Neil Gaiman’s observations from the back row

It's his fault and it will remain so. It wasn't until Neverland that he helped me light my own street lamps, so, just to be clear, I haven't been a fan of anyone since I was thirty. Some people call that growing up.

But I begrudge him every award, because what he does is based on a very, very deep mycelium, it is still written with heart and soul and pomegranate juice pressed into pictures, CGJung is constantly smiling with him for the next dance in the

Altar room of forgotten psychology

And our characters, those we assume are on earth in a constant role play with skills, as a thief, as a queen, as a necromancer or hobbit, going through a life that constantly prohibits exactly that, well, the good Mr. Gaiman writes against it, he goes far and wide and

SLAP THE BANALITY.

Then he takes them into magical reality and doesn't even need a phantaaaantastic book or comic, but rather just collected chatter like here to unfold his flair. So unfortunately it's just like this:

Either you have it or you don't, even if self-publishing suggests otherwise. And success was never a criterion.

As with some series, you're suddenly given the broadest small-town smile - you wouldn't need that in the big city - and no triple bottom for a planetary earthquake, but whatever, what did I want to celebrate, oh, Mr. Gaiman, when he writes about a thousand things, with science fiction and fantasy and many ladies and gentlemen from the scene, who I would probably avoid, but I think interviewing Stephen King is just too tempting, and yes, King had an effect on me too, right at the beginning, with this seeped-in psycho stuff from the old works and his On Writing, that was an important workshop.

And well, being a writer is one thing, but actually producing something is beautiful, regardless of whether the result is films, websites, exhibitions, performances, television series, computer or board games, start-ups or alchemical essences, a new wonderland or a millinery.

The fact that I somehow overlooked it for decades isn't a huge mistake, it's just a stroke of luck. Eternity, for example, was able to binge all seasons of Lost in one go - my God, he doesn't exist, how I envied that girl.

And now I am bingeing the Sandman series, leaving children's books aside, that is a different matter. The observations are

Nice snacks

, fluid and permuting, because the guy just can't hold back, like me, he channels, it's genetic material that's palpable in every line, undigested, yes, of course it's refined and weighed, I think in a book like this he was pretty open-minded and exposed himself a little in terms of the value of some of the pages, but that's the sense and nonsense behind it, just discovering how brilliant a person's natural talent is.

The gift, as this documentary expresses itself somewhat pompously. But with a cheeky and fresh Pratchett and Adams-like myth hunter, who is far superior to the Ghostbusters in terms of a Dr. Who parable, the only thing missing for me is the somewhat excessive homage scheme that seems to be his own.

My goodness, a few less prizes and more concern for the present, that wouldn't do any harm, belly brush is actually disgusting, the word gives it away exactly, a more sensible argument: always celebrating yourself is too thin in the long run.

I love mythology, I love comics, so I'm going to scuba dive and pillage Gaiman for the rest of his celibacy. You're going to have to read his name more often.  

Finally, the quality seal Insights, Making Of can be added to the occasion book, because being let into the work and living space, by whatever means, is a very respectful and deeply human thing, being involved in the vulnerability, the stupidities and joys of others, whatever the nature, makes us connected beings, a valuable asset despite all the individualization. Looking over the shoulder of a mindful reflector allows your own mindful reflector to cheer things up a little without thinking outside the box. Just as he is good and horny at cheering.