When I jump off the edge, I float right back up again
Whatever else I may have wanted to do with it, today went almost entirely toward recovering from our marathon. I did some capitalism before dinner and lay on the couch afterward. ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch took a picture.
I have a zillion problems with my body and all its works, but I like my asymmetrical face. Don't jinx it, face.
I have been re-reading Lloyd Alexander's The Foundling and Other Tales of Prydain (1973) in the later edition that includes the texts of Coll and His White Pig (1965) and The Truthful Harp (1967). I read the latter for the first time as the original picture book illustrated by Evaline Ness; a previous reader had defaced the copy in the Cambridge Public Library by writing in simpler synonyms for a peculiar percentage of the vocabulary, of which the only example I can remember is "legs" for "shanks." I was indignant, especially since I knew all the contested words and felt insulted by the stranger with the red (or black—at this distance I don't remember and it seems unwise in this context to make up the detail) pen who thought I didn't. It is no longer part of the library's collection, according to the online catalogue of the Minuteman Library Network. I'd have bought it in a sale if I'd seen it, unwanted glosses notwithstanding. Those books still mean so much to me. I feel unjustifiably smug about the fact that my godchild seems to be liking the set I gave them.
spatch took a picture.
I have a zillion problems with my body and all its works, but I like my asymmetrical face. Don't jinx it, face.
I have been re-reading Lloyd Alexander's The Foundling and Other Tales of Prydain (1973) in the later edition that includes the texts of Coll and His White Pig (1965) and The Truthful Harp (1967). I read the latter for the first time as the original picture book illustrated by Evaline Ness; a previous reader had defaced the copy in the Cambridge Public Library by writing in simpler synonyms for a peculiar percentage of the vocabulary, of which the only example I can remember is "legs" for "shanks." I was indignant, especially since I knew all the contested words and felt insulted by the stranger with the red (or black—at this distance I don't remember and it seems unwise in this context to make up the detail) pen who thought I didn't. It is no longer part of the library's collection, according to the online catalogue of the Minuteman Library Network. I'd have bought it in a sale if I'd seen it, unwanted glosses notwithstanding. Those books still mean so much to me. I feel unjustifiably smug about the fact that my godchild seems to be liking the set I gave them.
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They do like them! I have to have a hot beverage before I can sustain the Gurgi performance, which owes a little to Andy Serkis and a little to the cat's voice, but we are having a lot of fun reading them aloud even if that whole Pen Llarcau thing set us back a week. *handwavey*
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[spoiler space for others' benefit]
"what do you mean he DIED? You can't REDEEM YOURSELF if you DIE. SPLAT is not a REDEMPTION."
....they're a very literal darling.
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You're just enjoying the unlimited license to say you told me so.
They do like them!
That really makes me happy.
I have to have a hot beverage before I can sustain the Gurgi performance, which owes a little to Andy Serkis and a little to the cat's voice
I realized last night that my mental voice for Gurgi has always sounded kind of like a Muppet. Specifically voiced by Frank Oz. I wasn't sure what to do with that knowledge.
....they're a very literal darling.
They are, but you can tell them that I also have a general skepticism about death-by-redemption instead of living to make amends.
(I accept it in the case of Ellidyr because at the start of the novel, he's the last person you can imagine sacrificing himself for the sake of others as opposed to expecting other people to make the sacrifices for him.)
no subject
They are, but you can tell them that I also have a general skepticism about death-by-redemption instead of living to make amends.
The Jews!
*waltzes widely, smugly away to go write.... something* I done did tell you so. For about twenty years. Please, add in a little flourish from the Brandenburg Concerto as I go.