Reading

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Touching grass

I was intending posting a link to a really depressing article in Guardian Saturday about an awful trolling site and the people who seem to have nothing to do but troll on it: but it's not currently online, you are spared.

I was thinking about such people, who seemed to be spending hours of their lives being horrible about other people and trying to dig up dirt on them, did they not have lives? could they not be doing something else?

Like, you know, bringing ghost ponds back to life: An expert team are resurrecting ice age ponds and finding rare species returning from a ‘perfect time capsule’:

The two ponds returning on farmland are the 25th and 26th ice age ponds to be restored by Sayer’s team of academics, volunteers and an enthusiastic digger driver in the Brecks, a hotspot for ancient ponds and “pingos” formed by ice-melt 10,000 years ago. Over the past two centuries, thousands of such ponds have been filled in as land was drained and “improved” for crops. So far, most of the 26 ponds have been revived on land bought by Norfolk Wildlife Trust, which has supported the restoration effort with funding from the National Lottery Heritage Fund’s Brecks Fen Edge and Rivers landscape partnership scheme.
But the latest two ponds have been dug out thanks to a Norfolk farmer, who is one of an increasing number of private landowners reviving ghost and “zombie” ponds. New surveys by Sayer’s team have revealed that 22 of the ghost ponds restored since 2022 now support 136 species of wetland plant. This represents 70% of the wetland flora found in more than 400 ponds on Norfolk Wildlife Trust’s Thompson Common, an internationally important nature reserve whose ponds have survived since the ice age.

Admittedly this is not quite the sort of thing that I am up for myself, but this other thing struck rather a chord:

The Hunt: Friction to feel. which is about the culture of searching for music before it was (theoretically) All Online:

The hunt is built upon friction. Friction is good. Friction is healthy. Friction develops adaptation. The hunt is also born of curiosity. The desire to seek and discover something you don’t know, and might never know. In the pursuit of knowledge and experience, you teach yourself about empathy, other perspectives, and mold a person who is resilient and grateful. We lost something along the way in pursuit of efficiency and this idea of saving time for productivity.

It certainly resonates with my own days of book-hunting, and these are not, in fact, past. Was having a discussion the other day in another venue about books (not even terribly Old Books) that we longed to see republished and available at prices less than £££/$$$.

And, of course, as I am occasionally moved to point out on The Soshul Meedjas, most archives are not digitised and online (and mutter mutter a significant % of the ones that are were digitised by proprietary bodies and paywalled), and finding them can still involve Expotitions.

(no subject)

Happy birthday,

sharpiefan!

Current Music: Gordon Bok, "The Seals"

The dark sleek heads are risen from the water

Home from six days in hospital with a plan designed not to land me back there any time soon, I have been passed into the care of Dr. Hestia, who is already carrying out her duties with enthusiastic ministrations of purr. I have washed my hair for the first time in a week. I have eaten food prepared by my family. I napped like a stone in the late afternoon, which I will have needed since my regimen for the foreseeable involves a schedule of medications I cannot let slide even when some of them require me to be awake at hours I have preferred my entire life to spend unconscious. My calendar is inevitably full of further maintenance, but I am truly looking forward to an increase in conversations that have nothing to do with the monitoring of my vitals. Mostly I am marrow-tired and vague with new chemistry and glad to be home in my own clothes and drinking water I don't have to ring anyone to bring me in bed. I was not expecting and delight in the gift of a plush harpy eagle that arrived while I was away.

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[pain] today's book gets so close to The Thing

... and doesn't quite make it.

On page 187 (of 218), we finally get this paragraph:

At this point we need to return to a crucial caveat. In most cases of persistent pain, whatever caused the initial injury has healed. Pain is now the primary disease. But there are a number of cases where there is continual damage that triggers nociceptive fibres; chronic inflammatory diseases are good examples. It is also important to point out that not every case of back pain is our brain's overreaction. A small -- but important -- minority of cases are caused by serious conditions -- cancer, some infections, spinal fractures and the nerve-compressing cauda equina syndrome -- but these can usually be ruled out by doctors, who will be on the lookout for 'red flag' symptoms. However, in the majority of cases of persistent pain (and over 90% of cases of back pain), there is no longer any identifiable tissue damage; our brain has become hypersensitive.

