Author Topic: N E K R O N O M I K O N  (Read 192261 times)

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Boban

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« on: 08-10-2008, 16:04:55 »
Jutros u cik zore obrati mi se umilni glas i predstavi kao službenik prinudne naplate za poresku upravu, te me obavesti da se od mene očekuje da odmah izmirim svoje obaveze iz godine 2005... nekih 1.4 miliona dinara.
To je inače prastara priča, službenica na šalteru je pogrešila kod upisivanja zaduženja pa je umesto 14000,00 napisala 1400000. Ja sam u toj celoj godini imao bruto promet 540000 dinara i potpuno je nelogična tražena cifra. Službenica je na šalteru odmah shvatila grešku, ali nije mogla da ispravi bez načelnice, načelnica je odmah shvatila da je greška ali ne može bez mog zvaničnog zahteva kroz pisarnicu... i tako... ja podnesem sve što je trebalo, godinu dana kasnije opet me traže. Ja opet odem i opet se isvađam i kao opet svi sve shvate i prođemo celu proceduru.
I onda ovo jutros.
Svi me već znaju i taj što uteruje naplatu, kaže, kad vidim da neko duguje ovoliko para odmah se obradujem, a posle vidim da si to ti pa se snuždim. Šalterska službenica je zgranuta što to nije ispravljeno, načelnica zna da je ispravila ali nije joj jasno zašto sam još uvek na listi dužnika...
I tako, odlazeći iz poreske službe, u ludilu magnovenja shvatim o čemu se radi; tih 14000 je bio porez koji sam platio na ghulov honorar za Nekronomikon. I kao da mi je neki glas govorio: Nećeš se rešiti duga dok ne izdaš knjigu.
Eto, dakle, ne bih ja, ali pritislo sa svih strana.
http://www.everest.rs/img/NekronomikonUVOD.PDF
Put ćemo naći ili ćemo ga napraviti.

Ghoul

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« Reply #1 on: 08-10-2008, 16:11:45 »
ma daj, kakav je to porez od 35%, i to za nekoga ko je zaposleno lice, ima potvrdu o zaposlenju itd?

nego, nadam se da nisi pustio u štampu ovaj pdf pošto ima nekoliko grešaka, pre svega u sadržaju.

Boban

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« Reply #2 on: 08-10-2008, 17:18:54 »
Naravno da sam pustio; ispravljaćemo kada stigne probni otisak.
Put ćemo naći ili ćemo ga napraviti.

Mica Milovanovic

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« Reply #3 on: 08-10-2008, 18:55:20 »
Radite knjigu pet godina i ne možete da napravite sadržaj bez slovnih grešaka...  :x

Njarla bi svisnuo...
Mica

Milosh

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« Reply #4 on: 08-10-2008, 18:59:54 »
Trebalo je topik nazvati: Cthulhu, reaguj!

:lol:
"Ernest Hemingway once wrote: "The world is a fine place and worth fighting for." I agree with the second part."

http://milosh.mojblog.rs/

Boban

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« Reply #5 on: 08-10-2008, 20:32:15 »
Pa to je sadržaj koji je dao dizajner kao predlog; nije još konačno prihvaćeno, a ni odrađeno. ako izdrži vizuelnu probu ide na finalizaciju. Sav onaj okerasti ton ispod crnog teksta mora da bude mnogo svetliji; ima tu još štošta za menjati.
Sem toga, kako da uradim knjigu kada priređivač i dan danas unosi izmene i pravi konceptualne rokade?
Put ćemo naći ili ćemo ga napraviti.

Ghoul

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« Reply #6 on: 08-10-2008, 20:54:32 »
Quote from: "Mica Milovanovic"
Radite knjigu pet godina i ne možete da napravite sadržaj bez slovnih grešaka...


SLOVNIH?
ko je govorio o slovnim greškama?

greška je u redosledu kritičkih textova posle priča.
(inače, sviđa mi se milošev predlog za naslov topika; ipak, još je rano da prizivamo ktulua, neka sačeka još malo sa svojom reakcijom.)

DušMan

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« Reply #7 on: 08-10-2008, 22:19:00 »
:lol:  :lol:  :lol:

Ja bih ipak zvao Ktulua.
Nekoć si bio punk, sad si Štefan Frank.

Boban

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« Reply #8 on: 08-10-2008, 22:48:04 »
Najgore u svemu je, razmišljam nešto, da ostanem upamćen u budućim vekovima kao izdavač Nekronomikona.
Put ćemo naći ili ćemo ga napraviti.

