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January 1st, 2010
12:21 am - Winter War Index
Index of Winter War posts.
( Below the cut. )
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July 16th, 2009
01:21 am - must remember
There's some sort of local fete thing taking place tomorrow evening. I should probably drop by and see what's going on. (The difficulty will be remembering this tomorrow evening.)
Getting an urge to knit another Baby Surprise Jacket. Even if I have nobody specific to do it for. Drat these urges.
---
To a Cat
Mirrors are not more wrapt in silences
nor the arriving dawn more secretive;
you, in the moonlight, are that panther figure
which we can only spy at from a distance.
By the mysterious functioning of some
divine decree, we seek you out in vain;
remoter than the Ganges or the sunset,
yours is the solitude, yours is the secret.
Your back allows the tentative caress
my hand extends. And you have condescended,
since that forever, now oblivion,
to take love from a flattering human hand.
you live in other time, lord of your realm -
a world as closed and separate as dream.
-- Jorge Luis Borges
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July 15th, 2009
01:01 am - one of these days my shift key will stop sticking
Work continues hectic. Coworker didn't make it in, but worked from home. Thank goodness for email and communicator.
I am left with little brain. Hope the release is over soon.
---
The Great Bird of Love
I want to become a great night bird
Called The Zimmer, grow intricate gears
And tendons, brace my wings on updrafts,
Roll them down with a motion
That lifts me slowly into the stars
To fly above the troubles of the land.
When I soar the moon will shine past
My shoulder and slide through
Streams like a luminous fish.
I want my cry to be huge and melancholy,
The undefiled movement of my wings
To fold and unfold on rising gloom.
People will see my silhouette from
Their windows and be comforted,
Knowing that, though oppressed,
They are cherished and watched over,
Can turn to kiss their children,
Tuck them into their beds and say:
Sleep tight.
No harm tonight,
In starry skies
The Zimmer flies.
-- Paul Zimmer
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July 14th, 2009
12:21 am - language wobbling a little
Work being rather hectic, also rather being hectic, also hectic, rather, being. Cross-mapping coworker went home at lunchtime after a nasty fall, and I very much hope she'll be back in tomorrow, or I shall be finding it even more hectic.
The rain holds off for the moment -- at least, while I'm outside, which is what I selfishly regard as important.
Must go back in Library story to mention Dominic's curiously old-fashioned accent in the Language.
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"We find you in conversation with a monstrous creature from the blackest pits of nightmare . . ."
"LTRX2-449-9102 is a perfectly respectable particle physicist and I'm shocked by your parochial attitude about his appearance."
-- Dog Wizard, Barbara Hambly
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July 13th, 2009
12:55 am - muttering to myself
Well, it looked as if the weather was fairly nice outside today . . . except that I was lazy and lounged around inside with the windows open.
Running into a problem with the Library story. (This will only make sense if you've been reading it.) I want to have a scene at the Science Museum. I also want to get Bradamant going back from there to the British Library to try to return to the Library proper, so that everyone can have an encounter with Alberich there, but given that she could theoretically get back to the Library through any sufficiently bookish place, why should she bother to make the cross-London trip (and ensuing zeppelin chase) when she could probably find somewhere suitable much nearer?
Hm. Need a reason. (Or need a reason to move the final confrontation to the Science Museum, maybe, though that'd remove the zeppelin chase.)
I'm also looking forward to talking to coworkers tomorrow and finding out what they thought about the Torchwood finale. (I rather liked it.) Given that most of them are not particularly SF fans but were nevertheless interested in and watching the series, it'll be interesting to see how much they enjoyed the ending.
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Footsteps
On an ebony bed decorated
with coral eagles, sound asleep lies
Nero --- unconscious, quiet, and blissful;
thriving in the vigor of flesh,
and in the splendid power of youth.
But in the alabaster hall that encloses
the ancient shrine of the Aenobarbi
how restive are his Lares.
The little household gods tremble,
and try to hide their insignificant bodies.
For they heard a horrible clamor,
a deathly clamor ascending the stairs,
iron footsteps rattling the stairs.
And now in a faint the miserable Lares
burrow in the depth of the shrine,
one tumbles and stumbles upon the other,
one little god falls over the other
for they understand what sort of clamor this is,
they are already feeling the footsteps of the Furies.
-- Constantine Cavafy
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July 12th, 2009
01:37 am - a good day
York was very nice. Got some yarn, got some books, had lunch at Betty's, am now very tired.
It's raining outside. Good. That is, good because we need the rain, and good that it wasn't earlier while I was in York.
---
A Great Poem
This is a great poem.
How I suffer!
How I suffer!
How I suffer!
This is a great poem.
Full of true emotion.
