[don't stop now]

Jan. 21st, 2017 10:45 pm
watersword: Zoe Saldana as Uhura, Star Trek (2009) (Star Trek: Uhura)
[personal profile] watersword
Drinking with [personal profile] zopyrus last night netted us some really good conversation and five signs for today's Women's March; I joined up with [personal profile] dragojustine and her husband midday and we took an hour-plus to get from 42nd and 5th to 50th and 5th. There were some excellent signs and it was a really good, calm, focused crowd. The police were just wearing everyday uniforms, not riot gear, and taking selfies with protestors.

What's next?


Jan. 21st, 2017 09:26 pm
hunningham: Annoyed looking puffin kicking the ground (Fed-up Puffin)
[personal profile] hunningham
Out walking today with friends. Out for eight hours; walking for about three hours. The rest was travel, traffic jams and pub. I came home grumpy.

I need to think about why I walk, what I want from from a day out with boots and rucksack, and what I should be doing next

More specifically FUCK the Malverns. A there-and-back, dog-walkers-delight, bloody tedious lump of a ridge walk. "It won't be muddy", they said. They were right. It wasn't muddy. But it was boring. And I have done it before. And before. And before. And I never ever want to do it again.

[O my Lord] | Rabi’a

Jan. 21st, 2017 09:31 pm
[syndicated profile] exceptindreams_feed
“[O my Lord]”Rabi’a

O my Lord,
the stars glitter
and the eyes of men are closed.
Kings have locked their doors
and each lover is alone with his love.
Here, I am alone with You.

translated by Jane Hirshfield 


Jan. 21st, 2017 03:25 pm
nanila: wrong side of the mirror (me: wrong side of the mirror)
[personal profile] nanila
Telstar shows us how to enjoy the weekend, even though Keiki is quite ill and Humuhumu is missing her daddy, who's away on a research trip until Monday.

Be Aware

Jan. 20th, 2017 10:53 pm
hunningham: (Default)
[personal profile] hunningham
Just so you all know - today is Penguin Awareness Day!

[That passed over, this can too]

Jan. 20th, 2017 04:07 pm
watersword: Allison Janney as CJ Cregg wearing a T-shirt that reads Rock the Vote (West Wing: CJ Cregg)
[personal profile] watersword
Emailed my State Senator to support his bill for universal health care in New York and ask what I can do as a constituent to help get it enacted into law (this last cribbed from [personal profile] ellen_fremedon's letter about climate change). Emailed my House rep, who refused to attend the inauguration, to thank him for that decision and support his rejection of bigoted rhetoric. Tonight will be making signs with [personal profile] zopyrus and cider.

The world feels unreal, like a bad, illogical dream. My department went out for lunch (which I'm less than thrilled about, that was sixteen dollars I could've given to the ACLU), and I carefully didn't order a drink because I'm on the edge of tears anyway, I don't need a systemic depressant.

Seamus Heaney, Deor )

The Mask Now | Jorie Graham

Jan. 20th, 2017 09:30 pm
[syndicated profile] exceptindreams_feed
“The Mask Now”
Jorie Graham

Dying, Dad wanted sunscreen. Nonstop. Frantic if withheld. Would sayscreen, and we just did it. Knew he was dying. Was angry.
In last weeks wore red sleepmask over eyes day and night. Would
ride it up onto his forehead for brief intervals, then down, pulled by
hand that still worked. A bit. Sometimes shaking too much so just
cried eyes. Cried now now. Once cried out light — more like a hiss — was
there for that. Yanked it quick. Needed it so badly, the bandage, the

world is a short place, wanted the illustration of it gone, wanted to not
see out, wanted no out. But I am guessing. The vineyards down the slope,
each latent bud beginning to plump. In the distance, mountains. Beyond
sea. All of it distraction, but from what. A waste of what. The red
sleepmask. I should have burned it with the rest but kept it. The pane
made trees look painted on. Silky. Not good silky. In the next valley once,
hammering. Thought it human at first. The woodpeckers went on for

days. A carnival of searching for void. How full void is. Small tufts of
grass growing so that I can keep track. Taking root is not an easy way to
go about finding a place to stay. Maybe nothing would happen after
all. The hollowing-out now added to by crickets. Spiders making
roads in sky. I watch. Look at, then through. What is the empty
part? Where. Can find nothing that is empty. Seems I should, and soon, aswhere would he go, or what would the indented place on the bed where

he had been be. Be full of. He was a settler in that flesh, that I could see.
Not far from breaking camp. Wrapping up the organs in their separate
parts — skin rolled away, eyes rolled elsewhere, the fingers tossed
aside — ash, ash — the whole like a dime toss, whom do I love, what part,
what’s in the whom, what’s in the late, is there actually a too late — 
because if there is I do not grasp it. Mask he calls, unable to get into
wheelchair any longer, stares for bit of time into the air out front, past

