"From the Dark Tower," Countee Cullen
We shall not always plant while others reap
The golden increment of bursting fruit,
Not always countenance, abject and mute,
That lesser men should hold their brothers cheap;
Not everlastingly while others sleep
Shall we beguile their limbs with mellow flute,
Not always bend to some more subtle brute;
We were not made eternally to weep.
The night whose sable breast relieves the stark,
White stars is no less lovely being dark,
And there are buds that cannot bloom at all
In light, but crumple, piteous, and fall;
So in the dark we hide the heart that bleeds,
And wait, and tend our agonizing seeds.
I was vaguely intending to push for another dump run -- today being Thursday, one of the open days -- but my brother phoned in mid-morning wanting a late breakfast at the Wilderness, and that killed about two hours, and after that my willingness to get behind Himself and push organize a dump run just sort of lay down on the floor and said, "No."
I keep trying to read books and just not getting into them -- and it's me, not them. Although I've been trying to read the Gorey bio, Born To Be Posthumous by Mark Dery, and it just seems....awful. The tone is smarmy and not that informative and the quotations from Gorey are way more interesting that Dery's speculations, and it's barely illustrated. But I keep plugging on very slowly (and keep being annoyed). Did anyone else bounce off it? Does it get better?
Storm of Locusts landed on my Kindle but I don't want to read it now because THEN I WON'T HAVE IT TO READ! Argle. It looks amazing, though. I love Maggie so much.
Looking at Brian Reed's run on Ms Marvel, as I was interested on pre-DeConnick portrayals of her. The art is....okay? Oy, that costume, though. I do love how he dismisses House of M in about twelve pages. It's lightweight fun so far I guess.
Comfort rereading Soul Music:
Storm of Locusts landed on my Kindle but I don't want to read it now because THEN I WON'T HAVE IT TO READ! Argle. It looks amazing, though. I love Maggie so much.
Looking at Brian Reed's run on Ms Marvel, as I was interested on pre-DeConnick portrayals of her. The art is....okay? Oy, that costume, though. I do love how he dismisses House of M in about twelve pages. It's lightweight fun so far I guess.
Comfort rereading Soul Music:
There was a clock by the bedside, because Death knew there should be things like bedside clocks. It had skulls and bones and the omega sign on it, and it didn't work. There were no working clocks in the house, except the special one in the hall. Any others got depressed and stopped, or unwound themselves all in one go.
Reliable sources, aka the kind commenters on ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
giandujakiss's post asking the question (no spoilers), inform me that there is no mid- or end-credits scene in Endgame, for which my bladder is preemptively grateful. At 3 hours long, it's going to be a struggle. Ah, the joys of middle-age and perimenopause.
Last night, I had a lovely dinner withinnie_darling and tenaciousmetoo and also had a really delicious cocktail - I don't remember what it was called but it had Stoli blueberry (who knew that was even a thing?), some kind of grapefruit (pamplemousse!) liqueur, some kind of blood orange liqueur, lime juice and honey on the rocks. It was also a bright purpley blue (or bluish purple), which makes it even better (though it did not, sadly, turn my tongue a cute purpley blue, but you can't have everything). *g*
Work keeps interrupting, so here's today's poem:
Joy
We regretted the way to joy had been a labyrinth
of our making, where from interiors we'd made our way
further inside toward endings we could recognize
and turn back from. We'd invented the pocket labyrinth,
we trained our dogs to bark when we said speak,
we offered one another jewelry. But when the geckos
came inside for moths who'd found our lamps,
the joy we felt was magical, a violence of gentleness
apart from us that might revisit any night. Rare animals
are pink; small moths like these had changed to dust
while dying in the past. So it was terror kept awake in joy
that we began to feel rummaged by: there were
photographs of grandparents as youths,
there were fetishes: a fox, white in the face
where the stone was white, a bird made from a shell,
and a mole was carved from clearest quartz to magnify
the uselessness of sight. We could be struck dumb
by a small box made entirely of cloves and thread,
or by the relicarios where saints had been preserved
in two-inch portraits that were assemblages of feathers;
there were evenings the sky was lavender
and we were lost, there were dreams that recurred,
there was the same love you have now, and we were lost.