Mica Milovanovic

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« Reply #9 on: 08-10-2008, 22:55:52 »
Ja bih ipak popravio i slovne greške  :)
Mica

Boban

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« Reply #10 on: 08-10-2008, 23:00:50 »
Da li ja govorim mongolski?
Dizajner je ponudio sadržaj u slikovnom obliku, da se prihvati ili ne prihvati koncept.
Detaljno ukucavanje dolazi na kraju kada gul konačno završi sa rokadama priča, poglavlja, tekstova, fotografija....
Put ćemo naći ili ćemo ga napraviti.

DušMan

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« Reply #11 on: 08-10-2008, 23:04:19 »
Pa ta knjiga onda neće izaći još barem godinu dana.
To nije još ni prelomljeno?
Nekoć si bio punk, sad si Štefan Frank.

Boban

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« Reply #12 on: 08-10-2008, 23:10:34 »
koja knjiga?
Put ćemo naći ili ćemo ga napraviti.

DušMan

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« Reply #13 on: 08-10-2008, 23:16:57 »
Touché.
Nekoć si bio punk, sad si Štefan Frank.

Mica Milovanovic

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« Reply #14 on: 08-10-2008, 23:24:33 »
Ma, znao sam ja da su nepismeni dizajneri krivi za sve, ali nisam hteo da kažem...  :wink:
Mica

Son of Man

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« Reply #15 on: 09-10-2008, 04:01:05 »
cek cek stani stani Ibar vodo, dal to sad znachi da nece bit Nekronom'kona na sajmu ludaka ?!  :shock:  :roll:

Goran Skrobonja

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« Reply #16 on: 09-10-2008, 07:23:27 »
Ček, ček... je li "Danički užas" ili pak "Danvički..."? Ono prvo mi liči na horor priču o nekakvoj Danici - a i tada bi valjda trebalo: Daničin užas. Ili se misli na Zvezdu Danicu? Postoji li neka Zvezda Granda Danica? Auh, još mi je mnogo rano pa me asocijacije vuku kojekude Srbijo.
Tako mu je to. (K. Vonnegut)

Ghoul

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« Reply #17 on: 09-10-2008, 08:24:15 »
Quote from: "Goran Skrobonja"
Ček, ček... je li "Danički užas" ili pak "Danvički..."? Ono prvo mi liči na horor priču o nekakvoj Danici - a i tada bi valjda trebalo: Daničin užas. Ili se misli na Zvezdu Danicu? Postoji li neka Zvezda Granda Danica? Auh, još mi je mnogo rano pa me asocijacije vuku kojekude Srbijo.


hehe, znam ovo po sebi: brzo oko da spazi 'grešku', čak i kad objašnjenje postoji u istom tom UVODU koji je boban ovde domaćinski okačio u celini i celosti, uključujući i deo u kome priređivač doslovce piše:

"Dva kultna toponima, nakon konsultacijama sa američkim stručnjacima, ovde su dovedena u ispravan oblik: ono što je u ranijem prevodu bilo poznato kao 'Danvič' ovde je prepravljeno u 'Danič', dok je 'Insmaut' (po analogiji sa drugim engleskim toponima koji se završavaju sa 'mouth', kakvi su Plimut, Bornmut, i dr.) korigovan u ispravan oblik koji glasi – Insmut. Slično je postupano i sa drugim imenima mesta, likova i 'bogova'."

dakle, najveći experti za HPL pitanja su mi lično potvrdili, a posle sam našao i napismeno, da se 'Danvič' izgovara DUNNICH.
evo šta kaže vodeći HPL expert. s.t džoši u svojim anotacijama za ovu priču u knjizi THE ANNOTATED H. P. LOVECRAFT:


Goran Skrobonja

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« Reply #18 on: 09-10-2008, 08:39:43 »
Imaš malo kasnije "Danvički" - budite dosledni. U svakom slučaju, malo trapavo zvuči. Možda je bolje "Užas u Daniču" ili "Užas iz Daniča", ili "Danič je najeb'o", "Danič tropa", kako god, samo da bude jasno da je reč o toponimu, a ne o srpskom ženskom ličnom imenu Danica. Ponekad zavidim Hrvatima na njihovom o-tako-jednostavnom prepisivanju originalnih naziva.
Tako mu je to. (K. Vonnegut)

