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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
realpestilence's InsaneJournal:
| Saturday, September 12th, 2009 | |
| 10:18 am | by A.E.Houseman (with the lyrical title "XXXVII") I did not lose my heart in summer's even, When roses to the moonrise burst apart: When plumes were under heel and lead was flying, In blood and smoke and flame I lost my heart. I lost it to a soldier and a foeman, A chap that did not kill me, but he tried; That took the sabre straight and took it striking, And laughed and kissed his hand to me and died. Current Mood:  contemplative |
| 9:37 am | Guitar Repair Woman by Buddy Wakefield My mother told me, "If you ever become a rock star do not smash the guitar. There are too many poor kids out there who have nothin' and they see that shit when all they wanna do is play that thing. Boy you better let'm play." Okay, if she ever starts in on one of these lectures, your best bet is to pull up a chair, chief, 'cause Momma don't deal in the abridged version. She worries about me so much some days it feels like I'm watching windshield wipers on high speed during a light sprinkle and I gotta tell'er, "Ma, yer makin' me nervous." She was born to be laid back, y'all, I swear, but some of us were brought up in households where Care Free is a stick of gum, and the only option for getting out is to walk faster. The woman can run in high heels backwards while bursting my bubble, double checking my homework, rolling enough pennies to make sure I have lunch money, and preparing for a meeting at school on her only day off so she can tell Miss Goss the music teacher, "If you ever touch my boy again, big lady, I'll bounce a hammer off yer skull." I remember her doing these things swiftly and with a smile in her discounted thrift store business suits off layaway. She wore them bright and distinguished enough to cover up the 30 years of highway scars truckin' through her spine. Some accidents you don't need to see, rubbernecker. Keep movin' 'cause she made it. She's alive and she's famous. We can stretch Van Gogh paintings from Kilgore, TX to Binghamton, NY and you still won't find the brilliant brush strokes it takes to be a single mother sacrificing the best part of her dreams to raise a baby boy who-on most days- she probably wants to strangle. We disagree-a lot. For instance, she still thinks it's okay to carry on a conversation full throttle at 7 a.m. whereas I think... Oh, wait, I'm sorry... I don't think at seven in the morning. But we both agree that Love makes no mistakes. So at night time, when she's winding down and I'm still writing books about how to get comfortable in this skin she gave me, I see rock stars on stages smashing guitars. It's then when I wanna find'm a comfortable chair get'm a snack, and introduce them to Daylight: This is my mother, Tresa B. Olsen. Runner of the tight shift. Taker of the temperature. Leaver of the light on. Lover of the underdog. Mover of the mountain. Winner of the good life. Keeper of the hope chest. Guitar Repair Woman. And I am her son, Buddy Wakefield. I play a tricked-out electric pen, thanks to the makers of music and metaphor, but I do my best to keep the words in check, and I use a padded microphone so I don't hurt you, because sometimes I smash things, and I don't ever wanna let'er down. Current Mood: contemplative |
| Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008 | |
| 4:07 pm | Joy, by Gennady Alexeyev (translated from the original Russian) Be careful when you partake of joy. Just as a pike, joy contains countless small bones. Having swallowed it up wash it down with a glass of light, transparent sadness. It shall be of some benefit to your health. After a short period of melancholy get back to joy. Don’t be lazy about enjoying yourself, do it as often as you can. Don’t be ashamed of it, enjoy yourself openly. Don’t be afraid of it, enjoy yourself without fear. Don’t listen to anybody, enjoy yourself on your own. Who knows, maybe those who watch you will also acquire a taste for joy? Current Mood:  curious |
