Goodnight, goodnight,
my sweetness and light;
heart of my heart, soul of mine,
sleep well in this evening-time,
dream the dreams of joy and peace,
dream of pleasures that never cease
and know that when you wake again
I will be waiting with a grin
for, after my dreamless sleep is through,
I wake to the dream that is you.
Goodnight, goodnight,
my sweetness and light.
March 26, 2008
Somewhere, very far from me, there is thunder.
I miss thunder so. There is very rarely thunder here. There is no rumble of the coming storm, no auditory equilavence of Nature’s fury, no trembling air that makes the body shudder with that display of Gaea’s power. There’s no lightning, leaping and dancing from cloud to cloud to earth. No flashes in the sky, no scorching of the earth, no gasping “how close was that?” and counting seconds till the booming roll.
I miss thunder.
I miss lightning.
I always felt safe in storms, somehow; like whatever mean and terrible things were in the world couldn’t hear me in the pouring rain, couldn’t see me in the flashes of lightning. And sometimes, when I wanted to cry and couldn’t, I felt the clouds cried for me, cried with my heart, in the downpours, and the rain running down my face was a more than suitable actualization of the tears streaming down my soul. Flights of fancy, perhaps.
Funny how, much of the time, my desire to cry coincided with the appearance of rain, there. Here, not so much.
There is an equalization, in storms: everybody gets rained on.
I liked the sudden downpours that sneak up from nowhere, rain big thick heavy drops for half an hour, and move on as quickly as they appeared. There was a lesson in them, that storms are temporary and can be weathered. They reminded me of that, in times when it seems as though the storms in my life would never pass. I wonder if I have forgotten that lesson, or at least not held it as close to my heart as I used to.
I miss warm rain that felt like it was washing away troubles from the skin.
I miss storms, and I shall to content myself, for the nonce, with living them vicariously.
I’m gonna be pissed if there’s no storms while I’m down there.
SK
I’ve been inundating this blog with quotes lately, I know. But I read one this morning that, well, that spoke something of my heart.
The book I was reading is Sethra Lavode, by Stephen Brust. One of the main characters, Khaarven, is talking with the Empress, trying to get her to change her mind about dismissing her Discreet (the person chosen by the Empress to confide in), which he knows was done based on fraudulent information and, besides, the Discreet is a close friend of his. However, changing the mind of an Empress (or Emperor, for that matter) is regarded socially as being unwise, as the necessity of arguing with them may lead one to distressing circumstances of their own, and practically impossible. Nevertheless, Khaarven makes the attempt, and when pressed as to why he does so, he responds with this quote:
“That a task is impossible is no excuse for not attempting it, not when my heart tells me it must be done.”
Khaarven succeeds and his friend regains his position.
As for me. . .
I follow my heart.
SK
These are some of my favourite quotes from the TWRP calendar; some of them, of course, have to do with writing, but in general I think they are inspirational, especially when life gets you down. On a special day to such an inspirational person to me, it seemed fitting to post these.
“Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.” - Winston Churchill
“If you find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn’t lead anywhere.” - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
“To avoid criticism, say nothing, do nothing, be nothing.” - Elbert Hubbard
“To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.” - William Shakespeare
“A dream is a reality which has yet to materialize.” - Dave McDaniels
“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” - Eleanor Roosevelt
“Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.” - Scott Adams
“Obstacles are placed in our way to determine whether we really wanted something or just thought we did.” - Dr. Harold Smith
“Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” - Mark Twain
“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” - William Wordsworth
“Do not go where the path may lead; instead, go where there is no path and leave a trail.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.” - John Wayne
“When you’re going through Hell, keep going.” - Winston Churchill
“Believing in yourself is an endless destination. Believing you have failed is journey’s end.” - uncredited
“Metaphors have a way of holding the most truth in the least space.” - Orson Scott Card
“Be the change you want to see in the world.” - Ghandi
“The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer someone else up.” - Mark Twain
“You have to find something that you love enough to be able to take risks, jump over the hurdles, and break through the brick walls that are always going to be placed in front of you. If you don’t have that kind of feeling for what you’re doing, you’ll stop at the first hurdle.” - George Lucas
i thought i was rid of the ache, and then
it returned twice as big as the world
hungrier than before and it seemed almost
angry that i had rejected it
so now we sit, me and the ache
that has consumed me head-to-toe
we sit, and wait, and cry from hunger
maybe one day we’ll be fed
March 10, 2008
©PCB 2008
I like old words, that aren’t in use any more. They have a certain “unearthed treasure” feel about them, like finding artifacts left behind by a bygone civilization, like a hand from the past reaching to the future, which, I suppose, they are.
I have a book, titled The Word Museum, by Jeffrey Kacirk, which is a glossary of archaic words. Here are a few I liked:
sandillions - numbers like the sand on the seashore.
offmagandy - the best and choicest of delicacies. Rich, stiff cream would be described as “real offmagandy.”
latitudinarian - one who allows himself great liberties in religious matters.
buzznack - An old organ, out of order and playing badly. (from the days beforeViagra, obviously *s*)
abracadabrant - marvelous or stunning.
aflunters - in a state of disorder.
climacterian - one who is fond of a climax. (And who isn’t?) (God, my mind is so in the gutter today. . .)
haggersnash - a spiteful person. (Why did that word ever fall out of use? I love it *s*)
noctuary - an account of what passes in the night; the converse of a diary. (Which makes all my journals actually noctuaries. . cool, huh?)
quother - to talk in a low and confidential tone. (”He quothered sweet nothings into her ear. . .” That sounds much better and much dirtier than “whispered.”)
scandal-broth - tea. The reference is to the gossip held by some of the womenkind over their cups, which cheer but not inebriate. Also called chatter-broth.
