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Everything posted by kloid

  1. That video's too much fun. I feel almost guilty for knocking things back into the introspective with this one now, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Prdcbrva-lA I wanted to post the track Shipwrecks, but it ain't on YT & I'm in no mood right now to upload it myself & tussle with the fickle hellion that is Windows Movie Maker. No matter, Rituals is perfectly copacetic.
  2. I'll drop a few in that I've not seen mentioned, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLXQ5eiJB_0 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhNb0F4alNg and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CjXvptz3pW8
  3. I genuinely believe I'd not be the person I am today if I'd not happened across and been struck by the Desiderata in my early teens. And okay then, When One Has Lived A Long Time Alone 1 When one has lived a long time alone, one refrains from swatting the fly and lets him go, and one hesitates to strike the mosquito, though more than willing to slap the flesh under her, and one lifts the toad from the pit too deep to hop out of and carries him to the grass, without minding the poisoned urine he slicks his body with, and one envelops, in a towel, the swift who fell down the chimney and knocks herself against window glass and releases her outside and watches her fly free, a life line flung at reality, When one has lived a long time alone. 2 When one has lived a long time alone, one grabs the snake behind the head and holds him until he stops trying to stick the orange tongue - which splits at the end into two black filaments and jumps out like a fire-eater's belches and has little in common with the pimpled pink lumps that shapes sounds and sleeps inside the human mouth - into one's flesh, and clamps it between his jaws, letting the gaudy tips show, as children do when concentrating, and as very likely one does oneself, without knowing it, when one has lived a long time alone. 3 When one has lived a long time alone, among regrets so immense the past occupies nearly all the room there is in consciousness, one notices in the snake's eyes, which look back without giving any less attention to the future, the first coating of the opaque, milky-blue leucoma snakes get when about to throw their skins and become new - meanwhile continuing, of course, to grow old - the same bleu Passe that bleaches the corneas of the blue-eyed when they lie back at the end and look for heaven, a fading one knows means they will never find it when one has lived a long time alone. 4 When one has lived along time alone, one holds the snake near the loudspeaker disgorging gorgeous sounds and watches him crook his forepart into four right angles, as though trying to slow down the music flowing through him, in order to absorb it like milk of paradise into the flesh, until a glimmering appears at his mouth, such a drop of intense fluid as, among humans, could form after long exciting at the tip of the penis, and as he straightens himself out he has the pathos one finds in the penis, when one has lived a long time alone. 5 When one has lived a long time alone, one falls to poring upon a creature, contrasting its eternity’s-face to one’s own full of hours, taking note of each difference, exaggerating it, making it everything, until the other is utterly other, and then, with hard effort, possibly with tongue sticking out, going back over each difference once again and canceling it, seeing nothing now but likeness, until ... half an hour later one stares awake, taken aback at how eagerly one drops off into the happiness of kinship, when one has lived a long time alone. 6 When one has lived a long time alone and listens at morning to mourning doves sound their kyrie eleison, or the small thing spiritualized upon a twig cry, “pewit-pheobe!” or at midday grasshoppers scratch the thighs’ needfire awake, or peabody birds send schoolboys’ whistlings across the field, and at dusk, undamped, unforgiving chinks, as from marble cutters’ chisels, or at nightfall polliwogs just burst into frogs raise their ave verum corpus – listens to those who hop or fly call down upon us the mercy of other tongues – one hears them as inner voices, when one has lived a long time alone. 7 When one has lived a long time alone, one knows that consciousness consummates, and as the conscious one among these others uttering their compulsory cries of being here - the least flycatcher witching up “che-bec!” or red-headed woodpecker clanging out his music from a metal drainpipe, or ruffed grouse drumming “thrump thrump thrump thrump-thrump- thrump-thrump-rup-rup-ruprup-rup-r-r-r-r-r-r” deep in the woods, all of them in time’s unfolding trying to cry themselves into self-knowing - one knows one is here to hear them into shining, when one has lived a long time alone. 8 When one has lived a long time alone, one likes alike the pig, who brooks no deferment of gratification, and the porcupine, or thorned pig, who enters the cellar but not the house itself because of eating down the cellar stairs on the way up, and one likes the worm, who by bunching herself together and expanding works her way through the ground, no less than the butterfly, who totters full of worry among the day lilies, as they darken, and more and more one finds one likes any other species better than one’s own, which has gone amok, making one self-estranged, when one has lived a long time alone. 9 When one has lived a long time alone, sour, misanthropic, one fits to one’s defiance the satanic boast, it is better to reign than submit on earth, and forgets one’s kind – the way by now the snake does, who stops trying to get to the floor and lingers all across one’s body – slumping into its contours, adopting its temperature – and abandons hope of the sweetness of friendship or love, before long can barely remember what they are, and covets the stillness in inorganic matter, in a self-dissolution one may not know how to halt, when one has lived a long time alone. 10 When one has lived a long time alone, and the hermit thrush calls and there is an answer, and the bullfrog head half out of water repeats the sexual cantillations of his first spring, and the snake lowers himself over the threshold and disappears among the stones, one sees they all live to mate with their kind, and one knows, after a long time of solitude, after the many steps taken away from one’s kind, toward the kingdom of strangers, the hard prayer inside one’s own singing is to come back, if one can, to one’s own, a world almost lost, in the exile that deepens, when one has lived a long time alone. 11 When one has lived a long time alone, one wants to live again among men and women, to return to that place where one’s ties with the human broke, where the disquiet of death and now also of history glimmers its firelight on faces, where the gaze of the new baby looks past the gaze of the great granny, and where lovers speak, on lips blowsy from kissing, that language the same in each mouth, and like birds at daybreak blether the song that is both earth’s and heaven’s, until the sun has risen, and they stand in the light of being made one: kingdom come, when one has lived a long time alone. Galway Kinnell I post this not just because it's a poem that's long niggled at me, but also because it seemed to provide a nice* contrast to Goldaline's Patrick Philips poem just above it. *Perhaps 'nice' isn't quite the best choice of word there, heh.