| 10:47 am | Belly Dancer, by Diane Wakoski be the substance of my attraction? Where does this thin green silk come from that covers my body? Surely any woman wearing such fabrics would move her body just to feel them touching every part of her. Yet most of the women frown, or look away, or laugh stiffly. They are afraid of these materials and these movements in some way. The psychologists would say they are afraid of themselves, somehow. Perhaps awakening too much desire— that their men could never satisfy? So they keep themselves laced and buttoned and made up in hopes that the framework will keep them stiff enough not to feel the whole register. In hopes that they will not have to experience that unquenchable desire for rhythm and contact. If a snake glided across this floor most of them would faint or shrink away. Yet that movement could be their own. That smooth movement frightens them— awakening ancestors and relatives to the tips of the arms and toes. So my bare feet and my thin green silks my bells and finger cymbals offend them—frighten their old-young bodies. While the men simper and leer— glad for the vicarious experience and exercise. They do not realize how I scorn them; or how I dance for their frightened, unawakened, sweet women. Current Mood:  pleased |
| Monday, September 1st, 2008 | |
| 11:33 pm | looking, by Gwendolyn Brooks looking You have no word for soldiers to enjoy The feel of, as an apple, and to chew With masculine satisfaction. Not "good-by!" "Come back!" or "careful!" Look, and let him go. "Good-by!" is brutal, and "come back!" the raw Insistence of an idle desperation Since could he favor he would favor now. He will be "careful!" if he has permission. Looking is better. At the dissolution Grab greatly with the eye, crush in a steel Of study-Even that is vain. Expression, The touch or look or word, will little avail. The brawniest will not beat back the storm Nor the heaviest haul your little boy from harm. Current Mood:  sad |
| 11:00 pm | The Rabbit Catcher, by Sylvia Plath It was a place of force- The wind gagging my mouth with my own blown hair, Tearing off my voice, and the sea Blinding me with its lights, the lives of the dead Unreeling in it, spreading like oil. I tasted the malignity of the gorse, Its black spikes, The extreme unction of its yellow candle-flowers. They had an efficiency, a great beauty, And were extravagant, like torture. There was only one place to get to. Simmering, perfumed, The paths narrowed into the hollow And the snares almost effaced themselves- Zeroes, shutting on nothing, Set close, like birth pangs. The absence of shrieks Made a hole in the hot day, a vacancy. The glassy light was a clear wall, The thickets quiet. I felt a still busyness, an intent. I felt hands round a tea mug, dull, blunt, Ringing the white china. How they awaited him, those little deaths! They waited like sweethearts. They excited him. And we, too, had a relationship- Tight wires between us, Pegs too deep to uproot, and a mind like a ring Sliding shut on some quick thing, The constriction killing me also. Current Mood: restless |
| 10:50 pm | |
| 10:41 pm | The Evening Sunsets Witness and Pass On, by Carl Sandberg Passion may call for a partner to share the music of its bones, to weave shadows, rain, moonshine, dreams- Passion may hammer on hard door panels, empty a hot vocabulary of wanting, wanting- it is all there in the fragments of Sappho. Passion may consider poppies cheap with their strong stalks in the wind, with their crying crimson sheaths- Passion may remember tiger lilies, keepers of a creeping evening mist, tawny watchers of the morning stars- Passion may cry to the moon for miracles of flesh, for red answers to a white riddle- it is told in the tears on many love letters. Passion may spend its money, its youth, its laughter, all else, till again passion is alone spending its cries to the moon- and some weep, some sing, some go to war. Passion may be alone at a window seeking kisses fasten lips in wild troths, a storm of red silk scarfs in a high wind, armfuls of redbirds let loose into bush and sky- and some weep, some sing, some go to war. Passion may come with baskets throwing paths of red rain flowers, each folded petal a sacrament- the evening sunsets witness and pass on. Passion may build itself houses of air and look from a thousand tall windows till the wind rides and gathers. Passion may be a wind child transient and made of air- Passion may be a wild grass where a great wind came and went. The evening sunsets witness and pass on. Current Mood: pleased |
| 10:18 pm | Is there any way to delete past entries? There's a few I wouldn't mind getting rid of, just for tidiness. *shrugs* Current Mood:  apathetic |
| Tuesday, May 27th, 2008 | |
