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19th April 2011
2nd September 2010
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner :
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1798
IT IS an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
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The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din.'
He holds him with his skinny hand,
'There was a ship,' quoth he.
'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
He holds him with his glittering eye--
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:
The Mariner hath his will.
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.
The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.
Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon--'
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.
The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
And now the Storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled.
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken--
The ice was all between.
The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!
At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God's name.
It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through!
And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners' hollo!
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.'
'God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!--
Why look'st thou so?'--'With my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross.'
THE Sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariners' hollo!
And I had done a hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!
Nor dim nor red like God's own head,
The glorious Sun uprist:
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist.
'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!
All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.
About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.
And some in dreams assur'ed were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.
And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.
Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.
THERE passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist;
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could nor laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.
See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel!
The western wave was all a-flame.
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
With broad and burning face.
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres?
Are those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a DEATH? and are there two?
Is DEATH that woman's mate?
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare Life-in-Death was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.
The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
'The game is done! I've won! I've won!'
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.
We listened and looked sideways up!
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seemed to sip!
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white;
From the sails the dew did drip--
Till clomb above the eastern bar
The horn'ed Moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.
One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.
Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.
The souls did from their bodies fly,--
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the whizz of my cross-bow!
'I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.
I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so brown.'--
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!
This body dropt not down.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.
I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay
I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.
I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And the balls like pulses beat;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.
The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.
An orphan's curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man's eye!
Seven days, seven nights saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.
The moving Moon went up the sky,
And no where did abide:
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside--
Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost spread;
But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
The charm'ed water burnt alway
A still and awful red.
Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watched the water-snakes:
They moved in tracks of shining white
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.
Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
Then coiled and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.
O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.
The self-same moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.
OH sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
That slid into my soul.
The silly buckets on the deck,
That had so long remained,
I dreamt that they were filled with dew;
And when I awoke, it rained.
My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
My garments all were dank;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
And still my body drank.
I moved, and could not feel my limbs:
I was so light--almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a bless'ed ghost.
And soon I heard a roaring wind:
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails,
That were so thin and sere.
The upper air burst into life!
And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
To and fro they were hurried about!
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced between.
And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh like sedge;
And the rain poured down from one black cloud;
The Moon was at its edge.
The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.
The loud wind never reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan.
They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
It had been strange, even in a dream,
To have seen those dead men rise.
The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew;
The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do;
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools--
We were a ghastly crew.
The body of my brother's son
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope,
But he said nought to me.
'I fear thee, ancient Mariner!'
Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!
'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blest:
For when it dawned--they dropped their arms,
And clustered round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies passed.
Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the Sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.
Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!
And now 'twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel's song,
That makes the heavens be mute.
It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.
Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the Ship,
Moved onward from beneath.
Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,
The spirit slid: and it was he
That made the ship to go.
The sails at noon left off their tune,
And the ship stood still also.
The Sun, right up above the mast,
Had fixed her to the ocean:
But in a minute she 'gan stir,
With a short uneasy motion--
Backwards and forwards half her length
With a short uneasy motion.
Then like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound:
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.
How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two voices in the air.
'Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man?
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low
The harmless Albatross.
The spirit who bideth by himself
In the land of mist and snow,
He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow.'
The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew:
Quoth he, 'The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.'
'BUT tell me, tell me! speak again,
They soft response renewing--
What makes that ship drive on so fast?
What is the ocean doing?'
'Still as a slave before his lord,
The ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the Moon is cast--
If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him.'
'But why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?'
'The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.
Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!
Or we shall be belated:
For slow and slow that ship will go,
When the Mariner's trance is abated.'
I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather:
'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;
The dead men stood together.
All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the Moon did glitter.
The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away:
I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.
And now this spell was snapt: once more
I viewed the ocean green,
And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen--
Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.
It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring--
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze--
On me alone it blew.
Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
The light-house top I see?
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree?
We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,
And I with sobs did pray--
O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway.
The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn!
And on the bay, the moonlight lay,
And the shadow of the Moon.
The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady, weathercock.
And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.
A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turned my eyes upon the deck--
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And, by the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.
This seraph-band, each waved his hand:
It was a heavenly, sight!
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light;
This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart--
No voice; but oh! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.
But soon I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the Pilot's cheer;
My head was turned perforce away
And I saw a boat appear.
The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,
I heard them coming fast:
Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.
I saw a third-I heard his voice:
It is the Hermit good!
He singeth loud his godly hymns
That he makes in the wood.
