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April 13th, 2008
10:04 am - The starlings in their bright mail were feeding on the grass
Virginia Woolf has said everything better than I will ever say it.
That said: the (European) starlings are out in force recently. It seems to be the time of the season for them; always on the way to or from school I'll hear and then see one perched on a power line, warbling loudly, flapping his wings in display. Or maybe it's a she; European starlings aren't sexually dimorphic to the extent that some birds are, so the males and the females look the same to me. (I'm told by the interwebs you can distinguish them by the length of the breast feathers. Ho ho ho.)
The funny thing I saw today was a group of starlings, all sitting in a tree and exhibiting this behavior- and then a robin jumped up into the tree and started doing the same thing. Oh! dear silly Robin.
I know I'm getting older because spring heartens me, it really does. The slow opening of the season, from the wintry camellias and poisonous hellebores to daphne and crocus, star magnolia and daffodil and then, suddenly, lilac, hydrangea, peony, like fireworks; it feels beautiful, moving, meaningful. I fall in love with spring so easily, each time more easily than the last. My affection for the seasons accumulates like the gold scales of sunlight in Woolf's Monday or Tuesday, a wealth of useless sentiment. (No wonder my classmates call me 'grandma'.)
I had two planters on the stoop, and both of them seem to have passed the winter much better than I expected; all of the herbs in them have come back, as opposed to those actually in the ground in the front yard, which are still reluctant. I put in jasmine and daphne that I hope will be lovely and fragrant by summer, but they're taking their time too. There's something unforgiving or unhealthful about the soil in our yard. Perhaps it's just a reminder not to put down roots just yet.
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December 23rd, 2007
11:39 pm - done in the last two days
Wrapped presents
Read The Keep by Jennifer Egan
Watched Sweeney Todd and Superbad
Slept a bunch
Other than that... a whole lot of bupkiss, my friends. Long, luxurious bupkiss. Freedom has never tasted so sweet.
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July 4th, 2007
11:30 am - Le Guin is frickin' awesome.
And it's not just because she has my name:
"As she heard the click of heel bones that had broken through rotting flesh, she knew what it was. But it was dead, dead! God damn that Chabon, dragging it out of the grave where she and the other serious writers had buried it to save serious literature from its polluting touch, the horror of its blank, pustular face, the lifeless, meaningless glare of its decaying eyes! What did the fool think he was doing? Had he paid no attention at all to the endless rituals of the serious writers and their serious critics -- the formal expulsion ceremonies, the repeated anathemata, the stakes driven over and over through the heart, the vitriolic sneers, the endless, solemn dances on the grave?"
From Ansible, via BoingBoing.
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February 11th, 2007
03:52 pm - the gym broke me.
What can I say? It was my first time working out alone, I didn't even get to do most of my routine, and yet here I am. Three days later. And my arms hurt if I move them. I also burnt my left index finger, so I can't crochet, which makes me pretty much useless right now. I'll use the time to read or something; since I've got a huge backlog of books from Christmas to read, starting with Anthony Bourdain's Les Halles Cookbook, which is the usual foul-mouthed, chest-beating stuff. I also picked up The Second Stage by the fabulous Ms. Friedan, so bring on the sisterhood. I would have preferred Backlash or The Feminine Mystique, but Twice Sold didn't have either of those in stock. WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?!?!>
I'm slooowly plotting out these terraced, raised beds for vegetables in the back yard, now that the landlord said it's okay. I don't really know how I'm going to build them yet, so suggestions are welcome. (Donations of physical labor next weekend or after? Even more welcome. Srsly, I'll make you a tasty dinner or give you my first-born or something.) Keep imagining drama where there is none; I am lucky in this.
I feel like I haven't had a good latte in weeks. I don't know why this is, aside from the distinct possibility that people burn their damn coffee beans when they see me walking in the door.
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May 31st, 2006
10:52 pm
I thought about writing about nervous-making things that are happening, but decided not to. Following is a list of unqualified goods:
I started some seeds for herbs to plant in the yard at the new place. The dill and chamomile, since they need light to germinate, have pretty much already sprouted.
A while ago I bought this book which is basically George Sand's indictment of Majorca for being smelly and a stupid-head- the best part being, the translator has inserted footnotes that seem to attempt to debunk the whole thing when it's essentially George Sand being snarky about a particularly unpleasant vacation. Too many levels here to analyze properly, but I'm enjoying reading it at long last.
