#anyways i could talk about elegies for literally years

[biggestwilliamfinnfan]

does anyone think the falsettos revival > og falsettos > in trousers > make me a song > elegies > romance in hard times pipeline is real or am i just delusional

[lurking-latinist]

re: these tags

THAT'S SO COOL AHHHH!! good for you aubreyad community stays winning

[introducing this with a disclaimer in case i'm wrong about everything: i am only halfway through the series rn (just about to finish 10) and also am but a mere undergrad classics major who has yet to even declare said major and I probably don't have the right to be yapping about propertius. nevertheless i shall.]

anyway i have been growing persistently more insane about diana's proximity to a Lot of classical imagery, like how her first appearance in post captain is literally during a fox hunt + all the gender stuff she has going, obviously linking her to mythological diana (and artemis if we're going to conflate the two) but your take has sent me in a whole new direction with that-- because she doesn't actually really embody the artemis archetype all too much overall (an emphasized character trait being that she's notably Not Chaste) EXCEPT in relation to stephen, w/ whom her relationship is much more brotherly than it is sensual i guess?

which would align very well with your idea of diana as elegiac puella-- sort of in a way being mythologized by stephen-- resulting in the reader actually being able to see two different manifestations of her character (one through the eyes of an omniscient prosaic narrator and one through the perspective of stephen as a "poet" figure). and i just think that's neat.

my latin class has also been looking at a few of propertius' love elegies and, at least to me, they read a lot like if stephen 1.) hated himself significantly less and 2.) were less indecisive in writing about his Feelings?? 1.8 (and all of the poems concerning cynthia moving/traveling away and propertius being all moody about it) is very reminiscent of the arc from post captain to the surgeon's mate imo. 1.12 is also Literally Him-- "cynthia prima fuit cynthia finis erit" can be compared to stephen's poetic catastrophizing about how his life is Literally Over and Love Is Dead when he believes to have fallen out of love with diana!?!? i'm going to lose my mind.

sorry for dumping all of this on you unprompted and also sorry for the fact that it probably does not make sense. peace and love

if undergrad classicists don't talk about propertius literally WHO WILL. (genuinely my currently-being-written phd dissertation chapter is based on an idea I had in the class I read propertius in freshman year. never feel like you're not a 'real scholar' or something yet, because you honestly never do become something different, you just keep reading and talking and this is what we do! there's nothing realer than this!)

oh wow that's really well put--we kind of get to see her from an omniscient-narrator perspective and through the eyes of her lover who is Not Being Normal About Her. very nice!

yeah I keep reading bits of propertius and being like "hmm is po'b going to quote this one I wonder." (he doesn't mostly but I keep thinking he should. because I want the aubreyad to be denser and less accessible I guess? :P) there's a lot of catullus woven in too of course - I associate Catullus 72 with the 'falling out of love' arc (my dude that is not what falling out of love looks like).

oh gosh yes 1.8 -- that was one of the things I was trying to describe to Distinguished Classicist, the way she's so -- what's the word I want? not volatile... she disappears. she's constantly Gone. you turn around and oops, she's eloped to Sweden. (honestly though if Cynthia and Propertius could manage to have *fake* revenge affairs that would actually be *great*, for them that would be an improvement.) Gareth Williams (in a chapter called, amazingly, "From Grave to Rave") describes Cynthia as "ever only elusively visible in the narratological mist" and I feel like that's a bit what's going on with Diana. For her there's a genre element as well--she's a woman in the Men Going to Sea books, and even though the Aubreyad gives way more time to women than the average Men Going to Sea book, the fact is the camera frequently simply isn't on her. We see far more of Stephen thinking about her, hearing rumors, etc. than we do of her actually being on the page. Now in elegy nobody seems to be quite fully on the page, we only get "fragments of story" as Genevieve Liveley and Patricia Salzmann-Mitchell say (excellent collection by that name btw, I recommend checking it out if you're at all interested in narrative and lyric/elegy). But Diana manages this while being in a novel, which is impressive to me.

yeah stephen as a character is a lot more... self-reflective? than propertius' speaker. for one thing he's in a novel, I think, so he can actually... have a series of contiguous experiences. he's also a compulsive diarist which is helpful for self-reflection I guess. and more mature, like, as a human being, than propertius' speaker, who apparently does nothing with his life except be in love and write poetry, he doesn't exist outside of as a poetic voice whereas, again, stephen benefits from a third-person narrator and has medicine and spying to do and so on. also he's Catholic.

I love the "Catullus-and-water" line, it's like O'Brian just put in a little wink to those of us who would notice this, like, "yes I am doing this on purpose." All in all I've pretty much defaulted to assuming that O'Brian is doing things on purpose. although he did forget Babbington's first name that one time and retconned it very awkwardly

[poetriarchy]

my top books of 2022! was hard to narrow down to this—was excluding rereads, and wanted to highlight a good variety here—so honorable mentions will go under the read more, along with my comments on each of the top picks! these past two years i feel like i’ve really rekindled the love of reading that i had growing up, and i hope to continue that this year :)

in no particular order...

1. So Long A Letter by Mariama Bâ

Succinct epistolary novel—recently widowed Senegalese schoolteacher Ramatoulaye writes to her lifelong friend Aissatou while she observes iddah. A masterclass in feminist literature that you read in a few days and then think about for months

2. Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Alfred Corn

to some extent I failed this book by reading it too quickly, and i’m putting it here partly as a reminder to myself to reread it this year. but it had me in its grip like crazy. literally superabundant existence wells in my heart. there’s a poem by B.H. Fairchild that sums up the experience of reading Duino Elegies pretty well. yeah anyway it’s the kind of poetry that makes you levitate

3. Autobiography of Death by Kim Hyesoon, trans. Don Mee Choi

“consists of forty-nine poems, each poem representing a single day during which the spirit roams after death before it enters the cycle of reincarnation. The poems not only give voice to those who met unjust deaths during Korea’s violent contemporary history, but also unveil what Kim calls ‘the structure of death, that we remain living in.’”

this book really changed how i think about poetry. i don’t have the book on me right now unfortunately otherwise i would pick out some poems to share, but you can read some here. in the q&a at the end between Hyesoon and Don Mee Choi they start talking about pain as this kind of underlying rhythm and women and vowels and…..GOD i don’t know. read this book

4. The Time Regulation Institute by Ahmet Hamdi Tanpinar, trans. Maureen Freely & Alexander Dawe 

you’ve got to plan on spending a long time with this book, but it is so worth it. funny and monumental. including the blurb here:

“At its center is Hayri Irdal, an infectiously charming antihero who becomes entangled with an eccentric cast of characters—a television mystic, a pharmacist who dabbles in alchemy, a dignitary from the lost Ottoman Empire, a “clock whisperer”—at the Time Regulation Institute, a vast organization that employs a hilariously intricate system of fines for the purpose of changing all the clocks in Turkey to Western time. Recounted in sessions with his psychoanalyst, the story of Hayri Irdal’s absurdist misadventures plays out as a brilliant allegory of the collision of tradition and modernity, of East and West, infused with a poignant blend of hope for the promise of the future and nostalgia for a simpler time.”

5. A Ghost in the Throat by Doireann Ní Ghríofa (!!!!!)

memoir/essay/autofiction centered around Ghríofa’s experience as a young mother translating the legendary poem by 18th-century Irish noblewoman Eibhlin Dubh Ní Chonaill. 

this is going to sound so dramatic, but this book came to me at the perfect time, when I was knee-deep in translating some poems by a little-known Romanian poet, illustrator, and botanist who i felt sought me out after her death. i’ve had to take a break from that project for the school year, but this book gave me the encouragement I needed, and articulated the feelings I had been having in a way I thought no one could, when I thought I was going crazy. it’s about the past speaking to the present and the present speaking to the past, connection, the labor of translation, the labor of motherhood and womanhood—it’s beautifully written.