--Kathleen Pierce
***
giandujakiss's post asking the question (no spoilers), inform me that there is no mid- or end-credits scene in Endgame, for which my bladder is preemptively grateful. At 3 hours long, it's going to be a struggle. Ah, the joys of middle-age and perimenopause. Last night, I had a lovely dinner with
innie_darling and tenaciousmetoo and also had a really delicious cocktail - I don't remember what it was called but it had Stoli blueberry (who knew that was even a thing?), some kind of grapefruit (pamplemousse!) liqueur, some kind of blood orange liqueur, lime juice and honey on the rocks. It was also a bright purpley blue (or bluish purple), which makes it even better (though it did not, sadly, turn my tongue a cute purpley blue, but you can't have everything). *g*Work keeps interrupting, so here's today's poem:
Joy
We regretted the way to joy had been a labyrinth
of our making, where from interiors we'd made our way
further inside toward endings we could recognize
and turn back from. We'd invented the pocket labyrinth,
we trained our dogs to bark when we said speak,
we offered one another jewelry. But when the geckos
came inside for moths who'd found our lamps,
the joy we felt was magical, a violence of gentleness
apart from us that might revisit any night. Rare animals
are pink; small moths like these had changed to dust
while dying in the past. So it was terror kept awake in joy
that we began to feel rummaged by: there were
photographs of grandparents as youths,
there were fetishes: a fox, white in the face
where the stone was white, a bird made from a shell,
and a mole was carved from clearest quartz to magnify
the uselessness of sight. We could be struck dumb
by a small box made entirely of cloves and thread,
or by the relicarios where saints had been preserved
in two-inch portraits that were assemblages of feathers;
there were evenings the sky was lavender
and we were lost, there were dreams that recurred,
there was the same love you have now, and we were lost.
--Kathleen Pierce
***
And yesterday I got distracted by Roswell (and apparently I need to make a pimping post, which is now ON THE LIST), so two poems today.
Those Places
By Kay Ryan
They are not
imaginary but
accessible only
intermittently.
Seasonal, shall
we say, in the way
of the exquisite
high parts of
Yosemite
which
having visited
you cannot wish
inhabited
more easily.
66
by E. E. Cummings
love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail
it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea
love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive
it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky
Those Places
By Kay Ryan
They are not
imaginary but
accessible only
intermittently.
Seasonal, shall
we say, in the way
of the exquisite
high parts of
Yosemite
which
having visited
you cannot wish
inhabited
more easily.
66
by E. E. Cummings
love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail
it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea
love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive
it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky
I don’t want to live a small life. Open your eyes,
open your hands. I have just come
from the berry fields, the sun
kissing me with its golden mouth all the way
(open your hands) and the wind winged clouds
following along thinking perhaps I might
feed them, but no I carry these heart-shapes
only to you. Look how many how small
but so sweet and maybe the last gift
I will ever bring to anyone in this
world of hope and risk, so do.
Look at me. Open your life, open your hands.
open your hands. I have just come
from the berry fields, the sun
kissing me with its golden mouth all the way
(open your hands) and the wind winged clouds
following along thinking perhaps I might
feed them, but no I carry these heart-shapes
only to you. Look how many how small
but so sweet and maybe the last gift
I will ever bring to anyone in this
world of hope and risk, so do.
Look at me. Open your life, open your hands.
In what struck me as an act of pointless optimism, I started some seeds about two weeks ago.
I mean, they never germinate, and if they germinate they get leggy and don't survive their move outdoors. And some of the seeds were really kind of old and I didn't have much hope for them in the first place.
Well. That'll show me. I probably helped myself by asking Daughter if I could use the grow light she was still shining on her very dead succulent? But things are going much better than expected.
So far I've got sprouted:
- purple basil (old seeds, so this is exciting)
- cherry tomatoes
- ground cherries (which I haven't grown or eaten before so it's an adventure!!! they're related to tomatillos)
- cilantro (very old seeds, so I went overboard on seeds per little starter pot but some of them want to live!!!)
and at least the tomato seedlings seem to be healthy and not growing super tall or flopping over.
No sign of life from the stevia (old seeds, probably want warmer soil) or the lemon balm (also old seeds).
And the peas I planted outdoors also seem to actually be growing. Some of them. Maybe. There are green sprouts in approximately the places I stuck the seeds? On the other hand some of them keep working their way out of the soil???? so I don't even know. I also know to be patient with them because once they sprout they seem to be doing nothing but they are actually growing awesome roots.
I mean, they never germinate, and if they germinate they get leggy and don't survive their move outdoors. And some of the seeds were really kind of old and I didn't have much hope for them in the first place.
Well. That'll show me. I probably helped myself by asking Daughter if I could use the grow light she was still shining on her very dead succulent? But things are going much better than expected.