feet, out the glass door, to the olive tree and fig. Is there fire in the
distance. Squints once back up the ray of light, up, back its long road.
How far. Mask now. The cremation-decision driving its roots through us
all — roots spreading wildly beyond the shadows of the head. “Neighbors”
will continue to feed stump, book says, long after it is cut, will send it
sugars, phosphorous, nitrogen, all the surrounding trees will try, via
fungi, root hairs, send carbon, send enzymes, whole forest hears

stress signals, will mourn, like the elephant — “I’ve wrapped stumps in
black plastic when they’ve refused to die” says Leila, location Wellington,
posted 4 years ago on permagardening. But then guard down. Eyes gone.
A red cotton mask. An old TWA one. Elastic gone. Cries out if it slips off.
Wants blue blanket. Says blue. Angry. Who was not angry. Nothing
enough. Wants to see all daily tests. Read the bloodwork. Wants trans-
fusions which we withhold. Would open him to infection. Would buy no

time. I’m wearing the sleepmask now. I’m trying it on. Rubberband soft
with age. Adding more age. American red. Red full of noise, of artificial
time. Feels like my face is painted on. A spirit. Upturned, ancient, without
expression. An old stream flows alongside. Glimmering tongues promise
the vanishing will be swift. It’s a lie. The periphery disappears but I can
still feel it, our knowing what’s coming a thicket we got lost in — till the
only thing is now — mask my spirit screams — mask now — vacancy

not coming fast enough — before we have to traverse the riddling
disappearances — extinction says the mask — go away now I do not want
to see you any longer — beauty you are too near — too near — I hear a
blackbird and the shoo of air where it lifts off — why won’t you just
go, you circling winds leaves birds systems directions visibles invisibles
honeysuckle limbs and rose gaining self-song, motion, entering this
continuum — oh continuum do not lie to me with this delicate weight of

time, this floating of as ifs and further-ons and all your guides to
dreaming, abundance, the coming true of the true. No. From under here,
listening hard, light feels around me almost visible, doused with
benzene, and time goes away, and my eyes feel on them the small weight,
the minuscule no to things, which I can conjure, which I think I know by
heart, but no, I do not, I need the mask. And it feels like an
idea. We are in a cave now. It is a hundred million years ago. They will

bring the meds again now and the urine pot — he yells for it — but for now
under the mask it is a lowly spot, you can make dawn come
you can feel us inherit the earth, the jay shifts in the tree and you can
hear it. There is little. You hear the little. Hear the head snapped on the
stem. Hear the angel trapped in the stone. Hear pure chance which
sounds like a boy marching alongside an army wanting to enlist. The
year is 1490, 380, 1774, 10 BCE. You hear the outline in the tree — why — 

because it touches the other outlines. If I try to raise the mask the hand
he can barely use flutters angry bird wing at me. Would hit me with
finger wings but too broken. Maybe in Lee’s army, maybe in Grant’s. It
made no difference in the end. Maybe in Caesar’s maybe in Christ’s. The
trillions seem more clear than ever in the day behind the mask. The dark
gray of the fever feels every inch of the bark. Freckled, the pure
proclamations being made by the light. It is not day it is saying, bright as

quicklime, text of flames he can hear — no, not day — day sprawls under
to let us flow through over its parched back. Lies flat. Lie flat day he
thinks under the red mask. Spread yourself over us light, the dead at
Antietam yes his people, both sides, the cufflinks in the drawer he will
not see again — they were Lee’s he would say — they were Grant’s — I saw
the will of the Davis side — I did — he says, smell of gravel coming from
the path, day sitting now over us like a lioness. It is neither dark nor

light. As if you are the place where the branch was sawed off — that place
on the oak — and air silently touched your new raw end. You put it on,
you pull it down, and then effort, enlistment, singing, and you are given a
fine practitioner’s absence, you are a purpose surrounded by chance, a
hole in chance. You can feel the clouds move over the sun from here. You
can hear the sun return and insect-hum spray up. You can lie still and feel
this is the ultimate price. You feel it getting paid. By you. It is you.

have an opinion for me

Jan. 20th, 2017 11:55 am
watersword: Parker running across a roof with the words "tick tick tick (boom)" (Leverage: tick tick tick (boom))
[personal profile] watersword
There are so many things I want to yell about that I can't decide.

Poll #17907 Signage
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: Just the Poll Creator, participants: 15

What should I put on my sign for the Women's March on Saturday?

Women's rights: not up for grabs
6 (40.0%)

Black Lives Matter
0 (0.0%)

A woman's place is in the resistance
7 (46.7%)

Don't touch my healthcare
2 (13.3%)

There is no sound more powerful than the marching feet of a determined people. #goodtrouble
2 (13.3%)

I have a better idea!