| 7:03 am | fic recs, please? If anyone has any fic recs for some top!Draco/bottom!Harry or top!Severus/bottom!Harry that they'd be willing to share links for, I'd appreciate it. We're trying to get the Mounted Empire groups more active and I don't have access to the lists that Mystic kept, yet...possibly won't, at all. Still waiting for her to respond. Current Mood: tired |
| Sunday, May 11th, 2008 | |
| 9:14 pm | Being reminded by ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} magic_helmetthat I have this place, I guess I ought to dust it off and post a bit. Because y'all can't live without my random bitchin', right?*blinks* It would be easier if I actually had something to *say*. *crickets* Um. I'm thinking about re-reading the Harry Potter books, both to remind myself why I originally enjoyed the fandom and to brush up on canon details in the latter few books. I've not read DH itself. I'm feeling weary at the prospect, which is sad, because I *did* like the first two very much. I thought the third was interesting (even though I don't get why the girls squeal over Sirius, who was an ass); thought the fourth had a lot of great ideas but was toooo looooong and wordy, ye gods please EDIT and keep on track, plot-wise; and the fifth was disappointing. If it's called HBP, it should be about the HBP, don't you think? At least a bit? And, as I said, I've not read the last one. *shrugs* I've come to realize that I dislike Dumbledore intensely; I dislike most of the adults in the HP world, actually. I will also rant at great length if provoked on the general poor editing done to keep these behomeths under control. I do admire the books for the concept Rowling started out with and the impact they've had on children's publishing and getting many people more interested in reading; but on the whole, they're sloppily done. But I still think I ought to re-read them at least once, all in a row, so I can throw some writing challenges out there. HP is a dying fandom and in another couple of years, I wouldn't be surprised to see most of the groups or comms defunct. I'll be a little sad, because that's where I started out and what gave me a foothold on ye olde internet world, but not surprised. Current Mood: blah |
| Wednesday, February 20th, 2008 | |
| 4:05 am | I'd appreciate the assistance very much... Can someone tell me how to leave an asylum? I don't want to be in that asylum_promo IJ any more, but I can't find any buttons that say "leave community" or similar, like LJ has. *scowls* Current Mood:  annoyed |
| Tuesday, January 15th, 2008 | |
| 8:23 pm | #52-'Red As Blood'-Tanith Lee (last 2007 50book entry!) #52-'Red As Blood'-by Tanith Lee. This is a short story collection of re-told fairy tales. Lee's a good short story writer and these stories become unsettling in her hands, often vaguely erotic and rather unnerving. I was reading it anyways so I could copy the ones I like best to my lj (see "Wolfland"), so I figured I might as well go along and read the whole thing. I think 'Wolfland' and 'Paid Piper" are my favorites, with "Red as Blood" and 'When the Clock Strikes' close seconds. Current Mood: excited |
| 8:21 pm | #51-'Around the World in 80 Days'-Jules Verne #51-'Around the World in 80 Days', by Jules Verne, is a favorite classic of mine. It's amusing, adventurous, with a dash of action here and a spot of romance there-and the prose is easy to read, rather timeless, unlike some classics that date badly. Phileas Fogg makes a bet that he can travel around the world in 80 days and stakes half his fortune on it-he'll need the other half to make the trip, what with bribes and elephants and burning up steamships and dashing rescues and all. He takes along his interesting servant, Passpartout, and acquires companions along the way...and cares not a whit for the scenery as he travels. He's on business, not touring! *laughs* If you can find the made-for-tv filmed version of this book, starring Pierce Brosnan as Phileas, it's a lot of fun to watch. Verne had a great imagination and is one of my favorite authors from that time period (the other being Edgar Rice Burroughs). Current Mood: amused |
