a wolf angel is not a good angel

Didn’t think of it until now.

8.45: Yay, Sawyer shirtless!
8.49: Hee. The “explosive” season finale.
9.01: I will be seriously pissed if they kill Locke. He’s my favourite, or close.
9.02: Even my cat likes this show.
9.04: Guess not.
9.06: Jack, you’re such a massive asshole. (Like we didn’t know that.)
9.11: Aaron means lofty or exalted.
9.12: This is NOT supposed to be a medical show.
9.18: Like he wouldn’t have a wakeup call scheduled.
9.19: Also, like he wouldn’t have bought first class.
9.20: See? Never piss off the people who work at the airport. (This part is dull, which is why I am commenting a lot.)
9.21: Guess who regrets making that much of an effort now?
9.22: I love Hurley almost as much as I love Locke.
9.24: Argh. Fuck off, Jack.
9.25: Please don’t let this entire show be “everything happens for a reason”; I will have to retroactively hate the show.
9.29: There’s only half an hour left? How the hell are they going to end ANY of the huge unresolved questions?
9.39: 20 minutes? Same comment as above.
9.40: Cats have weird bumps on their heads.
9.41: Finally, Hurley sees the numbers.
9.45: This cannot possibly be good.
9.47: No, this isn’t going to be good.
9.48: Yeah, bad. Also, hello, TEN MINUTES LEFT, you have to tie up SOME loose ends, not just create NEW ones.
9.49: There was no way that raft was going to survive the episode. Why, yes, I can predict these things because I have watched tv before.
9.58: JJ Abrams still couldn’t figure out how to tie anything together, could he? Guess now he bought himself a summer.

Is it just me, or do these two contradict each other? And the first is not me; I am entirely not a risk-taker. (Will I try a new restaurant, even without knowing anything about it? Sure. But come on.)

And look, here we go!

I am an assertive, depressive, unfriendly bore!

I am ordering my mother’s birthday gift, and I’m a few dollars short of free shipping. What inexpensive but good book should I order to go with it? My current thought is to get my mother Nathaniel Philbrick’s Sea of Glory, because we both really liked In the Heart of the Sea (hey, Musey, that’s the book I was telling you about), and I think she’d like it, and bonus, I could read it too. But I could also get myself a book. So: ideas?

A joke that never gets old!

When do you eat it? And how often?
For breakfast, a few times a month.

What are your favorite cereals?
Weetabix. I eat others when I’m at hotels sometimes — Froot Loops are great snack foods — but mostly I just eat the one.

What kind will you not eat?
I don’t like the stuff with dried fruit in it.

What is the secret favorite that you don’t always admit?
Um. Weetabix? Seriously, it’s the only cereal I eat more than once a year.

What liquid do you pour on your cereal?
Skim milk. I suppose I’d use 1% if we were out of skim, but 2% feels too creamy now.

What do you put on top of your cereal?
Sugar and strawberries, bananas if we’re out of strawberries, but I will often elect not to have cereal if there are no strawberries. You can’t say I’m not rigid.

Do you prefer cereal or other foods for breakfast?
Depends when, but usually cereal is not my first choice.

Do you have any cereal-related rituals or other oddities?
Other than my ritual dance around the cereal bowl, singing chants to the cereal?

by profgrrrl, via Michelle

Well, so far today has been singularly unproductive. I did get a new phone (digital camcorder, which is going to be, well, useless, but the camera part is there too, which will be more fun). I did not write the stuff I needed to write. I did some of the laundry I intended to do, but not most of it. I did not do the changes here I wanted to do. I did not do my hair.

It’s rainy and cold and just terrible, and I am really tired. But we’re going out for Indian for my mother’s birthday (happy birthday!), and I will come home, do my hair, and then sleep. The other stuff will have to wait, I guess, though I’m disappointed in myself for not getting them done. I did go out with friends, but my cheesecake was singularly uninspiring, and the coffee was not even good.

His Coy Mistress to Mr. Marvell

Since you have world enough and time
Sir, to admonish me in rhyme,
Pray Mr Marvell, can it be
You think to have persuaded me?
Then let me say: you want the art
To woo, much less to win my heart.
The verse was splendid, all admit,
And, sir, you have a pretty wit.
All that indeed your poem lacked
Was logic, modesty, and tact,
Slight faults and ones to which I own,
Your sex is generally prone;
But though you lose your labour, I
Shall not refuse you a reply:

First, for the language you employ:
A term I deprecate is “coy”;
The ill-bred miss, the bird-brained Jill,
May simper and be coy at will;
A lady, sir, as you will find,
Keeps counsel, or she speaks her mind,
Means what she says and scorns to fence
And palter with feigned innocence.