So far I've got sprouted:
- purple basil (old seeds, so this is exciting)
- cherry tomatoes
- ground cherries (which I haven't grown or eaten before so it's an adventure!!! they're related to tomatillos)
- cilantro (very old seeds, so I went overboard on seeds per little starter pot but some of them want to live!!!)
and at least the tomato seedlings seem to be healthy and not growing super tall or flopping over.
No sign of life from the stevia (old seeds, probably want warmer soil) or the lemon balm (also old seeds).
And the peas I planted outdoors also seem to actually be growing. Some of them. Maybe. There are green sprouts in approximately the places I stuck the seeds? On the other hand some of them keep working their way out of the soil???? so I don't even know. I also know to be patient with them because once they sprout they seem to be doing nothing but they are actually growing awesome roots.
Cross-posted from Twitter and Tumblr, so apologies if you've read it, and under a cut because of length and trigger-warnings for mental illness (depression, suicidal thought) and the general awful of being queer in this world.
( Read more... )
( Read more... )
Dealbreaker, (2796 words) by
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Warnings: None
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark; Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Additional Tags: Science Bros to Science Boyfriends, Tony Stark Has a Heart, Bruce Banner has Issues, slow burn, like really really slow
Series: Soft Science #1
Summary: After the battle in New York, Tony brings Bruce home. Bruce fights the line a little.
Notes: Many thanks to
astolat, cesperanza and dorinda for cheering me on, even though I haven't posted fic since dinosaurs ruled the earth. :)I'm not quite rational on the subject of these guys, and I have a lot to say about them (or rather, a lot to make them say (and do) to each other). This is the start of a larger framework of stories that will either bounce off of or ignore canon as it goes, in mostly chronological order. It's mostly about Bruce how he and Tony come together, but it's also about the team, and how they all become one. I'll be posting on a fairly regular basis - probably once a week or so. I hope you enjoy it. :)
Going to avoid the usual fannish outlets for a few days to spare myself the Endgame spoilers--most people are good, but there are always one or two people who think they're way cleverer than they actually are with their "cryptic" commentary. See you next week!
Syfywire just pulled the article they put up a few hours ago, "Queerness and Death in the Magicians" and deleted the tweet that announced it. That's super not at all questionable and really normal.
Here is a tweet with screenshots of the article: Queerness and Death in the Magicians. It also looks like a PDF is up at the discord: https://twitter.com/coldwaughtersq/
Note: this will definitely help settle the drama, by the way. That'll work.
ETA (7:30 PM CST): so that thread was deleted and so was my RT of it. Here's another one: https://twitter.com/thelaynierizer/
ETA (7:59 PM CST): Full article now available on tumblr: https://three--rings.tumblr.com/post/
Here is a tweet with screenshots of the article: Queerness and Death in the Magicians. It also looks like a PDF is up at the discord: https://twitter.com/coldwaughtersq/
Note: this will definitely help settle the drama, by the way. That'll work.
ETA (7:30 PM CST): so that thread was deleted and so was my RT of it. Here's another one: https://twitter.com/thelaynierizer/
ETA (7:59 PM CST): Full article now available on tumblr: https://three--rings.tumblr.com/post/
Roswell got renewed! I can exhale.
In completely unrelated news, who's looking for a new show to watch?
In completely unrelated news, who's looking for a new show to watch?
There's been a huge dark halo around the sun all day today. I didn't even realize, until I came outside lunchtime and looked up in the sky to see this:
This is so cool, and eerie-looking. I just checked online and apparently the phenomenon is due to a skinny cirrus cloud refracting ice crystals high in the sky. Nature is awesome. ^___^
This is so cool, and eerie-looking. I just checked online and apparently the phenomenon is due to a skinny cirrus cloud refracting ice crystals high in the sky. Nature is awesome. ^___^
I'm in a very cranky mood today. I shouldn't be - my train was cancelled at Jamaica and they told us to wait for the 8:25, but then had an interim train stop at my stop and a lady gave me her seat since she was getting off at Forest Hills, so I didn't even have to stand on the very crowded train and I made it to work at my usual time.
I also got a surprise extra payment from work today because they are changing the PTO policy and paying out all banked PTO in excess of a certain number of hours and I exceed that number by a bit, so I got a nice check, but the net is only half of what the gross is, thanks to taxes and other payroll deductions. Sigh. And they say I will still accrue my usual amount of PTO, but I wonder what the new policy is going to be - I have a feeling they are going to limit carryover time, or perhaps require that it be used by the end of the first quarter of the next year. I guess we'll see. There's other work bs happening too, but ugh. I do not want to attend a half day meeting to input updates in real time. That is not one of my skill sets and the whole thing is going to be terrible. I wonder if they'll buy me lunch though.
speaking of, I got a nice gift card for Administrative Professionals Day today that I was supposed to pretend I didn't know about even though boss3 checked with me to see if people had liked it last year (spoiler: they had). It's also my dad's birthday, and my gmail inbox is full of advertisements for mother's day so I just want to be all LEAVE ME ALONE - MY PARENTS ARE DEAD about things. I know, I know. But it's how I feel.
