zeppelin: (Default)
2013-09-12 09:59 am

the more things change

Yes, everything's a worry
In the life of a T.O.,
There's always so much hurry,
So much rushing to and fro,
There's always something pressing,
Some extra work to do,
And you never get a blessing
Whatever you put through.
From morning until evening,
In rain, and cold, and shine,
It is worry, hurry, scurry
In the Transport line.

The Q.M. wants a limber,
The Colonel wants his horse,
We've got to haul more timber,
And the usual work of course,
Send three men to headquarters,
Two kits to catch the train,
A team for the Trench Mortars,
Report your strength again.
From early morn till evening,
And even while I dine,
It's worry, hurry, scurry
In the Transport line.

The horses all need shoeing,
The grey has kicked his mate,
The harness wants renewing,
And the men get up too late;
The water cart is leaking,
The Sergeant's got the grippe,
The G.S.'s waggons squeaking,
There are twenty mules to clip.
There's always something needed,
And all the trouble's mine,
It's worry, hurry, scurry
In the Transport line.

Though the bullets whistled by me,
And the whiz-bangs made me sweat.
In the trenches wet and slimy,
Yet I wish I was there yet,
For they didn't always chase me,
By runner, wire or 'phone,
Or come in rage to face me,
Or speak in injured tone;
You're everybody's batman,
No work can you decline,
In the hurry, worry, scurry
Of the Transport line.

When this blessed war is over,
And I sit at home at ease,
I shall no more be a rover
With the Transport o'er the seas.
But the weather's most depressing,
And the whisky's getting low,
My cough gets more distressing,
So it's time for me to go;
Here's another message coming,
You can always tell the sign
Of the hurry, worry, scurry
In the Transport line.

by T.A. Girling
zeppelin: (Default)
2013-01-17 10:55 am
Entry tags:

I have no idea what this means but I like it

Two Ways

You must give up your old way, your way is dirty:
there men go with greedy glances
and the word “happiness” you hear from every lip
and further along the way lies the body of a woman
and the vultures are tearing it to pieces.

You have found your new way,
your way is pure:
there motherless children go playing with poppies,
there women in black go talking of sorrow
and further along the way stands a pale saint
with his foot on a dead dragon’s neck.
zeppelin: (Discworld slogan)
2012-11-09 06:06 pm
Entry tags:

(no subject)

A student of philosophy, eager to display his powers of argument, approached Diogenes, introduced himself and said, "If it pleases you, sir, let me prove to you that there is no such thing as motion." Whereupon Diogenes immediately got up and left.
zeppelin: (Default)
2012-07-08 05:25 pm
Entry tags:

Favorite Things

(1) Cherry-Vanilla Mr. Pibb. I once was blind, but now I see.

(2) PASTA BOAT PASTA BOAT PASTA BOAT PASTA PASTA PASTA PASTA

(3) Die Hard (no, I'd never seen it)

(4) Air conditioning

(5) Bed
zeppelin: (Default)
2012-07-07 05:24 pm
Entry tags:

(no subject)

"I'm glad for the sake of the Vor that you haven't just abandoned your father's liegeman. There's not many of us left who care enough to, enough to . . . I don't know how to say it."

"Who care enough to make Vor real," suggested Miles.

"Yes," said Vorberg gratefully. "That's right."

"Damn straight, Vorberg."
zeppelin: (Default)
2012-06-22 06:08 pm
Entry tags:

sometimes i remember why i read this blog

"Why am I this way? Why do I do what I do?" But what will you do with that information? What good is it? If you were an android, would it change you to know why you were programmed the way you were? "Why" is masturbation, "why" is the enemy, the only question that matters is, now what?
zeppelin: (Default)
2011-08-10 01:27 pm
Entry tags:

evading the question

Mina: Well, I am the Patron Saint of Popemobiles
me: how are you the patron saint of popemobiles
Mina: How is anyone the patron saint of anything?
zeppelin: (Default)
2011-01-26 11:27 pm
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(no subject)

A month and a half ago, I married Mina off to Richard III with the dastardly help of Rowan.

Mina: Right now I am far too preoccupied with politics and divorce papers to worry about that sort of thing
me: Divorce papers?
Mina: :)
me: .........You know for someone who is allegedly into having a lord and master, you sure toss them around with a surprising amount of ease

I guess...You know what, I'm not going to finish that sentence. I have yet to fulfill my "get smashed a few hours before leaving Korea" tradition.