Ghoul

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« Reply #19 on: 09-10-2008, 09:00:22 »
ma vrlo je dosledno: kad se navodi sadržaj bobanovog HORORA, onda se navodi tamo kako je tamo navedeno (sa V); a potom se objašnjava kako treba, i nadalje se tera samo tako.

svaka navika ima svoju odviku, a ovo je knjiga koja ima i edukativnu a ne samo zabavnu namenu, te stoga, danič je danič, štagod danica rekla o tome.
 8)

Mica Milovanovic

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« Reply #20 on: 09-10-2008, 09:09:36 »
Hoćeš da kažeš i da se Nyarlahotep prevodi kao Niarlatotep?
Mica

Ghoul

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« Reply #21 on: 09-10-2008, 09:13:39 »
Quote from: "Mica Milovanovic"
Hoćeš da kažeš i da se Nyarlahotep prevodi kao Niarlatotep?


naravno da ne.

kažem da se Nyarlathotep najbezbolnije transkribuje kao Niarlatotep.

Mica Milovanovic

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« Reply #22 on: 09-10-2008, 09:37:14 »
Slovne greške, slovne greške...
Mica

tragac

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« Reply #23 on: 09-10-2008, 10:06:06 »
Imam jedno pitanje za one koji se bave prevodjenjem

Odrastao sam u ono vreme kada su po knjizarama bili dostupni naslovi stampani u "bratskim republikama"... Nije bilo vazno da li je jekavski ili ekavski... Svi smo se razumeli. I ako su postpjale neke razlike...
Sada se ponovo probijaju na "nase trziste" knjige stampane u Hrvatskoj.
Elem, sledi pitanje - zbog cega se jedino kod nas, u Srbiji, "prevode" licna imena, sto autora, sto junaka...Recimo, zasto Raymond E. Feist mora da bude Rejmond E. Fajst, ili Lionel Shriver mora neizostavno da bude Lajonel Šrajver? Zbog cega se to ne ostavlja onako kako je, u originalu?

Mica Milovanovic

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« Reply #24 on: 09-10-2008, 10:27:16 »
Pogledaj ovde:

http://www.vokabular.org/pravopis/doku.php

pa otiđi na poglavlje 7 - transkripcija...

Generalno, bilo bi dobro da pročitaš sva poglavlja, jer si u školi bežao sa časova srpskohrvatskog...
Mica

---

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« Reply #25 on: 09-10-2008, 10:30:01 »
zato da bi deca naucila kako se poznate cike zovu, a ne da bi nagadjala o njihovim imenima, usled nepoznavanja stranih jezika. ali taj jezicki standard je utvrdjen kada se smatralo da prevodioci znaju kako se pravilno izgovaraju i transkribuju strani izrazi i imena. posto se vreme promenilo, sad osecamo potrebu da se pise originalu, kako slucajno ne bismo gledali u knjige i morali da se informisemo o pravilnom izgovoru i transkripciji.

a inace, ta praksa fonetskog prenosenja nije uobicajena samo u srpskom, naravno...

na forumu smo vec imali raspravu o transkripciji, i ne vredi. koliko god pricali, stalno se zaboravlja da je, prema Pravopisu, u srpskoj latinici ravnopravno pisanje imena u izvornoj grafiji i u fonteskoj transkripciji. ako stampate knjigu latinicom, a narocito ako je u pitanju strucna stvar, mozete izabrati da li cete transkribovati ili pisati u originalu. cak jezikoslovci i nasi vodeci strucnjaci za jezik vele da pisanje originalnih imena ima brojne prednosti.

ko ne veruje eto mu: Pavle Ivic, Ivan Klajn, Mitar Pesikan, Branislav Brboric, Srpski jezicki prirucnik, Beogradska knjiga, 2006.
Ti si iz Bolivije? Gde je heroin i zašto ste ubili Če Gevaru?

Boban

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« Reply #26 on: 09-10-2008, 10:32:36 »
zato što postupamo po važećem pravopisu.
Nismo jedino mi.
Isto rade i Makedonci i Crnogorci, a i delom Bosanci.
Jedino Hrvati ne.
Ali to je njihov problem.
Kod nas je piši kao što govoriš, čitaj kako je napisano.

Ovo oko Daničkog ili Danvičkog, ja bih svakako stavio Danvički jer to englesko W bude stvašta i obično se može zanemariti i verovatno se u ovom slučaju može zanemariti ali nema boga da se u izgovoru ne čuje neki poluglas koji bi se možda još lepše istakao da je Danuički, da se ipak malo polomi jezik.
Put ćemo naći ili ćemo ga napraviti.