Anyway, I guess it's reading Wednesday, but since I was off Thurs-Mon, I didn't really do much book-reading; I spent my days off reading fic instead, so I have nothing new to report. Still reading Amnesty, still ( spoilers )
Meanwhile, my filters grow tighter and my blacklist longer as I try to stay unspoiled until Saturday when I finally see Endgame. I do not want to know!
Also, I am still annoyed that there is no ability to wrap tabs in Firefox. I really hate that they just scroll off screen. It is not optimal when I open a dozen stories to read later and then can't find the tab looking for at any given moment.
Have a poem:
The Price Is Going Up
by Ashe Vernon
My heart likes to start fights with
the inside of my ribs where everyone loses.
For weeks, my lungs have been
purple punching bags. My stomach
is being polished into a wood panel floor.
I'm selling tickets to my own heartbreak.
Blood and broken noses are what put
bodies in the seats.
These are real bar brawls, ladies and gentlemen.
Nothing is staged, here. Sure,
there have been a few–
accidents.
The kind of hits you don't get back up from.
But that's the price of business, isn't it?
And don't you want a show?"
***
I also got a surprise extra payment from work today because they are changing the PTO policy and paying out all banked PTO in excess of a certain number of hours and I exceed that number by a bit, so I got a nice check, but the net is only half of what the gross is, thanks to taxes and other payroll deductions. Sigh. And they say I will still accrue my usual amount of PTO, but I wonder what the new policy is going to be - I have a feeling they are going to limit carryover time, or perhaps require that it be used by the end of the first quarter of the next year. I guess we'll see. There's other work bs happening too, but ugh. I do not want to attend a half day meeting to input updates in real time. That is not one of my skill sets and the whole thing is going to be terrible. I wonder if they'll buy me lunch though.
speaking of, I got a nice gift card for Administrative Professionals Day today that I was supposed to pretend I didn't know about even though boss3 checked with me to see if people had liked it last year (spoiler: they had). It's also my dad's birthday, and my gmail inbox is full of advertisements for mother's day so I just want to be all LEAVE ME ALONE - MY PARENTS ARE DEAD about things. I know, I know. But it's how I feel.
Anyway, I guess it's reading Wednesday, but since I was off Thurs-Mon, I didn't really do much book-reading; I spent my days off reading fic instead, so I have nothing new to report. Still reading Amnesty, still ( spoilers )
Meanwhile, my filters grow tighter and my blacklist longer as I try to stay unspoiled until Saturday when I finally see Endgame. I do not want to know!
Also, I am still annoyed that there is no ability to wrap tabs in Firefox. I really hate that they just scroll off screen. It is not optimal when I open a dozen stories to read later and then can't find the tab looking for at any given moment.
Have a poem:
The Price Is Going Up
by Ashe Vernon
My heart likes to start fights with
the inside of my ribs where everyone loses.
For weeks, my lungs have been
purple punching bags. My stomach
is being polished into a wood panel floor.
I'm selling tickets to my own heartbreak.
Blood and broken noses are what put
bodies in the seats.
These are real bar brawls, ladies and gentlemen.
Nothing is staged, here. Sure,
there have been a few–
accidents.
The kind of hits you don't get back up from.
But that's the price of business, isn't it?
And don't you want a show?"
***
1. Connecting with a cousin who is dying. We had a beautiful chat on FB messenger. I'm grieving her departure from this life (timeline unknown, as usual), and am also feeling grateful for the connection.
2. I walked 10,000 steps at my standing desk today. Five miles, y'all. Haven't done that in... probably years? It's already worth every penny I spent on the wall-mounted monitor omg.
3. I refilled the bird feeder -- I've seen glorious yellow goldfinches there today, and also female cardinals with their wash of red. I put a little sock full of goldfinch seed in the burning bush, also, and we'll see if it attracts more.
4. Now I have a warm purring cat on my lap, gnawing happily on my belt loops as is his wont. Oh wait, he went to go sit by a window and watch birdfeeder tv instead. But he was on my lap for a minute, and it was cozy.
5. Today when I go to lunch withwoobat I will carry a chartreuse-green purse that was my mom's. It matches the baby leaves on the trees.
