violsva: Geoffrey Tennant, offering a skull (have a skull)
Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
Read more... )
violsva: full bookshelf with ladder (Default)
Rudyard Kipling

Roman Occupation of Britain, A.D. 300

Legate, I had the news last night - my cohort ordered home
By ship to Portus Itius and thence by road to Rome.
I’ve marched the companies aboard, the arms are stowed below:
Now let another take my sword. Command me not to go!

I’ve served in Britain forty years, from Vectis to the Wall.
I have none other home than this, nor any life at all.
Last night I did not understand, but, now the hour draws near
That calls me to my native land, I feel that land is here.

Here where men say my name was made, here where my work was done;
Here where my dearest dead are laid - my wife - my wife and son;
Here where time, custom, grief and toil, age, memory, service, love,
Have rooted me in British soil. Ah, how can I remove?

For me this land, that sea, these airs, those folk and fields suffice.
What purple Southern pomp can match our changeful Northern skies,
Black with December snows unshed or pearled with August haze -
The clanging arch of steel-grey March, or June’s long-lighted days?

You’ll follow widening Rhodanus till vine and olive lean
Aslant before the sunny breeze that sweeps Nemausus clean
To Arelate’s triple gate; but let me linger on,
Here where our stiff-necked British oaks confront Euroclydon!

You’ll take the old Aurelian Road through shore-descending pines,
Where, blue as any peacock’s neck, the Tyrrhene Ocean shines.
You’ll go where laurel crowns are won, but - will you e’er forget
The scent of hawthorn in the sun, or bracken in the wet?

Let me work here for Britain’s sake - at any task you will -
A marsh to drain, a road to make or native troops to drill.
Some Western camp (I know the Pict) or granite Border keep,
Mid seas of heather derelict, where our old messmates sleep.

Legate, I come to you in tears - My cohort ordered home!
I’ve served in Britain forty years. What should I do in Rome?
Here is my heart, my soul, my mind - the only life I know.
I cannot leave it all behind. Command me not to go!
violsva: Merida from Brave, with the text "Solve all your problems by turning your mother into a bear" (Merida bear)
Dear Brain:

Just because it is raining does not mean I have not accomplished anything today.


Mar. 6th, 2014 06:44 pm
violsva: full bookshelf with ladder (trudeau)
Today is the 180th anniversary of the incorporation of my city <3<3.

March is Bisexual Health Awareness Month.

And from [personal profile] james_davis_nicoll, the CRTC has notified two pornography channels that they don't have sufficient Canadian Content, and may have their licenses revoked.

And in other news, I know that it's perfectly normal Canadian weather for March and other people have it much worse, but THIS IS ENOUGH SNOW STOP IT.
violsva: Merida from Brave, with the text "Solve all your problems by turning your mother into a bear" (Merida bear)
So I saw Frozen on New Year's with my sister, which was exactly how to do it. I don't know if I like it as a movie (Can't stand the comic relief character, but can't stand Disneyish comic relief in general) but I certainly like the message. It's also one of the Bechdel Test passing movies that outperformed everything else this year. If you want to see it go see it in theatres.

There was a wind chill warning for a bit Thursday and Friday, so I saw it at the perfect time. Not very cold in my apartment, though - in fact I have to remember not to open the door to the boiler room or it gets way too humid here.

On the other hand, it has an awesome triumphant musical number about being yourself and being awesome and abandoning all your friends and relatives and responsibilities so you can be alone for the rest of your life. It's very catchy. Elsa's issues are actually quite a good metaphor for an anxiety disorder, at least at the beginning.

Brain continues attempting to eat itself. We persist.


Dec. 26th, 2013 02:56 pm
violsva: full bookshelf with ladder (books)
I got a Lady's Not For Burning fic and oh, it's wonderful. Accessory After the Fact. Thomas Mendip's attitude toward life is enough like mine at the moment that it was lovely to get an exploration of it partially changing.

I also wrote 9 Yuletide fics, which seems like a lot, but 8 of them are only 100 words long. Way too much fun, like I said. And they appear to be well-received, which is lovely.

There isn't much, other than that. It's been a very nice Christmas so far, but there's still Christmas with my dad and my sister and my grandparents and [personal profile] knumpify to go (I grew up with divorced parents. I'm used to multiple Christmases). My mom's internet hasn't been working properly since the ice storm, so I spent yesterday running down my tablet battery and my brother's data plan reading Yuletide fic while Toronto worked on making "White Christmas" an understatement. And then my brother made me watch what is allegedly one of the worst X-File episodes ever (evil trees!). Very nice.

(Much nicer: I get this week off work and I'm only in three days next week. Ack, I used to like work.)

And now I really do need to leave for Dad's.
violsva: Sidney Paget illustration of Holmes and Watson, seated, with the caption "Cut out the poetry, Watson" (Holmes)
So Sunday I got the day off, which I wasn't expecting, and then we had a power outage. The ice was very pretty and I have lots of candles. It's back on now.

My anxiety has been up to 11 since about Wednesday, but there's not really anything I can do about that. Having the next week off work will definitely help.

I have been having Way Too Much Fun with Yuletide Drabbles. It's great.
violsva: full bookshelf with ladder (Default)
The latest in irresponsible reporting: "Collisions, snow squalls shut down highways. See where." from a link on the Weather Network's site. This is not how we headline warnings. Warnings are important. People need to know where the hell they can't be driving.

Does anyone else find that the drive for multimedia on news websites makes them avoid news websites? I don't just mean that there are ads everywhere and the images and videos make everything ridiculously slow to load. I mean that images and videos are actually a pretty ineffective means of finding the kind of information one went to the page for. I don't want to watch a video, I want to skim an article and actually leave with the information I want.

For once I agree with BBC Sherlock: I prefer to do my own editing.

Not to mention slideshows. One page per soundbite is the least efficient information layout I can think of. Which means, of course, that there's more space for ads.

Fred Clark mentioned that the newspaper he used to work at had an online policy the staff unofficially called "Fuck the Capricorns": split up the horoscopes over two pages so the last few signs have to click twice, and look at more ads.

We need to figure out a new model here, and no one's even come close to one yet.

The hilarious part, of course, is that our eyes are trained to ignore image ads already. I suppose making content look like ads is more ethical than making ads look like content.
violsva: full bookshelf with ladder (trudeau)
Take last, slightly wrinkled MacIntosh apple out of fridge. Cut in half.

Take the cores out, with difficulty, creating mostly-contained hollows.

Cover with cinnamon. Remember you have cloves and stick two cloves into each. (Ginger might be good. Ginger is always good. Next time.)

Fill hollows with raisins. Top with a lump of brown sugar. No, more than that.

Sprinkle oats on top.

Go, "Hey, walnuts!" Add walnuts.

Decide honey would be overkill. Maple syrup might not be, but I am a Bad Canadian and do not have it.

Zap in microwave for about three intervals of about 30 seconds. Squeeze edges slightly and they should almost collapse.

Type up recipe while letting cool. Burn tongue anyway. Try not to eat the cloves.

Also, happy New Year to [personal profile] knumpify and everyone else celebrating.


violsva: full bookshelf with ladder (Default)

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