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January 1st, 2016
March 14th, 2015
 | 07:04 pm
I ate'nt dead. I use that phrase a lot. It doesn't mean quite the same thing Granny Weatherwax means by it, but it serves a purpose. To me, it means I come back. Every time life, illness, depression, or Nasty People beat me down, I come back. Even when I look lifeless and hopeless, I'm still tied to this body, this life - my spirit may be wandering for a bit but I'm Still Here.
A lovely man was beaten by the Embuggerance this week. Sir Terry Pratchett, genuine RL friend to many of my friends, conversational acquaintance to me (he could still remember my name last time we met, though needed a prompt first - that's ok, he met thousands of fans every year!), beloved friend-they-never-met to many more of my friends, died on Thursday 12 March, with family and cat in attendance. That last part is particularly important. I like to imagine there was curry around too. His Twitter account announced the news in characteristic style:
AT LAST, SIR TERRY, WE MUST WALK TOGETHER.
Terry took Death's arm and followed him through the doors and on to the black desert under the endless night.
The End.
Tributes have been overwhelming in number; most of them have made me cry. But... the turtle still moves. Pterry ate'nt dead. His spirit is wandering, but he's left a whole world of Stuff here.
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December 31st, 2013
January 2nd, 2013
 | 11:45 pm - Reading in 2012
In 2012 I read 150 new-to-me books, and about 40 books I'd read before. I don't record re-reads, but I do record the new ones, so this is the list, sorted and peered at. The numbers don't add up, before you ask, because I removed a number of titles for various reasons. (And no, I have not read 50 Shades...!)
( What I readCollapse )
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December 31st, 2012
October 4th, 2012
 | 06:57 pm - The Right Mask - Brian Patten
One night a poem came up to a poet.
From now on, it said, you must wear a mask.
What kind of mask? asked the poet.
A rose mask, said the poem.
I've used it already, said the poet,
I've exhausted it.
Then wear the mask that's made
Out of the nightingale's song, use that mask.
But it's an old mask, said the poet,
it's all used up.
Nonsense, said the poem, it's the perfect mask,
Nevertheless, try on the god mask,
That mask illuminates heaven.
It's a tired mask, said the poet,
And the stars crawl about in it like ants.
Then try on the troubadour’s mask,
Or the singer's mask,
Try on all the popular masks.
I have, said the poet, but they fit too easily.
Now the poem was getting impatient,
it stamped its foot like a child,
it screamed, Then try on your own face,
Try on the one mask that terrifies you,
The mask only you could possibly use,
The mask only you can wear out.
The poet tore at his face till it bled,
This mask? he asked, this mask?
Yes, said the poem, why not?
But he was tired of masks,
He had lived too long with them.
He snatched at the poem and stuck to his face.
He chewed on it, spat bits out, destroyed it.
Its screams were muffled, it wept, it tried to be lyrical,
It wriggled into his eyes and mouth,
Into his blood it wriggled.
The next day his friends did not recognise him,
They were afraid of him.
Now it's the right mask, said the poem, the right mask.
It clung to him lovingly, and never let go again.
National Poetry Day
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February 5th, 2012
 | 04:28 pm - Writer's Block: Super Bowl Sunday
Which team are you rooting for?
Accrington Stanley.
(Ssssh.)
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December 31st, 2011
| 12:45 am - Reading List 2011
2010's list ground to a halt after I had surgery in October, as I was reading tons while recovering but not recording any of it! I will try harder this year! ( Read more...Collapse )
Current Location: mobile
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October 6th, 2011
| 04:09 pm - National Poetry Day
Prosepoem Towards a Definition of Itself - Brian Patten
When in public poetry should take off its clothes and wave to the nearest person in sight; it should be seen in the company of thieves and lovers rather than that of journalists and publishers. On sighting mathematicians it should unhook the algebra from their minds and replace it with poetry; on sighting poets it should unhook the poetry from their minds and replace it with algebra; it should fall in love with children and woo them with fairy tales; it should wait on the landing for 2 years for its mates to come home then go outside and find them all dead.
When the electricity fails it should wear dark glasses and pretend to be blind. It should guide all those who are safe into the middle of busy roads and leave them there. It should scatter woodworm into the bedrooms of all peg-legged men not being afraid to hurt the innocent or make such differences. It should shout EVIL! EVIL! from the roofs of the world stock exchanges. It should not pretend to be a clerk or a librarian. It should be kind, it is the eventual sameness of contradictions. It should never weep until it is alone and then only after it has covered the mirrors and sealed up the cracks.
Poetry should seek out pale and lyrical couples and wander with them into stables, neglected bedrooms and engineless cars for a final Good Time. It should enter burning factories too late to save anyone. It should pay no attention to its real name.
Poetry should be seen lying by the side of road accidents, hissing from unlit gasrings. It should scrawl the nymphomaniac's secret on her teacher's blackboard; offer her a worm saying: Inside this is a tiny apple. Poetry should play hopscotch in the 6pm streets and look for jinks in other people's dustbins. At dawn it should leave the bedroom and catch the first bus home to its wife. At dusk it should chatup a girl nobody wants. It should be seen standing on the ledge of a skyscraper, on a bridge with a brick tied round its heart. It is the monster hiding in a child's dark room, it is the scar on a beautiful man's face. It is the last blade of grass being picked from the city park.
