Got dressed.

Went out about 8 AM for Kam, but it was so cold that Andy waited with him in the truck so I didn’t have to.  Just a little later it got rainy with some lightning. I went out and waited for Kam at 1 PM. I shared some breaded shrimp with him that I had made for lunch, and also ate the leftover cabbage.

At 4 PM I made chili, noodles, and corn (none of which I ate), and fed the pets. Went in a little after 7 PM and supervised Kam making his own taquitos and cheese sticks, then washed up. An early bed a little after 9 PM.

 

2/12/2021: Woke up a little after 6 AM with a cramp. That started my prayers off with an unusual quickness and sincerity, as I thought it might be the first symptoms of the attack I’ve been kind of expecting along with the pains in my right leg. It passed though, and I finished my prayers a bit more calmly and read my Bible. Dressed, watched cartoons (all romance themed, since Valentines’ Day is near). Caught up diary; now 7 AM.

Well, shoot. I went looking for a picture of SHS to post with my blog and got distracted by finding Scott Bates’ blog. What with this and that it was after 9:20 AM that I realized I should have been out at 8 AM to wait with Kameron. I mean, probably Andy waited with him with the truck but darn, to not even have thought about it? Was it just the distraction or is my MIND going soft? I feel terrible.

As it turns out, Kam waited with Andy in his truck, so all was well. Very cold all day. Waited for Kam at 1 PM.  Started frying potatoes at 2:30 PM; finished a little after 5 PM. Also made fish. Cleaned up at 7:30 PM. Went to bed about 9 PM, after rosary.

 

2/14/2021: Valentine’s Day. Up at 6 AM. Prayers, Bible. Showered, got dressed in many layers, because in the twenties today! Left a little before 7 AM. Was doing fine until I got to the back of the bank, where the metal coverings of the water system proved to be iced over and I fell. Struggled a few minutes, then a passing Good Samaritan helped me to my feet, God bless him.

Was the first at church besides the ushers. Rosary. There were probably less than 30 people altogether, because of the weather, I guess. More later, possibly, though the weather and temps will be much the same.

Home again by 9:30 AM or so. Ate 2 cans of chicken noodle soup and a can of clam chowder, fortified with Itza crackers. Took a nap. About 1 PM called Susan and asked if we wanted to get Chicken Express. She said maybe for supper. She sent over broccoli salad and later got a piece of DQ cake.

I started making my order to HEB and it was just about 1:30 PM when the internet went out. Back on about 20 minutes later. Listened to “Babylon Bee Reads LOTR”, on Tom Bombadil.

About 4:30 PM Andy and I crawled out in the icy weather and got Chicken Express. Got back alive and had a good meal. Throughout the evening the new Sunday animations were pre-empted by an extended racing show. Hit the hay (feeling pretty sore).

 

2/15/2021: President’s Day. Electricity went out about 2 AM and on again 4 AM. Oh, ‘twas dark with primeval darkness and I barely made my way to the bathroom with my Kindle. When the lights came on again it was if the world had suddenly been created. It was snowing, and by morning there were about 3 or 4 inches or more everywhere, a winter wonderland. I looked on the computer and saw my HEB order was for Thursday; I hadn’t noticed how full the days were. It’s alright, I have plenty … plenty of ramen! Started my prayers. Also, my music library miraculously reappeared, so there’s that.

Andy came over about 11:45 AM (apparently, he and Susan are off work – snow day) and he brought me over the leftover chicken and a couple of bananas. The sky was clear and the sun was out, but still very cold. About 1 PM I gather up the trash, wrapped my feet, and hiked the bags through the snow to the garbage and recycle bins, using my brass-tipped staff.

Went in about 3:45 PM and made the cucumber salad, couscous, and fish cakes. Got the cup noodle and a jug of water. Spent some time trying to see if I could get the heating element of the AC going, but no dice. So concentrated on putting towels in front of the door and in the bathroom window, piling my bedclothes correctly, and having the little heater up higher than usual. It makes a metallic stink like burning electronics, so I don’t like to do it. Watched GP, GA, and drifted off to sleep. A little after midnight I woke up and prayed rosary.

Notes

Wow. The five-year anniversary of my fall on the ice. I remember struggling in the cold dim morning of a mostly deserted city like a tortoise on my back. I’m not sure if I had a phone at the time, or if I hadn’t brought it with me. I think I crushed my hip-bone a little; I swear I feel it yet. Bless my rescuer again.

Also the five-year anniversary of getting Robby the Robot. He sits next to my desk to this day, still in his box. I’m ‘afraid to cut the cake,’ as it were. Well, it protects his more fragile dealy-boppers. His batteries still work!

And snow and a malfunctioning wall unit. This winter has been much easier; still some cold and ice and below freezing temperatures, but right now – up in the 70’s and low 80’s!

Tune in tomorrow for a tribute to Mike’s 64^th Birthday.

 

The Sagas and Such Shelf

Only using primary sources here; no general works on Norse mythology or retellings or history, except maybe Christopher Tolkien's The Saga of King Heidrek the Wise. I don't have those copies of the Eddas anymore; I kind of wish I did, but I can always read them online; not technically sagas, but kind of contemporary background sources. Maybe I'll get Penguin editions of them.