This is basically a test to see if I can Pin from my blog, since I can't from Facebook, where I originally got this picture. . .

Okay. I am having so many obsessions right now that putting them on Facebook is going to be awkward and embarrassing, therefore they will go on the blog in a post-fest :-).

Dan's illustration of Lion-Cut Lola, the Avenging Angel:




Amanda Seyfried, who I am going to look like in my future fantasy life, sings "L'll Red Riding Hood":




Dying for this ridiculously expensive amazing concoction from Free People:



And more below. . .

This is part of a series, but I think it's actually funniest as a stand alone (It speaks for itself; click to enlarge):

Love this video. I wasn't convinced about Adele until I saw it; she is officially amazing.

*sob*

Frank, A friend of mine from the MFA program (who's now moved away) has a brain tumor. Not sure if I have any readers who have met him, but you can read his blog here:

http://thisthinginmyhead.blogspot.com/

Secret of Kells!

Tortola Wedding Updates (WINs vs. FAILs)

Rediscovered "lost" jewelery (in neighbor's mailbox) (2 items): WIN
Lipstick colors (2 new, plus all owned previously): FAIL
New hair: WIN
"New" boobs: WIN
Maintenance of weight: FAIL
Ability to make my nose not-red: Yet to be Determined
"New" vision: Yet to be Determined
Boyfriend moral support: Win, hopefully to continue to be so

everything we've been taught about meter in poetry is wrong. . . sigh.

From Hugh's Prosody class:

Syllable-stress verse requires a fixed number of beats per line—just like stress-meter verse—but it also requires a fixed number of syllables per line (there are exceptions to both these rules, of course, but in principle this is the "normal" case).

-->Indeed, people who have been poorly taught poetic meter will often attempt to identify verse forms by the number of syllables (as in "this is in iambic pentameter; it has ten syllables per line").

Of course, we all now know why that statement makes no sense—a four-beat line of stress-meter verse can easily have anywhere from four to twelve syllables—or more.

In theory, she was an artist you want to root for— all these ideas about art and celebrity and a flair for the dramatic. But the first few singles made the Lady Gaga project feel so presumptuous, her artsy entitlement overwhelming her songs’ occasional strengths. “Bad Romance” was the moment where the music didn’t just live up to the (self-inflated) hype, but surpassed it. The track is epic in construction— by the time she gets to the bridge, more than three minutes in, the realization that there are hooks yet to come is thrilling. It helps that RedOne’s production matches the songwriting’s torrential drama; the churning, earth-shifting low-frequency synths are a programmatic reflection of the singer’s unsteady, perhaps unwise, infatuation. But it’s Gaga’s performance, the wholly unapologetic fools-rush-in carnal energy, that commitment to emotional bravery in a context of increasingly twee chart pop, that makes “Bad Romance” feel so necessary. —David Drake

me: i dont' get what my dissertation is supposed to be about
i read about modesty
and then about tourists
and then about magic
and now i'm reading about things.
"things," that is.

joevictorianist: magically modest tourists?

me: i wish
actually no
they sound dull

Lolcat Waste Land. Check it out. Ridiculous.

http://www.corprew.org/content/lolcat-wasteland/

Wow, kind of surprised that my blog is the first google hit for "Radiant Squalor." Perhaps more surprising is that it's the first hit for the Rochester quote, "As trees are by their bark embraced / Love to my soul doth cling." Did it somehow link it first because I was the one searching (?) is that crazy (?).

Speaking of the Rochester quote, it's from and early poem, and I continue to wonder whether it is meant as an innuendo or if he was at the time actually just writing more conventional poetry. Since I apparently have a problem with "irony," so I suppose I should run this by someone more "authoritative" on the subject. Maybe I'll put up the whole poem on here, why not? Can't sleep. . . hm but then I might have to go downstairs and get my volume of Rochester.

Actually kind of all poetry from the seventeenth century is innuendo anyway.

Ring for sale on etsy. Freaked me out!