Son of Man

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« Reply #27 on: 09-10-2008, 10:37:02 »
Eh taj Uzas Danice Drashkovic, kontam da se radi o onom delu kako je marisala Vuka, jadan chovek jos posle 2 puta pokusali da ga ubiju, e to je THE uzas , sto rodjena zena moz ti priredi to Ghoul ne moze u Nekonomikonu. :(

I zato kako sam jos kao mali chito "Danvichki uzas" , i "PikmAnov model" jbga tako mi se urezalo ali poshto ovde imamo posla sa inadzijom nesrazmernih srazmera (mada ni ja nisam bolji ali on je ubedljivo gori) , tako da jbga Danichki uzas ostade, mada kontam da smo mi i dobro proshli jer dobro da nisi turio "PACMANOV model" sunce li ti meraklijsko  :roll:  :x  :cry:

tragac

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« Reply #28 on: 09-10-2008, 10:53:05 »
Quote from: "Boban"
zato što postupamo po važećem pravopisu.
Nismo jedino mi.
Isto rade i Makedonci i Crnogorci, a i delom Bosanci.
Jedino Hrvati ne.


Hvala na pojasnjenju, Bobane, zarko bih zeleo da neko tvoje delo prevedu na Swahilli, pa da te (po njihovom pravopisu) prekrste u Bhonndbanha Knjezzekvaka, pa da vidim kako bi se prepoznao...

Goran Skrobonja

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« Reply #29 on: 09-10-2008, 10:53:36 »
Hm, kad smo već kod Pekmena, nikad mi neće biti jasno zašto uz njega ide Pacgirl, a ne Pacwoman... Eh, kad čovek ima malo slobodna vremena, svačim će da se bavi, odn. zaludan pop i jariće krsti...
Tako mu je to. (K. Vonnegut)

tragac

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« Reply #30 on: 09-10-2008, 10:56:13 »
Quote from: "Mica Milovanovic"

Generalno, bilo bi dobro da pročitaš sva poglavlja, jer si u školi bežao sa časova srpskohrvatskog...


Hm

Ostalo mi samo ono ...hrvatskog. Tamo vaze druga pravila, licna imena prenose u originalu.
Mozda sam bezao samo sa onog prvog dela...srpskog

tragac

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« Reply #31 on: 09-10-2008, 10:59:12 »
Quote from: "Goran Skrobonja"
Hm, kad smo već kod Pekmena, nikad mi neće biti jasno zašto uz njega ide Pacgirl, a ne Pacwoman... Eh, kad čovek ima malo slobodna vremena, svačim će da se bavi, odn. zaludan pop i jariće krsti...

P

Pacgirl je zbog toga sto se tu radi o devojci, dok bi Pacwoman podrazumevalo da se petlja sa zrelijim, ne daj boze, udatim zenama... :D

Goran Skrobonja

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« Reply #32 on: 09-10-2008, 11:34:41 »
Quote from: "tragac"
Pacgirl je zbog toga sto se tu radi o devojci, dok bi Pacwoman podrazumevalo da se petlja sa zrelijim, ne daj boze, udatim zenama... :D


Pacman - pedofil?
Tako mu je to. (K. Vonnegut)

Meho Krljic

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« Reply #33 on: 09-10-2008, 12:41:10 »
Zapravo, uz Pac-mana ide Ms. Pac-man. Dakle, udata žena i sve to.

Kler_Vojant

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« Reply #34 on: 09-10-2008, 13:04:07 »
Kakav dizajn, cak i da nisam fan, kupio bih knjigu samo zbog toga.

scallop

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« Reply #35 on: 09-10-2008, 14:26:07 »
Ala vi mlatite praznu slamu!

Ovo ima da traje dok ne priznamo da je Kraljević Marko bio na turskoj strani u Boju na Kosovu, odnosno, dok se neko ne doseti da nam je Vuk (u okviru svojih moći) ponudio pet vokala koje niko na svetu tako ne izgovara.

S druge strane, tvrdim da anglosaksonsko jezičko područje iste te vokale izgovara različito. Pokušajte da u nekoj normalnoj engleskoj reči menjate izgovorene vokale, kao da ste vi lično zaduženi da odredite kako se to izgovara. Sve varijante su prihvatljive. Moja ćerka Jelena i sin Uroš vode rat oko toga kako se izgovara - router. To je ono bez čega mrežna bežična veza nije moguća. U Srbiji (to je Uroš) to se izgovara - ruter. U SAD (to je Jelena) izgovara se - rauter.