The ambiguous “mistress” next you set
Beside this graceless epithet.
“Coy mistress”, sir? Who gave you leave
To wear my heart upon your sleeve?
Or to imply, as sure you do,
I had no other choice than you
And must remain upon the shelf
Unless I should bestir myself?
Shall I be moved to love you, pray,
By hints that I must soon decay?
No woman’s won by being told
How quickly she is growing old;
Nor will such ploys, when all is said,
Serve to stampede us into bed.

When from pure blackmail, next you move
To bribe or lure me into love,
No less inept, my rhyming friend,
Snared by the means, you miss your end.
“Times winged chariot”, and the rest
As poetry may pass the test;
Readers will quote those lines, I trust,
Till you and I and they are dust;
But I, your destined prey, must look
Less at the bait than at the hook,
Nor, when I do, can fail to see
Just what it is you offer me:
Love on the run, a rough embrace
Snatched in the fury of the chase,
The grave before us and the wheels
Of Time’s grim chariot at our heels,
While we, like “am’rous birds of prey”,
Tear at each other by the way.

To say the least, the scene you paint
Is, what you call my honour, quaint!
And on this point what prompted you
So crudely, and in public too,
To canvass and , indeed, make free
With my entire anatomy?
Poets have licence, I confess,
To speak of ladies in undress;
Thighs, hearts, brows, breasts are well enough,
In verses this is common stuff;
But — well I ask: to draw attention
To worms in — what I blush to mention,
And prate of dust upon it too!
Sir, was this any way to woo?

Now therefore, while male self-regard
Sits on your cheek, my hopeful bard,
May I suggest, before we part,
The best way to a woman’s heart
Is to be modest, candid, true;
Tell her you love and show you do;
Neither cajole nor condescend
And base the lover on the friend;
Don’t bustle her or fuss or snatch:
A suitor looking at his watch
Is not a posture that persuades
Willing, much less reluctant maids.

Remember that she will be stirred
More by the spirit than the word;
For truth and tenderness do more
Than coruscating metaphor.
Had you addressed me in such terms
And prattled less of graves and worms,
I might, who knows, have warmed to you;
But, as things stand, must bid adieu
(Though I am grateful for the rhyme)
And wish you better luck next time.

— A. D. Hope

from the internets, which is full of cool stuff.

More houses today!

Some nice ones overlooking the water, way well out of my price range. Other stuff even wayer and weller out of my price range.

Right now I feel there are a few places in one area that I would like to look at more, since I’ve pretty much looked out through the other one.

There’s one I saw before, which I particularly liked: it’s got the hole in the wall for a litter box. I’m not sure about the backyard/balcony thing on it; possibly I will ask to see it again. There is another which I went to today, which is . . . promising. It would need kitchen renovations, but the kitchen/dining room area could be lovely. The building is apparently full of people my age, and there’s a huge (shared) backyard, and a (theoretically private) patio. I’m more taken with that than with the inside, quite honestly. Not that the inside is *bad*, just that it’s not something I fell in love with at first sight.

So I will be emailing my agent — I need a name for her — and we will see. After I sleep on things, anyhow.

I’m also worried I will choose the wrong neighbourhood. I have never lived in the right neighbourhood (well, until about grade 3 or 4 I did). I want to be in the right neighbourhood now, only I am not sure which one that is.

I am, however, feeling remarkably hopeful (in general) today. It’s nice.

To Vermont!

I also realised that I underestimated taxes and condo fees (in part because I was looking at cheaper places), so I think I overestimated what I can afford, given all the other expenses I know I will have.

Must do a lot of thinking, a lot of number-crunching. This is incredibly frustrating.

I visited the two places I liked again. One of them is okay. The other, I love. I really love. Except — it’s on a busy street, and there’s no parking. There is parking with a sticker (a block or two away), but then I would need to go out and move my car every (week)day. (Well, probably not between Dec 1 and Mar 1 or Apr 1.) Which will be a bigger pain as I mostly will not be wanting to use it, so it would be nice if it were just sitting somewhere.

The place itself is wonderful, really: exactly what I want. I have to decide what’s going to matter, and whether this is even vaguely worth considering.

And, if it’s not, I need to never ever go back, because otherwise everything else will seem boring in comparison.