meme/poll

Expand my movie horizons

Comment with a movie (or multiple movies--the more the merrier), and I'll respond with:

  • never seen it | need to see it | hate it | ugh | it was okay | LOVED IT | asdfghjkl

2001: A Space Odyssey is already on my "need to see it" list. Just need to find someone willing to watch it with me.
Indexing:
fanfic

An historical artifact

I posted this on gentle_edgar back in 2009; apparently I'm bad at making predictions:


My first and probably only Supernatural snippet: prompted by this bit of crack by pentapus, and starring Dean, who is not a horse.

*

See, this was the nice thing about the Impala: she didn't look at him like he was crazy/stupid/an impostor. Which, okay, he kind of was (the last one, not the first two, despite what certain people said), but it wasn't his fault. And when he found out whose fault it was, he was going to salt and burn the sucker, regardless of who or what it was, with malice aforethought.

First, though, he had to go rescue Sam, because apparently his little brother really was a pretty, pretty princess.
fanfic

Supernatural season openers

A new season of Supernatural is upon us! And I am dreadfully, woefully behind in my viewing--not because I've lost interest in the show, it's just that I haven't been watching much of anything that's scripted. (Probably because work is so full of uncertainty and suppressed drama at the moment that I just don't have the right mental space to enjoy fictional drama on top of it all.) But I want to celebrate the show, and that it's on it's fourteenth--FOURTEENTH, how nuts is that?--season, and from the gifs and clips I've seen it's still running along in far better shape than ought to be possible, given its age.

So please share your favorite bits and pieces from 14.01! Or if you haven't had the chance to see it yet, tell us which past season opener is your favorite--mine is probably 2.01, but there are some very strong contenders.

Here's hoping season 14 knocks it out of the park!
Indexing:
fox

Poem: Sotto Voce

- Walter de la Mare
To Edward Thomas


The haze of noon wanned silver-grey,
The soundless mansion of the sun;
The air made visible in his ray,
Like molten glass from furnace run,
Quivered o'er heat-baked turf and stone
And the flower of the gorse burned on —
Burned softly as gold of a child's fair hair
Along each spiky spray, and shed
Almond-like incense in the air
Whereon our senses fed.

At foot — a few sparse harebells: blue
And still as were the friend's dark eyes
That dwelt on mine, transfixèd through
With sudden ecstatic surmise.

'Hst!' he cried softly, smiling, and lo,
Stealing amidst that maze gold-green,
I heard a whispering music flow
From guileful throat of bird, unseen: —
So delicate, the straining ear
Scarce carried its faint syllabling
Into a heart caught-up to hear
That inmost pondering
Of bird-like self with self. We stood,
In happy trance-like solitude,
Hearkening a lullay grieved and sweet —
As when on isle uncharted beat
'Gainst coral at the palm-tree's root,
With brine-clear, snow-white foam afloat,
The wailing, not of water or wind —
A husht, far, wild, divine lament,
When Prospero his wizardry bent
Winged Ariel to bind....
Then silence, and o'er-flooding noon.
I raised my head; smiled too. And he —
Moved his great hand, the magic gone —
Gently amused to see
My ignorant wonderment. He sighed.
'It was a nightingale,' he said,
'That sotto voce cons the song
He'll sing when dark is spread;
And Night's vague hours are sweet and long,
And we are laid abed.'
Indexing:
faith

Twentieth Sunday after Trinity

(Prayer requests?)

At the moment, my bucket list consists of about 4 items. Singing this as part of a choir is one of them. It's never going to happen, but O, how glorious!

Spem in alium nunquam habui | I have never put my hope in any other
Praeter in te, Deus Israel | but in Thee, God of Israel
Qui irasceris et propitius eris | who canst show both wrath and graciousness,
et omnia peccata hominum | and who absolves all the sins
in tribulatione dimittis | of man in suffering
Domine Deus | Lord God,
Creator caeli et terrae | Creator of Heaven and Earth
respice humilitatem nostram | Regard our humility
Indexing:
meme/poll

Days of the week



I'm just curious whether anyone will pick favorite days other than Friday and Saturday--personally, I'm rather partial to Wednesdays, when the recurring daily special at the local deli is a fabulous cheesesteak with the best fries I've ever had.

Favorite day of the week?

Sunday
1(10.0%)
Monday
3(30.0%)
Tuesday
0(0.0%)
Wednesday
0(0.0%)
Thursday
1(10.0%)
Friday
0(0.0%)
Saturday
5(50.0%)
Indexing:
original

fic: Packing [original]

If I remember correctly, this was spawned by a fellow writer's request for fake song lyrics to use in their fic--I wrote a bunch of them, and then started making up facts about the fictional band that wrote the songs in the first place, and after a bunch of other little dribs and drabs, this thing happened (previously on gentle_edgar):


At some point, usually about fifteen minutes in, there came a point of utter despair and a sense of great futility: the car had become one of those horrific 3-D puzzles that can't be solved because the pieces would have to pass through each other to produce the desired shape and normal people just can't make that happen, and everyone seemed content to simply stand around and comment on this fact instead of doing something about it.

This was largely Zach's fault, as he was a terminal over-packer, quite capable of amusing himself for an entire week with one of the aforementioned 3-D puzzles but unable to remember that fact for the next trip. And no one did anything about it: Yvaine just tried (fruitlessly) to minimize her own luggage, Xe appeared to be entirely oblivious (as always), and Valentine simply packed up his family in their own car and heartlessly left Wib to wrangle the rest of the band all by himself. The injustice of it was enough to make a grown man weep.

Eventually, though not without some superficial damage, everything was fit into the car, everyone was chivvied into seat and seatbelt, and they were off. Each time as they drove away, Wib swore he'd make someone else do the packing next time, knowing as he did so that he lied. They all had their roles, their places, and his was to fit the pieces into the required whole.