He'll shrieve my soul he'll wash away
The Albatross's blood.
THIS Hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He loves to talk with marineres
That come from a far countree.
He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve--
He hath a cushion plump:
It is the moss that wholly hides
The rotted old oak-stump.
The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk,
'Why, this is strange, I trow!
Where are those lights so many and fair,
That signal made but now?'
'Strange, by my faith!' the Hermit said--
'And they answered not our cheer!
The planks looked warped! and see those sails,
How thin they are and sere!
I never saw aught like to them,
Unless perchance it were
Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
My forest-brook along;
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolf's young.'
'Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look--
(The Pilot made reply)
I am a-feared'--'Push on, push on!'
Said the Hermit cheerily.
The boat came closer to the ship,
But I nor spake nor stirred;
The boat came close beneath the ship,
And straight a sound was heard.
Under the water it rumbled on,
Still louder and more dead:
It reached the ship, it split the bay;
The ship went down like lead.
Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote,
Like one that hath been seven days drowned
My body lay afloat;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot's boat.
Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
The boat spun round and round;
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.
I moved my lips--the Pilot shrieked
And fell down in a fit;
The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
And prayed where he did sit.
I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laughed loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro.
'Ha! ha!' quoth he, 'full plain I see,
The Devil knows how to row.'
And now, all in my own countree,
I stood on the firm land!
The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.
'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!'
The Hermit crossed his brow.
'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say--
What manner of man art thou?
Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.
Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.
I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.
What loud uproar bursts from that door!
The wedding-guests are there:
But in the garden-bower the bride
And bride-maids singing are:
And hark the little vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to prayer!
O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seem'ed there to be.
O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!--
To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay!
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
Turned from the bridegroom's door.
He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.
16th August 2010
HOLY SONNETS. :
Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
- John Donne, 1635.
Glory be to God for dappled things--
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced--fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
- Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1918.
Caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!
Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!
No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.
- Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1918.
They Flee From Me
They flee from me that sometime did me seek
With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.
I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
That now are wild and do not remember
That sometime they put themself in danger
To take bread at my hand; and now they range,
Busily seeking with a continual change.
Thanked be fortune it hath been otherwise
Twenty times better; but once in special,
In thin array after a pleasant guise,
When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall,
And she me caught in her arms long and small;
Therewithall sweetly did me kiss
And softly said, “Dear heart, how like you this?”
It was no dream: I lay broad waking.
But all is turned thorough my gentleness
Into a strange fashion of forsaking;
And I have leave to go of her goodness,
And she also, to use newfangleness.
But since that I so kindly am served
I would fain know what she hath deserved.
- Sir Thomas Wyatt
14th July 2010
8th July 2010
I have the best bosses in the world.
I could write a book with all the amazing shit one of my bosses says. :
The last thing he said to me: "I likes me Pepsi in a tin. Excuse me, Beeyotches."
He's such a wonderful mix of flamboyant gayness, newfoundland down-hominess, and the kindest, humblest soul in the world. I love him!
Current Mood: happy
26th May 2010
I can understand why some people might think I'm dumb. I act dumb, and I am in a lot of ways. But I know I really am smart. Sometimes I think there's no one as smart as me! :
Fear of being exposed as stupid makes me do stupid things, so I look stupid and am more ascared. Also if I think you're not smart enough I'll be too afraid to show you the ways that I am smart.
Sometimes I seem mean too. It's like I won't say hi to you even though I've met you a million times just because I know you've heard tell that I'm a witch. I'm not mean, I'm not dumb, I'm just scared (of possums, my own elektra complex, and gold masks).
Andrea used to say that I had book smarts and she had street smarts, but try telling that to my pimp - or my local librarian! I think it's just that I'm not curious anything other than my mysteries and my Cat Fancy, so nothing stays in my head. Also I've heard SSRIs and aspertame dissolve your long term memory. I'm afraid of that, but then I forget to be afraid and pop a bottle.
20th May 2010
Best thing in the world.
As of next week, I will be beginning my new career as "Marketing and Development Coordinator" for the Queen Street West Art Crawl. Yay! :
Current Mood: enthralled
17th May 2010
wish me luck!
I have an interview for a job I REALLY want tomorrow. I can't stop myself from compulsively devising sick scenarios of how I could blow it really bad in different ways -- like stuffing my bra with water balloons; or going in with ketchup-chip-powder all over my hands, and the only way they'd know it wasn't dried blood is from that distinctly Canadian odor. :
Current Mood: nervous
5th April 2010
It was hair-boner day for some super celebs.