Anyway.
zeppelin: (Default)
2010-12-17 12:45 am
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(no subject)

I love and collect these pieces for the joy they bring me in fulfilling my ideas of beauty and spirituality. It is the mystical experience as exemplified in the faces of these images, the manner in which they are ornamented, and the beauty and technique of the craftsmanship in fulfilling this rendering that interests me most. I think the average Western collector responds similarly. If one gets caught up in the religion or a spiritual quest alone, then the art becomes a minor issue: they generally do not go together. I do not know of any serious collector who is a devotee of the religion.


I think it would be much easier to say "Yeah, we're the same as other hippies, only rich."
zeppelin: (Default)
2010-12-16 03:06 pm

(no subject)

It would be difficult to name a subject that has puzzled the learned world so much and for so long, as the accurate delineation of the character of that wonderful and unchanging people, the Chinese.


HONESTLY IF THEY'RE UNCHANGING IT'S A STATIC ENTITY SO I DON'T SEE HOW THAT WOULD BE SO HARD

As the nineteenth century wore on, however, the model of knowledge as an encyclopedic whole dissolved and was replaced with one where knowledge was parsed into finer and finer disciplinary units. This only compounded the problem of where to fit Asians and their civilizations. As one writer put it, "In what category to place them must puzzle the psychologist."


(It's from 1838.)
zeppelin: (britomart)
2010-12-09 07:41 pm
Entry tags:

Dorothy Stephens

Dismayed, Britomart at first pretends not to understand. She cannot bring herself to be severe with her hostess, believing her honestly, painfully, and mistakenly in love rather than angling for a bit of wanton fun. Inclined to pity Malecasta in light of her own painful love for an Artegall whom she has seen only in a crystal ball, Britomart next repels Malecasta politely--too politely...

The poem is poking fun at Britomart when it has her spring out of bed in her nightgown, grab her sword, and continue to threaten Malecasta with the weapon even after the hostess has fainted in terror...Britomart wrathfully swings her sword "here, there, and every where," the whole pack scatters, and then are youthful heroine stalks out. By treating Britomart's exaggerated fears comically, the poem partly counteracts her efforts to avoid intimacy by drawing a protective circle around herself.
zeppelin: (britomart)
2010-12-06 03:33 pm

(no subject)

So furiously she strooke in her first heat,
Whiles with long fight on foot he breathlesse was,
That she him forced backward to retreat,
And yeeld vnto her weapon way to pas:
Whose raging rigour neither steele nor bras
Could stay, but to the tender flesh it went,
And pour'd the purple bloud forth on the gras;
That all his mayle yriv'd, and plates yrent,
Shew'd all his bodie bare vnto the cruell dent.

At length when as he saw her hastie heat
Abate, and panting breath begin to fayle,
He through long sufferance growing now more great,
Rose in his strength, and gan her fresh assayle,
Heaping huge strokes, as thicke as showre of hayle,
And lashing dreadfully at euery part,
As if he thought her soule to disentrayle.
Ah cruell hand, and thrise more cruell hart,
That workst such wrecke on her, to whom thou dearest art...

Thus long they trac'd, and trauerst to and fro,
Sometimes pursewing, and sometimes pursewed,
Still as aduantage they espyde thereto:
But toward th'end Sir Arthegall renewed
His strength still more, but she still more decrewed.
At last his lucklesse hand he heau'd on hie,
Hauing his forces all in one accrewed,
And therewith stroke at her so hideouslie,
That seemed nought but death mote be her destinie.

The wicked stroke vpon her helmet chaunst,
And with the force, which in it selfe it bore,
Her ventayle shard away, and thence forth glaunst
A downe in vaine, ne harm'd her any more.
With that her angels face, vnseene afore,
Like to the ruddie morne appeard in sight,
Deawed with siluer drops, through sweating sore;
But somewhat redder, then beseem'd aright,
Through toylesome heate and labour of her weary fight.

And round about the same, her yellow heare
Hauing through stirring loosd their wonted band,
Like to a golden border did appeare,
Framed in goldsmithes forge with cunning hand:
Yet goldsmithes cunning could not vnderstand
To frame such subtile wire, so shinie cleare.
For it did glister like the golden sand,
The which Pactolus with his waters shere,
Throwes forth vpon the riuage round about him nere.

