poem: January
- Hilaire Belloc
It freezes - all across a soundless sky
The birds go home. The governing dark's begun:
The steadfast dark that waits not for a sun;
The ultimate dark wherein the race shall die.
Death, with his evil finger to his lip,
Leers in at human windows, turning spy
To learn the country where his rule shall lie
When he assumes perpetual generalship.
The undefeated enemy, the chill
That shall benumb the voiceful earth at last,
Is master of our moment, and has bound
The viewless wind it-self. There is no sound.
It freezes. Every friendly stream is fast.
It freezes; and the graven twigs are still.
I am feeling not melancholy at the moment, but stymied. There is a part of me (well-stifled, but persistent) that want to wipe this blog clean and start over from scratch, without the baggage of icons picked out 15 years ago, and a tagging scheme that I don't really like anymore, and a more pure vision of things that ... something. I don't know.
The archivist of me goes "but you must save everything on the off chance that someone cares later on and some external force hasn't deleted it!" And the Marie Kondo-trained part of me goes "yes, but does it still bring joy? no? well then".
If I do anything, though, it would be do leave this as is, stop posting here (with a formal warning notice, which this isn't!) and move exclusively over to a clean-wiped DreamWidth. I don't like the fact that you can't schedule posts, and the feed page definitely isn't as nice, but there's definitely more activity over there. I'm not particularly sanguine about the longevity of either platform, but at least of them isn't repeatedly making apologies for not being able to accept payments because being Russian means they're not allowed to use various payment platforms.
I am so tired of having "platforms", btw. And subscription payments. I long for free-and-clear purchases, but that seems antithetical to how the internet infrastructure functions, alas.
Okay, unrelated rant over. I live. This is a good thing, despite what the news may try to tell us. Do you yet live too?
It freezes - all across a soundless sky
The birds go home. The governing dark's begun:
The steadfast dark that waits not for a sun;
The ultimate dark wherein the race shall die.
Death, with his evil finger to his lip,
Leers in at human windows, turning spy
To learn the country where his rule shall lie
When he assumes perpetual generalship.
The undefeated enemy, the chill
That shall benumb the voiceful earth at last,
Is master of our moment, and has bound
The viewless wind it-self. There is no sound.
It freezes. Every friendly stream is fast.
It freezes; and the graven twigs are still.
I am feeling not melancholy at the moment, but stymied. There is a part of me (well-stifled, but persistent) that want to wipe this blog clean and start over from scratch, without the baggage of icons picked out 15 years ago, and a tagging scheme that I don't really like anymore, and a more pure vision of things that ... something. I don't know.
The archivist of me goes "but you must save everything on the off chance that someone cares later on and some external force hasn't deleted it!" And the Marie Kondo-trained part of me goes "yes, but does it still bring joy? no? well then".
If I do anything, though, it would be do leave this as is, stop posting here (with a formal warning notice, which this isn't!) and move exclusively over to a clean-wiped DreamWidth. I don't like the fact that you can't schedule posts, and the feed page definitely isn't as nice, but there's definitely more activity over there. I'm not particularly sanguine about the longevity of either platform, but at least of them isn't repeatedly making apologies for not being able to accept payments because being Russian means they're not allowed to use various payment platforms.
I am so tired of having "platforms", btw. And subscription payments. I long for free-and-clear purchases, but that seems antithetical to how the internet infrastructure functions, alas.
Okay, unrelated rant over. I live. This is a good thing, despite what the news may try to tell us. Do you yet live too?