You've committed a hair-boner, Nic Cage!
You've committed a hair-boner, Shanna Moakler, Former Miss USA and wife of Travis Barker!
Current Mood: actually LOLing
29th March 2010
I'm a press conference, you're a conversation.
Oh it's fun to have crushes when one's life is full of heavy stuff. I feel like I'm developing a devastating crush on Nicki Minaj! How is she so cute??? She needs to make it big soon. So animated. :
Speaking of Mariah, I would be remiss to ignore her amazing contribution to the drag king community. "And I was like, why are you so obsessed with me?" I LOVE IT!!! She's got nerve to publicly pull a wankster on Eminem... and I think she won!
15th March 2010
I just wouldn't be worth my salt if I didn't post this
Don't even get me started! A culture where this is super popular has gotta be doing okay. :
I feel like this video was specially made for me, from the women's prison to the diet coke cans used to curl her hair. I was just starting to get a little bored with Gaga, and then she pulls this. Oh lordy lordy. Gotta go take a cold showa.
Current Mood: ecstatic
27th February 2010
18th February 2010
So, Sarah's doing this thing called the Art of The Letter (check it out on FB!) and I'm doing mini-friendship collages for people and sending them to em. Here's what I've got so far. Each one is for a specific person but I'm not going to tell who's who until they arrive in tha mail! :
Current Mood: artistic
15th February 2010
I do actually still like English, not just pop culture.
I've got things mostly back in order. Determined to be more careful. :
Iago is the greatest villain:
"For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am."
Othello has gotta be my fave tragedy.
5th February 2010
Bring on tha tofu!!!
I'm going vegetarian again. Just have to take a lot of vitamins. :
Current Mood: guilty
3rd February 2010
...This pretty much sums up my personal life.
However, there is a lot of really amazing stuff going on in pop culture for me to make comments about for no one to read. For example, that We Are The World remake is really creeping me out. As if Justin Beiber cares about the people of Haiti! He just cares about looking more and more like a lez everyday! I dunno what half the people involved are thinking. But judging from Rebirth Wheezy's been drinking way too much of the purple drank this year. Or maybe not enough? Maybe sizzurp is the secret ingredient to being the best rapper alive. In which case, fuck what i learned in rehab Ima get me some.
But instead of putting a lot of effort into witty banter and a coherent post, since I'm working my ass off for school - writin god awful essays about the signifigance of eyesight in King Lear and Erik Erikson's ego-development theory (ima let you finish, erik erikson, but adler had the best ego-development theory of all time!), I'm just gonna share/say whatever comes into my head. Enjoy, y'all!
Meagan and I watched the Grammy's together. Obvi, this was the best moment. After we saw this (and finished loling) I sez "I can't wait for this to be a gif". Luckily she had her little portable internet box and a few minutes later we were loling in gif form.
What do you think about that, Brenden Fraser?
Even though I was so ashamed for our culture that Taylor Swift beat out Lady Gaga (aw, did the bad black man frighten our lil blonde baby by taking her microphone away?), I was kinda glad that she didn't have to make an acceptance speech. Because srsly, after Fever Ray's speech, wtf could she have done to top that? Gallons of menstrual blood dumped from above Carrie-style? Japanese ritual sword disemboweling? Ted Danson style black face?
Actually, I think the only thing that would have been compared to this sweet performance art is if she had actually arranged to have Kanye to interrupt her.
Instead she just took tea in the audience. I also liked how she was poker faced (git it?) and unsupportive of the other artists.
In non awards show news, Joanna Newsom is coming out with a friggin TRIPLE ALBUM this month, y'all!!! I can't effin wait guys. Meagan, Sarah, Amy, Josh and I are going to see her live in March! I also just found out that she is/was dating Andy Samburg. You know two peeps must be great when the fact that they are together makes you like both of them MORE!
Here's the most amazing song that's been leaked so far. See? I do have indie cred and feelings. So very many feelings...
Speaking of Joanna, how come no one ever told me about DAT ASS. Didn't know fife playing medieval meadow sprites could have apple bottoms! Check it out for yrselves, and try to blame me for being crass:
21st January 2010
I saw hair pulling n I was like how do I get in?
Recently The Jersey Shore, a docudrama that pays homage to the place of my birth, came into my life, and made me glad I didn't go back in time and give my mom an abortion like I'd planned. I love everything about this show. I wouldn't change a thing. I don't care what Domino's says. If they (or you) don't like it, then I guess they (or you) don't know real art when they (or you) see it. :
Here's a lil sumpin' to get your guidettes pumpin'... Click on the heads to hear their words of wisdom.