6. Among the Thugs by Bill Buford

Buford embeds himself for years in the English football hooligan scene in the 1980s. 

this isn’t, like, a masterpiece, but it’s a very very entertaining read, and I’ve recommended it to too many people already to not include it in this list. as an American I knew practically nothing about this—I picked up this book on instinct for 99 cents at Goodwill—so it did a great job illustrating the world for me. Shit gets craaazy in this book. You just need to have a stomach for disgusting men

7. The Liars’ Club by Mary Karr

this is a great book that pioneered the memoir genre as it stands today. walked so Glass Castle could run. i picked it up knowing practically nothing about what i was going to read, and i think that’s the way to go here, because any attempt to summarize the events of the book just flattens it entirely. i’ll include a warning for some pretty heavy subject matter, and people can message me if they want specifics—she’s recounting her youth in a dysfunctional family, and it can be a hard read at times. but worth it imo. karr’s command of writing and narrative is insane

8. Geography III by Elizabeth Bishop

god I’m so bad at summarizing poetry. anyways this is the collection that includes “One Art.” Bishop is crazy. precision is one of the things i value most in a poet, and Bishop epitomizes it. 

9. God’s Silence by Franz Wright

it’s hilarious to me that Franz Wright’s poetry got better after he converted to Catholicism, because that really shouldn’t happen. but yeah this is an awesome collection. i’ve seen a lot of them floating around on here—”Night Walk” in particular is one from this collection that has made the rounds on tumblr. if you liked that, you’ll like this book. his poetry isn’t perfect but it’s worthwhile. on another note his dad is one of my favorite poets of all time

Honorable mentions: 

DMZ Colony by Don Mee Choi (great book, but one of the more well-known Don Mee Choi outfits, and I wanted to highlight Autobiography of Death as part of the lesser-known translation work she’s doing. Also just preferred the latter!)

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (I’m someone who has trouble reading “classics” from this period, but this one stands out from the rest in every regard!! seriously, I read this right after Dracula and it just highlighted to me how much Dracula was lacking. lol)

The Employees: A Workplace Novel of the 22nd Century by Olga Ravn (lovely poetic sci-fi!)

1919 by Eve L. Ewing (inventive, innovative poetry about the Chicago Race Riots of 1919. Remarkable how Ewing was able to not only balance her literary and sociological/historical backgrounds, but make them really work together)

The Honjin Murders by Seishi Yokomizo (super fun. must-read for mystery fans)

The Institute by Stephen King

The Witness of Poetry by Czesław Miłosz

[onegroovyrose]

Hey Val! :3 I got this sense that I had to check your stuff to see what’s new and we have a Chris who is ready to duel, but then we also have baby Chris?!?! <333 He’s like so cute and my brain broke and I love him. Plus: Bryon being a parent?! Fabulous idea Val. :’) And not to mention well drawn. :D Also, I was wondering if you would share some of your head canons about Chris and dragonfable Chris- I mean Warlic. Only if you want to though! ^^ Have a great rest of your day/night! <33 Stay safe!

WAHGUBHUGHUHGHUBIHGUHU THANK YOU!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️ AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YOUR SENSES ARE IMMACULATE.... with finals done I finally (ha!) have a bit more time for drawing!! c: More chris's soon >:)

BUT WAH... I'M SO GLAD TO HEAR YOU LIKE BABY CHRIS AND PARENT BYRON?? 🥺<333 PLEASE UNBREAK YOUR BRAIN THOUGH YOUR BRAIN IS IMPORTANT!!!

AND AGUIHIUBHIUGHUIHUH DID YOU SEE THE DUEL LINKS CHRIS SPRITES??? Dude I swear Konami has done everything BUT add him but I'm hoping this is just a sign that he'll be out soon 🥺

LASTLY OH MY GOSH??? I. WOULD. BE. ELATED. TO LIST MY WARLIC HCS I'VE BEEN WANTING TO TALK ABOUT HIM WITH SOMEONE FOR SO LONG BUT I THINK I'D GO ON FOR AN HOUR ASDLFKBIO

Warlic HCS under the cut! :) (Warning they are. long 😔)

He is Bisexual (specifically demi-bi!!) : LISTEN LISTEN he's canonically been in love with a woman named Jaania for ages now and really cares deeply about her ( i have lots of screenshots but to save space I shan't add them here but literally throughout the main story he'll bring her up and how guilty he feels for being part of the cause that she was encased in a crystal prison for like. Years. How afraid he is to talk to her again because "what if I make a mistake" and how she now all but despises him (i could go on for awhile just on this part but ANYWAYS))

(cont.) At the same time he has a friend he's known for awhile named Alexander who loved Jaania as well. In the same accident that caused Jaania to be imprisoned, Warlic had set Alexander on fire which was Alexander's villain origin story so to speak and he becomes the main antagonist of Book 1 (Warlic has immense guilt over this as well and I also have screenshots but this is already long ALSKDGHAIB).

(cont. 2) POINT IS THOUGH... at some point they both go to see Jaania again but it goes really. really wrong (Elegy of Ice and Fire is so good and describes what happens and is my favorite quest ever) and EVENTUALLY HE TAKES ALEXANDER IN CALLS HIM ALEX AS A NICKNAME AND NO ONE ELSE REALLY DOES AND NOW THEY'RE ROOMMATES ALONG WITH WARLIC'S OTHER ROOMMATE CYSERO (WHICH HE CALLS CY)

TLDR he has a lot of guilt, a lot of love, and i like to think he's bi :)(specifically demi-bi! :) )

2. (we finally got to 2 ALSKDHF) Doesn't wear socks because Cysero (roommate) has stolen all of them

3. Cries. often. BUT ALONE... DUDE he's constantly wracked with canonical guilt, has cried not once but twice before, and described to have paralyzing fear, but literally every time something that might make him vulnerable is brought up he shuts down the conversation/thought. The one time you the main character bring up Jaania after another incident he teleports you away before you can finish BUT NOT BEFORE IT ZOOMS AWAY WITH HIS SADDNED EXPRESSION AND I AIAUGHIAUBHIUHGIUAHGUH....

I'm gonna end it here at 3 but i'm literally. overflowing with Warlic thoughts, if you made it here thank you for reading my rambling ASIUFDHAU

[wigwurq]

WIG REVIEW: THE HAPPIEST SEASON

You guys! I finally watched the lesbian holiday movie!! Though when I texted my mom to tell her I was finally watching this, she thought I was talking about The Prom and I laughed for a real long time about it (mainly because it will take me an even longer time to get around to hate watching that!) It already took about a month to get to this one. There is a lot to discuss here - and also one wig!

So this is the first (big budget) holiday lesbian movie, which I am very here for. However, most of the movie feels like a combination between My Best Friend’s Wedding, Meet the Parents, and The Family Stone but with lesbians. Those movies were made between 1997 and 2005 and this movie feels like it should exist somewhere in that time as well. The whole plot of the movie is basically that Kristen Stewart (Abby) has to pretend NOT to be Mackenzie Davis’s (Harper’s)  long-term girlfriend for the sake of Harper’s conservative family with local political aspirations while also spending 5 days with them during Christmas. It’s a conceit that exists solely in these brand of garbage holiday rom coms but definitely one that feels bizarrely antiquated as well. 

Anyway! There is only one wig in this movie which belongs to Davis, who had a vastly superior lesbian wig in that one episode of Black Mirror that made us all cry. We first see this under this hat where it should have hidden for the rest of the film! 

Sadly, the next scene involves the full emergence of this wig and truly: NO. This thing is dried out, bent, and disheveled in not a cool way (Stewart’s actual hair is disheveled in a cool way, though). The entire presence of this wig bothers me because: just have her have whatever hair she has? This is not a historical recreation (that I’m aware of?) and she is not playing a real person! This feels like when SNL cast members wear wigs in sketches for similarly non-existent reasons. However, SNL wigs are vastly superior to this mess!

So anyway, Harper invites Abby to have Christmas at her parents’ house in the heat of the moment during a very romantic (?) Pittsburgh Christmas lights tour which is apparently something that exists. Abby conveniently, and completely for the sake of this plot to work (?) does not like Christmas and also is an orphan, getting rid of any possible Christmas plan conflicts. And then literally on the way to visiting Harper’s family, she is all: by the way, they don’t know you’re my girlfriend or that I’m a lesbian and you have to go along with it for sake of this movie to exist even though this is absolutely a terrible thing to ask of anyone, periodt. But we are beginning to find out that Harper’s character is as full of garbage as her wig. 

