{ head under water and you tell me to breathe easy for a while. }

[delga]

In the library again! Still marvelling at Google Reader! Just got the shit scared out of me by the fire alarm test!

I have two classes on Early Middle English poetry today, from 4 till 6, and some time today I need to go to Pw. to buy more juice (I ran out after breakfast. Thankfully not before or I might have flipped out a little.) The weather today is: fake rain. Sigh. (Google tells me that it's 7`C here, and only 2`C back home. Which. Haha, sucks to be in D. I guess.)

--

Y'all should feel free to spam me all day. In fact, I DEMAND IT SO. There. Deal with that. (By the way: FLYING MONKEYS bested INVISIBLE SNAKES with 34 votes to 11, with the final count including myself and my three housemates.)

Comments

[the-muppet.livejournal.com]

Does stopping by to hug you constitute spamming?

*HUGS*

Hee, I voted for flying monkeys! \(^o^)/

[delgaserasca.livejournal.com]

I'll take ANYTHING. *hugs*

When the apocalypse comes, I need to be ready, natch.

[muldy.livejournal.com]

*spams*

How would you define fake rain?

[delgaserasca.livejournal.com]

You know that kind of rain that is really, really fine and just sort of hangs in the air? Like mist but too heavy for mist? And then makes your hair super frizzy? And doesn't just FALL FROM THE DAMN SKY ALREADY? That's fake rain, yo. It's British Standard.

[muldy.livejournal.com]

Oh you mean a *downpour* :-P (j/k)

Yeah I hate rain like that lol thankfully we don't get it that often.

*can't really think of anything useful to spam you with*

My lecturer took us to the pub for the last hour of our class tonight? *thought that was awesome*

[delgaserasca.livejournal.com]

Ha, witty! :-P

Awesome. On the one hand I wish ours would do that; on the other, I'm glad they don't.

lols, well, you tried!

[delgaserasca.livejournal.com]

Oh, did you get my postcard?

[muldy.livejournal.com]

I got it this morning!! Hehe it's awesome! *loves it* Even if it's not my birthday :-P

[delgaserasca.livejournal.com]

Haha,YES. I felt a bit of a moron.

[atlashrugged.livejournal.com]

I just friended you and figured I'd let you know. It seemed a bit inevitable but I am crazy, so there's that.

The fake rain confuses me and as for spam, it's going to be poetry, as that's most of what I have in my Google Reader.

--

For the Sightsingers

Oh, said the pigeon, one was supposed to fly?
Miroslave Holub

When ocean and sky change places, both roaring,
rising and falling, so rumpled
that Narcissus finds a new wrinkle wherever
he looks, but loves nothing new under. . .
there is no under.
That sun of a
whale of a sun hasn't breached for days.

~

So many pigeons now, walking and nodding.
Any messages? Walking and nodding.
In London, they'll steal half sandwiches from you.
And in Plzen?, that pigeon, Holub
in Czech, will coolly investigate fallen
sky, corpses, microbes, flies,
for another century.

~

Somewhere, a two-year-old peers, and tulips
open languid lips—Ahh—
swaying poppy-red. Deep
in their throats, he sees stars,
yellow and black. Eyes
like bees, Georgia O'Keeffe must have stared
this way; and Mary, too, her star crossed
with sword, her womb great with son and black sea,

~

and greater by far with magnificat. How
could heaven be rest eternal,
with everlasting light tormenting everlasting eyes like these?
How could heaven be celestial music,
with no sense of time? Cacophony choir, endless cipher, washed wings
with no way of beating, no higher, no thrill of rising, no over,
and not a single witness: how could heaven be?

[delgaserasca.livejournal.com]

Hello! Poetry is a Very Welcome distraction (although, I'm pretty interested in my work now that I'm actually concentration. Consider this a well-earned break). This is wonderful - who is it by? It's so rich.

Fake rain is a British phenomenon in which the skies are grey and miserable, but it refuses to rain properly. So you walk around all day in a biting mist which clings to your clothes and hair, and makes your face ache. Hurrah England!

[atlashrugged.livejournal.com]

Well, I mostly have bad timing, but you can come back to it when you're in need of distraction. Oh, I guess the name would help! It's Muriel Nelson, who has released one book of which I know, and has poems scattered here and there.

That sounds unpleasant. I wouldn't recommend you write a travel brochure.

[noorie.livejournal.com]

you know what else is awesome about google? google translate. today i had a skype text-chat with a comp tech in colombia and i'd be completely lost w/o it!

[asemic.livejournal.com]

I always had faith in the flying monkeys.

[solanpolarn.livejournal.com]

I cannot believe that the invisible snakes didn't win! Snakes are so superevil!

I think from your comments above that perhaps you don't need more spam at the moment, but I will give you this poem anyway. You can come back to it when you do need spam at a later point, if nothing else.

Greatness
I met a little man from Glasgow
Who lives five flights above the city -
Disused sidings, empty factories and sheds,
The bitter dregs of drunken, late night youths.

But from his bedroom window he can see
On clear, blue days of winter
The single sharp crystal of Goat Fell
And the distant back of Ben Lomond.

Kenneth C Steven

I found this in a book of poems in a pub and it spoke to me, probably because I was living in Glasgow at the time, to the point where I noted down the author and bought the book of poems. The poem to me describes Glasgow so well, the majesty and brokenness of it at the same time, bringing it all to life. This is something I always used to complain about Uppsala lacking; there was nowhere to get a view, to see into the distance. While Uppsala was a lot less squalid than Glasgow, it also lacked this greatness and I was very pleased to find somebody who had managed to put it into words in a way I never could.