love's labours
Jul. 29th, 2016 07:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yamamanamaHeirs of All Eternity is from Love's Labour's Lost and was misquoted in Child of the River, but I'm using it anyway and I know there's going to be a Shakespeare on the Common of that play one fine summer and I'm going to regret that.
-me, in 2013.
Nailed it. I would tell you to go check the internet archive if you don't believe me but it's not on there, so you're just going to have to trust me on that one. There was a period where Shadowdancer Duskstar was creepily obessed with my friendship with Emma and cataloguing every negative thing I said about Vee MOTHERFUCKIN DEE, but this was long before that happened, and so my livejournal was saved on the internet archive about fifty times, 16 times in May 2015, a month in which I only updated five times. And then Aff consigned the obsessive catalogue to the ether because he's an idiot and a techie.
It was a hot and hazy day and I thought it would start raining any second. It hasn't really rained since June and it shows.
A man had a tattoo of skulls and of roses and of a face that was half human with dark chin-length hair and half skull with deep black eye sockets.
I saw Keytar Bear at Downtown Crossing.
I bought Radix at Brattle Books. It's a Bantam Spectra book but the font of the title is different and the artwork is different and doesn't have the rainbow theme of Arc of the Dream and In Other Worlds.
Books are more expensive there, four dollars for a standard mass market paperback, and the guy at the desk told me that they try to alphabetize their books but too many people move too many things around and so they don't really bother. The woman at the desk has a Dorothy Parker poem tattooed on one of her arms and on the other, a few visages or something. If there are any Richard Grant novels there, I have yet to find any. I found Capella's Golden Eyes there. Since I already obtained it for 50 cents from a library sale, you are free to waltz in and buy it should you choose. I also saw Ian Watson's Book of the River but you're on your own for the other two and unless you know exactly where those other two books are, you're better off buying the omnibus, Yaleen. I saw World's End by Joan D. Vinge and Earthwind by Robert Holdstock and hope they'll stick around for a while, and I didn't think about the other things I might want, like things by M.J. Engh or A Mask For The General by Lisa Goldstein. I had to be somewhere.
A long time ago, the great hardship of the white nationalist right was not being able to find books by their kind and either they had to read The Turner Diaries and Camp of the Saints yet again or they had to read books by left-wing writers.
Now the pendulum has swung too far in the opposite direction and we're glutted with garbage like Van Ripplewink: You Can't Go Home Again. The Passive Voice will tell you that this is a Good Thing.
The SPLC was asking for donations in front of the graveyard between Park Street Station and Piperi.
The woman with pink hair is Evelyn. I believe that I met her in front of the MFA on Eid al-Fitr/my birthday. She says that they have some good days and some bad days.
There was a guy playing the flute in the public gardens. The Prince of Birds was nearby, picking at the grass for ants and grubs or whatever it is red-winged blackbirds eat.
Dogs, like humans, have their own distinct personalities. One dog is a brown labradoodle who someone said is ombre so he's naturally fashionable, and he has cute but very sharp teeth and since he's 3 months old, he's teething. Ruff Waldo Emerson, or Waldo for short, probably doesn't know his own name but knows when he's being drawn so he looks away. Baloney likes to jump on people. The corgis with the Hello Kitty harnesses like to waddle off. Cleo used her potential therapy dog abilities on someone who really needed a cuddle this week. Sadie loves humans but doesn't really get along with other dogs, although she tolerated Sasha's presence.
The older woman and the man each have a tattoo depicting a cross of herbs. I don't remember the specific plants mostly but I remember marshmallow and some kind of seaweed and something that resembles foxglove and pine and yarrow, which resembles Queen Anne's lace. They both have different herbs because they're different people. The woman has a design of coiling and spiraling vines on her other arm and back. The man has his name tattooed with his name in Egyptian hieroglyphs, which ends with "vulture, singular zigzag." I dunno, maybe it's an owl or a quail. Maybe his name has a glottal stop. Maybe you can guess his name. Maybe he's using it as a substitute for a vowel.
the younger woman with green hair has no visible tattoos, and she had a sketchbook with her. She likes dogs and immediately endeared herself with Sadie and Sasha.
A woman had a tattoo of a tree with stars above it… I think I encountered her before or maybe it's just déjà vu.