-- Gavin Ewart
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July 11th, 2009
12:23 am - agendas
Work release is back on schedule, and I am whacked.
I think I'll go to York tomorrow. I feel like wandering around a pretty town and eating at a nice restaurant and possibly spending too much money on pretty yarn. It had better not rain, or I shall be very disappointed.
Yes, I did see bits of Torchwood. Yes, it was . . . very thorough. Good piece of fiction, but definitely not regular Doctor Who.
Also, this -- get me off this freaking moor -- makes me snicker, particularly because of having read Peter's Room by Antonia Forest.
Regarding the latest chapter of Bleach -- yes, it's all very well that the Vizards are saying that they're "on Ichigo's side". Why? What has he ever been to them besides a nuisance to train? They throw out reiatsu to lure him in. Shinji defends him in a fight. Hiyori remarks that "we want you with us . . . but it's not up to you to decide . . . we'll see your power and then we'll decide if we want to make you our ally or not." I suspect a Vizard Agenda that is not what Ichigo may think it is.
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The Loch Ness Monster's Song
Sssnnnwhuffffll?
Hnwhuffl hhnnwfl hnfl hfl?
Gdroblboblhobngbl gbl gl g g g g glbgl.
Drublhaflablhaflubhafgabhaflhafl fl fl -
gm grawwwww grf grawf awfgm graw gm.
Hovoplodok - doplodovok - plovodokot - doplodokosh?
Splgraw fok fok splgrafhatchgabrlgabrl fok splfok!
Zgra kra gka fok!
Grof grawff gahf?
Gombl mbl bl -
blm plm,
blm plm,
blm plm,
blp
-- Edwin Morgan
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July 10th, 2009
12:14 am - at least it's cooler
Progress of biannual release at work staggers on. So do I.
Torchwood is entertaining. So is the Tour de France. Why do all the good things turn up at the same time?
Have booked annual leave for mid-August. A week at home is on the cards. There will probably be a lot of courgettes (zucchini, for Americans) and tomatoes on the table. The garden is in overdrive at that point of the year. (Still, nice in a ratattouille, with peppers, and some bacon on the side . . .)
Have started knitting up a new shawl in Noro Silk Mountain to replace the washed/shrunk one. Besides, there's always room for another shawl.
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The name of every organization, or body of people, or doctrine, or country, or institution, or public building, was invariably cut down into the familiar shape; that is, a single easily pronounced word with the smallest number of syllables that would preserve the original derivation. In the Ministry of Truth, for example, the Records Department, in which Winston Smith worked, was called Recdep, the Fiction Department was called Ficdep, the Teleprogrammes Department was called Teledep, and so on. This was not done solely with the object of saving time. Even in the early decades of the twentieth century, telescoped words and phrases had been one of the characteristic features of political language; and it had been noticed that the tendency to use abbreviations of this kind was most marked in totalitarian countries and totalitarian organizations. Examples were such words as Nazi, Gestapo, Comintern, Inprecorr, Agitprop. In the beginning the practice had been adopted as it were instinctively, but in Newspeak it was used with a conscious purpose. It was perceived that in thus abbreviating a name one narrowed and subtly altered its meaning, by cutting out most of the associations that would otherwise cling to it.
The words Communist International, for instance, call up a composite picture of universal human brotherhood, red flags, barricades, Karl Marx, and the Paris Commune. The word Comintern, on the other hand, suggests merely a tightly-knit organization and a well-defined body of doctrine. It refers to something almost as easily recognized, and as limited in purpose, as a chair or a table. Comintern is a word that can be uttered almost without taking thought, whereas Communist International is a phrase over which one is obliged to linger at least momentarily. In the same way, the associations called up by a word like Minitrue are fewer and more controllable than those called up by Ministry of Truth. This accounted not only for the habit of abbreviating whenever possible, but also for the almost exaggerated care that was taken to make every word easily pronounceable.
-- The Principles of Newspeak, an appendix to 1984, George Orwell
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July 9th, 2009
12:56 am - limply
Work is being rather busy, and in consequence my brain is being a bit limp in the evenings.
Have started knitting a new shawl in Noro Silk Mountain, since the previous one got shrunk. (Drat it.) Oh well, excuse to knit myself a new shawl in Noro Silk Mountain is not entirely a bad thing.
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dear Captain Poetry
dear Captain Poetry,
your poetry is trite.
you cannot write a sonnet
tho you've tried to every night
since i've known you.
we're thru!!
Madame X
dear Madame X
Look how the sun leaps now upon our faces
Stomps & boots our eyes into our skulls
Drives all thot to weird & foreign places
Till the world reels & the kicked mind dulls,
Drags our hands up across our eyes
Sends all white hurling into black
Makes the inner cranium our skies
And turns all looks sent forward burning back.
