When The Zombies Rise...

The house will look much as it does now. There was a Phoenix party here on Saturday that I'd completely forgotten about and there's still detritus lying about. I should really do some tidying...

It left a poor impression for Mark, our former flatmate-who-went-up-to-Auckland-for-a-fortnight-and-ended-up-staying-for-nearly-a-year-but-is-now-visiting-us-for-a-week-while-he-observes-some-tidy-up-sound-recording-for-the-movie-he's-just-finished-editing-which-I've-forgotten-the-name-of-or-I-would-link-to-it-in-IMDB. He's taking it all in his stride, I think and is very welcome, despite the fifteen minutes notice of his arrival we got from Norman-the-Landlord.

Also, many thanks to Mark-the-Latin-Teacher-Dude, who not only answered my question about the bit in Statius where Tydeus eats the head of his not-yet-dead enemy, but found an Illustrative Picture in the process.



And finally, I have had my Zombie Movie Cherry popped. Yes, I finally watched Shaun of the Dead. Everyone who told me to watch it, yes, you were right. It's a very funny movie and a zombie flick, all at the same time.

I can hear muffled shouting from outside my room. Maybe Norman and Fraser are pleased to see Mark. Or...
Night all.

Reflections

I can remember this time last year, quite well actually.

There was Kapcon, and the free concerts in the Botanical Gardens, and lovely summer weather, and playing frisbee in the park. It was also about the time that I was thinking that that John fellow was rather lovely and wishing that he'd notice me.

I also met Morgue right about now, and read his rant on the problems involved in trying to maintain plausible deniability about whether you liked someone or not. It took me a while to follow his advice, but it all worked out rather well in the end.

Thanks Morgue.

Not Poetry, This Time.

In television, what is the difference between a Soap Opera and a Drama?

I've been having a discussion with my flatmates on how to class Norman's favourite addiction, ER. I've always thought of it as a soap, because it's focusing on internal story lines between the characters, but Norman says it isn't, because it's not full of people wailing about having just married their brother by accident. Also, there was some discussion of overarching story lines.

What is the actual distinction? Was Babylon 5 a soap?

Yet more poetry...

Because if people are going to have interesting conversations in comments to your posts, you might as well memorialise it. :-)

Psyche to Eros

Do you think of me then, waiting on the rock?
It was cold – the wind bellied my red mantle, embroidered
with suns and wheels and dandelions. Their
warmth was only pictures; my bare feet bled
on the ragged stones. From the dark hills cold glints
of trumpets bid farewell: they were leaving me, though
my mother had clung like lichen clings, had wept
like water gushing from blank granite.
A beautiful sacrifice, I.

In this dark place – all softness, as a scrap
of thistle-down, as the fluff
of a wild-cat nursing kits – my eyes
are shut with your kisses, your murmuring
willow-voice all I hear. I drink you,
as night drinks blindness from a bowl.

Ah, love,
I dreamed that I married a falcon,
and slept in his feather-soft nest in the cliff
but I looked in his eyes,
sun-yellow,
and knowing me, he fled.

I might travel the hills to find that bird,
and cut my feet on the rocks,
and wear the wind for a mantle.
Until I see you,
you will never know.
--Cat Pegg

Commonplace Book

liberal
Consider this:
      A man who feels for the people.
      A friend to the ill-favoured.
      Never a word against the bar-
barians assuming Roman dress.

Reconcile this:
      A believer in man's potential.
      A voice raised against the games
      where human flesh is sport.
A man whose eyes fill at music.

You might at least concede:
      No man went hungry from my door.
      No woman was molested.
      No child was imposed on.
Humanitas inevitable as breath.

I who might have, have
      never raped, pillaged, extorted;
      abused office or position;
      concealed; interfered with art;
stood between any man and sunset.

And yet as you say,
      I have killed a god. I have made
      of impartiality, a farce.
      I have dabbled in chaos. I,
Pilate. Who vote as you do.
-- Vincent O'Sullivan

Vincent O'Sullivan, in An Anthology of New Zealand Poetry in English, (eds. Jenny Bornholdt, Gregory Brian, Mark Williams), (South Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1997), p228.

Because I Was Asked To Inflict Poetry...

Gilgamesh
There was a young king from Uruk
Whom Enkidu thought was a pillock
They fought a great war
And broke down a door
Then made mighty love on a hillock.
-- Cat Pegg

(Er, I think Catherine wrote it. She's certainly the person who told it to me...)

On Burglar Alarms...

The burglar alarm from the house two doors down went off earlier this afternoon, and did not turn off immediately thereafter in the classic "Oh poot, I forgot to punch in the code" fashion I'm more used to. I found out later that a couple of neighbours also heard it and independently went to check things out, but I was very unheroic and called the police instead. They were prompt, friendly and efficient, a credit to the New Zealand Police Force.

(What happened is that the lady who lives there had hired a minion-for-the-day from Student Job Search, left the garage open so that the minion could access tools, and forgotten to give him the alarm code, so it was actually an entirely innocuous alarm. The policeman I talked to said that it's always best to call in these situations, though, just in case.)

One Day at Tourney...

This weekend I shall be at the Grail of Chivalry World Invitational Jousting Tournament. It will be Very Cool. In fact, I shall be there with bells on. (When I agreed to be part of the entertainment, nobody said anything about the bells.)

It's open to the public for $5 a pop. If you're interested, or would just like to go out to the park on a nice sunny (I hope) day, come right along.

On New Year's Day I Muse on the Incongruity of Wearing a Winter Coat and Gloves...

I understand from Neil Gaiman's blog that the weather in North America is unseasonally warm. Give us back our summer, damn your eyes!!!

Happy New Year.

EDIT: I have changed from Old Blogger to New Blogger. This means that the RSS feed into LJ has temporarily gone haywire, sorry for spamming you guys with old posts.