'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the 'verse ( Read more... )

April is National Poetry Month, and today is still, for another 15 minutes, Maundy Thursday. Have a temporally appropriate pre-war Owen poem.

Maundy Thursday
Wilfred Owen

Between the brown hands of a server-lad ( Read more... )

I'm alive, I promise. But life = work right about now, and it's boring to keep talking about how Suzanne won't stop bitching about Louise and how they're trying to find a replacement for her. And if they want to do that, they'll have to do it over my, um, resignation. 'Cause fucked if I'm going to let that happen and not say anything.

I am way more ( Read more... )

Unfolded Out of the Folds
Walt Whitman

Unfolded out of the folds of the woman man comes unfolded, and is always to come unfolded ( Read more... )

Slither is great and wonderful and of the awesome and everyone should go see it NOW. Unless you have a weak stomach, because...well, just don't. Seriously the grossest movie I have ever seen, and I mean that in a highly complimentary way. Maybe it was the drawl, but Bill Pardy = Malcolm Reynolds. You know how whenever Adam Baldwin picks up a gun, ( Read more... )

It's amazing what Chloraseptic and a four-hour nap will do to your mood. Also to your sleeping patterns.

Work was agony today, because everytime I spoke, breathed, swallowed, etc., my throat burned like napalm. Halls throat drops? Taste awful, and do nothing. So Mom bought me Chloraseptic when she came to pick me up, and despite my ridiculous gag ( Read more... )

Well, I ranted earlier. And I recall a long time ago I was posting poetry to balance out the ire. Well, I'd have to post an entire anthology to make up for the summer's rants, but I'm only posting one right now.

ladybast requested that I post some of the poetry from The Penguin Book of Homosexual Verse (Stephen Coote, ed. Penguin, 1986), so...

TolerationJohn ( Read more... )

One of these days, the other girls in our hallway are going to get fed up with these 3 a.m. hysterical gatherings in the hallway, and they're going to murder us. They'd kill us in our sleep, except we never actually sleep.

And here's something to ponder: The Elves in The Lord of the Rings were born from the soldiers' experiences in World War I. ( Read more... )

While we're on the subject of brothers...and in one fandom or another, I've been on that subject all day...

Translation done by Peter Anderson's Latin 113 class this morning; small changes have been made to protect the English idiom.

Multas per gentes et multa per aequora vectus ( Read more... )