I met a woman who was talking about genetic testing and how she knew she has Romany and Native American (by that, I'm pretty sure she means Cree or Innu, as she's talking about French Canadian) and definitely knew she had Irish and Scottish because of her red hair but the ambiguous Balkans came as a surprise. She has a tattoo of a firebird and of a mermaid with bare breasts and a headdress of purple feathers. They're not on her legs, though, they're on her back.
Her brother looks downright middle eastern and he always gets profiled at airports. Ah, life in the glorious 21st century.
She doesn't believe we're quite in that bad future, as our streets are too clean for it. Let us hope Trump doesn't win the election. It's sad that we have to vote against Trump, that our elections have ossified into very close in popular terms elections decided by a few swing states. I think the worst thing about a Trump victory is that there are a large contingent of democrats who want to go back to their roots as a white working class party. In the meanwhile, let's party like it's 1932.
"I would do anything for love! But I won't do that!" He had a guitar with him.
"Hey, can you think of Shakespeare characters who would do crazy things for love?"
Instead of picking the obvious, he picked Hamlet.
She ran off after he told her to get thee to a nunnery.
"Sorry, it's just an act. The nunnery is that way."
"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your donations. I come to donate to Caesar… um. Not to... uh."
As is now tradition, they played Brush Up Your Shakespeare from Kiss Me Kate before the play started, along with a few songs I don't recognize.
I've heard something about it being a musical. Whoever told you it is is mistaken.
The King of Navarre, named Ferdinand in the script but not in the actual play, and his lords Berowne, Longaville, and Dumain, study for three years, swearing off fine dining and women. Berowne thinks this is way too strict and the punishments way too cruel.
Navarre was a Basque-speaking country that existed from around 824 to 1620. Shakespeare never lived to see France annex it. Nowadays, the Basques are split between France and Spain. France is France. France pretends to be homogenous but has subsumed Brittany and Occitania and Corsica and had a massive overseas empire, which includes Chad, and I have literally no idea why anyone would ever want to take over Chad.
Navarre is depicted as a jade palace with green lamps and emerald windows and abstract geometric topiary.
Don Armado is a Spanish soldier who talks in an exaggerated accent and dresses like a matador. Costard is having a romance with Jaquenetta, but Armado sings horribly about how in love with Jaquenetta he is accompanied by a guy on guitar who may have been the same guy who was singing Meat Loaf songs, but she's not interested, so he has Costard locked up.
Dull is dressed as a park ranger and carries with him a whistle.
The Princess of France arrives but they aren't letting her in. Unlike Ferdinand, she is unnamed in the script as well. Each of her ladies has a crush on each of the lords, Longaville and Maria, Berowne and Rosaline, Dumain and Katharine, and the lords write love letters but Costard mixes them up and gives them to the wrong recipients. Holofernes the scholar, Nathaniel the curate, and Dull the constable, who remind me of the side characters in Gormenghast, argue about the age of the hunted deer. A pricket is a male deer who's antlers have not yet branched. Then they discuss the poetry in Berowne's letter. The King decides that they're shirking on their academic goals and abolishes the oath.
(intermission: someone looked like she had pale green hair in the citylight but it may have just been pale blonde and someone couldn't tell the difference between locked red and unlocked green on the port-o-potty door in less than adequate lighting conditions)
Holofernes, Nathaniel, Moth, Costard, and Dull prepare a pageant of the Nine Worthies. At one point, Holofernes drops to the floor and runs around whooping a la Curly. The women discuss the letters and gifts they weren't meant to receive, and Boyet shows up and tells them of the ridiculous plan to dress as Muscovites and do a dance for them, so the women put on masks. The men ride in on bicycles, dance, and talk with exaggerated Russian accents, leave, and return as themselves.
Like a Midsummer Night's Dream, it ends with an incompetent play within a play where the actors are heckled by the other characters, but in comes Mercade, a messenger from France, to inform their audience that the King of France has died, and so the women return home and tell the men that they must live as anchorites for the next 366 days. Should the privation not kill their love, they can be together afterwards. The end. For a comedy, it's not the typical happy ending.