Ako bih ja birao, a za Klajna i ostale... zadržao bih osnovnu formu, posebno imena, a kilavu domaću transkripciju prepustio izdavačima.

Jbt. Moj omiljeni začin u SAD izgovaraju otprilike - vuušaja. Jel' znate koji je to začin?
Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. - Mark Twain.

Meho Krljic

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« Reply #36 on: 09-10-2008, 14:32:57 »
Quote from: "scallop"
Jel' znate koji je to začin?


Ne. A ja se čak i zovem Uroš...  :cry:

tragac

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« Reply #37 on: 09-10-2008, 14:33:33 »
"Moj omiljeni začin u SAD izgovaraju otprilike - vuušaja. Jel' znate koji je to začin?"

Ne. Koji?

Goran Skrobonja

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« Reply #38 on: 09-10-2008, 16:54:52 »
Quote from: "Meho Krljic"
Zapravo, uz Pac-mana ide Ms. Pac-man. Dakle, udata žena i sve to.


Ah, Pacgirl im onda dođe kćer. Kaće Pacboy?
Tako mu je to. (K. Vonnegut)

Ghoul

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« Reply #39 on: 09-10-2008, 16:57:10 »
Quote from: "Goran Skrobonja"
Quote from: "Meho Krljic"
Zapravo, uz Pac-mana ide Ms. Pac-man. Dakle, udata žena i sve to.


Ah, Pacgirl im onda dođe kćer. Kaće Pacboy?


kuku, ktulu, dođi i pometi sve ovo!!! :evil:

scallop

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« Reply #40 on: 09-10-2008, 17:17:12 »
Quote from: "tragac"
"Moj omiljeni začin u SAD izgovaraju otprilike - vuušaja. Jel' znate koji je to začin?"

Ne. Koji?


worchestershire :lol:
Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. - Mark Twain.

cutter

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« Reply #41 on: 09-10-2008, 17:21:24 »
Quote from: "Goran Skrobonja"
Ah, Pacgirl im onda dođe kćer. Kaće Pacboy?


Ih, kaće...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRHKJxpEY24

cutter

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« Reply #42 on: 09-10-2008, 17:33:13 »
Da se vratimo na temu:

http://www.tomlennon.com/2007/09/hp-lovecrafts-pac-man_08.html

Quote
"A thousand, thousand slimy things lived on, and so did I"
- Samuel Tayler Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

For years I'd be haunted by the same terrible dream. It would always start in a similar manner: I would wake up on a cold, hard surface in a dark stygian place consumed by the most wretched hunger. The darkness was absolute and impenetrable, as though both moon and starlight had been extinguished from the night-black sky and some vast cloak of pure obsidian had been draped over the inky black firmament and painted black with several coats of black emulsion. The hunger, too, was quite unprecedented. I yearned – oh, how I yearned! - for some scant morsel of sustenance from the unforgiving gloom. It was as though each molecule, each cell and each atom within me had let out a desperate, mournful, harmonised cry for urgent food aid to the accompaniment of the lengthy, improvised drum solo that was emanating from the hollow chambers of my belly. I thought of Thomas de Quincey and his infamous Diary of an English Opium-Eater in which he described, in one deleted passage, a grub-craving so profound that he could "steal a cream bun from the pocket of a tramp."

I thought of my sweetheart and fiancé P_____ - what had become of her? Would I ever have the chance to gaze lovingly at her pretty round face or touch those golden locks of hair held in place by that enormous red bow? Unhappy fate! Had I been blinded by some vicious assailant and left here to die of starvation? Was this Hell? Or – more prosaic yet more terrifying in its aspect – had I been stitched-up once again by those vile scoundrels from the Miskatonic Polytechnic Rugby Union Club?

Before I could find an answer to these desperate yet unspoken questions, I heard a faint electric buzz that seemed to surround me. Suddenly, a flickering spark of light tore a slice of incandescent brilliance through the hitherto relentless gloom. Dazzled momentarily – with phosphorescent dots erupting before my eyes – I gasped as the spark ignited and blue light cascaded all around me. I could see that I now stood between two shimmering walls of the most gaudy and vulgar electric-blue neon. They seemed to form a corridor of sorts, and something about the scene reminded me of a strange and disturbing secret passage from the dreaded Necronomicon of Abdul Alhazred, in which he gave a vivid account of an unspeakably lurid and regrettable stag weekend in Amsterdam.