I finally, finally bought a copy of Art Brut's Bang Bang Rock & Roll and it makes me very happy. If attorney Kate would only return it so I could listen to it again...
And now, it's time for bed. Love to all.
P.S. Also: new Scott Pilgrim, close to completing doily, and it rained and rained tonight.
Current Location: Nick's
Current Music: none
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April 10th, 2006
07:19 pm - work hard, books good, etc. etc.
Still working lots, like, halfway through lunch, plus an hour of overtime, which is a lot for me. USCIS and the Department of Labor had to go and get all fucking efficient all of a sudden, right, so now our office is fucked.
Not much more to say than that, surprisingly. I'm still working at My Heart Laid Bare. The first book by Joyce Carol Oates that I ever read was her short story collection Haunted, which skeezed me out something fierce a few times. Oates seems to have this marked disdain for people, so many different kinds of people, but most of all the credulous; her protagonists, which are always antagonists in the traditional sense of the word, are knowing, and arrogant, and most of the time vicious. Still, this one is so florid and at times Romantic (in the Hugo sense, not the 'isn't it..' sense) that I'm finding it rather engrossing. I might have to read more Oates.
Also, I like salami. Mmmmm, thinly sliced cured pig bits.
Current Location: Nick's
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December 2nd, 2005
09:28 am
Dear Charles DeLint,
Please stop fucking up foreign languages. You did it in Svaha and in Forests Of The Heart and it's making me hate your books, which are so generally well-received that it makes me feel like some sort of moron for hating them. Get a native speaker, or someone with a passing knowledge of the language in question, or SOMETHING. I don't remember Spanish worth a damn, but I can still tell you that 'cadejos' are plural, so their complaints on page 323 should read 'infelices', 'no deseados'. Also, 'ugokuna zo' means 'get a move on' only in the NOT sense.
Gwarrrrrrrr.
Sincerely,
Ursula Owen.
Seriously, does he have any non-Earth books that I could actually enjoy? The language and cultural mistakes he make distract me too much from his urban fantasies.
Current Mood: pedantic
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October 10th, 2005
09:28 am
For those of you who have read and enjoy the work of Neil Gaiman and Susanna Clark, Salon.com has a pretty interesting interview with the two of them here.
I'm pretty sure most of you have read Gaiman's work, Neverwhere and American Gods and so on, but Susanna Clarke's genre-defying Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell doesn't seem to have made its way around yet. It's a charmingly revisionist take on the Napoleonic Wars if they'd involved magicians, and I've got a copy in hardback available to whoever wants to borrow it, which ALL OF YOU DO.
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August 8th, 2005
03:51 pm
A few things:
Ye olde showe lyste has been updated- in a manner of speaking.
Also, I finally got around to reading Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer, and I can't recommend it strongly enough. It definitely ranks, although it's a little twee and self-indulgent in places. (Incidentally, Amazon.com recommends this item for me because: I own Transatlanticism, by Death Cab For Cutie. I'd like to know how that tracking decision got made. Full disclosure: I'm dating an employee of Amazon.com.)
Mmmmmm beach. Mmmmmm drive. Mmmmm home. I love my apartment, because I'm the only one there and it doesn't reek of bacon.
Current Music: smiths smiths smiths smiths
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September 16th, 2003
11:05 am - lalala
Yaaaaaaay three day weekend. God bless old people. And next week Tuesday is the fall equinox, so we get that off too. Crazy Japan.
I ordered a passel of books from Amazon and thus spent the weekend reading them and watching the DVDs my mom pressed on me before I left... was kind of disappointed by Chicago. Forgot how long The Meaning of Life was. And reaffirmed my staid belief that Casablanca is, in fact, A Great Movie.
Also, just started reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Now, I'm sure that I remember reading somewhere that both this book and Stoker's Dracula were the results of a bet on who could write the scarier story, which is a charming concept as long as one doesn't know that Dracula was published more than fifty years later. Where did I get this particularly stupid idea? Alas, the world may never know.
*pause*
*yawn*
My lunch hour is supposedly officially from 11 to 12. So I will ignore the fact that I had breakfast a scant four hours ago and have lunch.
(I'm such a rebel.)
Current Mood: exanimate
Current Music: The Go-Gos, Automatic
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