In a book that otherwise dedicates a lot of time to talking about gender and racial inequalities in healthcare access, including a solid half-paragraph on how common and how painful endometriosis (a chronic inflammatory condition!) is, the bit where "well this only applies to most people..." gets breezed past is certainly causing me more feelings. And yet it's still the closest anything I've read so far actually gets to engaging with the fact that the rest of us exist, so... no get-out-of-writing-essays-free card for me here, alas.

(The Painful Truth, Monty Lyman, mostly pretty good and definitely got me to think constructively about a few things -- like the merits of classical vs contemporary Pilates for my specific usecase via discussion of knitting -- and introduced me to some more, like open-label placebos and "safe threats" and the impact of paracetamol on empathy. It's incomplete, but not disrecommended.)

wtfff???

WTF is in Smarties? I thought it was sugar and citric acid. I had 3 little rolls of them yesterday; I'd found them in a bag in the front closet left over from Halloween.

This morning -- ewwwwwwww

It has been like the worst of PMS, as if all the PMS that I might have had since my hysterectomy nearly 20 years ago decided to gang up on me all at once and say WE'RE BACK--SEE WHAT YOU MISSED???

That and no energy, which is actually a godsend because in this mood I'd be more likely to do drastic unforgivable things than not, like look up my infamously terrible ex-boss from years ago and tell her exactly what I thought of her then and still think of her.

Oh yeah, and the trots.

Meds have helped. Chocolate has helped. Coffee with molasses has helped. Toasted whole-wheat flatbread is helping. I'm no longer mad enough to fight the Goauld and winning without a staff weapon (if I had the energy).

But sheesh. I wanted to get things done today and when I stand up I'm a bit too wobbly to go anywhere.

I'm off Smarties forever at this point.

This is a prayer for the Witches’ Thanksgiving. This is a prayer for Resistance.

This is a prayer for the Witches’ Thanksgiving. This is a prayer for Resistance.

This is a prayer for mead and cider, for cornbread and collards. This is a prayer for Resistance.

This is a prayer for visits, for gratitude, for families. This is a prayer for Resistance.

Mabon is an act of Resistance, the deliberate decision to establish connections, to reach out, to take joy in watching others eat. This is a prayer for Mabon.

This is a prayer for wheat sheaves and pumpkins, for turkey and turnips. This is a prayer for Resistance.

This is a prayer for taking stock, for settling in, for facing the dark. This is a prayer for Resistance.

Mabon is an act of Resistance, the courage to say, “There is a place set for you at our table,”* the fire to fight for what we love, the refusal to allow hunger to win. This is a prayer for Mabon.

This is a prayer for cheeses and ale, for cherries and chestnuts. This is a prayer for Resistance.

This is a prayer for re-establishing balance, for reaching out, for doing more. This is a prayer for Resistance.

Mabon is an act of Resistance, the belief that bounty should be shared, that people should be fed, that “only justice can undo a curse.”** This is a prayer for Mabon.

This is a prayer for squashes and pies, for and rhubarb and roasts. This is a prayer for Resistance.

This is a prayer for the act of sharing, for sitting with guests, for stories by the fire. This is a prayer for Resistance.

May your Mabon be blessed. May you continue to Resist. This is my prayer for you.

-- Hecate Demeter

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Oddnesses of life

That thing happened this week whereby a couple of weeks ago I was looking everywhere for a book I knew I had somewhere (unless maybe I'd lent to somebody sometime and they'd never returned it, it being the biography of an NZ-born sex reformer published by Penguin NZ: and currently available according to bookfinder.com, 2nd hand, from NZ, at PRICES, not to mention, how long would that take?).