Though most of the dazzle-induced phosphorescent dots had by now receded from my field of vision, a few stubbornly remained. I blinked and blinked and blinked once again, but still they refused to budge, like uninvited housepests who can't take a hint. They seemed to be arranged in a regimented single-file along the polished black floor of this neon-framed passageway. Alas, this was no mirage! Cautiously, I lifted one of these strange anomalies from the floor and found – much to my surprise - that it was no larger than a peanut butter and banana sandwich. But that was where any similarity to traditional lunchtime snacks ceased abruptly. It was off-white in colour, roughly spheroid in shape and had a distinctly tacky texture, as though it had been dipped in some blasphemous vat of chipgrease and ectoplasm. Perhaps my sway of reason had been irrefutably shaken by circumstance, but in spite of its strange and eldritch appearance it looked quite tasty – not unlike a donner kebab late on a Friday night. Desperate with hunger and with scant care for self preservation or gentlemanly conduct, I greedily wolfed it down. Needless to say, it tasted like chicken.

As I gingerly chomped my way along the now-illuminated corridor, I soon discovered that it formed part of a maze. My first impression was of a vast, neon-lit Cyclopean labyrinth of unimaginable scope and scale that embodied monstrous perversions of geometric laws. Upon closer inspection, however, it was actually quite small.

And then, I heard it. Something shuffled and slithered in the distance, unseen as yet, but unmistakably ancient and terrible in nature. It seemed to come from an antechamber at the centre of this somewhat uncomplicated labyrinth. I was gripped in that moment by a most primitive sense of dread and foreboding. The hackles rose at the back of my neck, icy beads of sweat erupted across my ample forehead and I felt a most terrible sinking sensation at the pit of my spherical stomach. I may even have let off a fart.

Of my first glimpse of these vile abominations I have this to say. There seemed to be four of them, formless, slime-spewing protoplasmic monstrosities draped in membranous cloaks of red, orange, lilac and powder blue. Their very presence was a ghastly affront to every known law of nature: it was as though Michael Winner had arrived at a fancy-dress party in the guise of Shirley Temple. They were, without doubt, the fiendish "Shoggoths" described in the ghastly, grisly and gruesome Necronomicon of Abdul Alhazred [which later spawned the hit Broadway musical, 'Lulu and Cthulhu Go Wild in Honolulu'].

And their eyes – egad, their eyes! – what can be said of them? Each of these foul slithering monstrosities had two orbs apiece that were arranged along a horizontal axis, but that's where any similarity to traditional anatomy ended. Their eyes were giant, bulbous, demented protrusions that seemed to stretch from their sockets, twitching with impatient and atavistic fury as they scoured their surrounding landscape for something to devour, or, at the very least, to glare at with menace. They put me in mind of the famously mad-eyed comedy actor Marty Feldman, or of former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. Half paralyzed with terror I tried to suppress another fart, but failed.

And now, all eight of those hideous eyes were glaring menacingly at me!

They advanced towards me with preternatural haste as I fled with all the speed my tiny legs could muster. I ran like hell down those eerie blue-lit corridors, eating clumps of pseudo-food without slackening my pace and pausing only to lick the occasional dropped crumb from the polished floor (through terror-stricken beyond my wildest imaginings, I was still feeling quite peckish). Left I turned, then right and left again and all the while my relentless pursuers pursued me relentlessly. My recollection of what happened next is somewhat blurry on account of the fact I was running at the time. At one stage I chanced upon a tunnel I thought might offer me some means of escape, but it only led me to the opposite end of the maze; at another, I encountered a somewhat incongruous giant cherry that frustratingly blocked my path but was, I must admit, rather tasty.

But still, those ferocious miscreants continued to gain precious ground on me. I was running out of steam, running out of space and running out of things to eat when I chanced upon a clump of pseudo-food that was somewhat larger that its counterparts now working their way through my intestinal tract. It seemed to shimmer, generating a halo of otherworldly radiance that seemed quite beatific in nature. I paused – gazing at this glorious thing, transfixed by its celestial beauty - then gobbled it down with tremendous gusto.

In an instant my entire body was filled with the most tremendous surge of energy. It was as though every muscle, every vein, every sinew had been pumped full of a most potent and vibrant elixir. I felt renewed! I felt euphoric! I felt better than James Brown, who – by his own earnest admission - felt good.