So we meet the parents, who are Victor Garber, Mary Steenbergen, and also Mary Steenbergen’s iPad which vulture correctly identifies as the star of this movie AND IT IS. Especially during the end credits where we get to see all the pics the iPad takes! But I’m getting ahead of myself. The parents live in one of those cavernous houses that is definitely a mansion but tries to feel homey even though it probably has about 12 bedrooms and usually only exists in a Nancy Meyers movie. Despite its amount of bedrooms,  Abby has to sleep in a basement bunker which also doubles as a well organized rubbermaid storage unit. For the rest of the movie, Abby is treated like a subhuman trash person much in the way Ben Stiller is treated in Meet the Parents and Sarah Jessica Parker is treated in The Family Stone, except they don’t also have to pretend to not be in a relationship with the family member they arrived with. This conceit becomes so degrading that you honestly wonder why these people are still together!

Abby endures scene after scene of total nonsense and still looks better than the wig on her terrible girlfriend. Which starts actually looking better in a few of these scenes but still is very much a terrible and noticeable wig which is on par with Rachel McAdams’ wig in Mean Girls in that we are constantly told that these women are gorgeous and every single time I ask “YOU MEAN WITH THAT TERRIBLE WIG ON THEIR HEADS????” I suppose this wig was “necessary” because Harper’s two sisters also have long-ish brown hair so they were going for some sort of familial consistency except one daughter has a terrible wig and the other two have hair. Also one sister is Alison Brie, who plays a harpy so awful that she starts to make Harper look palatable and one sister is Mary Holland, who also cowrote the script, and definitely wrote herself the only character who I’d like to meet in real life. 

Along the way, we also meet Aubrey Plaza, who I usually hate because she is just one-note sullen, but here is actually great as Harper’s high school ex-girlfriend who Harper outted and allowed to be bullied and wow Harper - you have been terrible for decades!! Also compared to Harper, Aubrey has beautiful (real) hair, doesn’t lie to her entire family, and has actual chemistry with Abby. I very much wanted Abby to end up with Aubrey and I am not alone! Harper somehow avoids Abby for most of the time they are both staying in the same (albeit huge) house and there is even a dumb subplot about Abby being framed for shoplifting while trying to buy a gift for the parents’ very important white elephant gift exchange during their very important Christmas Eve party and I wonder if any of these people really knows what a white elephant gift is or how to exist in society? Meanwhile, as Harper reverts to being more falsely  heteronormative at her parents house, I started to wonder if her wig was trying to serve a larger purpose in showing how fake this character is but: no it’s just a bad wig. Also this movie really does the impossible: it makes me care about and feel bad for Kristen Stewart! 

Although I did find it highly questionable that though they are the stars of a romantic comedy, neither Kristen Stewart or Mackenzie Davis is funny AT ALL. Like not even a little! Which makes the “comedic” plight of Stewart all the more upsetting! All comedy is left to the one good daughter (Mary Holland) and also all gay men in the movie. This is mainly Abby’s bff and national (Canadian) treasure, Dan Levy and also Drag Race faves Jinxx Monsoon and Ben De-La-Creme in this one gay bar scene which is honestly truly inconceivable and except for further cementing the fact that Abby and Aubrey really should get together. 

In the end, Alison Brie finds out Harper’s TERRIBLE SECRET THAT NO ONE IN 2020 COULD POSSIBLY FATHOM (that she’s a lesbian) and they have a fight in the middle of the white elephant party which reveals that all the family has been competing for years for each other’s love which is really really messed up and now I kind of hate everyone in this family. And also Harper is outed to her entire terrible family and also Ana Gasteyer (and also a room full of other randos). And she denies her lesbian truth!  I recently watched Uncle Frank which is essentially everything Hillbilly Elegy wanted to be but is Shakespeare compared to that mess, and a similar scene occurs but that character bravely faces the truth - and in 1970s SOUTH CAROLINA!! I don’t know what time or space this movie thinks it exists in but it is baffling. Still, Dan Levy gives an emotional monologue about how no one can decide when anyone else is ready to come out of the closet so: FAIR. And then Harper does come out and the entire family kind gives absolutely no reaction to this until Victor Garber says it’s ok?? ABSOLUTELY AND TRULY BIZARRELY PATRIARCHAL. And then Harper and Abby get back together in the parking lot of a Love’s convenience store which is as cheesy and clunky as any garbage holiday rom com so I guess this is definitely a new holiday “classic” which I’ll probably watch 100 more times and hate Harper and her terrible wig each time about as much as I hate Laura Linney’s terrible life choices in Love, Actually. AS CONFOUNDING AS HARPER’S WIG OR THE CHOICE TO GIVE HER ONE AT ALL!

VERDICT: DOESN’T WURQ

[themusikabox]

Elegy for a Rat

“A strange occurrence leads to an equally strange first meeting.”

Dedicated to @gasolineghuleh, for inspiring me to get up and write for the first time in almost a decade! This is actually heavily based on an experience I had several years ago; unfortunately, this was a somewhat unhappy story, and while I’ve tried not to make it too graphic in the retelling, reader discretion is advised.

Content Warning: Animal Death

SFW, Word count 1,530

The night was warm, and the streetlights shone off the asphalt, still wet from the rain earlier in the day. You were on your way home from a raid on the local mini-mart, a pint of ice cream swaying by your side. You usually didn’t like to head out so late in the day on your own, preferring not to tempt fate, but you lived in a fairly safe part of the city, and for good measure you did not have any music playing to keep yourself that much more aware of your surroundings. Besides, it had been a hell of a week - you deserved a little indulgence, right?

The walk had been without incident so far, and you were making your way across the well-lit parking lot to your apartment block when some movement in the gutter caught your eye. As you paused to focus, you realized quickly that it was a large, brown rat. That in and of itself wasn’t so strange; racoons got in the dumpsters around here all the time, and the residents occasionally complained of mice problems, so it stood to reason that there would be rats around as well. No, what had grabbed your attention was its behavior; as it scurried up the groove of the gutter, it would leap up onto the curb for a while before leaping back down, back and forth, back and forth. Frankly, you were a little astounded - you had never seen a wild animal do something like this for no apparent reason before. Was it playing?

Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to follow it (not too close, you remind yourself, it is still a wild animal after all). As you closed the gap, though, something seemed to be “off” about the rat’s movements. From a distance, it had indeed looked like it was jumping to and fro, but as you drew closer, the movements appeared more erratic, less purposeful, for lack of a better word. It started to make its way away from the gutter, and yet it continued to jump about as before, which definitely struck you as strange, given the lack of obstacles. By the time you were a couple meters away, it hit you why this looked so odd.

It wasn’t jumping; it was spasming, hard.

“Oh no…” you breathed, heart breaking at the realization. The rat’s movements were slowing now, as it tried to make its way back to the gutter again with a new, unsteady wobble. It stopped for a moment, its rapid breathing apparent to you even from a distance. One more advance was attempted before it stopped again, collapsing against the wall of the curb. It was still breathing a mile a minute, but it was beginning to slow, and you realized with horror that something dark was oozing from its mouth between shuddering breaths.

You found yourself edging closer to the poor creature. Logically, you knew this was a bad idea on multiple counts; spasms most likely meant it was sick, either from disease or from poison (a possibility that made you shudder), and coupling that with a natural instinct to avoid the large creature looming over it, the rat could very well lash out and try to bite you. And yet, a sentimental part of you didn’t have the heart to just leave it. It felt cruel, somehow, to abandon it to die alone now that you have seen it and acknowledged its presence. So you continued your advance, slowly so as not to startle it, and kept a good meter away for both your safety and its peace of mind.

“You poor thing… you didn’t deserve this at all, did you?” you murmured sadly. “I wish I had realized sooner, though I guess that wouldn’t have done you too much good, would it?”

You continued these mindless attempts at comfort until a polite cough snapped you out of your reverie. Your head whipped up with a startled flinch in the direction of the interruption. There was a man standing there, whose approach you had somehow missed even in the silence of the night. To be fair, he was clad head to toe in a black-as-night cassock, and his mousey-brown hair was topped off with what appeared to be a biretta (something was not-quite-right about its shape, but in the dim light you couldn’t put your finger on what, exactly). A priest, perhaps? You knew there was a Catholic church nearby, but you doubted there was a connection; most priests you were familiar with did not look like Vincent Price had an unfortunate liquid-eyeliner accident. He raised his gloved hands in truce - the universal signal for “I realize this is creepy but I swear I’m not trying to be.”