2. I walked 10,000 steps at my standing desk today. Five miles, y'all. Haven't done that in... probably years? It's already worth every penny I spent on the wall-mounted monitor omg.
3. I refilled the bird feeder -- I've seen glorious yellow goldfinches there today, and also female cardinals with their wash of red. I put a little sock full of goldfinch seed in the burning bush, also, and we'll see if it attracts more.
4. Now I have a warm purring cat on my lap, gnawing happily on my belt loops as is his wont. Oh wait, he went to go sit by a window and watch birdfeeder tv instead. But he was on my lap for a minute, and it was cozy.
5. Today when I go to lunch with
woobat I will carry a chartreuse-green purse that was my mom's. It matches the baby leaves on the trees.
It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?
So, this past Friday I found a stray cat in our backyard, incompetently trying to catch birds in our bird feeder area. I thought it was the large adult cat that comes into our yard occasionally so went out there to chase it away. But when it came out of the cover of the plants, I saw it was much smaller and younger, probably under a year old. I called it and it stopped and actually wanted to come to me. When it came close, I realized it was a young cat, still very kittenish, and basically a skeleton with fur.
I brought it some food and it snatched the first bite and ran away to eat it. Then sort of gradually calmed down and realized it could have the whole bowl. We weren't sure what to do, but after a little while it was crying to come in the house, so we ended up bringing it in and sequestering it in the guest bathroom. (We have two inside-only cats so introducing it into the household was going to be a process.) And naturally it was Friday night and the vet didn't open until Monday so we had to wait to get its health checked out.
This cat was clearly a house cat who had been dumped. He had been fixed, he was immediately cuddly and sweet, and he even purred loudly when he realized he was inside a house. I took him to the vet on Monday then found out they were out of Feline leukemia tests and wouldn't have them until Tuesday. Also we found a cat bite on his hip, so there was a chance he might have it and it got really nerve-racking. But I took him in on Tuesday, and he didn't have it, so now we have a new cat.
And here's a photo: https://twitter.com/marthawells1/
I brought it some food and it snatched the first bite and ran away to eat it. Then sort of gradually calmed down and realized it could have the whole bowl. We weren't sure what to do, but after a little while it was crying to come in the house, so we ended up bringing it in and sequestering it in the guest bathroom. (We have two inside-only cats so introducing it into the household was going to be a process.) And naturally it was Friday night and the vet didn't open until Monday so we had to wait to get its health checked out.
This cat was clearly a house cat who had been dumped. He had been fixed, he was immediately cuddly and sweet, and he even purred loudly when he realized he was inside a house. I took him to the vet on Monday then found out they were out of Feline leukemia tests and wouldn't have them until Tuesday. Also we found a cat bite on his hip, so there was a chance he might have it and it got really nerve-racking. But I took him in on Tuesday, and he didn't have it, so now we have a new cat.
And here's a photo: https://twitter.com/marthawells1/
( Spoiler Endgame 'analysis' )
I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF "NO IT WASN'T X IT WAS Y AND THEREFORE IT WAS GOOD." ESPECIALLY AFTER THE MAGICIANS.
I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF "NO IT WASN'T X IT WAS Y AND THEREFORE IT WAS GOOD." ESPECIALLY AFTER THE MAGICIANS.
so i clicked on a thing on tumblr in a sort of "why the hell not" gesture and now I have an actual invite (non-transferable, they want govt ID, good thing I used my wallet name email) to a She-ra screening at Dreamworks in two days but you know, just me, not me and a friend, even if I had friends who weren't like, at work on a Thursday.
I don't know how to go alone to fannish/promotional events, I will now have an existential crisis about this purely optional thing I signed up for.
I don't know how to go alone to fannish/promotional events, I will now have an existential crisis about this purely optional thing I signed up for.
Cat Sebastian's A Little Light Mischief and Olivia Waite's The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics look lovely! I also can't wait for KJ Charles' Proper English! *pokes internet in search of a way to preorder it*
(and I love that I keep finding out about new historical f/f romances)
(and I love that I keep finding out about new historical f/f romances)
( MASSIVE ENDGAME SPOILERS )
After this and the Magicians finale it's going to be a cold day in hell before I throw my heart into another canon run mainly by white males, I can tell you that.
After this and the Magicians finale it's going to be a cold day in hell before I throw my heart into another canon run mainly by white males, I can tell you that.
Drove my brother to a medical appointment. Gathered laundry. Ran the dishwasher. Changed the sheets on the bed. Made dinner.
My word, but my life is a never-ending whirl of gaiety and delight.
