#dislustre

[graywyvern]

( via / via via @merlinaacevedo )

Filmed in Dubrovnik.

"Memoriter

Ovals of opal on dislustred seas, Skyshine, and all that indolent afternoon No clash of arms, no shouting on the breeze; Only the reeds moaned soft or high their empty rune.

The paladins played chess and did not care, The crocus pierced the turf with random dart. Then twanged a cord. Through space, from Oultremer That other arrow veered toward your heart."

--Charles Spear

"Making great use of the baroque splendour of the ancient renaissance port city, and shot with an eye to Orson Welles, the atmospheric thriller was re-edited for the US market with a 24-year-old Francis Ford Coppola as its new story editor."

did you mean "fulcrum AI"?

The Final Programme rereleased.

[jshoulson]

Today’s Poem

Under the Willows --James Russell Lowell

May is a pious fraud of the almanac, A ghastly parody of real Spring Shaped out of snow and breathed with eastern wind; Or if, o’er-confident, she trust the date, And, with her handful of anemones, Herself as shivery, steal into the sun, The season need but turn his hourglass round, And Winter suddenly, like crazy Lear, Reels back, and brings the dead May in his arms, Her budding breasts and wan dislustred front With frosty streaks and drifts of his white beard All overblown. Then, warmly walled with books, While my wood-fire supplies the sun’s defect, Whispering old forest-sagas in its dreams, I take my May down from the happy shelf Where perch the world’s rare song-birds in a row, Waiting my choice to open with full breast, And beg an alms of springtime, ne’er denied Indoors by vernal Chaucer, whose fresh woods Throb thick with merle and mavis all the year.

[graywyvern]

( via / via )

The Hexadecimalist heresy.

"The second phase really began when they could no longer think except in terms of the plague." --Albert Camus, Notebooks 1942-1951

"I have one possible answer to the question that I offer."

"Memoriter

Ovals of opal on dislustred seas, Skyshine, and all that indolent afternoon No clash of arms, no shouting on the breeze; Only the reeds moaned soft or high their empty rune.

The paladins played chess and did not care, The crocus pierced the turf with random dart. Then twanged a cord. Through space, from Oultremer That other arrow veered toward your heart.

--Charles Spear

Trick Babies.