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February 6th, 2011
| 04:53 pm - Writer's Block: Super Bowl XLV
Are you watching the Super Bowl this year? If not, how will you enjoy the day? If you are watching, how will you be celebrating the game?
lj-template name="qotd" id="2380" lang="en_GB"
Lang="en_GB", huh? Really?
No. I will enjoy today as I enjoy any Sunday, by: being irritated by Americentrism on LJ; going to Tesco for a thrill-filled time; defriending people who have annoyed me over the last week; and stabbing something with a big sharp knife by the end of the evening. If those around me are lucky, that will merely turn out to be the fish I bought this morning.
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December 31st, 2010
| 10:25 am - Reading list 2010
This worked when I did it previously, providing I remembered to update. So...
( Books I have readCollapse )
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December 15th, 2010
| 02:16 pm - Writer's Block: Holiday horrors
What is the your most cherished holiday memory from childhood, and why?
"Writer's Block: Holiday horrors
What are your holiday pet-peeves, and why?"
Let's see. We can start with calling everything from Valentine's Day to Secretaries' Day a holiday. Unless most people get a day off, it's not a holiday. Then add 'calling everything from Thanksgiving to New Year "the holidays"' (thank you for the prompt,  hooloovoo_42).
Then let's add 'Screwing up the Writer's Block prompts yet again by failing to change the "en_GB" prompt to the one the rest of the world sees, creating a mismatch between question and response'. Admittedly in this case it's potentially hilarious - "what is your pet peeve?" is answered by responses like "waltzing with my grandmother".
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As for
"Writer's Block: Stardust memories
What is the your most cherished holiday memory from childhood, and why?"
1. Straight answer: feeding chocolate cake to a sheep, up the side of a combe in Somerset, while we watched our dam fill up. That was an August Bank Holiday Monday, probably in 1982.
2. Assuming holiday means Christmas-or-cultural-equivalent, then probably the year we went to my grandparents for Christmas Eve, a break with tradition that worried us (we were all small enough to fear that Father Christmas wouldn't know where we'd gone). It turned out that the reason we'd gone was because my grandfather, father, and two teenaged cousins stayed up until 2am finishing the small details on the Tudor manor dolls house my grandfather had made for me. I still remember the feeling I had when I saw that for the first time. (30-odd years later I'm still impressed by the work that went into it. It needs some restoration before anyone else can play with it, but I would love to get it back to 100% so my niece can have it in a few years' time.)
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October 25th, 2010
| 08:19 am - Writer's Block: Above and beyond
What do you think happens after you die?
Context: A few answers so far saying "Nothing".
Au contraire.
The sun rises, and sets. People go to work. Rivers flow to the sea (to the sea). The newspapers write about reality TV shows. The needle returns to the start of the song and we all sing along like before. Squirrels steal, bury, rediscover, eat nuts. Rain falls. Trees fall in forests and make ambiguous noise. Taxes fall due. Babies cry.
And let's not forget decomposition.
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October 6th, 2010
| 06:07 pm - Writer's Block: You're an open book
Based on the books on your bookshelf, what conclusions would people draw about you?
That I really really like books?
(Ok, also that I am both untidy and a terrible hoarder, and am extremely eclectic in my tastes.)
Actually this deserves a much longer answer but I'm about to leave work and won't be online again for a few hours. I think books and bookshelves tell us a lot about their owners, though.
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August 11th, 2010
| 10:12 pm - Writer's Block: Don't judge a book by its title
If you could change the title of one published book, which book would you choose, and what would the new title be?
( If you know me, you don't need to click this cutCollapse )
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July 31st, 2010
| 07:27 pm - Writer's Block: For your viewing pleasure
What was the best movie of the year so far? Does it have the potential to become a classic?
Possibly Toy Story 3. It can definitely become a classic, yes. Not sure if it absolutely will be the best movie of the year, as I can't actually remember what else I've seen this year (I'm a bit tired...) but it's got to be up there in the top three.
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May 14th, 2010
 | 08:59 am - Writer's Block: Mind reader
In three words, describe what's currently running through your mind.
Oh, no, chickenpox!
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May 12th, 2010
 | 08:45 am - Writer's Block: Sheldon and Penny 4ever!
Fanfiction: Do you love it or hate it, or are you totally indifferent? Why?
I have an icon to match this question! :)
Meh. I don't read much fanfiction, and most of what I have been persuaded to read I was at best indifferent to. valderys has written some stuff I really liked, and pointed me at some other good things, and last time I wrote about this I put up links to a couple of fics I thought worked really well - That's Life On Cars and a Good Omens one - but as a sample of what's out there that is so far into decimal places (0.000000....1%) that I can't honestly say I'm a fan!
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May 1st, 2010
| 09:15 am - On May Morning
Now the bright morning Star, Day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
The Flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose.
Hail bounteous May that dost inspire
Mirth and youth, and warm desire,
Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing,
Hill and Dale, doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early Song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
John Milton
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January 7th, 2010
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