My vile tormentors, however, did not fare so well. In the very same instant of my euphoric epiphany, they all turned a most sickly shade of blue and their malevolent demeanour was replaced by a fearful countenance. Instinctively, I lurched towards the first. Before my very eyes his membranous cloak and corporeal form dissolved into nothingness, leaving only his ghastly eyes which dropped to the ground and scuttled off towards the central antechamber. O, sweet respite! The hunter had become the hunted, the farmer had become the harvest and the chef had become the hors d'oeuvres! I could not say what was the more delicious: the sweet irony of this turnabout in fortune, or the joy I found in snacking on my foes!

I gave sudden chase to the remaining three, taunting them with barbed jests, blasphemous curses and obscure Norwegian sea shanties that I had prepared for just such an occasion. I would not normally indulge in such wanton savagery and un-gentlemanly belligerence, but there is something in being chased through a neon-lit maze by four vicious ghosts that brings the worst out in a fellow.

It was not to last, however. After catching hold of my second quarry – who also dissolved in my grip like a big, blue Alka Seltzer – I noticed his first companion return to the fray, restored now to its original colour, form and ferocity and making haste towards me. Worse yet, the remaining two were losing their cowardly blue taint and were being restored to their fearsome shades of orange and lilac. It was clear the effect of my starry banquet – which I now believe to be a certain alkaloidal herb popular amongst mystics, mountain dwellers and touring funk bands – was wearing off. O woeful turn of circumstance - the hunted who had become the hunter was being hunted by his former hunters once again! My spirits sank and I became afflicted with a sudden and most overwhelming sense of melancholia. I believe this is known in popular parlance as "coming down".

I ran again, gripped with terror and a desperate craving for some more pseudo-food and another hit of what I'd now affectionately thought of as the "good shit". Once again I tried to outmanoeuvre the ghastly abominations, but their pursuit was now more swift and relentless. Either that, or my retreat was becoming more clumsy and languid. In any case, I scrambled awkwardly down a passageway with a beast so close behind I could smell the acrid stench of its breath on my nostrils, then took a sharp left only to find two of its loathsome comrades approaching from the opposite direction. Instinctively, I came to a sudden halt and felt a sudden, hot stab of pain across my back and something explode inside. I assumed that this was not indigestion.

I fell to the floor as a savage blur of colours - red, orange, lilac and powder blue – spun around my pain-wracked body like some barbed and spectral whirlwind. It would be the last thing I'd see before my world once again turned to darkness.


And then, I awoke. In that blissful state of hypnogogic reverie – between the receding nightmare and emerging waking world – I squinted in the sunlight, filled my lungs with clean air and thanked my God it was all just a vile and terrible fantasy. It was then I noticed something quite strange. I was not lying upon my usual bunk at the Miskatonic Polytechnic Halls of Residence but upon a cold, hard metal surface. It was a large steel girder posited on a steep incline that formed part of a vast and crooked construction site some seven storeys or so in height. But before I could consider the Health and Safety implications of such shoddy workmanship, I heard the scream.

I leapt to my feet - it was the anguished voice of my sweetheart and fiancé P_____, and her cries originated from directly above me, at the very summit of this ill-aligned structure! She was in a tawdry, dishevelled state the likes of which I had not seen before (with the possible exception of those photographs I found from that raucous Hen Party she'd attended last semester). And next to her, eclipsing the midday sun and casting a shadow all around me, was a gigantic and most terrible beast. It seemed to defy anthropological classification: at first glance it resembled a giant ape, albeit of monstrous height and girth, and yet – from my vantage point below - it was quite evident that he was equipped with certain physical attributes more commonly associated with a donkey. Let's just leave it at that. It was, without doubt, one of the beastly "Old Ones" described in the harrowing, hideous, horrendous, horrible, horrid and horrifying Necronomicon of Abdul Alhazred.

And for some inexplicable reason it seemed to be throwing giant barrels at me...

lilit

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« Reply #43 on: 09-10-2008, 23:42:59 »
znaci nista od sajma?  :cry:  :cry:  :cry:
Some things you have to do yourself.