And as his hand he vp againe did reare,
Thinking to worke on her his vtmost wracke,
His powrelesse arme benumbd with secret feare
From his reuengefull purpose shronke abacke,
And cruell sword out of his fingers slacke
Fell downe to ground, as if the steele had sence,
And felt some ruth, or sence his hand did lacke,
Or both of them did thinke, obedience
To doe to so diuine a beauties excellence.

And he himselfe long gazing thereupon,
At last fell humbly downe vpon his knee,
And of his wonder made religion,
Weening some heauenly goddesse he did see,
Or else vnweeting, what it else might bee;
And pardon her besought his errour frayle,
That had done outrage in so high degree:
Whilest trembling horrour did his sense assayle,
And made ech member quake, and manly hart to quayle.

Nathelesse she full of wrath for that late stroke,
All that long while vpheld her wrathfull hand,
With fell intent, on him to bene ywroke,
And looking sterne, still ouer him did stand,
Threatning to strike, vnlesse he would withstand:
And bad him rise, or surely he should die.
But die or liue for nought he would vpstand
But her of pardon prayd more earnestlie,
Or wreake on him her will for so great iniurie...

But Scudamour now woxen inly glad,
That all his gealous feare he false had found,
And how that Hag his loue abused had
With breach of faith and loyaltie vnsound,
The which long time his grieued hart did wound,
He thus bespake; Certes Sir Artegall,
I ioy to see you lout so low on ground,
And now become to liue a Ladies thrall,
That whylome in your minde wont to despise them all.

Soone as she heard the name of Artegall,
Her hart did leape, and all her hart-strings tremble,
For sudden ioy, and secret feare withall,
And all her vitall powres with motion nimble,
To succour it, themselues gan there assemble,
That by the swift recourse of flushing blood
Right plaine appeard, though she it would dissemble,
And fayned still her former angry mood,
Thinking to hide the depth by troubling of the flood...

And you Sir Artegall, the saluage knight,
Henceforth may not disdaine, that womans hand
Hath conquered you anew in second fight:
For whylome they haue conquerd sea and land,
And heauen it selfe, that nought may them withstand,
Ne henceforth be rebellious vnto loue,
That is the crowne of knighthood, and the band
Of noble minds deriued from aboue,
Which being knit with vertue, neuer will remoue.

And you faire Ladie knight, my dearest Dame,
Relent the rigour of your wrathfull will,
Whose fire were better turn'd to other flame;
And wiping out remembrance of all ill,
Graunt him your grace, but so that he fulfill
The penance, which ye shall to him empart:
For louers heauen must passe by sorrowes hell.
Thereat full inly blushed Britomart;
But Artegall close smyling ioy'd in secret hart.

*sniffle* IT'S SO CUTE
zeppelin: (oh no!)
2010-12-06 12:12 am

(no subject)

me [referring to the possibility that Mina might babysit Rowan's plants]: oh dear
she might turn them into something...unnatural
Rowan: She couldn't.
Mina: *feels offended by both statements*
zeppelin: (Default)
2010-12-02 12:15 pm
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(no subject)

I found this while digging up stuff on the Faerie Queene, and I found an absolutely delicious primary source for you all! It of course has nothing to do with its supposed topic (it is not actually possible to defeat Britomart, and when you think of Paridell, think of this wimp) and everything to do with, well, things that are not English literature. All the formatting oddities stem from the fact I c&ped it from a PDF.

here! )

Nothing ever changes, does it? They have been making the exact same argument for the past eleven decades (though not much before that). It's the exact same rhetoric, the exact same intellectual dishonesty, and the exact same desire to piss all over everything--anything--that is good. Guy was a bloody English critic and he refuses to let himself read Spenser aright, just so he can have a crack at making a point.
zeppelin: (Default)
2010-11-13 11:02 pm
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Quotes from the Inklings

CS Lewis:

Every time you make a choice, you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before. And, taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a Heavenly creature or into a hellish creature -- either into a creature that is in harmony with God, and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow creatures and with itself. To be the one kind of creature is Heaven: that is, it is joy, and peace, and knowledge, and power. To be the other means madness, horror, idiocy, rage, impotence, and eternal loneliness. Each of us at each moment is progressing to the one state or the other.