(On the other hand, dinner came out well. And fresh sheets are always a good thing. So there is that.)
My word, but my life is a never-ending whirl of gaiety and delight.
(On the other hand, dinner came out well. And fresh sheets are always a good thing. So there is that.)
and WOW fandom is going to continue to explode. There is something to make nearly everyone ticked off!
Man I feel tired. I miss just enjoying these movies. I think I will go back to my Black Widow comics.
( Vague spoiler )
Man I feel tired. I miss just enjoying these movies. I think I will go back to my Black Widow comics.
( Vague spoiler )
Anon
by Carol Ann Duffy
If she were here
she'd forget who she was,
it's been so long,
maybe nurse, a nanny,
maybe a nun—
Anon.
A girl I met
was willing to bet
that she still lived on -
Anon -
but had packed it all in,
the best verb, the right noun,
for a life in the sun.
A woman I knew
kept her skull
on a shelf in a room -
Anon's -
and swore that one day
as she worked at her desk
it cleared its throat
as though it has something
to get off its chest.
But I know best -
how she passed on her pen
like a baton
down through the years,
with a hey nonny
hey nonny
hey nonny no -
Anon.
"Anon" by Carol Ann Duffy, from Feminine Gospels. © Faber & Faber, 2002.
by Carol Ann Duffy
If she were here
she'd forget who she was,
it's been so long,
maybe nurse, a nanny,
maybe a nun—
Anon.
A girl I met
was willing to bet
that she still lived on -
Anon -
but had packed it all in,
the best verb, the right noun,
for a life in the sun.
A woman I knew
kept her skull
on a shelf in a room -
Anon's -
and swore that one day
as she worked at her desk
it cleared its throat
as though it has something
to get off its chest.
But I know best -
how she passed on her pen
like a baton
down through the years,
with a hey nonny
hey nonny
hey nonny no -
Anon.
"Anon" by Carol Ann Duffy, from Feminine Gospels. © Faber & Faber, 2002.
1. It finally feels like spring. The trees are popping with leaves. Bits of stunning chartreuse and early red.
2. Tonight I'm going to try making karaage (Japanese fried chicken), which is marinated in soy and ginger and sake and then coated with cornstarch and shichimi togarashi, so it's naturally glutenfree and KFP (by my lights; those who don't eat cornstarch during Pesach would obviously disagree; it can also be made with potato starch, if you prefer.)
3. I'm not yet tired of matzah snacking. This morning I had matzah with labneh and zata'ar for breakfast, which does not suck. :-) It will still be nice to return to bread next weekend, but I am not minding the matzah.
4. I did a bunch of work at my walking desk this morning, and now I'm on my mirpesset with a laptop -- still getting work done, but in the fresh air, hooray.
5. Did I mention that it's spring at last?
2. Tonight I'm going to try making karaage (Japanese fried chicken), which is marinated in soy and ginger and sake and then coated with cornstarch and shichimi togarashi, so it's naturally glutenfree and KFP (by my lights; those who don't eat cornstarch during Pesach would obviously disagree; it can also be made with potato starch, if you prefer.)
3. I'm not yet tired of matzah snacking. This morning I had matzah with labneh and zata'ar for breakfast, which does not suck. :-) It will still be nice to return to bread next weekend, but I am not minding the matzah.
4. I did a bunch of work at my walking desk this morning, and now I'm on my mirpesset with a laptop -- still getting work done, but in the fresh air, hooray.
5. Did I mention that it's spring at last?
Tuesday, April 23rd, 2019 01:48 pm
Signal Boost: The Magicians S4 Finale Aired Five Days Ago And I'm Still Mad As Hell
cleolinda posted: The Magicians S4 Finale Aired Five Days Ago And I'm Still Mad As HellThere is still so much I want to say about all of it, but my thoughts won't organize themselves sufficiently. Read
cleolinda; lots of commentary and links.I do, however, want to comment eventually on the less-loaded topic of bad storytelling, which was also a factor here.
But there's also this: any hack on earth can write tragedy. Devastating your audience is the easiest thing in the world.
You know what's hard? Blowing their minds with sheer joy. Shock them by giving them what they didn't even know they could want. I think I can count the times on one hand where a show managed that. To get it, you have to work for it.
I don't get--I'll never get--why anyone on earth would do the second--would manage the fucking impossible--but in the end, only care about, only take pride in, only value doing the first.