And you, my lady, who should be gentler, kind,
Have yet the fiery aspect of the sun
Sending words to burn into my mind
Destroying all my feelings one by one;
You who should have tiptoed thru my halls
Have slammed my doors & smashed me into walls.
love
Cap Poetry
-- bpNichol
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July 8th, 2009
01:41 am - off in Darwath
The problem with lending Hambly books to my boss is that I then start rereading them myself.
. . . wait, that's not a problem, that's a feature.
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If you understand, things are as they are. If you do not understand, things are as they are.
-- Gensha
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July 7th, 2009
02:29 am - Winter War: new part up
Next part of Winter War is up, by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) liralen:
Yoruichi: Hunting
(Previous parts here.)
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01:21 am - a truth universally acknowledged to be in want of a good book
My boss has finished the Belgariad and is now asking for something a bit meatier next time.
I'm thinking of trying her on Barbara Hambly's The Time of the Dark.
(She's already read through my Bujold, my Meredith Ann Pierce Darkangel trilogy, my Barry Hughart books, my Temeraire books, the Garth Nix Abhorsen trilogy, and a few others I should probably be working harder to keep track on.)
(Another coworker has finished reading through my Charles Stross and is now reading through my Kim Newman books -- the Dracula series, he's on Judgment of Tears -- and still has my copy of Empowered book five.)
. . . I just think it's cool, that's all.
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Epitaph on the Politician Himself
Here richly, with ridiculous display,
The Politician's corpse was laid away.
While all of his acquaintance sneered and slanged
I wept: for I had longed to see him hanged.
-- Hilaire Belloc
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July 6th, 2009
12:46 am - must not scratch
Something of a buggy nature has bitten me on my left forearm and I now have a red circle there. Must not scratch. Must not scratch.
Really must work out when in the next month or so I'm going to visit home, so that I can book annual leave. Must also see about booking plane ticket to America for October.
Would like to stop down to the post office package depot before work tomorrow to pick up a package, but the forecasts of rain has me watching the skies. I can't help thinking that if it's going to be pouring with rain, I don't want to be walking twice the usual distance in it.
Also mildly irked to find that a yarn I had thought was machine-washable is in fact not machine-washable. The shawl I knitted with it is now smaller and thicker, though the colour remains pleasant. Oh well, I suppose this means I will just have to knit another shawl. Things could be worse.
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O Captain! My Captain!
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up -- for you the flag is flung -- for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -- for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
-- Walt Whitman
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July 5th, 2009
10:19 pm - Winter War: new part up
Next part of Winter War is up, by sophiap:
Karin: Keeping Up Appearances
(Previous parts here.)
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01:17 am - quack
The day was a bit windier and a bit less humid than the last week has been, which was a relief.
First day of wearing sandals rather than shoes. My feet are now complaining.
Reading a sourcebook about ducks in Runequest. Once again I am seized by the desire to have evil ducks show up in something I'm writing.
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The young Isaac Asimov once got himself into trouble for, when asked why Abou Ben Adhem's name led all the rest, waving his hand wildly and answering
'alphabetical order'.
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July 4th, 2009
12:53 am - feeling an empty shell tonight
Well, I seem to have absolutely no brain this evening.
Got a lot of useful stuff done at work, though, so maybe these things even out.
Rained quite a bit earlier, and the air's feeling a bit fresher, though still hot. Hope it lasts.
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The Hippopotamus
I shoot the Hippopotamus
With bullets made of platinum,
Because if I use leaden ones
His hide is sure to flatten 'em.
-- Hillaire Belloc
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July 3rd, 2009
01:28 am - mostly triumphant
Work today: quite good, if very hectic.
Dentist: well, current brushing apparently up to spec, but it seems an old filling is having problems and will need doing/redoing. So there's that to look forward to in a couple of weeks. Drat.
Defrosting of freezer: successful, even if I was a bit nervous about it. (I hadn't got round to it for several years -- well, since moving to this flat -- and had never actually done it while living at home with parents, so a whole new experience. Yes, yes, I know, I have slapped my wrists as appropriate.) Much ice removed, floor mostly dry (fortunately I had the sense to invest in a couple of cheap towels beforehand), and most of the food survived its vacation still fairly frozen. So. Good.
Just slightly exhausted now.
Thunderstorm has still not arrived. Bah.
I know I've quoted this one before. I'm fond of it. With a row-ti-tow-ti-oodly-ow.
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The Pelagian Drinking Song
Pelagius lived at Kardanoel
And taught a doctrine there
How, whether you went to heaven or to hell
It was your own affair.
It had nothing to do with the Church, my boy,
But was your own affair.
No, he didn't believe
In Adam and Eve
He put no faith therein!
His doubts began
With the Fall of Man
And he laughed at Original Sin.
