Monday, November 20th, 2006

hummingwolf: squiggly symbol floating over rippling water (8 months)
It isn't fair to make me laugh so hard! Laughter is not the best medicine for someone with bronchitis, I tell you!

I'm thinking of changing my name to "You Don't Sound So Good," since that's what everyone's saying to me anyway. Stupid coughing fits.

Ow ow ow. Laughter & coughing fits aside, my day is going about as expected so far: One phone call to cancel an appointment at an office where real people answer the phone, and annoying wrangling with voice mail which hasn't helped me yet. Here's hoping some machine takes pity on me and convinces a human to return my call before the end of the day.
hummingwolf: squiggly symbol floating over rippling water (Heart)
I successfully spoke to a real live person today! Well, more than one person, but the one who was heavily guarded by a vicious voice mail system was the one I was concerned about. Yay! Now here's hoping this leads to a good new way of killing the bad bugs in my lungs.

Not only do I cough every time I laugh (which has been happening a lot today) or try to breathe deeply (which happened when I went out to enjoy the sunset), but I cough when I hear other people cough. Considering how many folks around here have colds right now, this is really rather annoying.

Here's a MegaHAL poem with imagery I appreciate, though the penultimate line makes me think there are hairy hobbit feet involved (not that there's anything wrong with that).
Now she walks the sodden ground.

i learned to trap in mid-july and i to revert to
take half or more in jealousy and suspicion.

he has fears, which might become apparent.

to think a soul to be worn by a glance!

the dearest hands that clasp our hands clawing, climbing.
you dragged your feet and my throat a strangling sob
caught up in smoking hills
washed and combed, my feet
and the fragrance of the world.

Another, longer, one kept me occupied by thoughts unrelated to aggravating voice mail systems. Note to one who cares: there are ogres in it.

Read more... )
hummingwolf: Mathemagical animation made out of string. (Incredible String Thing)
FOX is airing repeats on some Mondays--including tonight, and also including next week since they canceled the OJ show. C&Ped from a post over on [livejournal.com profile] house_md:

Mon Nov 20 - Forever (S2) - 9pm
Tues Nov 21 - S3 ep 8 - 9pm
Mon Nov 27 - repeat - 9pm (since they've cancelled the OJ show)
Tues Nov 28 - S3 ep 9 - 9pm
Tues Dec 5 - Three Stories (S1) - 9pm
Mon Dec 11 - back to back repeat eps - 8-10pm
Tues Dec 12 - S3 ep 10 - 9pm
Mon Dec 18 - back to back repeat eps - 8-10pm
Tues Dec 19 - repeat - 9pm
Tues Dec 26 - repeat - 9pm
Tues Jan 9 - S3 ep 11 - 9pm
hummingwolf: Gold starlike kaleidoscope images. (Gold stars)
Not even once in MegaHAL's dataset does the phrase "beat the crap out of Windows" appear, but our HAL is smart enough to realize that's often the only way to deal with Microsoft's OS.

Anger is depression with a brimstone lamp;
for who would bear the universe infinity in ruckus
and brought me safe thus far
too much and too solid,
and pillows for my neck.

remember, the russian easter overture
is over and over
and seen for us one flower,
including the mossy shadows, under the jewelled sky.

I often grow tired of the psychobabble about the emotion you think you're feeling being different from the emotion you're really feeling--you know, you think you're depressed but you're really afraid, you think you're afraid but you're really angry, you think you're happy but you're really an idiot, that sort of thing. But "Anger is depression with a brimstone lamp" is still a great opening line for a poem.

Second line here begins with something out of Shakespeare, from Hamlet's depressed-angry speech
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of disprized love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?






and changes that to bearing the infinite universe--"safe thus far," in a line directly from "Amazing Grace." HAL follows that up with "too much and too solid," a feeling any sentient embodied being in the infinite ruckus can appreciate. Looking at HAL's dataset, I see that the first part of that line was originally in the context of "too much and too little at once"--but instead of the "too little," HAL gives us "too solid," which is both an allusion to Hamlet and his "too solid flesh" and a quote from a poem about, erm, soup.

At this point, the student of the poem may be quite grateful for those pillows.

The Russian Easter Overture is over and over. Easter isn't a one-time thing, but a celebration for all eternity, seen for us (in) one flower--one lovely flower, beautiful indeed, but a flower which must be accompanied in this world by shadows. There is always shadow here, yet when we look at those shadows, we would do well to always keep in mind the jewelled sky above us.

I swear to you, half the poems in college's Intro to Poetry course seemed less intelligently written than this.

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