That’s enough for now, I think. . .more vocabulary retro-expansion coming soon!
I have more than a few quotes that I am fond of. Here’s some of my favourites; where possible, I have credited them. Where not, if anyone can credit them for me, please do so.
(By the way, if you’re looking for deep, philosphically meaningful quotes, look elsewhere. I’m not in that kind of mood today.)
“It’s scarier than a psychopathic greased gerbil with a miner’s helmet and a flashlight and your bare asshole in sight.” - Joe R. Lansdale from his introduction to Preacher: Gone To Texas
“Son of all things considered to be a fuck!” - Ray Minchong
“If God is will, and will is well, then what is ill? God still? Do tell. . .” - Archibald MacLeish, J.B.
“If anyone in this city gave two tugs of a dead dog’s cock about Truth, this wouldn’t be happening.” -Spider Jerusalem, Transmetropolitan: Back On The Streets
“You haven’t inspired anybody since you died.” - Batman to Superman, Infinite Crisis #1
“They will always be there, as long as magic lives, and magic has a strong, strong heart.” - Robert R. McCammon, Boy’s Life
“My friend Paul in Seattle works and fucks, works and fucks.” - Thomas Aiello, Womb Of Monsters
“I will always be King of Pain. . .” - The Police, “King Of Pain”
“Write what you know.”
“Not enough gun.” - the just-nuked-and-completely-unscathed Saint Of Killers, Preacher: War In The Sun
“I have seen some fucked-up things in my time, but this takes the fucked-up cookie.” - Jesse Custer, Preacher: Salvation
“And the number one threat facing America. . .bears!” - Stephen Colbert. The Colbert Report
That’s all that are coming to mind right now. . .more later, maybe.
Why?
Why?
That’s the eternal question. It comes in various forms, such as: “Why did this have to happen?” “Why is this happening to me?” “Why can’t I succeed in life?” “Why can’t I have my dreams?” “Wy can’t I be with him/her?” “Why do we exist?” “Why am I here?” “Why did this person do that to me/themselves?” “Why am I alive?” “Why?” “Why?” “Why?“
We ask it again and again and again, because there’s no satisfactory answer. The answer, if one is even given, is never satisfactory, and usually leads only to more questions.
So we ask again, and we keep asking, and those of us with strong faith can always tell ourselves that it is part of the plan of our chosen diety, and take varying degrees in consolation in that. The more questioning among us will ask, “Why is that part of God’s/Goddess’s/Satan’s/The Flying Spaghetti Monster’s plan?” And for that, there’s no real answer, at least none that any of the dieties I’ve known have ever been willing to share. To me, that’s a very hollow consolation, even with my faith (such as it is).
I don’t know why. I rarely ever do. I wish I did, at least more often.
Why?
Sometimes there is no “why.” Sometimes, all that is is what is.
Why?
I don’t know. I wish I did.
I wish I had a real answer.
I’ve spent today fighting with MS Word 2007, cleaning, spending time with my daughter, being frustrated by her mother, and basically the usual stuff.
But last night, I cooked.
I like to cook, I really do. I don’t do it often because I don’t like to cook in a dirty kitchen, and I don’t like cleaning up behind other people (unless, of course, I love them and we share cleaning duties. That’s entirely different). But last night, I really wanted to cook, really wanted to make spaghetti and meatballs (yeah, I know, I get weird cravings sometimes), so I spent over three hours cleaning up the kitchen enough that I could feel comfortable cooking in it.
And I made my spaghetti and meatballs.
And they were good. The sauce wasn’t anything special, just tomato sauce with garlic salt, parsley flakes, basil, and something else I can’t remember right now, heated on the stovetop. The meatballs were roughly a pound of ground beef, an egg, half a packet of Lipton Onion Soup Mix, soy sauce, and a little tomato sauce. The spaghetti was just plain, store-bought spaghetti.
It’s not a major recipe. Not even hard to make. Just good and filling and I was glad I did it. It felt good to cook; even the fact that the kitchen was a bit messy again today so my hours of work were about half undone didn’t diminish my enjoyment of that moment.
On an episode of CSI (which I have been watching a lot lately, and not just because I think Marg Helgenberger is hot), Gil Grissom tells Nick Stokes that “the people that are great at what they do, do it for their own approval, not the approval of others.”
Not ever having been much of one for making myself happy, I understand that a little more now, having eaten some damn good spaghetti. (”My name is Pandem, and I approved this spaghetti.”)
I’m going to work on making myself happy and garnering my own approval more often.
It’s a long road. . .
I don’t have anything to write about, really. Just wanted to ramble.
I feel like myself today. . .like I’ve been out of myself for a while and am just now really coming back.
The exploding universe dream. . .I’m not so stressed about it now.
I feel peaceful right now. . .today. . .I feel peaceful.
I don’t expect it to last long, but for now, I feel peaceful and I’m enjoying it.