And then I was looking for Other Book entirely, in fact just vaguely casting my eye over shelf adjacent to where I was looking for that, and there was That Book, stuck between two other books and way out of any kind of order.

We are not sure that is not, in fact, entirely typical of its subject....

***

I was taking my customary constitutional at lunchtime today, and walking across the grass among the trees, under which there was a certain amount of debris of fallen leaves and twigs (these were not the horse chestnuts that were madly casting conkers on the ground), caught my foot and stumbled slightly, and somebody said, 'Be careful!'

I went off muttering that there is not a lot of point in issuing warnings to be careful after the event, but people do tend to do that, don't they, sigh.

***

I am not sure this is an oddness, but normally, by the time a conference at which I am supposed to be keynoting is only just over a week away, participants will have had at least a draft version of the programme, indicating time the thing is starting, slot they are speaking in, etc.

(I also had to do a certain amount of nudging to discover how long I was expected to Go On for.)

Remaster of Lorraine Hunt-Lieberson's handel album

https://operaramblings.blog/2025/09/19/lorraine-hunt-lieberson-remastered/

E accidentally acquired a shirt from her dad's laundromat

White shirt, pink text "The Cake Boys". It just ended up in their laundry, so it's hers now.

She was worried about what the motto might mean - I mean, it's *probably* a bakery, but what if it's some neonazi slogan she's unaware of? - but a little googling reveals that "The Cake Boys are a NYC based network highlighting local drag kings, trans and non-binary performers, and queer artists through live and digital media." Well, alrighty then!

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( Read more... )

Current Music: Gordon Bok, "Tom Gunnell"

And the shrouds hum full of the gale of the grave and the keel goes out to the sea

In honor of International Talk Like a Pirate Day, I respectfully wish to submit that if I had just had scurvy, this whole week would have been much easier. Have a suspicious ghost crab, the Changelings' "Port Royale" (1998), and Tim Eriksen rocking out Bellamy's setting of Kipling's "Poor Honest Men" (2011). In keeping with the recent influx of Kevin McNally in the eighteenth century, when I get back to my stack of DVDs I could just rewatch Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006). For all the varied and undeniable flaws of those second two films, their sea-iconography has clung to me like dream-wrack for nearly twenty years and I wouldn't have a cycle of stories without them.

Current Music: The Poppies in the Field, "The Teardrop Explodes"

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patreon

She was an excellent governess and a most respectable woman

This afternoon I voted Miss Jessel from Jack Clayton's The Innocents (1961) one of my favorite ghosts on film, a tall order but a true one. A masterstroke of sound design and suggestion, she's not spectral, she's uncanny: as real as the reflection she casts on the sunlit shiver of the lake, as motionless in the heat as the bulrushes she stands so far out among, she could be walking on water, though we will learn she drowned herself in it instead. Her slight, dark-dressed figure in long shot gives no impression of a threat, nor even any particular emotion such as hunger or melancholy that would make her apparition easier to read. Her incongruity becomes its own eeriness, the noonday drabness of her presence more frightening than its disappearance between one look and the next, which is after all only characteristic of her kind, though part of the film's chill is that really it has no such rules by which a haunting may be mapped and governed, only the inexplicable facts of things that should not be. Once we have heard that she grieved sleeplessly for her rough, flaunting lover until she died of him, the governess played like a doorway of possession by Deborah Kerr can hear her sobbing, a desolate, gulping, wretchedly echoing sound that when finally traced to the schoolroom has nothing to do with the still-faced, dry-eyed imprint of Miss Jessel at her desk and yet when the governess rushes to the empty chair and touches the slate left by her own earlier lesson, it is wet with tears. Without a parapsychological conversation in sight, it gives the effect of a ghost that has stained through time in all its layers, desynched to perpetuity. The parallel sightings of Peter Wyngarde's Peter Quint with his cock-strut and his bestial snarl of a smile, always smeared through sun-mist, night-glass, steam-sweat until he can cast his unfiltered shadow from a crumbling ring of statues at last have their own rude potency, as malignantly charged as one of the more explicitly libidinous legends of Hell House, but it is his ruined lover who looks as though you could never scrape her off the air, so soaked into this patch of reality that trying to part her from the grounds of Bly would be about as efficacious as trying to exorcise an ice age. Their voices whisper like tape loops on the candlelit stairs. The children are watching. The children are watching. The children are watching. Like the uncredited radiophonics of Daphne Oram that accompany her first, summer-humming manifestation, Miss Jessel or whatever has been left of her belongs to the weirdness of time just really starting to flower in British film and TV, more Nigel Kneale than Henry James or even Truman Capote and yet she fits as exactly into the sensibilities of the Victorian Gothic as she would into the bright horror of that lakeside to this day. She was one of three images left on film by the artist and director Clytie Jessop and I doubt you could get her off the print, either. This excellence brought to you by my watching backers at Patreon.

