aceofkittens: (angry)
Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love, —
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave,
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

— Edna St. Vincent Millay

Vassilissa

May. 22nd, 2008 09:01 pm
aceofkittens: (drunken wink)

RIP, Vassilissa
5/18/1994-5/22/2008
Read more... )
aceofkittens: (sad shalott)
Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom
But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind—
But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss?—That thought's return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

William Wordsworth
aceofkittens: (sad shalott)
It doesn't get better. Maybe it gets easier, but it never gets better.
aceofkittens: (chip)
Chip is loving my shoes right now.

I think it's time I went to bed after this extremely long day.
aceofkittens: (sad shalott)
Despondency: An Ode
by Robert Burns

Oppress'd with grief, oppress'd with care,
A burden more than I can bear,
I set me down and sigh;
O life! thou art a galling load,
Along a rough, a weary road,
To wretches such as I!
Dim backward as I cast my view,
What sick'ning scenes appear!
What sorrows yet may pierce me through,
Too justly I may fear!
Still caring, despairing,
Must be my bitter doom;
My woes here shall close ne'er
But with the closing tomb!

The rest of the poem is here.
aceofkittens: (bunny)
The bunny is going to a no-kill bunny rescue organization. It took a lot of concentrated effort to get him placed, as there is a veritable surplus of homeless/abandoned rabbits at the moment. Apparently, it would seem that many people get a cute little bunny for their kids for Easter, then a month or two later, it proves to be "too hard" to take care of it, the kids get bored with their new pet, and voila! It's time to dump the rabbit at a shelter or hey, even better, let's just set it loose in a park somewhere so it can get ripped apart by coyotes.

God, I hate people.

It was sheer madness to contemplate keeping him, but I already miss my rabbit. Why is everything always so goddamned hard?
aceofkittens: (angry)

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
...
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.


— T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

Meh

Apr. 4th, 2005 06:21 pm
aceofkittens: (heron 2)
I am shredding myself into small pieces with guilt and shame and sorrow over the death of Professor Dundes. To those who commented in my previous post and via other means, thank you. I found a wonderful link to some video excerpts of an interview he did with filmmaker Brian Flemming. The link is here. It doesn't seem possible that this has really happened. :(

Thus, I've failed utterly to be productive at work today. I've stayed late to make up for it, and still am not being producted. As a reward to myself, I decided I'm going to do some retail therapy and buy more user picture icons.

Meh.

No joke

Apr. 1st, 2005 01:07 pm
aceofkittens: (angry)
On Wednesday night, I had a very strange dream about my old mentor, Alan Dundes, a man who had a tremendous influence on my life and the shaping of my education. I had been a piss-poor student when I took his class at Cal — by the end of it, the fires of academe had been lit under me, and I turned my whole life around. I took more and more folklore classes and eventually went on to try and get my graduate degree in folklore. Alan Dundes was an inspiration to me. Not everyone agreed with his ideas, but to me, he was a mentor and a friend.

Wednesday night, or I should say morning, for night came at the end of a 6 hour drive, I dreamed that I was in the long hallway at Kroeber, and I went up to Professor Dundes' office to see him, like I had so many times before. He asked me what I was doing and I had to tell him. He was very disappointed and scolded me a little. I told him I'd gotten this job down in LA, but that I had quit it abruptly and was coming to work at Berkeley, like I had always wanted. He scolded me some more, then relented, and gave me a big bear hug, and we talked a bit about this new dream-job and the guilt I had at quitting my LA-job so abruptly.

I told some people about the dream yesterday. "Are you going to go see him while you're up home?" one asked, "You haven't gone to see him in a while." "No," I said, "He'll just be very disappointed in me for real, like he was in the dream." But, I always did love coming to see him and today, as I walked to the MUNI on my way home from my dentist appointment, I thought about maybe going over to Berkeley after all, or at least calling.

I got home, opened my computer for the first time since Wednesday, and saw a flurry of emails and I went on Yahoo News and my old mentor, Alan Dundes, died on Wednesday. He died doing what he loved, teaching. One time, we were talking and he told me: "The secret to happiness is to find something that you love doing and do it, and find someone to share it with." Alan Dundes had both.

The dream scares me. I am so sad right now. I will miss his wisdom. I am so ashamed I was too much of a wimp to go and see him. I'm so sorry.
aceofkittens: (Default)
A collection of "O" lyrics: Hidden from view )
****
If there's one thing I know how to do, it's finding and compiling quotations. Good times were had by all!
aceofkittens: (Default)
Sir Thomas Wyatt's "The Pillar Perished" (aka "Sonnet 29")


The pillar perished is whereto I leant,
The strongest stay of mine unquiet mind;
The like of it no man again can find,
From East to West, still seeking though he went.
To mine unhap! for hap away hath rent
Of all my joy, the very bark and rind;
And I (alas) by chance am thus assigned
Dearly to mourn till death do it relent.
But since that thus it is by destiny,
What can I more but have a woeful heart,
My pen in plaint, my voice in woeful cry,
My mind in woe, my body full of smart.
And I my self, my self always to hate
Till dreadfull death do ease my doleful state.
aceofkittens: (Default)
People celebrating birthdays today:
  • [livejournal.com profile] vaznetti's mom *yay!*
  • Jack Nicholson
  • Vladimir Lenin (though I doubt he's doing much celebrating)

    I'm not doing much celebrating either. I'm trying to force myself into activity right now, and all I can think of is this poem by William Wordsworth, Desideria:


    Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind
    I turned to share the transport—O! with whom
    But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
    That spot which no vicissitude can find?
    Love, faithful love, recall'd thee to my mind—
    But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
    Even for the least division of an hour,
    Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
    To my most grievous loss?—That thought's return
    Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
    Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
    Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;
    That neither present time, nor years unborn
    Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.


    So there you have it.

    I'm considering taking this LJ to a filter-only security level for all entries. Then again, I'm already applying my mental self-censorship filter to most of the Public entries. And I wouldn't want to deny Wryan the chance to read them. (P.S. The ants are back!)

    Not much else to say.
  • Valentine

    Feb. 14th, 2003 09:42 pm
    aceofkittens: (Default)
    Valentine, by the Old 97s


    Valentine


    Heartbreak, old friend, goodbye it's me again.
    Of late, I've had some thought of movin' in.
    Of all the many ways a man will lose his home,
    Well, there ain't none better than the girl who's movin' on.

    True love, I knew some thought of, some thought of leavin' you.
    Bad thoughts I had, when valentines were due.
    Of all the many ways a man will break his heart,
    Well there ain't none meaner than he pulls his own apart

    CHORUS:
    Valentine, the destroyer, Valentine, you belong
    In the stars, where you are, always rollin' on.
    Cried, I've cried till I couldn't carry on.
    It's a lonely, lonely feelin' when your Valentine is wrong.
    It's a lonely, lonely feelin' when your Valentine is wrong.

    Of all the many things that you were countin' on,
    Well, there ain't none better than the girl who's movin' on.
    No, there ain't none better than the girl who's movin' on.

    (Repeat).


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