laila (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sevendials) wrote2009-02-06 04:23 pm
sevendials) wrote2009-02-06 04:23 pm
Entry tags:
... no, that doesn't make you the next W. H. Auden. Stop it.
I put the battery back in my wall clock. I'm thinking of taking it out again, though, because for some reason it ticks extremely loudly and when I'm not making any other noise myself, it can be quite distracting. Fortunately I always sleep with earplugs in, so it isn't keeping me from getting to sleep, but it's still pretty noticeable when I'm just sitting around doing not very much, as I am at the moment. On the other hand, it's useful to have a big clock back. Decisions...
I'm procrastinating on abut nine million things, including writing, posting an actual update of substance (I have one I really want to do) and lunch. As regards lunch, I'm not all that hungry just yet and should probably wait until I am.
Also, I seem to have a lot of fics I want to work on, mostly simultaneously. I need to look into cloning, I guess. I want to start on some of those theoretically brief birthday fic prompts I asked for, also finish another chapter of That WIP and work on the Omi/Ken noncon fic with ideas above its station and also Ordinary People which keeps jumping up and down like an ADD sibling demanding it's awesome and oh God Roses in Rain, but I really feel like I need to finish the two one-shots I have on the go at the moment before I can do anything else. Problem is that for various reasons (mostly related to me being me) they're coming very slowly and taking a lot longer than I anticipated they would. Why in the world I can get this much etcetera out of two very simple concepts I don't know. Damn scene-setting and mood-building and nuances.
Of course, as is fairly typical in this situation, as I have so much I could be doing what I am actually doing is nothing very much aside from sit on my ass, browse my friendslist, and post on Gaia. So, while I'm procrastinating, here's a meme I ganked from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vr2lbast
When you see this, post your favorite poem in your journal.
This was actually quite hard, largely because the more I try and think about what my favorite poem actually is, the more of them I remember and the more confused I get. I get all tangled up with This Be The Verse which is the only poem I know off by heart and explains why I personally do not want children (I'd only fuck them up) but which is not my favorite poem thanks mom, and Siegfried Sassoon's The General, which I almost know off by heart and also Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen and W. B. Yeats's An Irish Airman Forsees His Death which I know I only heard of because it was used in Memphis Belle but I still love it, and The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is Too Damn Long and Inferno is a sodding book... yeah, it's nearly impossible.
The irony is that after all that muddle and confusion and realizing I liked far more poems than I thought I ultimately decided that I couldn't choose between two poems by William Blake. I knew London - which I first read in English class aged fifteen, and couldn't believe that I was the only one there who thought it was a brilliant poem - was by Blake, but I had no idea he wrote The Tyger too.
... shut up it's my LJ I can have two favorite poems if I want.
By the by, I would not recommend actually spending time on this site I found most of these poems on, because a whole lot of amateur idiots seem to think either it's FictionPress or they're on a par with Emily Dickinson and have uploaded their own painfully tedious doggerel there, which makes browsing around a painful experience and searching the database an utter nightmare.
Guys, sorry if this busts your bubble but 99.5% of the people who come to a site called PoemHunter are looking for something they read once and forgot, or - like I was - to the actual verses of a poem they already know and love. They're not after reading the tiresome, self-indulgent and ultimately utterly forgettable scribblings of a self-regarding emo teenager who really should have got herself a MySpace or a FictionPress account, not uploaded her dashed-off masterworks # I USED TO KNOW ME SO WELL #, mi suicide, ♥ Diary of a Broken Child♥ and Cutz on a site which lists them alongside the works of Edgar Allan Poe, Rudyard Kipling, Sylvia Plath and the sonnets of William Shakespeare.
I'm procrastinating on abut nine million things, including writing, posting an actual update of substance (I have one I really want to do) and lunch. As regards lunch, I'm not all that hungry just yet and should probably wait until I am.
Also, I seem to have a lot of fics I want to work on, mostly simultaneously. I need to look into cloning, I guess. I want to start on some of those theoretically brief birthday fic prompts I asked for, also finish another chapter of That WIP and work on the Omi/Ken noncon fic with ideas above its station and also Ordinary People which keeps jumping up and down like an ADD sibling demanding it's awesome and oh God Roses in Rain, but I really feel like I need to finish the two one-shots I have on the go at the moment before I can do anything else. Problem is that for various reasons (mostly related to me being me) they're coming very slowly and taking a lot longer than I anticipated they would. Why in the world I can get this much etcetera out of two very simple concepts I don't know. Damn scene-setting and mood-building and nuances.
Of course, as is fairly typical in this situation, as I have so much I could be doing what I am actually doing is nothing very much aside from sit on my ass, browse my friendslist, and post on Gaia. So, while I'm procrastinating, here's a meme I ganked from
vr2lbastWhen you see this, post your favorite poem in your journal.
London
I wandered through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
A mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear:
How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.
But most, through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse.
William Blake
This was actually quite hard, largely because the more I try and think about what my favorite poem actually is, the more of them I remember and the more confused I get. I get all tangled up with This Be The Verse which is the only poem I know off by heart and explains why I personally do not want children (I'd only fuck them up) but which is not my favorite poem thanks mom, and Siegfried Sassoon's The General, which I almost know off by heart and also Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen and W. B. Yeats's An Irish Airman Forsees His Death which I know I only heard of because it was used in Memphis Belle but I still love it, and The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is Too Damn Long and Inferno is a sodding book... yeah, it's nearly impossible.
The irony is that after all that muddle and confusion and realizing I liked far more poems than I thought I ultimately decided that I couldn't choose between two poems by William Blake. I knew London - which I first read in English class aged fifteen, and couldn't believe that I was the only one there who thought it was a brilliant poem - was by Blake, but I had no idea he wrote The Tyger too.
The Tyger
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
William Blake
... shut up it's my LJ I can have two favorite poems if I want.
By the by, I would not recommend actually spending time on this site I found most of these poems on, because a whole lot of amateur idiots seem to think either it's FictionPress or they're on a par with Emily Dickinson and have uploaded their own painfully tedious doggerel there, which makes browsing around a painful experience and searching the database an utter nightmare.
Guys, sorry if this busts your bubble but 99.5% of the people who come to a site called PoemHunter are looking for something they read once and forgot, or - like I was - to the actual verses of a poem they already know and love. They're not after reading the tiresome, self-indulgent and ultimately utterly forgettable scribblings of a self-regarding emo teenager who really should have got herself a MySpace or a FictionPress account, not uploaded her dashed-off masterworks # I USED TO KNOW ME SO WELL #, mi suicide, ♥ Diary of a Broken Child♥ and Cutz on a site which lists them alongside the works of Edgar Allan Poe, Rudyard Kipling, Sylvia Plath and the sonnets of William Shakespeare.