“Ah, scusami, I was just taking a walk, I didn’t mean to, eh…” The man’s eyes darted between you and the rat, his confusion apparent. “...Interrupt? Might I ask what you are doing?”

“Oh! I, uh…” You felt your cheeks heat as you mentally scrambled for an explanation. Deciding there really was no way to salvage this interaction without looking at least a little weird, honesty felt like the best way forward. You gesture to the fallen creature.

“I noticed this rat was behaving strangely, so I was watching him for a while, and, well…” A sweeping motion towards the macabre scene, as if to punctuate your point. “He’s dying, and I didn’t want to just leave him alone.” At this point, you’re just trying not to squirm under this man’s scrutiny.

“‘Behaving strangely?’ Strange how, if I may ask?”

“He… he was jumping about, or at least I thought he was at first, but after a while I realized that it was convulsions. I can’t believe I had thought he was having a good time,” you added guiltily.

“Saint Vitus’ Dance,” he murmured thoughtfully, almost so soft that you didn’t catch it. “A frightening way to go, if you cannot understand what is happening to you.”

“I think that’s why I wanted to stay,” you confessed. “Being able to control your own movement is pretty much the most basic free will you can have, and even that was getting robbed of him.”

After a moment of silence, he nodded (as though making up his mind - about you, perhaps?), walked closer, and joined you in kneeling a polite distance away. More silence followed as the pair of you watched the rat’s breathing slowed and, eventually, stopped completely. Your breath left you heavily as you nodded sadly at this final moment.

The sensation of your phone buzzing in your pocket ripped you out of this (oddly peaceful) moment. You checked the screen, and flinched guiltily upon realizing it was your roommate checking in on you - you should have been home ten minutes ago. You quickly tapped out a reply assuring your continued survival, then stood, wincing slightly from the strain of crouching for so long.

“Shit, that completely got away from me. I’m sorry, I really need to get going.” You glanced once more at the now-deceased rat. “I feel a little bad just leaving him there, but… he’s not in the road, so he shouldn’t get squashed, and I don’t think the local cats will want to bother him now. Maybe I can move him in the morning.”

“Are you planning on giving him a funeral?” the man asked, brows raised. His tone seemed genuinely curious rather than mocking, which you privately appreciated.

“Not exactly… This may sound silly, but it feels presumptive to bury a wild animal. I was only really planning on moving him to some grass, maybe by some trees to hide him a little better. Something nicer than concrete, at any rate. Anyway, it was… nice? To meet you, Mister, uh…”

“Ah, dove sono le mie maniere? I am Copia. Cardinal Copia, technically, but under these circumstances, I think the niceties aren’t needed.” Your expression must have betrayed you, because “Eh, not that kind of Cardinal,” was quickly appended to this introduction. You gave your own name, though just a first name for now - this was quite the unorthodox bonding experience, and while he did seem okay, if eccentric, caution never hurt anybody. To his credit, Copia did not try to press you for more information.

“Perhaps I’ll see you at the memorial?” you offered, half serious. To your surprise, this was met with a small but nonetheless sincere smile.

“I would like that very much. It’s not often that I meet one who would show such esteem to a rat.” There was something self-deprecating in his expression that suggested he wasn’t just talking of literal rodents. “A domani, then?”

“A domani,” you replied, smiling at his awkward charm in spite of yourself. A final nod was exchanged between the two of you, then you parted, heading in opposite directions.

What a weird night, you thought to yourself. What a weird guy, for that matter.

Still, when you showed up the next morning with a shoebox to transport the mercifully untampered-with “St. Vitus”, you had to admit you were happy to see the good Cardinal waiting as promised, funeral lily in hand.

[consilium-games]

Setting, Genre, and Principles

I talked recently with a friend about Apocalypse World, genre, and Principles. For those unfamiliar, Principles are a design and game-running technique that Apocalypse World did not invent, but did refine and explicate, a bit like how the Greeks knew of static electricity, but it was Galvani who made a battery on purpose, that others could study. Since I haven't died yet, I have a project in mind, in this case one that really explicitly relies on Principles in its basic design, so in this essay I want to work out a basic edge of 'what Principles can cover'. Namely, the edge of 'genre'.

I'll define a couple technical terms here because I intend to use them pretty narrowly:

Diagetic means the usual, "bound within the world of a given story".

Commentative means "outside of any story, things we say about stories-generally".

So a setting counts as diagetic, bound within its own logic and the logic of the single work it appears in. Diagetically we'd ask "why does the author choose to write dragons in this way?"

A genre counts as commentative, not bound within any story. It may or may not codify some stories, an author might consciously bend to or defy a genre as they understand it, but most importantly on the genre level, we don't ask "why did the author write dragons like this?" Instead we ask "why do people-generally like to see dragons?"

In talking with that friend, she said she had difficulty reading AW, which I can't really fault anyone for: I'd consider AW almost as much a polemic manifesto as a procedural manual. And the former undermines the latter. Part of her issue came from her looking for a setting, not realizing that properly speaking, AW doesn't have one. I said as much, and as we talked, I then said a lot more than I should:

After confirming that "Baker does not give AW a setting", in a bit of enthusiasm on the idea of 'genre emulation', I went on to say that "Baker gives his apocalypse". This prompted confusion, for the reasonable question arises, "how can Baker provide his own, particular, post-apocalypse story without giving a setting?" So I should have spoken more carefully, and I wrote most of this essay to over-answer that question for my friend. I've massaged it into its current form, for you non-her readers, in hopes that it helps someone, or if nothing else I can refer back to it as I clarify my own cranky lit-game-dev ideas.

To me, 'a setting' goes like this:

DnD has a kind of proto-setting, it has dragons like-so, it has elves who look pretty and live in the woods, it has dwarves who look TV-ugly and live in the mountains, it has orcs who look ugly-ugly and live in the wastes, it has humans it treats as default and live wherever. It has vague gestures of settler-colonial race-relations but not enough anything to explore, unless you the reader put it there. DnD doesn't really have much of a genre more specific than "uh, generally sword-and-sorcery fantasy".

Shadowrun has basically the same things, and a specific setting: neoliberal dystopia and collapse of the state, but otherwise 'basically our world'.

But more than that, Shadowrun also--for its many faults--has a commentative-sense genre: in Shadowrun, might makes right (or at least right-now); money rules everything, except maybe loyalty; it treats magic as innately cool and natural but technology as evil and you maybe would better die than get an artificial heart. These story-contours don't care at all about where things happen or what institutions exist.

To take another example, Cowboy Bebop tells a solid noir western story set in space. The fact that it takes place in space ultimately matters very little to the 'western' or 'noir', though. Spike knows he lives in space, and he'd agree that--to someone alive in our world today--he lives in a sci-fi story. He doesn't know that he got cast as a western-revenge-fable protagonist (though he might agree if someone asked). He definitely doesn't know that he has a corner of the story that goes more-western, while Jet lives in a corner of the story that goes more-noir.

If you wanted, you could tell Cowboy Bebop beat for beat, almost unedited, as a straight-faced noir western. Instead of Jet's main ship they have a wagon, the individual bounty-hunters have their own horses, Ed does something weird with telegraphs and adding-machines. Instead of vacuum between planets of our solar system, they weather the desert waste between far-flung towns. It would remain a story about revenge, losing oneself, finding oneself, remaking oneself, and the things we have to do for the people we love, and what happens when we don't.

You could not do this and also remove the noir, or the western, those define the kind-of-story. If you left it in space but took out the noir, entire episodes of moral ambiguity would disappear (like Ganymede Elegy). Likewise taking out the western, the premise of bounty-hunters wouldn't fit and couldn't stay. I would even go further, and say that while I don't mind Cowboy Bebop sitting on the 'sci-fi' shelf so that consumers can find it, I wouldn't class Cowboy Bebop as sci-fi. A masterpiece, but not sci-fi. Because I think that as a genre, the core of sci-fi asks "where are we going, and what will we do when we get there?" Cowboy Bebop does not care to ask this question, it cares about the human condition right now, and what people right now will do. It takes place in space because space is cool.

