Saturday, August 30, 2008

Rose Aylmer

Ah, what avails the sceptred race!
Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine.

Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and sighs
I consecrate to thee.

-- Walter Savage Landor

I did not know her at all. It feels horrible now to wish I had. May she have left behind survivors.
To think that my last post featured a woman who had fought that same battle. And won. The irony.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

1. There is such a thing as knowing too much. An eventful past to reconcile with. And we haven't even got to my own.

2. I hate this template. But I hate the alternatives more. I also mean the blog.

3. With feeling comes pain.

4. I own 7 articles of maternity wear. My biological clock is set on snooze, apparently. This is costing me more than a baby. Dammit with the bloody hormones.

5. I still can't spell accommodate and obsessive correctly the first time.

6. I am incapable of writing academic papers. I am even less capable of writing chicklit. I have tried my hand at both. Not an hour ago. The paper begins with the myth of Echo and Narcissus. The chicklit began with the legend,"She blew a smoke-ring into the night air and declared, 'I hate tampons and men.'" I have wisely abandoned both. Paper and chicklit, not tampons and men.

7. This means I will never be rich or educated. Looking for one number millionaire male. Single, fat fetish preferred.

7. I have been winking at tiny human things. The response veers from great amusement to heartbreaking indifference.

8. Twice I dreamt of a room without a floor.

9. I think I got tricked.

10. I hate not being able to tell it like I feel it. I think I will do the fashionable blogshift.

11. Long-distance relationships:
pro -- No waxing! Ever!
con -- Right when you begin checking out that sexy geek, he will call and proceed to guilt the shit out of you. Besides, sexy geek can't tell if you're a man or a woman, what with all that virile undergrowth.

12. Bosses. Sleep eludes.

13. I'd written virulent outgrowth back there. I have GRE in a month.

14. Shit, I have a deadline and I can neither work nor sleep.

15. I watch Stacked to take fashion tips from the fat woman behind the counter. I don't know what the hell is going on in that show, and I don't see why Pammy's boobies should be considered ample substitutes for wit and humour. But that is none of my concern, because doods, I'm rooting for the fat chick. [I am not being condescending here, I just don't know her name or that of the character she plays. Or any of those characters. It's a very forgettable show.]

Five minutes later

Okay, googled and hyperlinked. Nobody's gonna call me a weightist. Her name's Katrina on the show. Her real name's Marissa Jaret Winokur, and she won a Tony! I liker.

Ten minutes later

This woman survived cervical cancer, had to get a hysterectomy done and didn't tell nobody about it! PLUS she won a TONY! And she was on one of them celebrity dance shows! Where she swung like a mad momma! She's big and pretty. I liker loads.

Pics courtesy and

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Words, wide night

Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.

This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.

La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you

and this is what it is like or what it is like in words.

-- Carol Ann Duffy

Being alone was easier despair.