| 8:19 pm | #50-'The Best of Robert Service"-poetry collection by same #50 (whoohoo, I did it!)-'The Best of Robert Service'-poetry collection by Robert Service. Robert Service wrote many poems, greatly varied is subject; he's particularly known for the ones about the Gold Rush and the Yukon frontier. There's some off-hand, humorous ditties in there, too, war poems, and the odd nature piece. I like a lot of his work, though it's difficult to read en masse like this; he tends to go for the 'story' over the rhyme or meter, so the poem can be difficult to read. I think if I hadn't been reading for the challenge, I'd have only picked up the book to do a few pages at a time, for easier absorption. However, don't let that stop you-imo, he is worth reading. Ant Hill Black ants have made a musty mound My purple pine tree under, And I am often to be found, Regarding it with wonder. Yet as I watch, somehow it's odd, Above their busy striving I feel like an ironic god Surveying human striving. Then one day came my serving maid, And just in time I caught her, For on each lusty arm she weighed A pail of boiling water. Said she with glee:"When this I spill, Of life they'll soon be lacking." Said I:"If even one you kill, You bitch! I'll send you packing." Just think-ten thousand eager lives In that toil-won upcasting, Their homes, their babies and their wives Destroyed in one fell blasting! Imagine that swift-scalding hell!... And though, mayhap, it seem a Fantastic, far-fetched parallel Remember...Hiroshima. Muguet 'Twas on the sacred First of May I made a sentimental sally To buy myself a slender spray Of pearly lily of the valley; And setting it beside my bed, Dream back the smile of one now dead. But when I asked how much a spray? The figure seemed so astronomic I rather fear that my dismay Must have appeared a little comic. The price, the shopgirl gravely said, Alas! was fifteen francs a head. However, I said:"Give me three, And wrap them in a silver paper, And I will take them home with me, And light an 'in memoriam' taper, To one whose smile, so heaven bright, Was wont to make my darkness light." Then lo! I saw beside me stand A woman shabby, old and grey, Who pointed with a trembling hand And shyly asked: "How much are they?" But when I told her, sadly said: "I'll save my francs for milk and bread. Yet I've a daughter just sixteen, Long sick abed and oh so sad. I thought-well, how they would have been A gift, maybe, to make her glad..." And then I saw her eyes caress My blossoms with such wisftulness. I gave them:sought my garret bare, Knowing that she whom I had loved, Although no blooms I brought here there, Would have so tenderly approved... And in the dark I lay awhile, Seeing again her radiant smile. |
| 8:17 pm | #49-'The Man Who Never Was'-Ewen Montagu #49-'The Man Who Never Was'-by Ewen Montagu, is a brief recounting of the "Operation Mincemeat" that played such a vital part in setting up the Allied invasion of Sicily in 1943. Briefly stated, the "Man Who Never Was' was a corpse, dressed in an officer's uniform and carrying important, forged papers, who was set to drift in the ocean where he would be picked up by the Spaniards, who were sure to pass the info along to the Germans. There was an extreme amount of fine planning, from photos of his new "fiancee" to ticket stubs for the theater, included, to flesh out Major Martin's personality; and then there were the confidential "old boy" letters from one Admiral to another...toss in a few rumors here, a few troop movements there, and we have a very risky cover deception that somehow, amazingly enough, worked. The author, who was the originator of the plan, is a bit...hm, self-congratulatory about it-this was clearly his finest hour and wow, aren't we smugly pleased with ourselves for being British? Why, yes-yes, we are! However, it *is* a fascinating story and the book gives many previously unreleased behind-the-scenes details that are interesting for anyone with a taste for espionage or war history books. (You can blame my daddy for this one.) Current Mood: thoughtful |
| 8:15 pm | #48-'A Morbid Taste for Bones'-Ellis Peters #48-'A Morbid Taste for Bones', by Ellis Peters. The first of the Brother Cadfael medieval mysteries & a re-read. I grabbed it by mistake instead of the book I *intended* to read, and didn't realize it until I'd already left home; but what the heck-I like this series, so it wasn't a hardship. *smiles* Peters is very good at setting an emotional tone and fleshing out her characters as real people. The mysteries themselves are, to me, secondary to the personal interactions and period details. Brother Cadfael himself is a wise, wordly, and humorous detective, whose past exploits and expertise in his areas of interest (not to mention rabid curiosity) make it entirely believable that he'd get involved in these cases. Current Mood: calm |
