the journey from "normality" to scribeness to extreme looniness
April 6, 2010
Crystal Skull found!
Posted at 12:00 EST
Found on 17th March hanging from our rose fence (held by my daughter):
November 2, 2009
Back for Day of the Dead...
Posted at 13:00 EST
my favorite fest before I became a scribe...
July 4, 2009
Scribal goodbye... all that's left is extreme looniness
Posted at 21:00 EST
Dear friends and members, it is time for me to say goodbye, as your scribe:
Thank you for letting me serve you. I love ya'll! ;`)
June 20, 2009
Why I love Anthony Burgess's writings...
Posted at 19:00 EST
and T.S. Eliot...
tho Cato the Elder's got a point, too. ;)
April 30, 2009
Pocket Poem of the Pocket Poem Day...
Posted at 15:00 EST
In reference to the swineflu epidemic, which closed all Cowtown schools today, I was thinking of T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land"*, but that's not pocket size, so why not the lines of the motto, which is from Petronius' Satyricon:
I read such things in Homer when I was a boy;
nay, saw myself the Sibyl of Cumae hanging in a glass bottle:
And when the boys asked her, 'Sibyl, what wouldst thou?'
She answered, 'I would die.'
(transation** by William Burnaby)
and in Latin:
Solebam haec ego puer apud Homerum legere.
Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere,
et cum illi pueri dicerent: "Sibilla, ti thelis?",
respondebat illa: "apothanin thelo".
Well, why not the start of "The Waste Land" (tho it's been posted at AW earlier by someone, (Senex?)):
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
and now it's over...
*used at least in Stephen King's "Dark Tower"-series and Dean Koontz' "Taking"
**I just changed the names Sybil and Curna(?!) back to Sibyl and Cumae.
I am your Mother, do you not hear my heart beat,
Can you not feel the love I send;
Was not the air you breathed, my scent so sweet,
Is my pain hard for you to comprehend.
Upon my body snow lays soft and white,
Beneath my skin the future sleeps;
My blood flows to nurture and delight,
Into the ground it deeply seeps.
Mountains tall, clouds wreath my crests,
Rolling hills once wooded thick;
Gentle prairies too were once lush with grass,
Where did my bounty go so quick.
Sandy beaches and rock girded shore,
Where ocean waters sweep and crash;
A land of beauty, once so pure,
Marred by man's actions heedless and rash.
All this beauty was yours to behold,
Your duty was to love, cherish and protect;
Feel my anguish, the pain in my soul,
All I asked was your respect.
I am your Mother.
(found at http://www.fortunecity.com/victorian/holbein/369/napoet.htm)
April 17, 2009
Happy Passovered Easter!
Posted at 23:00 EST
and National Poetry Month... after this "pocket poem" they won't ever give me the citizenship! ;)
April 15, 2009
Browsing poetry...
Posted at 01:00 EST
as it's National Poetry Month, and finding some good ones, at AW and off it... here's a Tennyson "pocket poem" I like:
Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.
O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!
And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!
Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
~ Lord Alfred Tennyson
April 4, 2009
If It Be Your Will...
Posted at 10:00 EST
went to see Leonard Cohen last night; truly fabulous show, and this was one of the best moments of it (Youtube video from Nov 17 2008):
Leonard Cohen & The Webb Sisters: If It Be Your Will
Gourdhead n.
1. One who willingly travels great distances to see a cucurbit.
2. Someone with a funny-shaped hard head, or wearing a handsome handcrafted gourd hat, or both!
Usage: used as a compliment or badge of honor.
Rare and antiquated: used pejoratively by those who are not gourdheads to mean someone who is hollow-headed and therefore rather dumb (but we all know that gourds have a lot of pulp and seeds inside them).