Charles Williams:

Substance was love, and love was substance. And that substance of love was disposed by conscious and controlling Will, which had yet so limited itself, by its own choice, as to leave the wills of men and women free to assent or not to assent to its own. The nature of that final and supernatural Will was not at all clearly imagined or defined by the passionate thinkers and orators of the early Church, except in two or three points. It was absolute; it had created all things; and in that historic being Jesus it had set itself in a special relationship of love to mankind. It had, by a sacrifice of what was more and more beginning to seem itself, operated to restore to men a state of goodness and glory of which they had miserably deprived themselves. It intensely and individually desired the salvation of all men. The one thing necessary, besides its own sacrifice, was the will of the creature to accept and unite itself with that sacrifice. And the death of Jesus, called Christ, had been that sacrifice.


J.R.R. Tolkien:

The realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beasts and birds are found there; shoreless seas and stars uncounted; beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present peril; both joy and sorrow sharp as swords. In that realm a man may, perhaps, count himself fortunate to have wandered, but its very richness and strangeness tie the tongue of the traveller who would report them. And while he is there it is dangerous for him to ask too many questions, lest the gate should be shut and the keys be lost.
zeppelin: (Default)
2010-11-06 05:48 pm
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(no subject)

o.O

MENSTRUATION IS A SUPER POWER

During the insurgency of 1764 in Shandong, Wang Lun's forces used an array of magical techniques, including strange incantations and women soldiers waving white fans...An old soldier came to t he rescue with this advice: "Let a prostitute go up on the wall and take off her underclothing . . . we will use yin power to counter their spells." Thegovernment side adopted additional measures of a like sort, including, as later recounted by Wang Lun himself, "women wearing red clothing but naked from the waste down, bleeding and urinating in order to destroy our power."


Also:

The story was also circulated and widely believed by the populace that a naked woman straddled each of the many cannon mounted in the foreign buildings in Zizhulin, making it impossible for the gunfire-repelling magic (bipao zhi fa) of the Boxers to work properly.


O.o
zeppelin: (Default)
2010-11-05 02:27 pm
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(no subject)

From History in Three Keys (Paul Cohen):

As we live our lives, we instinctively place them in a narrative framework. We "tell stories" to ourselves that make sense of our experiences: biographical, not historical, sense. So it isn't entirely correct to say that books explain while in life things simply happen. In life, also, there is a powerful need for understanding and explanation, which all of us experience, subjectively, every moment of every day.


And how we explain things to ourselves causes us to do things. Which is why the humanities matter; they are all about the stories we tell ourselves.
zeppelin: (Default)
2010-10-10 06:30 pm
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(no subject)

- breakfast
- wall o'awesome is increasing
- the fact my dreams are not real
- situation that worked out this past week
- Faerie Queene Book III Canto I!!!!!!!!!!
zeppelin: (Default)
2010-10-10 05:08 pm

(no subject)

[This photograph] represented a boy from ‘the upper or most highly educated class, the son of a distinguished civil officer of Canton.' Although 'a fine, attractive-looking little fellow, his full hazel eyes beaming with kindliness and intelligence,' the boy’s face would, Thomson argued, gradually lose its attractions as it grows to maturity. "The softness of the eye is then frequently replaced by a cold, calculating expression, the result of their peculiar training, and the countenance assumes an air of apathetic indifference which is so necessary to veil the inner feelings of a polished Chinese gentleman." Thomson classified people visually, constructing knowledge of their physical and moral character. The latter was often evaluated in terms of usefulness for British commerce and the Western traveller.


more from the same. formatting wonky because it's copy and pasted from something with wonky format. )
zeppelin: (Default)
2010-10-10 04:19 pm
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(no subject)

Petrus Camper's "facial angle" was superseded by the "cephalic index" (the proportion of the length to breadth of the head) devised by Aretzius in 1840. More importantly, the increasing demands for a regularized methodology were paralleled by moves towards the notion of inherent racial characteristics. The rise of the sciences of anthropology and ethnology further fixed the idea of ‘race’ as a natural category by which to differentiate and rank ‘types’ of humans, invariably placing the white, Anglo-Saxon male at the pinnacle of intellectual, moral and physical development.

...The increasing prominence of discussions on ‘race’ from the late 1850s was also strongly influenced by two major colonial rebellions, in India (in 1857) and in Jamaica( in 1865), which aroused deeply antagonistic feelings in Britain over issues of race, slavery and colonial control.