Second hot take: Kafka's The Castle counts as sci-fi, by the above conception. Extremely, disturbingly prescient sci-fi, precisely predicting things from call-centers to Big Data and the professional managerial class, and warning of the ease with which a competent, level-headed, and well-meaning person can confront The Machine, and The Machine will completely hollow out and dehumanize them, rob them of every competence and agency, until The Machine no longer notices them as a foreign object.

No one would put The Castle on the sci-fi shelf, because it has no shiny labcoat SCIENCE![tm], telephones and typewriters show up as cutting-edge in the setting. But just look at the concept of tracking, monitoring, filing, and refiling, and bureaucratic shuffle and managerial maladaption and "not my department" and "oh you have to fill out a form 204B -> well file a form AV-8 to requisition a 204B -> look do I have to do everything for you, I'm a busy cog you know". Look at that concept as a technology, like Kafka did.

The story explicitly refers to this as innovation, as a deliberate thing that the Count and his bureaucrats did, on purpose, with intent and expected effect. The Castle explores social science, political technology. And Kafka rigorously explores its psychic effects on the subjects, more thoroughly than Gibson waxing poetic about VR headsets and the Matrix. The Castle qualifies as fiction about science, where we're going and what we'll (have to) do when we get there. It takes place in a quaint provincial village that might lie somewhere in Bohemia in the very early 20th century.

So I allege that while setting matters for writing a given story, it doesn't matter a lot for kind-of story. And in my conversation with my friend, I should have sensed the kernel I could have dug out, but instead, I wrote the rest of this essay, particular to post-apocalyptic genre fiction, and germane to Apocalypse World.

Bringing this back to apocalypsii:

In the Australian outback in the late-70s, the gas supply all but disappears, causing societal collapse and civil breakdown.

In the American midwest, an unspecified disaster wipes out communications and supply-lines, causing survivors to turn feral and cannibalistic.

In New York in the late 60s, food shortages and overpopulation cause the government to criminalize almost everything so that they can grind people up into food.

These are settings in the sense that I mean: a place, a time, implicit societal structures and institutions, "where is this, what world is this, what is here?" DnD's setting doesn't have much of a 'where' but it more or less assumes "uh, Earth kinda, sorta"; Shadowrun says "literally Earth but N years after magic becomes real and also DnD races". But the above three post-apoc settings have very different everything-else: if you were making a post-apoc section of a library and wanted to break down into sub-genre, you'd want to put the three works above on different aisles.

Mad Max tells a story where holding on to old power structures is complicated, sometimes good, sometimes bad, and it emphatically matters how we go about doing it: when marauding punks kill your family, you may justifiably go and kill them back; but when a power-mad warlord inflicts his brutal regime, you owe him no allegiance.

The Road tells a story where everything we care about can just blow away in the wind, and at best we can only cling to what we cherish, while we can. Power comes and goes, structures don't last, but cruelty and misery endure eternal and will always win--but we try anyway.

Soylent Green tells a story where societal structures can technically endure, but themselves have no moral compass and can inflict as much cruelty as uncaring nature. You may live in an illusion in which civilization appears to function, but in fact you have no more safety than the wilderness, and indeed you didn't realize it, but you're the cannibals, and perhaps soon the meal.

Those considerations all sit at the genre-type, commentative level, and I class them as wholly unconcerned with setting. Each of these stories would tell just as well in space, or an underground complex, or even Bronze-Age Fertile Crescent if you twist a few narrative arms. The where and when and what doesn't define or determine the kind of story, the genre, even if setting can help or hinder genre goals.

Bringing this back to Baker: he doesn't give a place where things happen; he doesn't give an inciting event that brought the apocalypse; he doesn't even describe what happened during the apocalypse, or how long ago it happened, or give a date for "today". I'll list three AW settings I've run or played in or heard about:

Sunlight vanished altogether, though somehow it hasn't gotten any colder. Darkness and shadow can become animate and even sapient, and can claim people, though it doesn't seem exactly malevolent or 'evil'. Rule of law has mostly fallen apart, but out of fear and prudence people mostly avoid wanton violence, because if you see someone you don't like, you could roll up on them and take their stuff--but just as easily they could kill you, and just as easily as either, the Dark might just take both of you; you're safer keeping the Dark at bay and not hassling someone else, unless you've got good reason.

A few years(?) ago, survivors woke up from total amnesia and some kind of fugue: it seems like this fugue lasted at least some years, there's some decay of modern-to-us structures, but the ruins look fully recognizable and often quite well-preserved. But signs abound, literally painted twenty-feet-high on buildings and structures, that something unfathomable happened. The giant wordless pictograms seem to warn to protect tools and structures, to stay together and not go off alone, indicate places that once had lots of food or other important resources, and most alarmingly they show gigantic hands reaching down from above onto some of the pictogram figures. No one can remember anything from before the wakeup though, so the meaning is lost.

Something like twenty years ago, the world broke in some fundamental way: it always rains or at least fog abounds, long-distance communication inexplicably but insurmountably fails to work, and cityscape has sprawled on its own to incorporate seemingly the entire world. As far as anyone knows, the city spans infinitely in every direction, it has no edge, only more city. The city-cancer seems waterlogged and rotting everywhere, some few places fit for use and occupancy, but if you go down any given street and step inside an empty house or shop, it probably won't suit human habitation. People still habitually carry on the forms and outlines of societal norms, mostly, because what else can they do? You can't burn it all down as long as it keeps raining.

I brought these up because Baker's conception of 'post-apoc' does not cover the whole of "all post-apocalyptic literature"--it couldn't, shouldn't, and if it did it would have little or no use to anyone. Baker's narrower conception, the Principles that AW's rules expect a setting to follow, narrow things down and keep the rules crisp, tight, and tractable.

Each of the AW campaigns above has a totally different setting, aiming in totally different directions for different things--but, they all live inside Baker's Principles for a post-apoc that fits within AW: scarcity, weak but present society and norms, a Before, an After, and no going back, and each has a 'Psychic Maelstrom' that excuses a lot of narrative fiat and deus ex machina and having characters just do weirdness not otherwise specified.

That 'Psychic Maelstrom' comes closest to giving what I'd call "a setting" as in "place, time, institutions", because it sits at the diagetic level. A distinct thing bound within a given story--except it only barely counts as 'diagetic'. Because Baker only gives loose guidelines for what a Psychic Maelstrom should be or do. Baker's own at-his-table Psychic Maelstrom will look nothing like mine, or my girlfriend's, or her erstwhile friend's, because in those three AW settings up there, each of us had totally different ideas for what to do with a Psychic Maelstrom in a post-apocalyptic setting.

But: all three of us used our Psychic Maelstroms for the things Baker says to use them for: unleash weirdness, justify unrealistic but narratively satisfying twists, allow and excuse extra awesomeness, maybe use as a metaphor or allegory for "how it got this way", as well as "where it could go", in literary terms. And . . . Baker doesn't really get closer than this, to giving "place, time, institutions, history and people and events". So in the sense I understand 'setting', a diagetic construct within a given story, AW doesn't have one.

But in the commentative genre sense, AW very definitely gives Baker's apocalypse, in that it gives a recipe for the things that Baker considers essential to the post-apoc genre (or at least, the aisle of the post-apoc library he wants to confine his game to). He doesn't try to tell a Soylent Green apocalypse so much--you'd need to twist some arms and ignore some Principles to tell Soylent Green. Nor does he try to tell Children of Men so much--you'd have to leave a lot out to rein AW in to just Children of Men. He instead aims* for something closer to Mad Max, but heavy on Weird West, and a lot less somber and desolate, so more like Fury Road. And he says, "here's how:".

(*) But, of course, he doesn't actually tell these stories. Instead he has the project of telling the reader how to tell this kind-of story. So, while he gives some sample poetic images of skylines on fire and the world torn asunder, he doesn't care to talk about the virus, or the metorite, or the gas-shortage or the food-shortage. He doesn't care about the where or when or what, and even with the Psychic Maelstrom, the one concrete diagetic thing he gives--it sits there as a meta-thing, explicitly unstated whether it resulted from The Apocalypse or its inciting event, or caused it as the inciting event, or something else.

All of which boils down to: commentative, about-stories, genre-level stuff owns bones, and I weigh it heavier than diagetic, in-stories, setting-level stuff. Baker gives excellent tools, within his purple polemic prose, for that first stuff and gives little or nothing for the second.