Being on vacation for 3 days means work is hectic* so let's be cliched and do some Shakespeare today:
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
-William Shakespeare
From The Tempest, Act 4 Scene 1
*( cut for more detailed work ranting )
***
So during my time off, I was reading this long, plotty (and complete!) Bat-fic, which will be recced at some point, and I know this is more about my personal bias than the story, but ( cutting for spoilers even though I'm not linking to it right now ) It's just interesting to be reminded that we all bring our own lenses to stories and it's not the stories' fault, necessarily, when the author is doing something different from what we thought because of those lenses.
***
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
-William Shakespeare
From The Tempest, Act 4 Scene 1
*( cut for more detailed work ranting )
***
So during my time off, I was reading this long, plotty (and complete!) Bat-fic, which will be recced at some point, and I know this is more about my personal bias than the story, but ( cutting for spoilers even though I'm not linking to it right now ) It's just interesting to be reminded that we all bring our own lenses to stories and it's not the stories' fault, necessarily, when the author is doing something different from what we thought because of those lenses.
***
Wednesday, April 24th, 2019 01:16 am
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Dear Prudence: Help! My Boyfriend’s Mom Keeps Telling Me I Need to Dress More “Ladylike"
Dear Prudie: I am 23 and straight, but I have very short hair and not a single skirt or dress in my closet.
More than a few times, I had my sexuality questioned from my lack of commitment to regular femininity. I am not gay, just physically active and lazy in my grooming habits. (I never wear anything more than lipstick.)
I met my boyfriend's family for the first time. I thought I had packed to impress: sparkly earrings and a pink cardigan. But it wasn't enough. My boyfriend's mother was aghast that I wore nice dress pants to church rather than a skirt. She also made comments that I must have been a tomboy growing up or had a lot of brothers. (I have all sisters and was addicted to romance novels as a teen). Since then, my boyfriend's mother has emailed me a few times about getting together for other family events, and we exchanged recipes.
But she always adds little details like “We should go shopping together and get you looking ladylike" or sends me pictures of dresses and telling me I would “look darling” in them. I know she means well and she has not been anything other than sweet to me, but all the sartorial advice is getting under my skin. It feels petty to tell my boyfriend his mother wants to redo my wardrobe, I just need a script on how to deflect her. Help me!
More than a few times, I had my sexuality questioned from my lack of commitment to regular femininity. I am not gay, just physically active and lazy in my grooming habits. (I never wear anything more than lipstick.)
I met my boyfriend's family for the first time. I thought I had packed to impress: sparkly earrings and a pink cardigan. But it wasn't enough. My boyfriend's mother was aghast that I wore nice dress pants to church rather than a skirt. She also made comments that I must have been a tomboy growing up or had a lot of brothers. (I have all sisters and was addicted to romance novels as a teen). Since then, my boyfriend's mother has emailed me a few times about getting together for other family events, and we exchanged recipes.
But she always adds little details like “We should go shopping together and get you looking ladylike" or sends me pictures of dresses and telling me I would “look darling” in them. I know she means well and she has not been anything other than sweet to me, but all the sartorial advice is getting under my skin. It feels petty to tell my boyfriend his mother wants to redo my wardrobe, I just need a script on how to deflect her. Help me!
—Not That Kind of Lady
Oh, she sounds like a treat. I think it’s fine to mention this to your boyfriend—not because it’s time for him to run interference on your behalf, but just so he’s aware of the dynamic and can back you up if you have to repeat yourself with her.
You can stress that it’s not, you know, emotionally destructive, but that it’s getting to be tiresome and that you’re going to politely tell her to stop. For a lot of this, I think cheerfully disagreeing up to the point of playing a little bit dumb is just fine: “No, I don’t have any brothers.” “Funny, no one’s ever considered me a tomboy before.” “What a great color! I don’t wear dresses myself, and it’s not to my taste, but I’m sure someone else would look lovely in it.” “That’s sweet of you to suggest, but I look exactly as ladylike as I want to.”
You can stress that it’s not, you know, emotionally destructive, but that it’s getting to be tiresome and that you’re going to politely tell her to stop. For a lot of this, I think cheerfully disagreeing up to the point of playing a little bit dumb is just fine: “No, I don’t have any brothers.” “Funny, no one’s ever considered me a tomboy before.” “What a great color! I don’t wear dresses myself, and it’s not to my taste, but I’m sure someone else would look lovely in it.” “That’s sweet of you to suggest, but I look exactly as ladylike as I want to.”
If that doesn’t register with her, and she keeps it up, I think you can be a bit more direct: “You often mention wanting to change my wardrobe, but I wish you wouldn’t. While I certainly want to dress appropriately for something like church, I’m not a fan of dresses and skirts, and I don’t plan on changing what I wear to seem more ladylike.
