Saturday, August 29, 2009

I remember this painting from the museum

No caps in the title.

Anyway, the painting is entitled "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus" and is by Pieter Bruegel.



I love that Icarus is just a small detail in the bottom corner. (If you can't see him right away, look at the bottom right corner, in the water- you can just see his legs sticking out.) Love love love it for making the main object of the painting such a small aspect in the overall scheme- you get an idea of how it really might have been. The farmer and the shepherd are too busy working to see the young man falling to his death, while it is unclear what the fisherman is up to (he must see Icarus but since we know that Icarus died in this episode, it must suggest that the fisherman let him die). Icarus seems pretty close to the shore- like he could walk even, but perhaps he was dazed by the fall. This eerily reminds me of Kitty Genovese (the woman who screamed to thirty people as she was stabbed and was saved by no one- Wikipedia Entry).

Several sources about this painting mentioned the Flemish proverb, which may have motivated Pieter: "No plough stands still because a man dies."

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Su-goku

These made me laugh ^o^ You have to CLICK on them to see the entire t-shirt image. The thumbnails do not match O.o Why? This, my friends, is the great mystery of our times!

sugoku - Threadless T-shirts, Nude No More

NATO ALPHABET - Threadless T-shirts, Nude No More

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Translating Neruda?

I want to try to do it for myself- though a zillion more qualified people have already translated this beautiful poem more adeptly! First comes his line/s in Spanish, then my terrible translation O.o


Pablo Neruda: Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
I can write the saddest verses tonight.


Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos."
Write, for example: "The night is starry,
and the stars shiver, blue, in the distance."

El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.
The wind of the night spins in the sky and sings.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.
I can write the saddest verses tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

En las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.
On nights like this one, I had her in my arms.
I kissed her many times beneath the infinite sky.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not love her large, still eyes.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.
I can write the saddest verses tonight.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I lost her.

Oir la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.
To listen to the immense night, more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
La noche esta estrellada y ella no está conmigo.
What importance is it that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
This is all. In the distance, somebody sings. In the distance.
My soul is not content that it has lost her.

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.
To bring her closer, my gaze looks for her.
My heart searches for her, and she is not with me.

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.
The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, of then, are no longer the same.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.
I no longer love her, it is true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searches for the wind to touch her hearing.

De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.
Another's. Will be another's. Like before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.
I no longer love her, this is true, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, and forgetting is so long.

Porque en noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Because on nights like this one I had her in my arms,
my soul is not content that it has lost her.

Aunque este sea el ultimo dolor que ella me causa,
y estos sean los ultimos versos que yo le escribo.
Although this will be the last pain that she causes me,
and these will be the last verses I write for her.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Names I Like ^_^

Another list because I just never seem to blog about my actual life (though I will try, because I did a lot today and there are many thoughts!). Since I want to adopt, I'm not sure what race/ethnicity the baby might be- so I would like to come up with names that are culturally sensitive. If I had my own babies, I could be very Latin but it would not do for a baby that wasn't Latino!

I think my favorites tho, are Jaime, Jackson, Jasper, and Harrison for boys (I like the J names), and Alegría, Nimue, and Igraine for girls. O.o

Report from the mother unit (O.o again) nixes all female names. Must search some more!

Latino

Boys:
Jaime
César
Santiago

Girls:
Alegría
Cecelia
Mercedes

Less Latin?

Boys:
Jasper
Jackson
Remington (Remy)
Abram
Miles

Girls:
Adelaide (Addie)
Agatha
Clementine (Tina)

From Lit/Entertainment

Boys:
Jareth (Labyrinth)
Malcolm (Mal) (Firefly)
Alexander (Xander) (Buffy/Angel AND Rai Kirah series)
Harrison (Tru Calling)

Girls:
Celie (The Color Purple)
Willow (Buffy/Angel)
Winifred (Fred) (Angel)
November (Dollhouse)

Unisex!
Kiley
Addison

Arthurian Legend:
Gawain (Couldn't get away with it tho.)
Guinevere (ditto)
Igraine (this name is so pretty!)
Merlin (again... you cannot get away with well-known legends)
Nimue
Emrys (Merlin again v.v secretly)

Ha..

I saw this image, and it made me laugh:

(http://cache.gawker.com/assets/images/2009/05/custom_1242168534019_insp_kobayashi.jpg)

Procrastinating in the PM- For the moment

And then to bed...


RULES:
1. Put your iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.
4. Tag whoever you want including me
5. Have Fun!

IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAY....?
Never Gonna Happen- Lily Allen (that's depressing)

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELf?
Moon Dance- Nightwish (???)

WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
Pinocchio 2- Manu Chao (that's not true... >.<)

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Mrs. McGrath- Bruce Springsteen (??? Maybe the lyrics will tell us.. Oh, from Wikipedia:

"Mrs. McGrath" (also known as "Mrs. McGraw") is an Irish folk song. The song tells the story of a woman whose son enters the British Army, and returns seven years later having lost his legs to a cannonball fighting against Napoleon in the Peninsular War. The general theme of the song is one of opposition to war, the mother claiming that she would rather have her son as he was. It was very popular among the Irish Volunteers in the years leading up to the 1916 Rising.[1]

So I must be feeling anti-war-y today ? And everyday)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Blood Red Blood- Voxtrot (O.o Why do I sound like a psychopath???)

WHAT'S YOUR MOTTO?
Serious- Duffy (Seriously?)

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
The Hard-Knock Life- Annie (yeshk v.v)

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT YOUR FIRST KISS?
And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going- Jennifer Hudson (not so much- 'cause we both went!)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Distant Dreamer- Duffy (I only have eight Duffy songs, what a lame-o shuffle. I suppose that's true tho ^____^)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Quickly and Quietly- BOAT (This is the most depressing exercise ever and it's entirely RANDOM)

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
The Temple- Jesus Christ Superstar (Durn straight- worship me!)

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
And the Money Kept Rolling (In and Out)- Evita (O.O I like this person for their money? I am shallow and going to die young? Eh?)

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Ziggy Stardust- Seu Jorge (<3 Hell's Yeah! I am that nerd!)

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Mistress Mabel- The Fratellis (she's a crazy woman, so I am unflattered)

WHAT WILL YOU NAME YOUR FIRST CHILD?
'I'm Painting Again'- Miss Potter OST (?????)

YOUR FRIENDS THROW YOU A SURPRISE PARTY. YOU EXCLAIM:
Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy- Queen (^_________________^ that would be fun)

WHAT DO YOU WANT WRITTEN ON YOUR GRAVE?
Rock With You- Michael Jackson (that makes me sad and nostalgic.)

IF YOU WERE IN A BAND, WHAT WOULD YOUR NAME BE?
* (asterisk)- Orange Range (What a cool name for a band- I'd feel like Prince with his logo thingy)

YOUR THEME SONG IS:
God Help the Girl- God Help the Girl (Dude, I am unlucky in my randomness)

IF YOU COULD SAY ONE THING TO THE LAST PERSON THAT HURT YOU, YOU'D SAY:
A Taste of Something- Man in the Iron Mask OST (That sounds dirty...)

WHAT ARE YOUR LAST WORDS GOING TO BE?
A Wild and Distant Shore- The Piano OST (Those are pretty last words. That's where I'd be going.)

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Sayuri (小百合)- Kumo no Mukou Yakusoku no Basho (雲の向こう約束の場所)OST (means "small lily"... so I do flower stuff? Not really...)

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Pass it On- The Coral (about feeling love but doing nothing about it.)

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
The Bolder Thing to Do- Gregory & the Hawk (I don't get it!)

WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?
In the Morning- The Coral (want to go to sleep)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Everybody is Someone- Lifehouse (dang straight! Is that a compliment? I think not..)

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
For the moment- Every Little Thing

Thursday, August 20, 2009

A Free Puppy!

in my Pirate game! It was a gift for being a subscriber for so long (or something...). Anyway, they usually cost a lot- so hurrah! Am very excited, because my other pet, the cheapest one, was a rat (named Courtney O.o it was funny at the time?)

Here is my rat, Courtney:





And my new puppy, Stanley:





Feel free to admire them for their amazing beauty! Especially my new dog!

<3

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Nerd-ifying my Speech!

Am going to try to add more nerd-terms to my normal speech behavior. By doing this, I will more obviously establish myself as an out-nerd (letting my freak flag fly) and attract other nerds around me (the mating dance of the dweeb). Really, I should get to sleep now, but I will ponder things more when I am awake again!

Star Trek- Kobayashi Maru must be used- as a student, I have so many opportunities: "Don't sweat about the final- it's not as though it's the KOBAYASHI MARU".... or not v.v

Okay, better yet, say "I was totally Kobayashi Maru'd" after a test ^___^

ReBoot- "Stay frosty" as a phrase of parting. "Alphanumeric" or "that was totally random!" for expressions of cool-ness. "What in the net?" For "what the hell" and "Thank the user!" for "thank God!"

