Pop goes the egg!

Popping my egg back to the top of my LJ, since the hatch date is almost here...



In other news: overslept my alarm by 6 hours. >.< I know I've been saying "fuck" a lot these last few days, but here it comes again -- fuck!

Bleeding on-and-off like a stuck pig, no energy, and great apathy. But Hardy Boys must be flatted, and I got no work done yesterday. At least the worst of the cramps seem to be over, praise whatever Powers there be.

If you're reading this, rollwithmehenry from Yahoo! Religion chat, I'm thinking about you and hope you're okay in the midst of the hurricane.

More of my favorite poetry

One Walt Whitman, and three Amy Lowell:

When I heard at the Close of the Day

When I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv'd
with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy night for
me that follow'd,
And else when I carous'd, or when my plans were accomplish'd, still
I was not happy,
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health,
refresh'd, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the
morning light,
When I wander'd alone over the beach, and undressing bathed,
laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought how my dear friend my lover was on his way
coming, O then I was happy,
O then each breath tasted sweeter, and all that day my food
nourish'd me more, and the beautiful day pass'd well,
And the next came with equal joy, and with the next at evening came
my friend,
And that night while all was still I heard the waters roll slowly
continually up the shores,
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands as directed to me
whispering to congratulate me,
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in
the cool night,
In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined toward me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast--and that night I was happy.

-- Walt Whitman


Decade

When you came, you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread,
Smooth and pleasant.
I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour,
But I am completely nourished.

-- Amy Lowell


Madonna of the Evening Flowers

All day long I have been working,
Now I am tired
I call: "Where are you?"
But there is only the oak-tree rustling in the wind.
The house is very quiet,
The sun shines in on your books,
On your scissors and thimble just put down,
But you are not there.
Suddenly I am lonely:
Where are you? I go about searching.

Then I see you,
Standing under a spire of pale blue larkspur,
With a basket of roses on your arm.
You are cool, like silver,
And you smile.
I think the Canterbury bells are playing little tunes.

You tell me that the peonies need spraying,
That the columbines have overrun all bounds,
That the pyrus japonica should be cut back and rounded.
You tell me all these things.
But I look at you, heart of silver,
White heart-flame of polished silver,
Burning beneath the blue steeples of the larkspur,
And I long to kneel instantly at your feet,
While all about us peal the loud, sweet, Te Deums of the Canterbury bells.

-- Amy Lowell


Taxi

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

-- Amy Lowell

Quizzes, some gacked from ravyne_hawke

( Many many quiz results )

Musings on a Chinese dinner

Due to being out-of-sorts and craving Chinese food, I said "to hell with it" and ordered in tonight -- fried mixed greens, lemon chicken, chicken fried rice, deep fried breaded pork, tasty little spring rolls with saffron-infused noodles inside, and something I've never tried before, barbequed pork egg fooyong. Having never tried egg fooyong of any sort, I wasn't sure what to expect, and pulled the paper lid off the container to find two objects that looked a bit like fried placenta. Bleah... on the other hand, they tasted pretty darned good once I broke them open and found the egg, cabbage, sprouts and pork inside. I'm not sure I'll order it again, but at least I can say I've sampled it.

Hardy Boys is actually proceeding fairly well today considering my less-than-sharp mental state. The art continues to be substandard, but I've got a color palette now on the interior locations and that makes things easier.