bisogna morire
Nov. 26th, 2002 01:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
incandescensApparently I come out as 100% seme on the test which has been going the rounds. You know, I used to think that I was mild and quiet and ukely, till I mentioned this to a few friends and they started falling over and having apoplectic seizures with laughter. This says something very deep and meaningful about me. I must clearly try to use this immense power for good.
Otherwise . . . did a major clearout of stacks of video tapes, to make room for stacks of books. Astonishing how many of the tapes were collections of bits of Dr Who and Avengers and Man from Uncle (ah, Kuryakin!) and Star Trek (and all the derivations therefrom) and, well . . . I do remember that I dearly loved them. I am also cognizant of the fact that I haven't watched most of them for over five years. Time to do some harrowing with fire and sword.
I am perverse in my choice of things to write, fanfic-wise; either I must pick at something unlikely and strange, or I take a regular pairing as a challenge.
o grande frenesia . . . Forgive me, this piece is beautiful. Two voices, tenor and contralto, singing seventeenth-century pieces to baroque accompaniment, that we all must die, that whatever the music, or medicine, or madness, we all must die. Bisogna morire.
I'm not depressed, truly. It's that state of mild thoughtful lucidity which has shadings of melancholy, which occasionally goes with tiredness at the edges. It's when the voice seems to stroke along your bones, and then the harp and flute in the background echo behind it, and the drum is trying to match your pulse, and the voice is talking in the back of your head while you write at the same time, as though you were trying to transliterate a message from four dimensions into three.
---
"Yes, you are right. I am afraid of him. Therefore I swear by God that I will seek out this man whom I fear until I find him and strike him on the mouth. If heaven were his throne and the earth his footstool I swear that I would pull him down. . . . Because I am afraid of him; and no man should leave in the universe anything of which he is afraid."
-- The Man who was Thursday, GK Chesterton
Otherwise . . . did a major clearout of stacks of video tapes, to make room for stacks of books. Astonishing how many of the tapes were collections of bits of Dr Who and Avengers and Man from Uncle (ah, Kuryakin!) and Star Trek (and all the derivations therefrom) and, well . . . I do remember that I dearly loved them. I am also cognizant of the fact that I haven't watched most of them for over five years. Time to do some harrowing with fire and sword.
I am perverse in my choice of things to write, fanfic-wise; either I must pick at something unlikely and strange, or I take a regular pairing as a challenge.
o grande frenesia . . . Forgive me, this piece is beautiful. Two voices, tenor and contralto, singing seventeenth-century pieces to baroque accompaniment, that we all must die, that whatever the music, or medicine, or madness, we all must die. Bisogna morire.
I'm not depressed, truly. It's that state of mild thoughtful lucidity which has shadings of melancholy, which occasionally goes with tiredness at the edges. It's when the voice seems to stroke along your bones, and then the harp and flute in the background echo behind it, and the drum is trying to match your pulse, and the voice is talking in the back of your head while you write at the same time, as though you were trying to transliterate a message from four dimensions into three.
---
"Yes, you are right. I am afraid of him. Therefore I swear by God that I will seek out this man whom I fear until I find him and strike him on the mouth. If heaven were his throne and the earth his footstool I swear that I would pull him down. . . . Because I am afraid of him; and no man should leave in the universe anything of which he is afraid."
-- The Man who was Thursday, GK Chesterton