[mikhailsbluecarnation-blog]

Red Elegy

(It is neutral pair, safe for anti blmatsu. I try to make it as cheerful as possible)

It was a red red evening,

Todomatsu hummed a bit while walking on street, he just bought some body care products, he spotted Karamatsu across him, eating chocolate. "Karamatsu nii san!!" He cheerfully said while waving his hand, giggling, Karamatsu smiled and ran to Todomatsu.

"Todomatsu! What are you doing here?", Karamatsu warped his arm around him while laughing, "I just bought some beer for Osomatsu, he is upset because he is not drinking all this week". Todomatsu laughed and nodded, "Good idea. He got big beer belly and it sucks to look at it, Ichimatsu-nii san loves to play with it though", he shrugged it off.

"Let's go back home".

---------

Choromatsu pouted when he opened the door, "Hey!! You two!! It is already late!! Do you drink our beers? Like come on, Osomatsu nii san give our money to you? Right Osomatsu nii san?", Ichimatsu glared at Karamatsu and pouted, "Osomatsu nii san will get angry, he said. Although he spend a lot of our money" Ichi pouted and hid behind Choromatsu.

"True", Jyuushimatsu nodded, "Osomatsu nii san he can't play baseball with me, can you do it, Karamatsu nii san?", Jyuushimatsu jumped and hugged Karamatsu. He smiled and whistled, "Alright alright. Tomorrow Ichimatsu wants to give food to cats tomorrow, so don't play too long okay?".

"I wonder if Osomatsu will help me for house chores" Karamatsu hummed, Jyuushimatsu laughed, "He will!! I can do it though! Then we join Ichimatsu nii san feeding cats! Then we go bathe with Todomatsu, he just bought some lotions and such"

Todomatsu puffed his cheek, "There is no way I will share it with you, also who is buying dinner food?"

"Not me! I thought it Osomatsu's job? Ughh, irresponsible older brother. I will do it then" Choromatsu folded his hands and walked to the door. "I will go to market, anything you want to buy?".

Jyuushimatsu raised his hand, "Canned fish!! Meat!!" He held Ichi's hand and smiled. "Also some milk for after bath! Osomatsu likes it the best!"

Karamatsu looked at them and took deep breath, "Anyway I, Karamatsu wrote an elegy!". Choro laughed a bit as he opened his can of beer, "Elegy?"

"Hahahhaa Karamatsu nii san? Why elegy? Is not that for dead person? Will Ichimatsu or anyone murder someone tonight?" Todomatsu laughed until he got teared up. Choromatsu sighed and turned his head to Karamatsu, "Honestly, it is not funny".

"It is because I am serious, we just can't be like this all the time, right? Imagining crazy and impossible stuff while staring at ceiling while laughing at ourselves, eat then sleep" his voice turned cold and he took out a piece of shabby-looking paper with messy writing.

Jyuushi covered his face with his sleeves, "Jyuushimatsu does not want to escape yet!! Osomatsu nii san will catch you if you read that!". Choromatsu glared and kicked Karamatsu on his cheek, "We have talked about this! He is with us!! Osomatsu is with us!!"

"You mean was? It was 10 years ago since he sleep and eat with all of us! Yet, you all still pretending he is not away for the longest time. We are all adults and I don't think it is good anymore!" Kara slapped Choro and looked down. "Let me buy some cigarette".

"Escape!? You just gonna escape after that?" Todomatsu stomped his feet, "We make a deal not to grow up for the sake of him!!!". Jyuushi sighed, "True true true." he got up sluggishly and ran to Karamatsu with dark emotions. "We made a deal not to forgot".

Karamatsu sighed, "We won't have any future you know, if things going on like this", he opened his paper and took deep breath ...

"If you are here please answer us;

Stone with your name can't answer

We are lost without you but,

We will make our own way

And won't forget you as we grow up

Leaving what is with yours behind"

Karamatsu teared up as he opened the door, running to a certain place where he felt his heart crushed to pieces. He dashed to a stone with 'Osomatsu' name on it,

------

"Osomatsu I am sorry I am sorry!! He hugged the stone tightly, "I don't and won't forget you!! It is a promise!!" Karamatsu wailed and crying until nearly evening.

A child with similar face with Karamatsu tugged his clothes, "Sir!! Sir!! Do you know where are my brothers?" He chirped and hugged his waist, "You looks like him!!" The boy have gray saturated colors all over. Karamatsu stroked his hair, "What is your name?".

The boy smiled, "Osomatchuuu~" he cuddled him, "Warm!! Osomatsu is often cold!! Because Osomatsu is dead right? Osomatsu miss his family, I lost count how many years passes" he played with Karamatsu until evening. "I often try to search the house but everything is so unfamiliar, it makes me scared" Osomatsu added before yawning.

Choro dashed on the street and looking at him, "Who is that with you?" Choro sighed, "Let's go home". Oso beamed and hugged Choro's legs, "Choro right?? I am Osomatsu. You grow so big!!" He jumped up and down, "Can you makes me go to home too? I can't sleep because I often heard things done under my name. I am still the eldest you know!!". Choro looking up, "I don't know what are you talking about. Osomatsu is a grown up, not a child..definetly" Choro stopped and crying, "Does our delusions and imagination come to haunts us??" He whispered in confusion. Karamatsu sighed, "Don't be like that, let's say our proper goodbye so Oso can have a good sleep, okay?".

Osomatsu climbed his waist, "Nii san wants to sleep. Give me a good smoochiee!!!" He pouted and hugged him like a koala, Choro phoned Todo so they came here and do proper goodbye.

Todo was a bit upset with others but he came, amazed with the little boy with saturated colors infront of them, they hugged him.

Osomatsu hugged his brothers and teared up, "My younger bros grow up cool!! I am happy!!" He jumping around, his colors begin transparenting,

"It is time for Osomatsu nii san to sleep, I try so hard to call some of you but you seems call 'osomatsu' that never exist and blame things on empty air. That is stuuuuuupid" He pouted and gave others one last hug on legs. "Be a proper adult for my sake okay??? Yaayy!! If I grow up, I won't be a plain, basic and obscure person like Ichimatsu said!"

Ichimatsu blushed in embarassment and covered his face, "I am sorry. I will be a proper grown up"

The others cries while nodding and they hugged him until nothing left, "it is a promise!!"

Karamatsu took deep breath when he could not longer sense his presence.

"Todomatsu, phone. Let's take a photo". Todomatsu handed it then Karamatsu told others to lined up.

Karamatsu and others lined up with their numeric born orders and they looked cheerful, "Let's go to this place once a week. Maybe a picnic will be okay. And...Ichimatsu, if you lost your money, don't blame it to Osomatsu nii san, he felt guilty" Kara giggled at Ichi. Ichi just pouted.

"So, Karamatsu nii san, what is your plan?" Choromatsu dusted off his ankles, "Getting a job? Or applying for courses for jobs? Osomatsu literally said we should grow up".

Kara put his glasses, "Heh no plan", Todomatsu elbowed him and they all laughing,

"Okay but let's get a job. Let's secure our future properly!!" Karamatsu laughed and hugged his brothers.

Choro and others raised their hands, "Secure it properly!! For Osomatsu nii san!!"

From today and onwards, there is only five of them.

(( @dat-voneja @akimonochan @berry-momma all))

((Auth. Note: So yeah this is a HC abt what if Osomatsu dead and othera just in denial and said it under Oso's name when they are up to something stupid and shaming him over cluelessness and plainess))

[kevoreally]

#BuffyAt20 - S03E09 “The Wish”

Okay, so the irony is that I actually did this #BuffyAt20 a week EARLY so I wouldn't post it late. Then vacation got away from me. Oops. I'm doing this for free, go easy on me. Anyway, here it is! Onward we roll through 'Buffy' Season 3 with a true classic - "The Wish"! So many iconic aspects to this episode. Let's dive right in!

> Okay, I’ve been giving Cordelia a pretty hard time this season, and here is her centric episode. Let’s see how this goes…

> NRRRF!

> This squddly demon is so extra.

> “Isn’t he gonna go poof?” Love it

> Oh Xander, you’re really going to be Indignant Guy right now? Eesh.

> “Your logic does not resemble our Earth logic” - a line I use a lot

> Wow, did Xander just acknowledge Buffy’s emotional trauma from Angel in a positive and non-snarky way? It’s almost like growth.

