If you leave them, ships are going to wreck

[sovay]

1. kraada mondegreened the title of my last post into "Restricted, living in a lighthouse," which then gave him the image of a lighthousekeeper who is also a siren, guiding ships to safety to atone for all she drowned. I think this is brilliant. (And for some reason YA, although this might just be because I picked up a Mollie Hunter I hadn't read at the Harvard Book Store yesterday. I was looking for The Mermaid Summer (1988), but The Walking Stones (1970) will still make a good present.) He gave it to me, but all I'm thinking about today are autumn and ghosts. I'm not sure I do safe harbor.

2. There's no getting away from dybbuks. I don't mean that metaphysically. I mean that I was reading Shirley Kumove's introduction to Drunk from the Bitter Truth: The Poems of Anna Margolin (2005) and ran across the statement: "I came to the poetry of Anna Margolin as a member of the Yiddish Women Writers' Study Group in Toronto. We began by reading poetry in Yiddish, and Anna Margolin's poems made an immediate powerful impression on me: her images possessed me like a dybbuk. Margolin haunted me for the better part of five years as I tried to understand her work." So she becomes a translator, giving the restless spirit new body in English. It is a bilingual edition, though, so you can still hear Margolin speaking in her own voice. Which is, in some ways, the thing that dybbuks really do: your lips, their words. Their melodies.

3. The seasonal impostor syndrome, the sense of dislocation and futility crashed back in about a day ago; I appreciate that it held off through my birthday, but I don't like that it's been here since. I had lunch with Dean yesterday and dinner with rushthatspeaks and gaudior, after which I showed some more Legend of Korra to the latter and then met the former at the Diesel on my way home. I couldn't find my gloves after half an hour of going through my closet and so my hands are freezing, typing with a quite warm cat beside me. I feel like I'm going to have to fight for this season. I was hoping it would just be good.

Comments

[movingfinger.livejournal.com]

..."Restricted, living in a lighthouse," which then gave him the image of a lighthousekeeper who is also a siren, guiding ships to safety to atone for all she drowned.

Perhaps she's the light, burning.

[sovay]

Perhaps she's the light, burning.

I like that.

[gwynnega]

I hope the season improves again for you. Begone, Tiny W!

[sovay]

I hope the season improves again for you. Begone, Tiny W!

Abjuration appreciated! Today was not bad.

[cucumberseed.livejournal.com]

I think it will be a season worth the fight. I believe.

[sovay]

I think it will be a season worth the fight. I believe.

Thank you. It is . . . difficult when your computer has just eaten a draft file containing three reviews you've been working on for weeks. But I'm doing what I can. Today involved used books, Louisiana marsh honey, and a bowl of avgolemono soup so dense, it was basically risotto with a spoon. Tomorrow I am being taken to a play for my birthday-week. I think the accounts for this weekend will come out all right.

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

Restricted, Living in a Lighthouse would indeed make a great YA.

Your lips, their words. Their melodies --what it's like to be an instrument. Diary of a flute, a whistle, Pan pipes.

[sovay]

Diary of a flute, a whistle, Pan pipes.

Poem!

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

It must have been done a million times already, but maybe another variation on the theme won't hurt.

[sovay]

It must have been done a million times already, but maybe another variation on the theme won't hurt.

I haven't yet read yours.

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

I think this is brilliant.

You're right to think so. It is.

Which is, in some ways, the thing that dybbuks really do: your lips, their words. Their melodies.

Yes. There's something about translation that you've captured here. I'd never thought of it in exactly that way before.

The seasonal impostor syndrome, the sense of dislocation and futility crashed back in about a day ago; I appreciate that it held off through my birthday, but I don't like that it's been here since.

I'm glad it held off that long, but I'm sorry for its return.

I praise the cat for warming you and censure the gloves for hiding from you.

I feel like I'm going to have to fight for this season. I was hoping it would just be good.

I wish you strength and success and strong allies' aid in the fight, but I'm sorry you have to fight at all.

[sovay]

There's something about translation that you've captured here. I'd never thought of it in exactly that way before.

Thank you! Credit to the dybbuk. They are an endlessly resonant metaphor, when they are being a metaphor in the first place.

I wish you strength and success and strong allies' aid in the fight, but I'm sorry you have to fight at all.

Eh. I have some good people on my side.

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Credit to the dybbuk. They are an endlessly resonant metaphor, when they are being a metaphor in the first place.

Most welcome! I thank the dybbuk as well.

Eh. I have some good people on my side.

I'm glad for that.

[ashlyme.livejournal.com]

The siren as lighthouse is a beautiful image: perhaps you or kraada should write it.

I hope you can reclaim the season. Be well.

[sovay]

The siren as lighthouse is a beautiful image: perhaps you or kraada should write it.

If it speaks to you, go for it. I won't feel stolen from.

I hope you can reclaim the season. Be well.

Thank you. You, too.