I love that they feature Barbara in this! The grenade! She will rock you!
Also, continuing the tradition of "Lil 9/11", here is: The Jersey Shore (re-enacted by kids).
If you haven't watched The Shore and want to see what all the hype is about, check it out at mtv.ca
20th January 2010
Despite everything, I have always liked Heidi. She sort of represents everything that I think is wrong with our culture, she's right wing, and she's married to that Pratt (pun intended, au contraire!)!! But accepting celebrity culture as it is, then I'd have to say that Heidi's decisions have been pretty damn savvy - assuming all she is aiming for is to be really famous, rich and get a lot of attention. I can't help but hold onto the idea that she's smart, spunky and pretty, that i've had since the early days of the hills, where she's always been the most interesting character. :
Some friends of mine whose opinions I really respect have said that they think that people should be able to do these extreme plastic surgery makeovers if they choose to. Can one of you explain why you think that? I know there must be some feministy political human rights clause that I'm not thinking of. Whenever I see stuff like this I just think the doctors should lose their licences and that Heidi should be involuntarily commited to a care facility!
Here she is in the early days of the Hills. A very pretty, normal looking woman.
Here she is once she got really famous, got with Spencer, was all glammed up and (i think by this time) had a nose job and breast implants, but still was recognizable!
And here she is now, after her infamous "10 procedures in one day"!!!
She doesn't even look like herself! She looks like an even more neurotic version of Faith Hill! She's 23 years old and she looks like a 40 something who got work to look younger!
It's problematic because it's so obvious she's gotten plastic surgery, which is why I'm posting it, but really, I'm against all plastic surgery. (Like at least when a little girl sees Aniston she's not immediately aware that she's paid someone to cut up her face so she'll look less Greek.) But I guess to suggest that all p.s. should be made gauche, there'd need to be a complete overhaul of our culture's values, which ain't gonna happen until I'm God (coming 2012).
11th January 2010
New Year's Rezzos: :
1. Extreme health & fitness regime. Magical vitamins, special powers and orthorexia .
2. Depression-era frugality ethos.
3. Have long, flowing Darlene Connor locks by Spring.
4. Stop biting nails.
5. Be celibate.
6. Get a full time job by April.
7. Get straight A+s (is that heterosexist?)
8. Enjoy tactile experiences more.
9. FOF - Focus on Friends.
10. Help my mom get through surgery.
11. Constant crafting.
12. Research post-grad programs for later.
learns to accept things
I need to chill and not flip out. I need to let some things happen and try not to force other things to happen. I can't control things (even though my psychiatrist all but admitted I have special powers).
Current Mood: anxious
6th January 2010
Pobody's Nerfect is still timeless
Holy crow! I rule! Sorry to be a bigtime braggart but check out these grades from the most challenging term of my university career: 87, 82, 80 and 70 (whoopsie on that last one, but i'm just gonna attribute that to situational factors, as i learned in that class that's the way not to be depressed). Can't believe I pulled that shit outta the bag. Nice one, Elsbeth. :
Fun Mottoes for 2010!
1. May we all rise like pheonixes from the burned out husk that was 2009.
2. More fiction, Less Friction.
3. Let your attitude determine your altitude.
4. It's not what you do all of the time, it's what you do most of the time.
5. Even though Subway seems like a healthier choice, they hide all the salt in the bread.
6. We didn't really have much of a summer (good conversation peice about the abnormally cool Ontario summer. it can't be said enough and it's universally interesting.)
7. Fake it til you make it.
8. Hugs not drugs.
9. Let go and let God.
10. If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's b***n, flush it down. (I disagree with this one whole-heartedly and only recite it in my head to remember to do the opposite, but it was told to me by a wise sage who shared with me most of these mottoes [Emmy], and so I can't leave it out to the detriment of those who wish to conserve water/be disgusting, but I will not besmirch my blog by typing brown in that context!!!)
11. "I have special powers" (best to say to your psychiatrist, parent or parole officer to get all the right attention and hottest new medications).
12. Don't Catastrophize. Thanks Gina! These two words can stop you from jumping.
13. Ton't Dell. Helpful verbal tick to help you to remember motto # 2. You can try saying Con't Datastrophize to remember # 12, but it's harder to say.
Do you have any good mottoes for 2010? They're best if they rhyme or are alliterative, but then clearly they have to be explained to laymen you're sharing your wisdom with. I live off this shit!
some of these have degenerated from mantras to verbal ticks. These are just as useful.
Current Mood: happy