Avatar- "Can your science explain how it rains?" (when someone asks something silly about my major?)... (I'll come up with something better.)

X-files- Don't be such a Scully!

Buffy- "Big Bad"

Friday, August 14, 2009

Oh You Pretty Things!

Gosh, I just keep hearing different covers of this song and love love love them all. Honestly, listening to Bowie play his own songs is great, because he is an awesome performer, but it's hard to understand the extent of his songwriting skills without hearing some other artist play them. Seriously, these songs are adapted and morphed and seem to often sound as gorgeous (or a little less ^^*) than the originals. "Oh You Pretty Things!" is one of my favorite Bowie songs, and has the distinction of being covered by one of my favorite bands, Au Revoir Simone. Thus, I provide for you, below, the lyrics and some different performances, embedded.

Wake up you sleepy head
Put on some clothes, shake up your bed
Put another log on the fire for me
I've made some breakfast and coffee
I look out my window what do I see
A crack in the sky and a hand reaching down to me
All the nightmares came today
And it looks as though they're here to stay

What are we coming to
No room for me, no fun for you
I think about a world to come
Where the books were found by the Golden ones
Written in pain, written in awe
By a puzzled man who questioned
What we came here for
All the strangers came today
And it looks as though they're here to stay

Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things)
Don't you know you're driving your
Mamas and Papas insane
Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things)
Don't you know you're driving your
Mamas and Papas insane
Let me make it plain
You gotta make way for the Homo Superior

Look at your children
See their faces in golden rays
Don't kid yourself they belong to you
They're the start of a coming race
The earth is a bitch
We've finished our news
Homo Sapiens have outgrown their use
All the strangers came today
And it looks as though they're here to stay

Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things)
Don't you know you're driving your
Mamas and Papas insane
Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things)
Don't you know you're driving your
Mamas and Papas insane
Let me make it plain
You gotta make way for the Homo Superior



The "live-ness" of the above performance might affect it's quality- I think that Bowie's live recordings ALWAYS sound better (which says a lot?). Look how young he is!



This recording of Au Revoir Simone is obviously caught by a fan in the audience. I hope that you can still hear the difference. They have some fun changes, I think. ^_^



This is just an album recording- no vid really. Seu Jorge does lovely renditions of Bowie but this one is especially gorgeous. He just has such a wonderful voice.



Unfortunately, I think that Harvey Danger somehow managed to murder this song O.o I'll listen to it again when I'm less tired, but ugh. Hrm. EDIT: Okay, re-listened to it and was obviously a bit harsh. While the verses are lifeless, I think the chorus is quite catchy. ^_^ Huzzah!

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Family Business

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on.” The Tempest, IV.i.156-7


“That,” I said, taking in the seeming infiniteness of the cleaver’s bulk, “may be the most ridiculous object I have ever had the displeasure of viewing.”

Jasper, the wielder of the weapon, was quick to dispute me. “Nah, it’s not. It’s terrifying, this is.” He lifted the cleaver a few inches higher, so that a light reflected off of the blade. It was rather pretty, I thought, which was entirely against our purpose.

I shook my head. “Not in the slightest. Wherever did you even happen upon such a silly instrument? It’s too large by far to be of use to any butcher or chef, no matter how Herculean in stature. Are you even capable of striking with it?”

“Won’t need to, will I?” Jasper set the knife down on the well-polished table, which we two had recently inherited, along with this rather agitating profession, from our mother. Dear old mum, you see, had died while at her work, so we were well aware of the dangers that our new positions entailed. Nonetheless, because we were and are the most filial of gentlemen, Jasper and I abided by each and every peculiar word of our mother’s final testament.

“Oy, Barnum.” Jasper snapped his fingers. “I said, ‘Won’t need to,’ didn’t I? Alright?”

I tried my hand at lifting the knife up from off the table but found the monstrosity’s weight far beyond what any normal man could lift, much less a feeble-bodied man of science, such as myself. “I suppose not, but it is of a rather inconvenient size. Any half-wit could see that the weapon is impotent.”

“Well, what’s she got written then?” Jasper asked, referring to our late mother’s instructions. “Don’t it say we use this, eh?”

