Heresy

For some reason I had a complicated dream involving Exalted and my collection of Heresy ccg cards, and trying to find the interesting half of the cards (I don't know why I was dreaming that there was a particularly interesting half of the cards). Interesting. I haven't looked at my Heresy collection for ages. Some lovely cards there, and I had a near-complete set.

At almost halfway on the afghan. It grows like unto something organic. Told my mother about it during the phone call last night, and she said to make sure it didn't come alive and devour me.

(My mother and I have quite a lot in common.)

I have also been rereading the Temeraire books, and am yet again wishing for a fourth. And a fifth, and more, and so on. Even if they are promised for the future, I want them now. Insert the usual whine.

Back to work tomorrow. Oh well, it's been a lovely week off.

---

The Fountain

Feathers up fast, and steeples; then in clods
Thuds into its first basin; thence as surf
Smokes up and hangs; irregularly slops
Into its second, tattered like a shawl;
There, chill as rain, stipples a danker green,
Where urgent tritons lob their heavy jets.

For Berkeley this was human thought, that mounts
From bland assumptions to inquiring skies,
There glints with wit, fumes into fancies, plays
With its negations, and at last descends,
As by a law of nature, to its bowl
Of thus enlightened but still common sense.

We who have no such confidence must gaze
With all the more affection on these forms,
These spires, these plumes, these calm reflections, these
Similitudes of surf and turf and shawl,
Graceful returns upon acceptances.
We ask of fountains only that they play,

Though that was not what Berkeley meant at all.

-- Donald Davie