hummingwolf | (no subject)

Current Mood: frustrated

Entry tags:

frothing at mouth

(no subject)

If there is anything more frustrating than having a brain which refuses to work properly, it's having a brain which is quite willing to work--but not in the ways you need it to work at the time. My brain today would love to make intuitive leaps and connections, to range far and wide in airy realms (or possibly watery realms? cloudy realms? the misty mid region of Weir?); but today I need it to work down-to-earth in practical realms. And it won't do it. Grr... I didn't wake up depressed (for a change), but this really isn't helping my mood any.

In other news, why is it that so many people who listen to Loreena McKennitt also listen to Enya? How do they reconcile this to themselves? Is it merely that both are female singers who sound somewhat Celtic? Beyond superficialities, they have nought in common. Loreena McKennitt creates music of haunting beauty, while Enya's sloppy soporifics are clearly created in service to Satan! How can so many people be so dreadfully deceived? How--

(The hummingwolf, now noticeably frothing at the mouth, is removed from the room by some nice young men in clean white coats, much to the relief of the audience.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

oh, dear, they came to take you away! i'll come & spring you, if need be. ;)

i own one enya album and 2 mckennitts. further than that, i will keep a prudent silence. hee hee

how about this *sunshine*?

Sunshine? There was sunshine? Darn those men in the white coats! Darn them to heck for keeping me indoors away from the sunshine!

Glad you're day improved with the sunshine, though.

errr, i didn't actually go OUT into the sunshine.... hee!

did this morning while it was still so cold and windy. then noticed beautiful sunshine coming in the window in the afternoon. btw, the weather channel just showed me snowflakes falling onto monday. oh nooo.... is it spring yet?

My brain works like that all the time. Every moment. You mean this is unusual enough to be a reason to complain? Geez, no wonder my husband gets annoyed when i say, "Could you repeat that please? I was being distracted by the way the absurdity of life affects people's perspectives."

By the way, Satan who? :)

Hee. It's a reason to complain for me when I don't have anyone else to rely on to do these things. I *must* be the practical one--there's nobody else to be practical for me! It's very frustrating when my brain decides it's been trying to keep down to earth too long and wants to drift in other realms instead. Today there was a bitter struggle where I neither did the intuitive connecting my brain was trying to do nor the practical things I have to do before deadline. Hopefully in the near future my needs and abilities will mesh enough for me to get things done *and* have some recreational thought-time.

Satan who? I'm not sure yet, but it might possibly be Celine Dion.

Yeep. No wonder so many people think Satan is creepy.

I like both Loreena and Enya and I'm not the least bit ashamed... but then I also like the Beastie Boys, and Kurt Cobain is my Rock God, so I'm probably not your best resource when it comes to musicians with talent. :)

My brain today would love to make intuitive leaps and connections, to range far and wide in airy realms (or possibly watery realms? cloudy realms? the misty mid region of Weir?); but today I need it to work down-to-earth in practical realms. And it won't do it.

You've just described just about every damn day of my life.

See, if I could count on my brain do these things every day of my life, maybe I could find a way to make a career out of it. As it is, I think practically when there's nothing to be done and I go into ethereal mode when I need to do things. It's all mismatched and askew and I don't like it.

i'd like to quote this on my userinfo page :-D

may i may i please please please?

Hee! Go right ahead.

where is/what is Weir?

new word to me . . .

i like both enya and loreena,
elvis,the beatles,the rolling stones,jimi hendrix . . .

and the backstreet boys and the carpenters . . .

opera,classical music,modern country music . . .

"wise men say only fools run in"

ah,the brain while surfing the radio . . .

"like the river flows surely to the sea"

mania insania insomnia and the madness of my lj friends pages . . .

but that was a yawn,

maybe morpheus's call the power magick of kitty sleep spells

will win out . . .

"these are the days when all i can do dream."

click your ruby slippers three times

and the men is white coats will disappear . . .

Peace,

Bear

I love lots of different musicians--genre doesn't matter much to me, if at all. But for some reason, Enya really gets on my nerves.

The "Weir" bit was just me showing I've read too much Edgar Allan Poe! Talking about air and water made me think of mist, which in turn made me think of this poem:

Ulalume
Edgar Allan Poe

The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere -
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year:
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir -
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

Here once, through and alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul -
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll -
As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of the pole -
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.

Our talk had been serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere -
Our memories were treacherous and sere, -
For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night of the year
(Ah, night of all nights in the year!) -
We noted not the dim lake of Auber
(Though once we had journeyed down here) -
Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

And now, as the night was senescent
And star-dials pointed to morn -
As the star-dials hinted of morn -
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn -
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.

And I said: "She is warmer than Dian;
She rolls through an ether of sighs -
She revels in a region of sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion
To point us the path to the skies -
To the Lethean peace of the skies -
Come up, in despite of the Lion,
To shine on us with her bright eyes -
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes."

But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said: "Sadly this star I mistrust -
Her pallor I strangely mistrust:
Ah, hasten! -ah, let us not linger!
Ah, fly! -let us fly! -for we must."
In terror she spoke, letting sink her
Wings until they trailed in the dust -
In agony sobbed, letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed in the dust -
Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.

I replied: "This is nothing but dreaming:
Let us on by this tremulous light!
Let us bathe in this crystalline light!
Its Sybilic splendour is beaming
With Hope and in Beauty tonight! -
See! -it flickers up the sky through the night!
Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,
And be sure it will lead us aright -
We safely may trust to a gleaming,
That cannot but guide us aright,
Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night."

Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom -
And conquered her scruples and gloom;
And we passed to the end of the vista,
But were stopped by the door of a tomb -
By the door of a legended tomb;
And I said: "What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended tomb?"
She replied: "Ulalume -Ulalume -
'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crisped and sere -
As the leaves that were withering and sere;
And I cried: "It was surely October
On this very night of last year
That I journeyed -I journeyed down here! -
That I brought a dread burden down here -
On this night of all nights in the year,
Ah, what demon hath tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber -
This misty mid region of Weir -
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber,
This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."

Thank you for the poem!

I haven't much gotten into Poe,yet . . .

or much "deep" poetry with words

beyond my rather extensive vocabulary in years . . .

Hope that you cut and pasted from the web,

or type with lightening fast speed

and amazing accuracy!

i understand that certain singers grate on the nerves , , ,

most of Emenin(sp?>)[white rapper] songs do the same for me. . .

though i think i actually like one of his songs

in "high rotation" on many radio stations around here . . .

just waking up from a very long stretch of sleep time

from 11am to sometime after 9pm . . .

need to call my baby bro on his cell phone in hawaii . . .

five hours earlier than here . . .

gonna cut and paste the poem by poe and put it in my journal . . .

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(no subject)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

making (brain)waves

Re: making (brain)waves

Re: making (brain)waves

Re: making (brain)waves

Weir? Enya satanic? hmmm . . .

Re: Weir? Enya satanic? hmmm . . .

Ulalume/ramble