“Everything has changed, but nothing has changed me.”
— Peeta Mellark, fan fiction story of the day
In the story, Peeta loses first, his girl; then his leg in a car accident, which also takes the life of his father. He finds out his ex has a baby with another man; and finally Delly is under the impression she and Peeta are betrothed. It’s complicated.
Stay tuned.
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.
from firelines (London: Anvil Press Poetry) by Marcus Cumberlege (who self discovered when she was at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre, last May)
Children of Lir
Cork of the dark waters
Connaught of the storms
Meath of still pastures
Our triangle, our forms
Everywhere we come from
Everywhere we go
Swans grow sleeves of crimson
The ancient ring-marks show
Ireland is a no-man’s-land
Where dead and living meet
Finola’s ‘flower-stung’ fingers
Knit Pearse’s winding-sheet
Coffin-ships trawl the ocean
And on beds tilled long ago
The shadowy birds of winter
Claw crosses in the snow.
According to Maria Tatar in her Preface to The Annotated Brothers Grimm (Once again dear blog readers may very well wonder why self is still on the Preface, when she started it weeks and weeks ago — in fact, when she first arrived in Mendocino), “. . . myths are especially valuable to those investigating the origins of a culture.”
Here’s what Wilhelm Grimm (1/2 of the Brothers Grimm) has to say on the subject:
The mythic element consists of small pieces from a shattered jewel which lie on ground that is overgrown by grass and flowers, only to be found by the most discerning eye.
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.
Fish is much on self’s mind these days.
That’s because she has successfully avoided eating any meat (rib-eye steak* cough* Mendosa’s Harvest Market* cough!) during her stay in Mendocino.
No, that’s not quite true. She has had a roast beef sandwich from Cultured Affair Café; and she tried some lamb from Ledford House.
But for the most part, her daily diet has consisted of: fish and chips; cod; clam chowder; scallops; pasta; ramen and vegetables (She had the most wonderful cod from Ledford House, just last Saturday)
Given her new eating habits, it is fitting that the first poem self reads this morning, from Luisa Igloria’s collection The Saints of Streets (University of Santo Tomas Publishing House), is about fish:
Parable of the Fish
A bitter heart, a few little fires
abroad in the countryside. The skeleton
of a life shaved down, both bait and
barb. So here is the fisherman
who never caught a thing, having moonlit
conversation in the reeds. She
is covered with scales and sinuous
as brocade. She listens
but will not grant
a mansion for his wife.
His hair is fading to the color of shells.
Maybe he will cross the river tomorrow.
Maybe he will beg a boon.
Maybe he will take her back
and hide her raincoat in the garage
among the power tools and
rusted lawnmowers.
How beautiful is the language!
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.
It’s just one short story. But self is dragging it out, sentence by sentence.
Apparently they’ve found a cure for zombies that restores them to their human selves. They then call these rescued the “rehabilitated.” That doesn’t help the narrator, a “rehabilitated” zombie who makes one friend, a boy named James.
He’s the reason she’s even contemplating attending school.
He visits her in her dwelling, an abandoned house on the edge of the city, the one with the floating body in the pool.
And – guess what. This boy drags a scent of human for the zombie pack to follow him.
What I don’t tell him is that I can already hear the pack pushing against the air outside the house. They know there’s someone pure inside.
I can already feel the way their mouths water for him.
At night, when they race past the house, is the loneliest I’ve ever felt. Except for now.
Oh Heavens to Mergatroid, please don’t let the pack eat James!
SPOILER ALERT — DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE DENSE AND/OR NEVER INTEND TO READ CARRIE RYAN’S STORY!
Self is so slow on picking up clues. Even after she took that Hunger Games “How Long Would You Last as a Tribute” quiz that told her she’d last a day, self keeps forgetting how dense she is. So it comes as a total shock when the narrator decides that it’s too late to evade the rampaging zombie pack, she has to turn James into a zombie. In other words, she has to kill him herself.
Nooooooo !!!!!!!!!
Suddenly James is showing the narrator that he really really likes her (Self, is Twilight simply a distant memory? Apparently so) and — please believe self when she says that this scene is very very poignant, and not the least bit confusing, though she wishes the couple would address the immediate problem! Which is that a zombie mob is in the process of tearing down the door!
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.
The ocean is vast, isn’t it? God, it is just so beautiful.
Today, self left early for Elk and got there just before (more…)
Camera non-responsive. This was from self’s cell phone . . .
You really don’t know the ocean until you’ve seen it from Elk.
Stay tuned.
Kanlaon 