Love's Labour's Won is either a lost sequel to this or an alternate title for something else, probably Much Ado About Nothing or The Taming of the Shrew.
burning question: isn't the gap between dimensions itself another dimension?
-me, in 2013.
Nailed it. I would tell you to go check the internet archive if you don't believe me but it's not on there, so you're just going to have to trust me on that one. There was a period where Shadowdancer Duskstar was creepily obessed with my friendship with Emma and cataloguing every negative thing I said about Vee MOTHERFUCKIN DEE, but this was long before that happened, and so my livejournal was saved on the internet archive about fifty times, 16 times in May 2015, a month in which I only updated five times. And then Aff consigned the obsessive catalogue to the ether because he's an idiot and a techie.
It was a hot and hazy day and I thought it would start raining any second. It hasn't really rained since June and it shows.
A man had a tattoo of skulls and of roses and of a face that was half human with dark chin-length hair and half skull with deep black eye sockets.
I saw Keytar Bear at Downtown Crossing.
I bought Radix at Brattle Books. It's a Bantam Spectra book but the font of the title is different and the artwork is different and doesn't have the rainbow theme of Arc of the Dream and In Other Worlds.
Books are more expensive there, four dollars for a standard mass market paperback, and the guy at the desk told me that they try to alphabetize their books but too many people move too many things around and so they don't really bother. The woman at the desk has a Dorothy Parker poem tattooed on one of her arms and on the other, a few visages or something. If there are any Richard Grant novels there, I have yet to find any. I found Capella's Golden Eyes there. Since I already obtained it for 50 cents from a library sale, you are free to waltz in and buy it should you choose. I also saw Ian Watson's Book of the River but you're on your own for the other two and unless you know exactly where those other two books are, you're better off buying the omnibus, Yaleen. I saw World's End by Joan D. Vinge and Earthwind by Robert Holdstock and hope they'll stick around for a while, and I didn't think about the other things I might want, like things by M.J. Engh or A Mask For The General by Lisa Goldstein. I had to be somewhere.
A long time ago, the great hardship of the white nationalist right was not being able to find books by their kind and either they had to read The Turner Diaries and Camp of the Saints yet again or they had to read books by left-wing writers.
Now the pendulum has swung too far in the opposite direction and we're glutted with garbage like Van Ripplewink: You Can't Go Home Again. The Passive Voice will tell you that this is a Good Thing.
The SPLC was asking for donations in front of the graveyard between Park Street Station and Piperi.
The woman with pink hair is Evelyn. I believe that I met her in front of the MFA on Eid al-Fitr/my birthday. She says that they have some good days and some bad days.
There was a guy playing the flute in the public gardens. The Prince of Birds was nearby, picking at the grass for ants and grubs or whatever it is red-winged blackbirds eat.
Dogs, like humans, have their own distinct personalities. One dog is a brown labradoodle who someone said is ombre so he's naturally fashionable, and he has cute but very sharp teeth and since he's 3 months old, he's teething. Ruff Waldo Emerson, or Waldo for short, probably doesn't know his own name but knows when he's being drawn so he looks away. Baloney likes to jump on people. The corgis with the Hello Kitty harnesses like to waddle off. Cleo used her potential therapy dog abilities on someone who really needed a cuddle this week. Sadie loves humans but doesn't really get along with other dogs, although she tolerated Sasha's presence.
The older woman and the man each have a tattoo depicting a cross of herbs. I don't remember the specific plants mostly but I remember marshmallow and some kind of seaweed and something that resembles foxglove and pine and yarrow, which resembles Queen Anne's lace. They both have different herbs because they're different people. The woman has a design of coiling and spiraling vines on her other arm and back. The man has his name tattooed with his name in Egyptian hieroglyphs, which ends with "vulture, singular zigzag." I dunno, maybe it's an owl or a quail. Maybe his name has a glottal stop. Maybe you can guess his name. Maybe he's using it as a substitute for a vowel.
the younger woman with green hair has no visible tattoos, and she had a sketchbook with her. She likes dogs and immediately endeared herself with Sadie and Sasha.
A woman had a tattoo of a tree with stars above it… I think I encountered her before or maybe it's just déjà vu.
