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Oct. 18th, 2004
Something I noticed at the opera: people are beginning to go very underdressed. I mean, I am fully aware that I rather madly went through all my clothes until I found something I'd borrowed from Mum that was exceedingly fancy, and gold and black, and probably overdressed; but I like doing that. When I go to church, I consider it my privilege to be as crazy and extravagant as I'd like with my dresses, because I've no other real excuse to do so.
But really. I saw a woman wearing pink sweats. I saw a fellow wearing a sweater and jeans. Is this honestly what people wear to the opera now?
I understand that I am mad about clothes, yes; but I think even slacks and a somewhat fancy shirt can be entirely appropriate--but it is jeans with which we grace Puccini? Really? Come, world! We can do better!
Okay, that's all. *gets off soapbox* Having a snobby elitist moment there.
But really. I saw a woman wearing pink sweats. I saw a fellow wearing a sweater and jeans. Is this honestly what people wear to the opera now?
I understand that I am mad about clothes, yes; but I think even slacks and a somewhat fancy shirt can be entirely appropriate--but it is jeans with which we grace Puccini? Really? Come, world! We can do better!
Okay, that's all. *gets off soapbox* Having a snobby elitist moment there.
When you see this, post a piece of poetry in your journal.
"Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faerie vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faerie, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faerie, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To to waters and the wild
With a faerie, hand in hand,
For to world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faerie, hand in hand,
from a world more full of weeping than he can understand."
~"Stolen Child", William Butler Yeats
"Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faerie vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faerie, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faerie, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To to waters and the wild
With a faerie, hand in hand,
For to world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faerie, hand in hand,
from a world more full of weeping than he can understand."
~"Stolen Child", William Butler Yeats
"If You See Some Hollow Ancient Eyes..."
Oct. 18th, 2004 10:40 pmGood day to-day, if busy.
My Viljaumur is growing up! *bursts into tears* Ahhh! He can't grow up! But he's turning twelve already, and heavens! He doesn't look twelve! He's still little and long-haired and beautiful and dark-eyed and crazy mad crazy. Waen still hates him. *g* But not Soujin--Soujin loves both her odd, whacked-out, gorgeous little cousins, Viljaumur and Johanna both (but Johanna is nine, I think, so she is not growing up on me as fast). She needs to get them birthday presents, too. Oops. >_>
We watched LXG to-night, and towards the end, Mum and Waen both expressed a desire to have something to eat, so Soujin offered to go off and get them an apple and a dish of ice cream, respectively, and Mum said something to the effect of, "but aren't you afraid of missing the movie?"
Soujin: *pause* You do know I can quote this movie word for word, right?
Mum: *longer pause* ...D00d.
Soujin: Food! Right! *runs out to the kitchen*
It is rather sad, isn't it? I am mad; mad am I.
My lovely, lovely Alan Campbell (otherwise known of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
snowyofthenight) has read the Mysterious Island! *tears* Ahh, now I have two people to ramble fannishly at! And we are going to have a TMI ficathon, all for our mad obscure little selves. *g* I heart my Alan C.
I really must finish all my writing responsibilities. I am determined to do it. You may all throw stones at me if I don't by the end of the week.
...AHH I can't believe Villie is twelve! He's too short to be twelve! ;_;
My Viljaumur is growing up! *bursts into tears* Ahhh! He can't grow up! But he's turning twelve already, and heavens! He doesn't look twelve! He's still little and long-haired and beautiful and dark-eyed and crazy mad crazy. Waen still hates him. *g* But not Soujin--Soujin loves both her odd, whacked-out, gorgeous little cousins, Viljaumur and Johanna both (but Johanna is nine, I think, so she is not growing up on me as fast). She needs to get them birthday presents, too. Oops. >_>
We watched LXG to-night, and towards the end, Mum and Waen both expressed a desire to have something to eat, so Soujin offered to go off and get them an apple and a dish of ice cream, respectively, and Mum said something to the effect of, "but aren't you afraid of missing the movie?"
Soujin: *pause* You do know I can quote this movie word for word, right?
Mum: *longer pause* ...D00d.
Soujin: Food! Right! *runs out to the kitchen*
It is rather sad, isn't it? I am mad; mad am I.
My lovely, lovely Alan Campbell (otherwise known of
snowyofthenight) has read the Mysterious Island! *tears* Ahh, now I have two people to ramble fannishly at! And we are going to have a TMI ficathon, all for our mad obscure little selves. *g* I heart my Alan C.I really must finish all my writing responsibilities. I am determined to do it. You may all throw stones at me if I don't by the end of the week.
...AHH I can't believe Villie is twelve! He's too short to be twelve! ;_;
