I think on some level, one of my main reasons for doing Plot With Rocks In was so I could gratuitously quote all manner of songs. And I did. And so did other people in the plot, but I only really kept track of my own list; that was long enough. XD
( bluetext credits; only my own, and in order of first appearance.Collapse )
With my usual punctuality, here's some Carl Sandburg that got whitetexted back in some of my threads with Cuthbert, and some that didn't but should have, and some that I've only found since then but still make me gape at their applicability to DT.
Manitoba Childe Roland gets to be first, because I have an ongoing love affair with this poem.
Last night a January wind was ripping at the shingles over our house and whistling a wolf
song under the eaves.
I sat in a leather rocker and read to a six-year-old girl the Browning poem, Childe
Roland to the Dark Tower Came.
And her eyes had the haze of autumn hills and it was beautiful to her and she could not
A man is crossing a big prairie, says the poem, and nothing happens—and he goes on and
on—and it’s all lonesome and empty and nobody home.
And he goes on and on—and nothing happens—and he comes on a horse’s skull, dry bones of a
dead horse—and you know more than ever it’s all lonesome and empty and nobody home.
And the man raises a horn to his lips and blows—he fixes a proud neck and forehead toward
the empty sky and the empty land—and blows one last wonder-cry.
And as the shuttling automatic memory of man clicks off its results willy-nilly and
inevitable as the snick of a mouse-trap or the trajectory of a 42-centimeter projectile,
I flash to the form of a man to his hips in snow drifts of Manitoba and Minnesota—in the
sled derby run from Winnipeg to Minneapolis.
He is beaten in the race the first day out of Winnipeg—the lead dog is eaten by four team
mates—and the man goes on and on—running while the other racers ride—running while the
other racers sleep—
Lost in a blizzard twenty-four hours, repeating a circle of travel hour after hour—fighting
the dogs who dig holes in the snow and whimper for sleep—pushing on—running and walking
five hundred miles to the end of the race—almost a winner—one toe frozen, feet blistered
And I know why a thousand young men of the Northwest meet him in the finishing miles and
yell cheers—I know why judges of the race call him a winner and give him a special prize
even though he is a loser.
I know he kept under his shirt and around his thudding heart amid the blizzards of five
hundred miles that one last wonder-cry of Childe Roland—and I told the six-year-old girl
all about it.
And while the January wind was ripping at the shingles and whistling a wolf song under the
eaves, her eyes had the haze of autumn hills and it was beautiful to her and she could not
( Four Preludes on Playthings of the Wind--Gilead That WasCollapse )
( Among the Red Guns--The last gunslingers after the fall of GileadCollapse )
( Under the Harvest Moon--Susan Delgado, Roland and Susan, MejisCollapse )
( Crimson Rambler--Mordred, Eddie and Susannah Dean re: Mordred, general Discordia-nessCollapse )
And one that's more Sandman-DT, or just Sandman alone. I think of it as Roland/Death, but it could just as easily be Death/Raph, or hell, Death-anyone.
( White ShouldersCollapse )
Liz doesn't quite quote the Bible, twice.
Both are the King James translation; the first is Judith 6:4; the second Ecclesiasticus (Sirach) 43:20.
The context...is wildly inappropriate for only one, though! Judith is a speech by a king describing how he will crush his opponents; Ecclesiasticus is praise for God; a rather poetic, almost Romantic one.
No, I don't know what I was thinking either.
For those of you whose pups are into things that:
a) are used in the bath
may I recommend Shower Buzz soap? I encountered it today at a Duane Reade store (a common drug store chain) in Manhattan, NYC. The soap comes in several scents and costs $4 a bar. It's packed in plastic tighter than a Walkman, and this is because once you take it out, the instant you lift it out of the storage tray it starts vibrating and buzzing in your hand as if it were being purchased in the gift shop of the NYC Museum of Sex.
I have a terrible urge to put my bar on the sink as a prank on guests washing their hands.
He wishes for the cloths of heaven
-- William Butler Yeats
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.
( No, really, bear with me...Collapse )
And I've rambled on too long. I'll shut up now.
For the Equilibrium-muns, and anybody else with a taste for dystopian fiction, I'd like to suggest one of the granddaddies of the Creepy Totalitarian State genre. It has:
- a world of isolated cities protected from the howling wilderness
- a far-future time frame, 26th century I think
- a near-complete lack of privacy
- a unified society in which the inhabitants are treated as virtually identical save for the demands of human biology
- a medical procedure designed to stamp out the peskiest element of human nature, imagination
- a main character whose happiness in his 'perfect' society falls apart when he falls in love with a woman
- and a whoooole lotta tech and science and desire to make all culture useful to the State.
We, by Yevgeny Zamyatin, was written in 1920 by an author who was extremely unhappy with Stalin and company. 1984, Brave New World, and Equilibrium would never have gotten off the ground without it. It's a fascinating read- depressing as all hell (we are talking Russian author here), but fascinating. And it's short, for a Russian novel. I think 1984 may be longer.
G'wan. You know you wanna.
OK, here's the thing, as highlighted in this back room conversation:
You play in Milliways. Admit it, you're a geek. You also consider yourself as something of a writer. Possibly an artist. Maybe you like comics, science fiction, and randomly spoofing famous films and other aspects of pop culture. You probably think you're life would be much more interesting if you were attacked by zombies, or you shot your archenemy inna nuts with paintballs.
You waste a lot of your time
You almost certainly have a great sense of humour, and given our demographic, consider yourself a "Young Adult"
You will love the Channel 4 TV Show Spaced. It references everything. It almost certainly is about you.
It ran for two seasons in the late 1990s, and was co-written and co-starred Simon Pegg of Shaun of the Dead fame.
Find it. Buy the DVDs, anything. You will not regret it, I promise you.