(Realized I forgot to credit Rep. John Lewis for the #goodtrouble text.)

Fanfic: Choke If You Voted For Trump

Jan. 20th, 2017 02:59 pm
copperbadge: (Default)
[personal profile] copperbadge
Fanfic: Choke If You Voted For Trump:

Title: Choke If You Voted For Trump
Universe: Leader Of The Free World (President Barton AU)
Rating: Teen and Up
Summary: President Clint Barton, his very personal bodyguard Bucky Barnes, and Vice-President Steve Rogers have been kidnapped. This is not going the way the kidnappers thought it would.

If you’re reading this on DW/LJ, you can get to the fic here: http://ift.tt/2iSB5vG

from Tumblr http://ift.tt/2jHf9bx

Friday's Unscientific Poll: Lego

Jan. 20th, 2017 02:55 pm
nanila: Your plastic pal who's fun to be with (star wars: k-2so)
[personal profile] nanila
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 35

How likely are you to sort your Lego?

View Answers
Mean: 4.42 Median: 4 Std. Dev 2.84
All jumbled up in a big box 110 (30.3%)
21 (3.0%)
33 (9.1%)
43 (9.1%)
52 (6.1%)
64 (12.1%)
73 (9.1%)
85 (15.2%)
92 (6.1%)
Sealed in a cabinet by The Kragle 100 (0.0%)

If you do sort your Lego, which criteria do you employ for compartmentalising it?

View Answers

6 (21.4%)

Brick type
20 (71.4%)

Set origin
9 (32.1%)


View Answers

Chuck 'em immediately
3 (8.8%)

Follow them, then chuck 'em
6 (17.6%)

Save them, just in case
20 (58.8%)

Filed in labelled folder
5 (14.7%)

Preserved in the glass cabinet with The Kragle
0 (0.0%)

How Are You? (in Haiku)

Jan. 20th, 2017 07:40 am
jjhunter: Serene person of color with shaved head against abstract background half blue half brown (scientific sage)
[personal profile] jjhunter
Pick a thing or two that sums up how you're doing today, this week, in general, and tell me about it in the 5-7-5 syllables of a haiku. I will leave anonymous comments screened unless otherwise asked; feel free to use this to leave private comments if that's what you're most comfortable with.


Signal-boosting much appreciated!

Linkspam can't stop rereading

Jan. 19th, 2017 08:27 pm
jjhunter: Drawing of human J.J. in red and brown inks with steampunk goggle glasses (red J.J. inked)
[personal profile] jjhunter
Gay Talese @ Esquire: Frank Sinatra Has a Cold
Frank Sinatra, holding a glass of bourbon in one hand and a cigarette in the other, stood in a dark corner of the bar between two attractive but fading blondes who sat waiting for him to say something.

Jeanne Marie Laskasjan @ NYT: To Obama With Love, and Hate, and Desperation
These were people writing, and you’re a person reading, and the president is a person. Just keep remembering that, and you’ll be fine.

Long Marriage | Gerald Fleming

Jan. 19th, 2017 09:30 pm
[syndicated profile] exceptindreams_feed
“Long Marriage”
Gerald Fleming

You’re worried, so you wake her
& you talk into the dark:
Do you think I have cancer, you
say, or Were there worms
in that meat, or Do you think
our son is OK, and it’s
wonderful, really—almost
ceremonial as you feel
the vessel of your worry pass
miraculously from you to her—
Gee, the rain sounds so beautiful,
you say—I’m going back to sleep.
sunflowerinrain: Singing at the National Railway Museum (Default)
[personal profile] sunflowerinrain
It may be small by global standards, but the Gilbert and Sullivan weekend at Musatelier is the biggest G&S event in this area. As G&S is bewildering to most French locals, we rely on people coming from elsewhere - mainly from England.

This year we are having a bash at Yeomen of the Guard.

The plan is:
Friday evening sort-out music and parts, eat together.
Saturday practices and a little sight-seeing; evening meal is either out at La Daugaterie or pizza delivery.
Sunday run-through twice, the second time with a small audience of friends and neighbours.

Visitors are welcome to arrive before and stay after. There is a limited amount of sleeping-space in the house and rooms with helpful neighbours; people who prefer/can afford plusher accommodation have a choice of nearby chambres d'hôtes and gîtes.

Some of the solos are taken, but we're short of baritones. Chorus are very welcome. You'll have to find a score, but it is possible to download one.

It won't be staged, and we don't expect people to learn the parts off by heart (though that would be especially good!) but some attempt at costumes would be appreciated.


highlyeccentric: Sign on Little Queen St - One Way both directions (Default)

January 2017


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