> This shot of Cordy burning the pictures in a bowl was manipulated in the commercial to make it look like her wish was a spell, I don’t know who else remembers that.

> I think it’s that, no matter how melodramatic the show becomes at times, the theme song reminds you of what it is at heart: a light, fun, camp take on horror. It really sets the tone for the show and anchors it to that theme - ha, theme, double-meaning.

> I love Willow saying Amy saw Cordy at the mall, using a recurring character and refreshing our memory on them right before they come back in 2 episodes.

> Wait - why does the whole school know Xander cheated? Unless Cordelia said something, there’s literally no reason for anyone to know outside of the Scooby Gang. THAT’S BIZARRE.

> Do love the Jonathan cameo, though.

> Seriously, Oz is the best character that ever existed on this show so far. How is that possible? I better never see a Buffy remake that removes Oz, y’all. Just make him gay too or something, IDK, lol.

> The “do I have something caught in my teeth?” ploy is still awkward and dumb twenty years later, good to know.

> Okay, but is John Lee really that scummy compared to anything Cordelia has done over the last 43 episodes?

> “a good luck charm my dad gave me” says Anya, aka: D’Hoffryn! :D

> It’s wild seeing Cordelia interact with the character who would BIZARRELY end up almost marrying Xander. Like, it’s SO WILD thinking about the things they never imagined at this point in time.

> Buffy is another one whose emotional maturity is really knocking me out right now, that she’s sympathetic to Cordelia’s plight.

> Gosh, I miss 1998.

> It’s weird to me that there’s time for this “we can’t touch hands stuff” in the same episode as Bizarro Sunnydale. How is there TIME?

> Wait - do we even see Normal Giles in this episode?? Or is it all Bizarro Giles?

> Buffy’s “sneaky” stake toss when the Cordettes walk by after she kills the vamp is hysterical.

> That cut where Cordelia says her problem is Buffy Summers is SO AWKWARD.

> Yeah, we’re 15 minutes into a 45 minute episode - there’s a full 30 minutes in Bizarro Sunnydale. That makes more sense.

> I WAS RIGHT, apart from I think a few seconds at the end we don’t see Normal Giles in this episode once! Huh!

> “She was like… a good fairy.” Oh Cordy.

> Cordelia’s dress in this episode, the blue one, actually is bizarre. It’s like an evening gown.

> “Ted Cherviin just totally went for third with Ginger in front of everybody!” - being 12 when this aired, and also gay, I didn’t fully get what third base was yet. But now I do. And DAAAAAMN!

> This teacher is actually kind of hot, what’s his deal…

> Cordelia is talking SO LOUDLY about being from another reality. Where is her head??

> Is Cordelia even slightly sad that Xander and Willow are dead, do you think? Because we don’t really get much of a reaction there.

> “My auto! El convertablo?” OMIGOD, CORDELIA.

> Wow, once again, they are getting hella use out of this Main Street set.

> Do I find Xander hot as a vampire? Hmm.

> Wow, “Bored Now” is DoppelWillow’s first words.

> DoppelWillow is sort of a refined impression of Drusilla. And that’s okay, even! Just, noteworthy.

> The White Hats was the coolest part of this episode. Oz and Larry and Nancy who would later appear in Episode 19 as a student. Holy shit. I’m not saying I hate it, just that it isn’t entirely *scary.*

> The vampire den of sin trope was already pretty tired by the time this came to Buffy, and “Dead Soul Man” didn’t do it any favors either.

> OH MAN, the Master’s return was mind-blowing.

> The Master was stuck underground for, like, 80 years, and has only been back out for barely 2, and he’s bored of hunting again? What?

> Giles’s little JUMP from the Library’s upper level is intense.

> It’s wild but this episode STARTS as Cordelia centric and then, upon her death, becomes weirdly DoppelGiles’s story? This version of Giles is the hero of this story. All would’ve been lost if he didn’t thwart Anyanka. But we’ll get to that…

> Although Giles SHOULD know that Cordelia won’t be turned into a vampire and doesn’t need to be incinerated, it is consistent with the first episode that he isn’t sure. That’s pretty interesting.

> OMigod I almost forgot Angel is “the puppy.”

> “Yes, I’m aware that there’s a great deal of demonic activity in Cleveland. It happens, you know, that Sunnydale is on a Hellmouth. It is so!” This is literally one of the funniest lines of the whole fucking show, and that Cleveland bit has always been a fan favorite joke, which is why Giles references it in the series finale.

> HOW IS ANGEL’S HAIR STILL GELLED UP AS A TORTURE SLAVE??

> He’s also, like, extra wimpy.

> I might find DoppelXander scarier than DoppelWillow.

> even in Bizarro World, Larry is kind of a misogynist and Giles has a shitty car.

> EEEY! Buffy’s back! She misses about 1/3 of the episode.

> I am always a sucker for wonky alternate timelines that need to be reset, not gonna lie…

> If Giles knows he has to destroy the power source and he has it, why isn’t he just doing it? Like, RIGHT NOW?

> This Buffy is gross.

> Buffy’s not wrong - they know where the vampires nest, they could just firebomb the place during the day.

> Aww the Caged Dude from earlier is dead now. I think they were going for dark but he could just as easily be a different white boy so it’s hard to feel that one. Should’ve been Jonathan.

> Seriously, how does Angel’s hair look like that?

> If the Master rose, didn’t the Hellmouth open? Where’d those demons go?

> Oh man - is the Master’s blood factory supposed to be THE factory?? Like, Spike and Drusilla’s? Holy shit, I don’t think I ever caught that before. I hope so!

> I’m only annoyed that Giles is doing this ritual and summoning Anyanka and all this stuff when he, like, HAD the necklace? And in later seasons, all you have to do is smash?

> WOOF, this blood machine is pretty fucking horrifying, when you really think about it. That chick is very much alive.

> HA! The Master using Xander as a shield is great.

> “your only power lies in the wishing” “WRONG” HA!

> the way Buffy stomps up to the Master is a bit… silly, haha

> this score here, “Slayer’s Elegy,” is why once again I will always love Christophe Beck.

> Wow, so even in this time like, the prophecy that the Master will kill Buffy comes to pass.

> The tiny bits of Anya in this episode really show how the writers could’ve fallen in love with her.

> Yeah, there’s Normal Giles! But only for a minute.

> OH WOW, those last 7 minutes really flew by, to be honest. This isn’t always the strongest episodes, but I definitely think there’s something special about it.

> Next up: CHRISTMAS!!!!

[diary4]

11/06/18 - nightime

Dad saying about picking a poem to read out at crematorium - seeing where my impractical skill set could finally be of some practical use eagerly volunteered. I did a fucking unit on elegies. I’ve read the book mate. Funny how things work out.

Dad said he wants something that highlights that she was young and full of life etc. Problem with that is that purely commemorative elegies tend also to be the really sad ones, because they’re looking back at the lost and often contrast beauty with morbid imagery about how gold hair rots and turns to ash etc. which isn’t really the sort of positivistic celebratory tone I’m looking to set. What I want, and what I from personal experience have found to be more helpful than looking at transience and loss is a certain emphasis on longevity and eternity. You know, Trevor’s old Munch quote about the flowers growing from my grave and His Dark Material’s nonsense about my atoms finding your atoms. It strikes me that maybe the reason I feel equipped to handle death is all the reading I’ve done over the years - after all, that’s where I’m getting all the tips from. In which case, the least I can do is try and impart some of that learning onto the less well read Daddy, and in which case, I think I’ve found the right poem: 

Do not stand at my grave and weep

by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep:

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starshine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry:

I am not there; I did not die.

 Good, huh? Bit corny, but very user friendly, and so hopeful - triumphal reassertion of ‘I’!! Kind of a nice plot twist to end a funeral on too. Anyway, strikes me that this bad boy is two lines short of a sonnet, and that to me, it is kind of an ode to the eternal, the continuation of life, to the triumph of hope and life in the face of death and despair. Literally speaking from beyond the grave - a fuck you to death. Here presents itself, reclining on a silver platter, a fantastic opportunity not only to test myself on poetic innovation, but to personalize the service in a way I think would make Mummy proud.