With my row-ti-tow
Ti-oodly-ow
He laughed at original sin.
Then came the bishop of old Auxerre
Germanus was his name
He tore great handfuls out of his hair
And he called Pelagius shame.
And with his stout Episcopal staff
So thoroughly whacked and banged
The heretics all, both short and tall --
They rather had been hanged.
Oh he whacked them hard, and he banged them long
Upon each and all occasions
Till they bellowed in chorus, loud and strong
Their orthodox persuasions.
With my row-ti-tow
Ti-oodly-ow
Their orthodox persuasions.
Now the faith is old and the Devil bold
Exceedingly bold indeed.
And the masses of doubt that are floating about
Would smother a mortal creed.
But we that sit in a sturdy youth
And still can drink strong ale
Let us put it away to infallible truth
That always shall prevail.
And thank the Lord
For the temporal sword
And howling heretics too.
And all good things
Our Christendom brings
But especially barley brew!
With my row-ti-tow
Ti-oodly-ow
Especially barley brew!
-- Hillaire Belloc
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July 2nd, 2009
01:17 am - excellent judgement
It's too darn hot. The promised thunderstorm cannot come too soon. I'd even settle for it coming while I was walking to or from work and get soaked in the process.
(Are you listening, universe?)
Yes, I have read this week's chapter of Bleach. I am consoling myself with thoughts that no character is actually going to be dead unless they get a big death scene. Even if shot in the back at point blank range.
Dentist tomorrow: hope my teeth are in adequate condition.
GURPS Vorkosigan has sold 138 copies of the pdf so far. I am smug. Roll on the hardback!
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Said by the coroner's jury of the guy who shot legendary gunman John Wesley Hardin (shooter claimed to have hit Hardin in the eye in self defense, rather than in the back of the head, as witnesses claimed): 'If he shot 'im in the eye, it showed excellent marksmanship. If he shot 'im in the back of the head, it showed excellent judgement.'
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12:43 am - Winter War: Orihime: Despair and Hope
Title: Orihime: Despair and Hope
Arc: Winter War - an AU co-write with liralen and sophiap
Characters: Orihime, Ulquiorra
Rating/Warning: PG-13 for language, references to character death
Summary: Breakfast in Hueco Mundo.
Notes: This is a rather dark AU co-plotted with liralen and sophiap. The war against Aizen's forces went very badly. Nothing is sacred and no one is safe.
Links
1. Nanao: Winter
2. Ukitake: Waking Up
3. Ikkaku: What Is, What Was
4. Kuukaku: Holding Ground
5. Nanao: Morning, Interrupted
6. Ukitake: Chance
( Orihime: Despair and Hope )
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July 1st, 2009
12:29 am - an idea
It continues hot.
Finished knitting my Clapotis: will put up a photo at some point. It came out quite nicely.
Due to a reference in something else I read to an Evil Academy for sons of world-conquering sorcerers, etc (no, not Hogwarts, an Academy of Evil right from the start), I now have the idea of a short story involving my Library characters who are trying to hunt down a book of bad poetry. Said book of bad poetry was written by a previous pupil of the school who went on to become a master of dark sorcery, and like many ex-pupils, donated some copies of books he'd written to the library of his old school.
(Don't mock. I found a set of Sydney Carter songbooks in my school library for similar reasons -- that is, I think he must have donated them after becoming a known name, etc.)
So anyhow, Kai and Irene are trying to track down a copy of this book, and divinations have pointed them at the school library. Maybe they sneak in posing as prospective parents who are considering sending their infants here. However, the book is also being sought by an Order of Evil Sorcerers who are convinced it actually conceals dark arcane secrets of ultimate power. Rather than bad poetry about his morbid soul.
Hilarity then Ensues.
Must remember that.
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Mulch
There where the punk stump marks
the end of our yard we've strung
chickenwire around a six-by-six
plot of crabgrass In theory
we apply a nice layer of leaves
a layer of leftovers like eggshells and coffee grounds
and then another layer of leaves
ad infinitum or nauseam whichever
comes first In practice of course
we just toss in whatever's at hand:
sawdust and guacamole corncobs
and grass cuttings willy-nilly
in gross disorganization where
they decay and ooze together
like some vegetable Dorian Gray
until in spring and fall we spread it
below allamanda and oleander
camellia and azalea choking the weeds
holding in moisture making
spectacular over-achievers of them all
If only we could mulch our own mistakes
before they harden and stain
dropping the rinds of argument and affair
shells of dead dreams nasty shocks
skins of bad habits lumps of neglect
and sad pride into a pile
that bubbles and burns in the dark
until it's usable and by using
we'd learn for a change
and open and soar like
hollyhocks in a country garden
-- Peter Meinke
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