I took up the explanatory notebook and glanced through until I had procured the appropriate chapter. Most irritatingly, I found myself contradicted. “Well done, Jasper. It says that we are, in fact, to use that impractical thing in our endeavors with the Wincham woman. Curious. How do you suppose mother managed to bear it single-handedly all-”

“It’ll be well and fine later, Barnabas,” interrupted Jasper. “But we’ve a job to attend.” He glanced down at himself, inspecting his clothing with the unperceiving eyes of one unaccustomed to paying his attire any mind. “This all fine then? Dark enough, is it?”

With my far more discerning sensibilities, I compared Jasper’s apparel to mother’s careful description. “Satisfactory, I suppose. You will need to don the balaclava, but only after we have arrived at Miss Wincham’s.”

Jasper took up the cleaver again and looked at me for a moment with an expression that seemed to me to suggest thoughts of a most unbrotherly nature. “You don’t mind much for my understanding, do you? Eh, Barnabas?” He tested the blade by running his fingertip down its length, drawing out a thin string of blood. “What’s it I’ll be bringing? A balca-”

“Balaclava,” I corrected. “You know, that mask that covers all of the head save the eyes.”

“You might’ve said that then.” Jasper produced the object from out his trouser pocket and flourished it before me as though I required evidence. “And you’ve the other, alright?”

“Of course,” I replied, tapping the breast pocket of my jacket, “Shall we depart?”

Without uttering so much as a word of polite response, Jasper exited through the front door of our tiny home at a great speed, requiring that I run or chance losing sight of him. The night was unremarkable and of a moderate temperature. There was no weather to speak of, not even a moon to light our dreary way. We were thus entirely dependent upon streetlamps and the dampened glows escaping from the houses of persons burning the midnight oil.

All those years our mother had complained of long voyages to her place of occupation, yet it took us mere minutes to reach our destination, a house indistinguishable from its neighbors. Jasper read the address aloud. “This’ll be her. Alright then?”

“There really is no need for anxiety, dear Jasper,” I said with the proper amount of confidence for a man of my good breeding, “For this profession is in our very blood.”

Again, Jasper ignored me, rude fellow that he is. A less understanding, less educated man would have been miffed at his many indiscretions, but I was wholly unaffected by them. With much adeptness for one with hands so large and untrained, Jasper undid the lock using a wire and a pick. The door clicked as he opened it, and we crept within.

We made our way to Miss Wincham’s bedchambers with a bandit’s swiftness of foot. The woman had left a candle burning, perhaps because she feared the uncommon darkness of a moonless night. Jasper extinguished the flame with a short exhale. He then donned the aforementioned head mask, and drew the cleaver out from behind him, bringing it high over the woman’s head as she lay sleeping, so that the blade was just above her neck.

“Now,” he said softly.

From the opposite side of the bed, I leaned over Miss Wincham and whispered a soft wind into her ear, crescendoing slowly so that she would awaken at a similar speed.

“Nh?” She muttered after a few moments, rubbing her eyes as she sat up in her bed, presumably to learn what had waked her. It must have upset her, poor thing, to find the gracious light extinguished, but it could only have been a momentary, insignificant fright when compared with the horror that assuredly clutched her breast upon glimpsing Jasper so violently poised above her.

It was my responsibility to carefully watch Miss Wincham throughout the encounter, to be sure that I caught the precise moment. It would have to be perfect. I drew the bottle from out my jacket and prepared to complete the most difficult aspect of our new occupation. If I had failed, we should both have failed our mother irreparably.
When her mouth finally opened to permit a wild shriek to spring out into the night, I uncapped the bottle. Without so much as a sigh, Miss Wincham was returned to her slumbers.

As we stepped together from out the lady’s home, Jasper slapped one hand onto my shoulder, far too indelicately, as he always did. “Off for a pint then. You coming along?”

“No, not tonight,” I replied, “I should go home to examine and appraise the evening’s work. Perhaps,” I smiled, something I do only very occasionally. Despite my assurances to my brother, my own jacket seeped with nervous perspiration. “Miss Wincham will be more artfully frightened tomorrow.”

“You get to that, Barnabas, good lad.” Jasper grinned back at me, displaying the many voids in his mouth where teeth ought to have been. “Made mom proud tonight, you did. Would’ve done her heart well, us taking on the family business, eh?”
“Yes,” I replied, “I think it would.”

The night had become glorious in the wake of our recent success. The evening, I ardently felt, was no longer brimming with dreams, but, in our honor, with nightmares.

Copyright 2009 Amanda Martin
©Amanda Martin 2009