Ghoul

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« Reply #44 on: 10-10-2008, 00:04:34 »
Quote from: "lilit_depp"
znaci nista od sajma?  :cry:  :cry:  :cry:


ma ne, biće sajma, počinje 20g... :roll:

Son of Man

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« Reply #45 on: 10-10-2008, 01:35:07 »
pito me drugar iz Svilajnca oce odma uzme Nekronomikom pa kao da mu uzmem da mu shaljem posto nece biti u mogucnosti i shta sad ja da mu rechem ? Ocel' bit Nekroa ?  :(

Ghoul

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« Reply #46 on: 10-10-2008, 01:47:57 »
ma biće bre, samo opušteno.

krotki i strpljivi će naslediti zemlju. i nekronomikon.

tragac

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« Reply #47 on: 10-10-2008, 06:43:56 »
Quote from: "scallop"
Quote from: "tragac"
"Moj omiljeni začin u SAD izgovaraju otprilike - vuušaja. Jel' znate koji je to začin?"

Ne. Koji?


worchestershire :lol:


Ozbiljno?
Nisam to znao

Ghoul

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« Reply #48 on: 11-10-2008, 21:17:03 »
ekskluzivno!

razrešena misterija kašnjenja NEKRONOMIKONA!

boban je pročitao sledeći članak, i reko: MA JA ĆU TO SVE, AL JOŠ BOLJE I LEPŠE!


Najlepša knjiga na svetu

Sa koricama od izvajanog mermera, stranama od pergamenta sa tekstom ispisanim mastilom urađenim po starinskoj recepturi, "najlepša umetnička knjiga na svetu", posvećena Mikelanđelu, u izdanju italijanske kuće FMR, dostupna je na tržištu, ali samo u 99 primeraka, po ceni od 100.000 evra.



"Ta cena se može činiti previsokom ako mislimo na neku knjigu, ali to nije slučaj ukoliko imamo u vidu da je reč o umetničkom delu", navode u kući FMR, specijalizovanoj za luksuzne časopise i umetničke knjige.

Knjiga "Mikelanđelo, vešta ruka" (Mićelangelo. La dotta mano), predstavljena prvi put u Bolonji u maju ove godine, zamišljena je kao umetničko delo za kolekcionare i bibliofile koji će njenu kupovinu shvatiti kao oblik mecenstva, ističu u FMR, prenele su agencije.

Knjiga je visoka 68, i široka 42 centimetara, kada je zatvorena, a bez kovčežića od lakiranog drveta u kojem je predstavljena, teška je 24 kilograma.

Korice čini mermerna vajana ploča utisnuta u okvir prekriven crvenim svilenim somotom.

Delo ima 264 strane sa gravirama, fotografijama i tekstovima. Zaštitne strane su od specijalnog mutnog pozlaćenog papira.

"Naš cilj nije novac. Krenuli smo od ideje italijanske renesanse da je knjiga umetničko delo i insistirali na tom zahtevu osobenosti za jednu modernu knjigu u čijoj su izradi učestvovali izuzetne zanatlije", izjavio je predstavnik kompanije FMR.

Mermerne korice predstavljaju reprodukciju ručno vajanog bareljefa "Bogorodica na stepeništu", prvog dela koje je Mikelanđelo izradio kada je imao 15 godina, i od kog se nikada nije odvajao.

Mermer potiče iz jednog kamenoloma u Karari, u Toskani, u kom se svojevremeno snabdevao i sam Mikelanđelo.

Starinski crteži reprodukovani su na papiru izrađenom po ugledu na onaj koji je pravljen pre više vekova.

Knjiga sadrži i 83 fotografije Mikelanđelovih skulputura reprodukovane preko jedne cele strane, a ponekad i preko dve cele strane.

Uz svaki primerak ide po jedna fotografija sa potpisom autora Aurelija Amendole.

Mastilo kojim je štampan tekst proizvedeno je po starinskoj recepturi, bez hemijskih dodataka i predviđeno je da traje "500 godina i više".

Za izradu jedne knjige potrebno je od tri do šest meseci. Do sada je urađeno oko dvadeset, od čega je desetak već prodato.

Muzej Prado u Madridu kupio je jednu knjigu, a dve su postale vlasništvo poznatih rok zvezda. Oni koji sebi ne mogu da priušte ovu izuzetnu knjigu mogu da uživaju u njoj na internet sajtu FMR-a, navele su agencije.

Boban

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« Reply #49 on: 24-10-2008, 10:22:08 »
Daklem, danas će na štandu Tardisa, u vremenu od 14.00 pa do zatvaranja Sajma moći da se vide štamparski prufovi Nekronomikona, a oni srećniji će imati priliku i da ih prelistaju... 608 strana žive vage, najiščekivanija knjiga u životima mnogih.

Put ćemo naći ili ćemo ga napraviti.