Did you keep a watch for the dead man’s wind?

[sovay]

And this one I stole from darcydodo:

I'm the Old Bod!

Old-fashioned even for Oxford, you're all about obscure ancient books and highly dubious thesis topics. Academic in the fusty and eccentric, rather than hard working, sense, Oxford is clearly the best place for you. Favourite word: "aporia". Least favourite: "relevant".

From Cherwell 24

It was the bit about the myrtle, wasn't it . . .

The sky is turning to autumn; the earth is starting to smell cool. The winds pick up and shake dry leaves down into the street with manuscript rustles, small scrapes and whispers; the air is full of brittle edges of light. The sun angles toward the trees and real fall sunsets are made from fire and bronze. I never think of this as a dark season.

It's cold enough that I can sleep under a quilt now: wintering out.

Comments

[tinkbell.livejournal.com]

The Turkish Song of the Damned is one of my favorites; it feels like an explanation. I think i'm going to find it right now.

[zdenka]

I got the same result, unsurprisingly enough.

[sovay]

Yeah, I'd have been depressed if I hadn't been something peculiar and arcane . . .

[sovay]

I'd never heard the song before: I discovered it through sosostris2012 and now I'm rather wondering where it's been all my life. It has the sea and ghosts, the drowned and the damned, with echoes of the Ancient Mariner and the Old Man of the Sea and a banshee for good measure; though she might as well be the kind of mermaid that portends a sailor's doom (with a comb and a glass in her hand . . .). And mad Irish piping. How could I not love this song?

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

Can I just take that paragraph on the sky turning to autumn and put it on my fridge? I'm in love with your words. I was going to do nothing for the next hour, just unwind, be lazy after all the work I had, but this got my mouth watering for something ...

[sovay]

but this got my mouth watering for something ...

This season always makes me hungry. I'm not sure there's a better word—it's a sort of aching, yearning, restless feeling, where I want to look everywhere and not take my eyes off the sky or the leaves or the changing light; the sea makes me like that, too. It's so beautiful, it makes me want.