| 7:54 pm | #47-"Bound & Gagged'-Laura Kipnis #47 is "Bound and Gagged: Pornography and the Politics of Fantasy in America", by Laura Kipnis. This was excellent, one of my favorite reads this year. This is an interesting, intellectual look at porn- why so many people need it and the insights it can give us as humans and into our culture. It's far less about sex *as* sex and more as the political and/or emotional working out of various issues that are often very visceral and subconscious, and for which there are few to no other outlets of expression. It's also about the "politics of fantasy": should we be punished for what we fantasize about, even if we never intend to do it? Does the thought equal the crime? There are, among others, chapters on s/m, transvetism and fat porn, with a look at Larry Flyn'ts history with Hustler magazine. The s/m chapter was infuriating. It detailed how for over six months, an FBI investigation-determined they *would* find some pedophiles to lock up for attempting to make a snuff film-entrapped two men. Stranger-pedophiles being the root of all modern social evil, you see, *despite* statistical documentary evidence to the contrary...more children being molested or killed by their parents every year...but never mind. One of the men actually *had* fondled some sleeping children. He *did* deserve to be dealt with for that-but only for THAT, not scapegoated into more. He got thirty years in jail for talking about making this snuff film. The other guy? Well, he had a steady career, a long-term (adult!) lover, some screwed up issues with his dad and his own masculinity...and answered the wrong personal ad. HE got thirty-five years in jail for talking about making this snuff film...and he'd been co-operative with the investigators. Nice, no? This snuff film, may I add, was only being talked about because the 2 FBI agents, heroically doing their job, pushed and threatened these 2 guys for SIX MONTHS, trying to flatter and bully them into meeting up in the same place so they could be nabbed for "conspiracy" to commit the crime. The second guy tried to back out several times and they mentioned their imaginary mob boss to him...he'd be "displeased"...etc... Altogether unsavory. Neither of the guys showed good judgement in meeting up with the agents for a second time; the one guy didn't call the police about it when he tried to back out-he was terrified, and considering they'd been mentioning "the boss" and their "connections" all those months, it's understandable. The first man *did* deserve some punishment for the crime he *did* commit. But. Tell me how the FBI was possibly justified in what they did? I have in no way managed to capture just how *hard* the investigation pushed to find *somebody* to grab for the "pedophilia/snuff film" sting, to justify the long, expensive set-up. It's not an easy chapter to read, since the descriptions of the lifestyle will bother some readers. The FBI spent 6 months and over an estimated $1 million (at least) on this that might have been better spent on finding, y'know, actual pedohiles/criminals...or protecting children from *domestic* abuse. I was particularly fascinated by the chapter on fat porn. Kipnis' discussion of the class differences which largely drive the hatred for this genre in particular was very illuminating.She seemed to put into words much that I've thought or felt without realizing it. The deep connections between fat, lower/working class status-hitting women particularly hard as it does-pop culture such as tv talk shows being a form of self-expression for people who quite legitmately don't trust or don't have political outlets elsewhere (the "culture of complaint"), and more... And Larry Flynt? NOT a nice man. An asshole, really. I'd likely never read Hustler, myself. But now...I can say that maybe it does have a point, more than just being gross and crude for the sake of the grossness and crudeness itself. Again, intriguing. The author by no means claims that everyone who enjoys pornography is all high-minded and looking for hidden meaning; some folks just like the sex. BUT the hidden meaning *is* there. She proposes that pornography should be treated like any other visual or literary medium-examined for themes, appreciated for the artistic merit of it's style (because it can be well done for its kind, or badly done, just like any other art-not every opera is equally highbrow and polished), and considered as part of our cultural self-expression. It's not going away, as she says. I found this a very thought-provoking read. I reccomend it to anyone who's willing to get their mind stretched a bit, and able to read things critically, even if it's something you find a bit distasteful. Kipnis writes in a clear and approachable style, not hard to get into at all. I'm going to check into any other titles she might have available. I'm counting my year from when I joined the comm, so I have until Jan 7th to make it! Current Mood: impressed |