I hope you get to dress exactly the way you want and enjoy it immensely, and I’ll do the same.” (Also, for what it’s worth, I think having short hair/wearing lipstick/owning sparkly earrings and cardigans is hardly “lazy,” and you don’t have to apologize for it just because some other women groom themselves differently!)
—Prudence
Wednesday, April 24th, 2019 02:00 am
Dear Prudence: My husband wants me to go have fun without him
Q. Fun without him: I am a woman in my early-30s, and I have been married for 10 years this summer. My husband is incredible—kind, generous, funny, supportive of my career, has a wonderful family, loves my family, and, in the inimitable words of Zoolander, is “really, really ridiculously good-looking.” I want to write apology cards to everyone who can’t be married to him because I am.
My miracle of a husband does not enjoy socializing. I like seeing friends outside work (dinner, brunch, a show, etc.) two or three times a month; he’s wholly satisfied with perhaps half that frequency. This isn’t an introvert-extrovert issue. (For what it’s worth, I test and identify as an ambivert, and he’s more clearly an introvert.) He just has lower need for an interest in social interaction beyond the two of us, even when it’s one on one or in a very small group. He’s pretty cerebral, and over the course of his life, he’s always had a handful of close, deep friendships, and he spends most of his time working, with his family, or occasionally that handful of people. He’s charming and wonderful when we do go out with others, but he’s clear about the fact that he’s not interested in doing any more of it than we currently do. I think this is totally reasonable—he has reflected on what’s meaningful and satisfying to him, it’s OK that his answer is different from mine, and we both feel like we talk and compromise about this in a healthy way.
My questions regard interactions about this with my friends who are in relationships. I can’t seem to communicate my husband’s preferences about this in a way that isn’t confusing or hurtful to them. I will very happily individually make plans to hang out with a couple, but when I make an invitation just from myself or reply to their invites with something along the lines of “[My husband] unfortunately isn’t able to make it, but if it’s OK if there are just three of us, I’d love to join you,” they want to know where he is, insist we reschedule when he can join, and generally have a lot of follow-up questions to anything general and warm I try to relay. My friends have all met him, but managing a rotation with the frequency he prefers, they would only see him a couple of times a year. It’s easy to get out of this in the short term by claiming a work obligation (his job has unpredictable and nontraditional hours), but that isn’t believable forever. I’ve had a friend say in exasperation, “I know other detectives, and I know they all eat dinner!”
On the other hand, a more honest “He likes you very much and is happy to see you as often as he sees other friends, but he prefers not to go out regularly” sounds like we’re hiding something. This isn’t an issue with my single friends, and I don’t think it would be an issue with his male friends—said more specifically, I don’t think a partnered man would be miffed if my husband said, “Sure, but [my wife] can’t make it.” Part of my frustration is admittedly that I think this problem is gendered and rooted in expectations specifically about how a married woman of a certain social class is expected to behave. (I grew up proudly working-class in rural middle America and now have a comfortable finance career in the Bay Area. I don’t remember this couples-have-to-go-out-with-couples thing being a problem in the former setting.) There also seems to be a miasma of “Is he not a good husband to you because he doesn’t want to do this?” That’s something I don’t appreciate. How can I explain this to friends I otherwise care about very much? And more philosophically, am I crazy to think it shouldn’t be a big deal if my husband and I don’t take every social engagement together?
A: I wonder, if you were to show your husband this letter and talk to him about just how much time and energy you have to spend making excuses for him to your friends, if he might reconsider going on an additional outing or two a month, even if it’s only for an hour and he begs off early to go be an introvert. Not in a punishing sense, as in “Look what you’ve reduced me to with your selfishness,” but in the sense of “Sometimes, when you prioritize your alone time, I’m hit with some unfair, maybe-unintentionally sexist expectations. It takes a lot out of me. I’m not asking you to go out with me and our friends every week, but I wanted to share with you how difficult it can be sometimes, because you haven’t seen it before. Do you think we could occasionally revisit our going-out policy? What would you need in order to feel comfortable going out to, say, one more dinner a month? If you could leave early, would that help? If we invited people over here? Let’s discuss all our options.”
In addition to that, I think you can push back a little bit with some of your friends: “Lt. Stabler takes a lot of downtime, and sometimes that means I want to go out when he doesn’t. I sometimes feel like I’m being called upon to account for him or to reassure other people that our relationships is OK, and it feels like a lot of pressure. I want to see you, I’m very happily married, and it would mean a lot to me if I could sometimes show up to dinner without him and without inviting comment.”