So what to put in? Rhyme scheme is accommodating, but where to slot in the extra couplet? Best space seems to me to be between lines 10 and 11. I tried out a few things but when I wrote this:

Although we can’t talk for a while

I’ll be there every time you smile

Made me really cry so I think its the one. Obviously could do with some tweaking, but yeah. Maybe I’ll change the poets name a bit so I’m not technically ripping her off. How can I anagram something similar to Mary Elizabeth Frye?

Can hear Daddy crying. His first night back in his bed. I’ve decided crying is healthy and helpful, and that Dad is dealing with grief in an entirely healthy way. That thing he said about dealing with Nanny and Grandad that worried me (’you just have to distract yourself’) only worried me because I thought he meant by comatosing yourself in front of the telly. Now I get it though - what he meant is by throwing yourself into other aspects of life. Whats the Sherlock Holmes quote? Something about grief and an active mind. 

Anyway, just so I have a record of them, here’s the other interesting poems I found. This one I’m still considering saying at the funeral but may reserve for my wedding day - I can’t get over it it’s fucking beautiful:

Your Clothes - Judith Kroll 

Of course they are empty shells, without hope of animation.

Of course they are artifacts.

Even if my sister and I should wear some,

or if we give others away,

they will always be your clothes without you,

as we will always be your daughters without you.

And this I like, because it’s both reverent and irreverent, and because it kind of totally sums up my attitude towards the big cheese sometimes these days:

Forgive, O Lord 

by Robert Frost

Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee

And I'll forgive the great big one on me.

Who really has egg on their face? The thing is, I love my life. No amount of shit is gna change that. So fuck you. 

[annabelaplit]

Poem Explication: Annabel Lee

For this week’s poem explication I decided to choose Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe. This poem has always caught my attention and I have a read it a few times over the years. I mean there aren’t many characters across of any type of fictional media that share the name Annabel. So I always felt a sort of kinship with this girl who happens to share my name. Anyway let’s dive in. 

Annabel Lee (Edgar Allan Poe)

It was many and many a year ago,   In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know   By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought   Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child,   In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love—   I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven   Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago,   In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling   My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came   And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre   In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,   Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,   In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night,   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love   Of those who were older than we—   Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in Heaven above   Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,   In her sepulchre there by the sea—   In her tomb by the side of the sea. 

So this poem is all about lost love. It features a narrator who may be Poe but who probably isn’t, who spends the whole work talking about this girl he loved named Annabel Lee. He describes how they fell in love as children and how the angels became jealous of their love and killed Annabel out of spite. He has then spent the rest of his time mourning her loss and sleeping next to her tomb although he is confident that they are still together in spirit. 

On a deeper level, I read this poem kind of being about the struggles of grief. There seem to be a lot of elements in it that seem kind of weird, even in the context of poetry. For instance the narrator’s insistence that it was the angel’s that killed Annabel Lee seems a bit circumspect. I think it is strange that he picked angels, creatures known for their perfection and generosity, to be the entity to kill Annabel Lee out of spite. Perhaps what actually happened was that Annabel got sick and died and the narrator is looking for someone to blame. He is seeking an explanation for an inexplicable tragedy. 

I think that his stubborn devotion to Annabel Lee after her could also have multiple meanings. On the one hand it can maybe be interpreted as kind of a desperate gesture, a refusal to move on from his first love. It seems like he is literally sleeping next to Annabel’s tomb every night. His stubborn insistence that their love was better than basically anyone else’s also supports this theory. The narrator doesn’t think he will ever be able to find someone as good as his Annabel. On the other hand, his devotion to her can be seen as maybe something healthy and inspiring. He is refusing to let her untimely death sever the connection they had. He thinks that she is still able to communicate with him through nature and that the mystical forces of life weren’t able to triumph over their love. Viewed in that context his obsession with her seems less creepy and more sweet. 

Now let’s examine the methods by which Poe illuminates these themes and ideas. First, he chooses not to fit the form into any established type or structure, although he personally classified it as a ballad. This makes sense as it tells a pretty concrete story of two lovers and their separation. I also feel as it may have some elements of lyric poetry. There is lots of emotion present in his descriptions of Annabel and her death. I think maybe the poem is also kind of as an elegy mourning her loss. 

“Annabel Lee” also has no set number of lines for each stanza. It consists mostly of sestets and octaves with one seven lined stanza thrown in, although it isn’t a rime royal. Additionally it doesn’t have a regular meter or rhyme scheme, though its feet tend to be anapests and iambs Another thing to note is the stanzas start with a line of 10-11 syllables then go to one between 6-8 and then that arrangement is repeated for the rest of the stanza. By not conforming to a specific form, meter, or rhyme scheme Poe is able to be more creative and free with his poem. He imbues his message with a lot of repetition and this is harder to do if one has to stick to a certain number of lines or write solely in iambic pentameter. However he does bring some structure to the poem by with a meter and stanza length being similar but not identical, His loosening of conventions.helps to convey his point and the beautiful tragedy embedded within the tale. 

An element that Poe makes great use of within this poem is refrain. The line “in a kingdom by the sea” appears five times, most often as the second line of a stanza. The line “Of the beautiful Annabel Lee” appears three times and is repeated during regular intervals in one stanza. Not only that, there are many instances where phrases and very similar lines get repeated in the poem. “Than to love and be loved by me”, “But we loved with a love that was more than love” , and  “But our love it was stronger by far than the love”. This poem is very repetitive and recycles most of its words and ideas. This makes it easier to focus on the actual story being told and gives a sort of cyclical quality to the poem. Everything seems interconnected and unified. 

Rhyme is something else that I would like to focus on is rhyme. It also tends to use the word “sea” for a jumping off point for rhymes. End rhymes with an “ee” sound appear 21 times in the poem. The rhymes are also almost entirely masculine. Poe also uses internal rhyme quite a bit in these poems. Examples are the lines “I and my Annabel Lee” and “For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams”. In fact the last stanza is filled with examples of internal rhyme. Every other line for the first six line features an example of it. 

The short simple rhymes, the repetition in the rhyming, and the instances of internal rhyme are another tactic designed to make the poem more interconnected and unified. The stress on Annabel Lee and the sea kingdom makes these elements stand out more especially when they basically rhyme with half the poem. The internal rhymes makes the poem sound more melodic and conveys the sense of Annabel Lee’s beauty and her natural connection to the narrator. 

Those are the main tactics used in the poem as there are very few similes and metaphors in the poem.The only thing that you can argue is a comparison is between Annabel Lee’s eyes and the stars, and that is kind of a stretch. There is limited imagery in this poem and most of it is connected to itsrepeated ideas; Annabel Lee and her tomb. The sea where she is buried is referred to as a “kingdom” throughout and the last few lines shake this up by directly referring to it as a “tomb”. Annabel Lee is described as “beautiful” and is heavily connected to the night sky and a cold wind. Highlighting these elements makes sense as they are central to the narrative of the poem.

I would classify the tone of this poem as indignant, mournful, and peaceful in a way. The narrator is insistent on things such as the culpability of the angels in Annabel’s death and how their love is better than anyone else’s. Special punctuation like the “Yes!” and the parentheses only heighten this affect. The narrator’s deep love for Annabel Lee and sadness for losing her shines through at times as well, such as when he talks of the wind chilling and killing her and when he calls her his “darling” and his “life”. Finally, one can see his hope and resilience when he talks about how their souls are combined and the situations when he feels her presence. 

Historically, the main debates regarding this poem have been about who Poe wrote it for. The most common guess is his wife, although it has been attributed to many of his past loves, and a local legend involving a girl named Annabel. Personally I think that the poem isn’t really directed to any specific person but is rather designed to explore the general ideas of lost love and mourning.

Personally I am not a huge fan of this poem. I think it is very melodious and love to say it out loud but I find the content to be lacking. As mentioned before the narrator of the poem comes off really creepy to me and for all her importance in the poem Annabel Lee doesn’t do anything. Her only characterization is that “she lived with no other thought/Than to love and be loved by me”. Seriously that was Annabel Lee’s entire life; she loved some guy and then she died. I understand that this poem was written in the mid 1800′s but that still kind of makes me mad. I feel like there is so much more to life than love so for Annabel Lee to die basically only having an identity as a bride and then for her lover to devote the rest of his life to mourning her seems really sad and backward to me. People gotta have hobbies. 

Alright that’s all from me. Next time I will be back with a more creative piece.