| 7:52 pm | #46-'Jewelry:From the Renaissance...'-Fregnac #46-"Jewelry: From the Renaissance to Art Nouveau", by Claude Fregnac, is a little misleading. It claims to have "138 illustrations in color and black and white"; it's mostly black & white, which considering the subject, really short-changes the reader. The color pictures do aid in grasping just how *old* many of these pieces are. Keeping jewels and jewelry sets intact, as heirlooms or works of art, is a fairly new practice-dating largely from the 18th century. The author says that most of the pieces he's shown are "inferior" jewels, unless they're part of a royal collection; which amazes me to think of what the "good" jewelry looked like. Many, many large or legendary jewels were cut or broken up when sold off to pay debts; for instance, the Hope diamond was once much larger. Overall, the book is interesting enough, giving historical background on each piece; discussing changes in fashion, such as cutting facets into stones to reveal their brilliance, intead of leaving them rough or cabachon-cut, etc. I'd say this book is mostly interesting for the Renaissance/Tudorian pieces; the more recent material is sketchy. It was an amazon buy, so I can't complain too much! Good book to paw through the bibliography of, for more material. It looks like there's a series of these books, by different authors...I might take a gander. Current Mood: annoyed |
| 7:44 pm | #45-'Cathedral,Forge & Waterwheel'-Frances & Joe Gies #45-"Cathedral, Forge, and Waterwheel: Technology and Invention in the MIddle Ages" is by Frances & Joseph Gies.
This was an interesting, surprisingly quick read, with plenty of research and background info (but which doesn't overwhelm a novice). Basically, it's about how many inventions in the Middle Ages came from outside Europe; how they were interwoven into European life, improved by being synthesized with local inventions; and how Europe used these changes to create a new and thriving technological, economical, and political combination, and then continued to create original technology of its own. Everyone should know how the stirrup and saddle affected not only warfare, but trade (by making travel easier/faster/safer). Crossbows, chain mail, printing...that kind of thing is commonly mentioned. But "technology" also covers things like changing the shape of a ship's sail, to be more efficient by capturing more wind at the prevailing angle-*somebody* had to figure that out, you know!. Or crafting carriages with 4 wheels instead of 2, with a movable forecarriage and-get this-nailing on "iron tires" in the form of small plates for better traction and durability (think snow tires!); and realising that they're depleting the forests so they'd better start conserving and planting trees...yes, they *were* aware of it and in many places, tried to do something about it, often by royal decree. There was more to those royal forest preserves than just hunting privileges. I think what fascinates me the most when I read history like this-of everyday people going about their business and developing ways that work better for them, with no sense of being extraordinary-is how...*real* it seems, much more so than history taught in school. Like a good video from the History Channel or something. It's the trivial details that make the facts more personal. I really don't care what king won what war or why (sue me), but I *am* interested in how white, as the color of mourning, was gradually supplanted by black (and a preference for darker colors in general), as new dye materials and techniques were developed. Think about how many people that change touched-the ones who gathered the plants and made the dyes; the merchants who sold the dyes; the weavers who took orders for cloth; and...the people who wore them, and why. *muses* This is a good book for people who like picking up tidbits of history and trivia, and who have an interest in both the Middle Ages and the Renaissance era, as many of the developments of the former greatly impacted the latter. Current Mood: pleased |