Writings, Whinings and Newses, O My!
Sep. 22nd, 2004 11:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misscamA part of me is feeling the kind of mood that must have driven my forefathers to plunder, maim and kill and compose lovely sagas about it later (Viking pride - plundering, maiming and killing with style since 800 A.D). Good grief, people can be a pain (myself included). This was your utterly unrelated whine for the day.
So Bush have been talking to the UN and managed not to insult half the world while at it. My, my, Bush. Are we going soft? And will this make me go soft on you? *thinks* Naaaah. Once I hold a grudge, come the end of days and I will still not be soft. I'm like stale cheese that refuse to melt.
Meanwhile, my brother has discovered his socialist soul and is reading Jack London's "The Iron Heel" and musing about the US elite and whether or not there will be a revolution. Hmmm. I say invasions are more fun than revolutions.
News from Norway:
Hey, look! We had an earthquake!
CSI helps catch rapist
A peek into the going-ons of Cam's ever-writing muse:
“I must see you die.” Legolas spoke bitterly, something almost like anger stirring in his soul. “I love you, yet you will pass like the green of spring and all that will remain of my heart will be cold.”
“You will take that wound,” the Dwarf acknowledged. “But think not only you will suffer. Every day I know that I will cause you pain, that my death will make your life seem darker. The guilt snaps at my heart with every breath you take, every bright look I see in your eyes. I would have you live your life filled with joy and those terrible Elven songs you enjoy so much, yet by loving you I must cause you grief.”
Legolas did not answer for a moment, staring at the horizon with a distant look. Suddenly, he fixed his keen glance on Gimli. “Are we arguing over who will suffer the most?”
A shadow of a smile crossed Gimli’s face. “We seem to be.”
~ Nocturne
“I don’t want to wake up to see I have never lived, Sara.”
The revelation made her look up, eyes dark and filled with pain. His own hurt flared up and for a moment he almost wished she had not brought him to this point. She could hurt him, even in the scientist tower he had built in the sky. So far away, yet she reached in.
Hurt was life, human life. No pain and you were sleepwalking.
“It is time to wake up,” he told her and held out a hand. For a moment, he thought she might refuse. For a moment, he was the man in the moon, distant and untouchable.
But then she touched him. Hesitantly and with eyes still dark, she took his hand in hers. And there would be hurt and pain, complications he would not know the solution to and effects and causes and he would not be able to merely observe.
It would be life. Dreams would still haunt, but they would be just dreams. You could always come awake.
And he kissed her in the bright sunlight of the morning, the long night over and the moon gone.
It was past time to wake up.
~When the Dead Awaken
And somewhere in the US of A, Billy and Dom were sleeping off a gigantic hangover, while two little Hobbits eagerly unleashed upon the world their latest literary masterpiece.
“Bush’s Naughty Blair-Boinking and Other Tales of the White House Hoes."
~Cunning Plans Gone Awry a.k.a. The OFUM Chapter That Never Was (But Did Happen)
Gjennom 24 timer gjennomgår mennesket forandring i kroppstemperatur, hormonsekresjon og en del kroppslige funksjoner i ”en rytmisk forandring som påvirker vår årvåkenhet og klargjør vår ferd frem og tilbake mellom våkenhet og søvn. Disse daglige biologiske sykluser kalles døgnrytmer.” (Passer og Smith, s.159-60, min oversettelse.) Det er dette som gir en følelse av at kroppen har en ”biologisk klokke” som styrer søvn og våkenhet.
~From an essay on factors affecting circadian rhyhms
So Bush have been talking to the UN and managed not to insult half the world while at it. My, my, Bush. Are we going soft? And will this make me go soft on you? *thinks* Naaaah. Once I hold a grudge, come the end of days and I will still not be soft. I'm like stale cheese that refuse to melt.
Meanwhile, my brother has discovered his socialist soul and is reading Jack London's "The Iron Heel" and musing about the US elite and whether or not there will be a revolution. Hmmm. I say invasions are more fun than revolutions.
News from Norway:
Hey, look! We had an earthquake!
CSI helps catch rapist
A peek into the going-ons of Cam's ever-writing muse:
“I must see you die.” Legolas spoke bitterly, something almost like anger stirring in his soul. “I love you, yet you will pass like the green of spring and all that will remain of my heart will be cold.”
“You will take that wound,” the Dwarf acknowledged. “But think not only you will suffer. Every day I know that I will cause you pain, that my death will make your life seem darker. The guilt snaps at my heart with every breath you take, every bright look I see in your eyes. I would have you live your life filled with joy and those terrible Elven songs you enjoy so much, yet by loving you I must cause you grief.”
Legolas did not answer for a moment, staring at the horizon with a distant look. Suddenly, he fixed his keen glance on Gimli. “Are we arguing over who will suffer the most?”
A shadow of a smile crossed Gimli’s face. “We seem to be.”
~ Nocturne
“I don’t want to wake up to see I have never lived, Sara.”
The revelation made her look up, eyes dark and filled with pain. His own hurt flared up and for a moment he almost wished she had not brought him to this point. She could hurt him, even in the scientist tower he had built in the sky. So far away, yet she reached in.
Hurt was life, human life. No pain and you were sleepwalking.
“It is time to wake up,” he told her and held out a hand. For a moment, he thought she might refuse. For a moment, he was the man in the moon, distant and untouchable.
But then she touched him. Hesitantly and with eyes still dark, she took his hand in hers. And there would be hurt and pain, complications he would not know the solution to and effects and causes and he would not be able to merely observe.
It would be life. Dreams would still haunt, but they would be just dreams. You could always come awake.
And he kissed her in the bright sunlight of the morning, the long night over and the moon gone.
It was past time to wake up.
~When the Dead Awaken
And somewhere in the US of A, Billy and Dom were sleeping off a gigantic hangover, while two little Hobbits eagerly unleashed upon the world their latest literary masterpiece.
“Bush’s Naughty Blair-Boinking and Other Tales of the White House Hoes."
~Cunning Plans Gone Awry a.k.a. The OFUM Chapter That Never Was (But Did Happen)
Gjennom 24 timer gjennomgår mennesket forandring i kroppstemperatur, hormonsekresjon og en del kroppslige funksjoner i ”en rytmisk forandring som påvirker vår årvåkenhet og klargjør vår ferd frem og tilbake mellom våkenhet og søvn. Disse daglige biologiske sykluser kalles døgnrytmer.” (Passer og Smith, s.159-60, min oversettelse.) Det er dette som gir en følelse av at kroppen har en ”biologisk klokke” som styrer søvn og våkenhet.
~From an essay on factors affecting circadian rhyhms