I met a woman who was talking about genetic testing and how she knew she has Romany and Native American (by that, I'm pretty sure she means Cree or Innu, as she's talking about French Canadian) and definitely knew she had Irish and Scottish because of her red hair but the ambiguous Balkans came as a surprise. She has a tattoo of a firebird and of a mermaid with bare breasts and a headdress of purple feathers. They're not on her legs, though, they're on her back.
Her brother looks downright middle eastern and he always gets profiled at airports. Ah, life in the glorious 21st century.
She doesn't believe we're quite in that bad future, as our streets are too clean for it. Let us hope Trump doesn't win the election. It's sad that we have to vote against Trump, that our elections have ossified into very close in popular terms elections decided by a few swing states. I think the worst thing about a Trump victory is that there are a large contingent of democrats who want to go back to their roots as a white working class party. In the meanwhile, let's party like it's 1932.
"I would do anything for love! But I won't do that!" He had a guitar with him.
"Hey, can you think of Shakespeare characters who would do crazy things for love?"
Instead of picking the obvious, he picked Hamlet.
She ran off after he told her to get thee to a nunnery.
"Sorry, it's just an act. The nunnery is that way."
"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your donations. I come to donate to Caesar… um. Not to... uh."
As is now tradition, they played Brush Up Your Shakespeare from Kiss Me Kate before the play started, along with a few songs I don't recognize.
I've heard something about it being a musical. Whoever told you it is is mistaken.
The King of Navarre, named Ferdinand in the script but not in the actual play, and his lords Berowne, Longaville, and Dumain, study for three years, swearing off fine dining and women. Berowne thinks this is way too strict and the punishments way too cruel.
Navarre was a Basque-speaking country that existed from around 824 to 1620. Shakespeare never lived to see France annex it. Nowadays, the Basques are split between France and Spain. France is France. France pretends to be homogenous but has subsumed Brittany and Occitania and Corsica and had a massive overseas empire, which includes Chad, and I have literally no idea why anyone would ever want to take over Chad.
Navarre is depicted as a jade palace with green lamps and emerald windows and abstract geometric topiary.
Don Armado is a Spanish soldier who talks in an exaggerated accent and dresses like a matador. Costard is having a romance with Jaquenetta, but Armado sings horribly about how in love with Jaquenetta he is accompanied by a guy on guitar who may have been the same guy who was singing Meat Loaf songs, but she's not interested, so he has Costard locked up.
Dull is dressed as a park ranger and carries with him a whistle.
The Princess of France arrives but they aren't letting her in. Unlike Ferdinand, she is unnamed in the script as well. Each of her ladies has a crush on each of the lords, Longaville and Maria, Berowne and Rosaline, Dumain and Katharine, and the lords write love letters but Costard mixes them up and gives them to the wrong recipients. Holofernes the scholar, Nathaniel the curate, and Dull the constable, who remind me of the side characters in Gormenghast, argue about the age of the hunted deer. A pricket is a male deer who's antlers have not yet branched. Then they discuss the poetry in Berowne's letter. The King decides that they're shirking on their academic goals and abolishes the oath.
(intermission: someone looked like she had pale green hair in the citylight but it may have just been pale blonde and someone couldn't tell the difference between locked red and unlocked green on the port-o-potty door in less than adequate lighting conditions)
Holofernes, Nathaniel, Moth, Costard, and Dull prepare a pageant of the Nine Worthies. At one point, Holofernes drops to the floor and runs around whooping a la Curly. The women discuss the letters and gifts they weren't meant to receive, and Boyet shows up and tells them of the ridiculous plan to dress as Muscovites and do a dance for them, so the women put on masks. The men ride in on bicycles, dance, and talk with exaggerated Russian accents, leave, and return as themselves.
Like a Midsummer Night's Dream, it ends with an incompetent play within a play where the actors are heckled by the other characters, but in comes Mercade, a messenger from France, to inform their audience that the King of France has died, and so the women return home and tell the men that they must live as anchorites for the next 366 days. Should the privation not kill their love, they can be together afterwards. The end. For a comedy, it's not the typical happy ending.
Love's Labour's Won is either a lost sequel to this or an alternate title for something else, probably Much Ado About Nothing or The Taming of the Shrew.
burning question: isn't the gap between dimensions itself another dimension?