  4. Wasn't expecting that. Was all a bit doesn't-really-matter-who-I-fire though, it felt.
  5. Alan vs Jamie is wonderful.
  6. I don't care for any of these three particularly. Chris continues to really rub me up the wrong way with his attitude. Plus, on perhaps a shallower level, the chin-plough drawl that is his voice still goes right through me.
  7. "course I tucked it in -- y'gotta make an effort.. *roll-eyes*" The early word catches the what now?
  8. Laura's tiny little breathy "yes.." at the Was Stella a good leader? question was priceless.
  9. Haha, "if they got the appointment ahead of us, well, there's nothing we could've done about it".
  10. Oh god. Hell on a backseat.
  11. I miss Sandeesh already. *waaah* Wish I'd got a big bag of Kettle Chips in for tonight. Hankering for crunchy nibbles right now.
  12. Double-posting. Sorry. Played this one song multiple times tonight. I'm liking. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1X1HU8da56g
  13. I get caught up in this so easily. So much so, the end always comes as a bit of a jolting shock. Sort of apt I guess.
  14. Haha, I couldn't agree more, . I'd go as far as saying I doubt I'd have bothered completing it if I wasn't hoping and praying for other tracks of an equal quality.
  15. I came across this earlier in the week and thoughts of it've since insisted on popping up in my head every once in a while. From what I can gather, at some point ('years ago') the author had to adjust to using a piece of voice recognition software, named Dragon, in order to comfortably accomplish her writing. This is her eventual account of that teaming, that relationship with a robot, though not one of love, more like one of servant and master, teacher and pupil. Dragon Talk How many years ago now did we first walk hand in hand – or hand in claw – through Alice's Wonderland, your favourite training ground, peopled with a crew of phantasms – Mock Turtle, Gryphon – as verbal as you? Your microphone, kissing my lips, inhaled my words; the machine displayed them, printed out in sentences on a screen.     * My codependant, my precious parasite, my echo, my parrot, my tolerant slave: I do the talking; you do the typing. Just try a bit harder to hear what I say! I wait for you to lash your tail each time I swear at you. But no: you listen meekly, and print 'fucking moron'.     * All the come-ons you transcribed as commas – how can we conduct a flirtation in punctuation? – Particularly when, money-mad creature, you spell doom to romance by writing 'flotation'.    * I can't blame you for homonyms, but surely after a decade you could manage the last word of Cherry Tree 'Would'? Context, after all, is supposed to be your engine. Or are you being driven by Humpty Dumpty?     * I take it amiss when you mis-hear the names of my nearest and dearest; in particular, Beth. Safer, perhaps, if I say Bethany. Keep your scary talons off my great-granddaughter: don't call her 'death'.     * You know all the diseases and the pharmaceuticals: bronchopneumonia, chloramphenicol are no trouble to you, compulsive speller, hypochondriac, virtual dealer.     * You're hopeless at birds: can't get wren into your head – too tiny, you try to tell me: it comes out as rain or ring. Let's try again: blackbird, osprey, hen, (much better), kingfisher, hawk, duckling. But I have to give up and type Jemima Puddleduck.    * What am I thinking of, dragon bird? How could I forget that you too have wings? Fly to me; let me nuzzle your snout, whisper orders, trust you to carry them out.     * Do I think of you as "he"? – Beyond male or female; utterly alien, yet as close as my breath – invisible, intangible, you hover at my lips – am I going too far? Are we into theology?     * Animal, vegetable or mineral? Who's playing these games? – Abstract, with mineral connections and a snazzy coat of scales. Gentle dragon, stupid beast, why do I tease you? Laughter's not in your vocabulary: all you understand are words.     * Today I saw you cresting the gable of someone's roof: a curly monster smaller than me, but far too large to hide yourself inside a computer. They'd painted you red – was that your choice? But this was only your graven image. Your private self was at home, waiting for reincarnation through my voice. Fleur Adcock.
  16. I would need to really go back over things to come up with a favourite overall soundtrack, but there's absolutely no question in my mind what my favourite single piece of music from a game has been this year. (It's a rock-solid favourite outside of just game-music even.) A stunning, acutely knowing composition.
  17. The tune that best fits my day-to-day internal soundtrack I think.
  18. Great aren't they? Jaime's absolutely spot on. Dany's wardrobe looks fantastic, the whole wardrobe looks wonderful in fact. I think I'm most excited about Peter Dinklage's Tyrion though. Been an enormous fan of his since The Station Agent. I pray he can muster up that vicious aspect of the Imp's. I've been checking the Winter Is Coming website practically daily for a few weeks now ever since they said they were going to focus test the Pilot. It was pencilled in for early November originally (6th or something) and there was no NDA mentioned upon the people taking part. It went away again for a tiny bit more tinkering before the focus. There should be one on the horizon. I'm eager to hear impressions.
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