Neverwhere - Blog Posts

It is so magical that I can listen to a book read by the author themselves

I mean, listening to Neverwhere written AND performed by @neil-gaiman is truly an amazing experience. It's as if he were my uncle who would read me to sleep and tuck me in afterwards. So comforting. Thank you, Neil Gaiman, for your works!

Since I've had the time, I've been going through my own personal shit to do with mental health - the aftermath of my childhood SA, for a start, and what thought patterns and beliefs I could unlearn from them. Won't go too much into it, but damn there's been a lot to unravel recently...

In the meantime, I've been having several dreams involving a certain Mr. Neil Gaiman - a naïvely placed favourite of mine. And in short, I just want to say;

Everything about him makes me deeply uncomfortable now especially considering what I've pushed away and not dealt with for so long.

It might seem like I'm making it personal but there are thousands (maybe tens of thousands) of women and girls in the world who go through this awful fucking shit on a daily basis and I've just about had enough of it.

You might be pleased to know I screamed and yelled and fucking got every last little thing out that I had to. I'm proud dream me had the courage to stand up to such a disgusting man, even if it was in my head. Nobody, but nobody should be put through the shit he's pulled. And damn it was cathartic even in my subconscious to completely destroy him. It felt like a little bit of closure for me at least. Then the news that's come out about his NDAs??? Suing people?? Honestly just choke.

read this book for the first time when i was 8 in my doctor's office waiting for an appointment. loved it then, hopefully love it more now. @neil-gaiman has produced the books of my childhood

A continuation of a series that I originally started as oil paintings, that were in turn inspired by the book Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman.  I’ve always loved doors, doorways, and the hallways in between, and that story had some special doors in it.  Aren’t books doors?

Portals, windows, and moongates that lead to places other than here are fascinating.  Even now when I go between two posts on the sidewalk, the ones holding up a sign, I imagine that I somehow crossover to a world different from where I once was, but still very similar. 

One of these days I’ll come across a paper airplane under those posts.

She is reading Neverwhere, and the octopus is reading a book about idioms. 

"It really is a great day to read at the park," he mused, pleased as punch.