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how do your gardens grow

[growth] pineapple is go!

A little while ago the toddler's household told me that you could turn the top of a pineapple into a whole entire pineapple plant (with the caveat that at least 60% of the time it goes mouldy). My first attempt at this had got as far as growing a whole entire root network but then suffered a Tragic Incident from which it never recovered; the second had been sat around with partially-browned but no-longer-becoming-more-browned and definitely-still-partially-green leaves for Quite Some Time. I had more or less hit the point of "... is this actually doing anything? at all?" and then upon my return from the most recent round of Adventures I rotated it in service of watering it, to discover...

a pineapple crown, growing a whole new set of leaves

... that it's growing a WHOLE NEW SET OF LEAVES. Look at it go! I am very excited!

(My understanding is that if I manage to keep it alive that long it'll take somewhere in the region of 3 years to fruit, and then in the fashion of all bromeliads will die having produced said single fruit. Happily this is about the rate at which we eat fresh pineapple...)

Octet - The internet is a monster

https://operaramblings.blog/2025/09/18/the-internet-is-a-monster/

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Assorted things and stuff

Dept of, inventing the city: Fake History: Some notes on London's bogus past. (NB - isn't Nancy murdered on the steps of a bridge in the 1948 movie of Oliver Twist? or do I misremember.) (And as for the Charing Cross thing, that is the ongoing 'London remaking itself and having layers', surely?)

***

Dept of, smutty puns, classical division: Yet More on Ancient Greek Dildos:

Nelson, in my opinion, has made a solid argument for his conclusions that, while “olisbos” was one of many ancient Greek euphemisms for a dildo, this was not its primary meaning, nor was it the primary term for the sex toy. Rather, this impression has been given by an accident of historiography.

***

Dept of, not silently suffering for centuries: The 17th-century woman who wrote about surviving domestic abuse.

***

Dept of, another story involving literacy (and ill-health): Child hospital care dates from 18th Century - study:

"Almost certainly she was taught to read and write while she was an inpatient."
He suspects just as part of the infirmary's remit was to get its adult patients back to work, by teaching children to read and write it would increase their employment opportunities.

***

Dept of, I approve the intention but cringe at certain of the suggestions: How To Raise a Reader in an Age of Digital Distraction:

Active engagement is crucial. This doesn’t mean turning every book into an interactive multimedia experience. Rather, it means ensuring that children are mentally participating in the reading process rather than passively consuming. With toddlers, this might mean encouraging them to point to pictures, make sound effects, or predict what comes next. With older children, it involves asking questions that go beyond basic comprehension: “What do you think motivates this character?” “How would the story change if it were set in our neighborhood?”

Let's not? There's a point where that become intrusive.

***

Dept of, not enough ugh: Sephora workers on the rise of chaotic child shoppers: ‘She looked 10 years old and her skin was burning’

The phenomenon of “Sephora kids” – a catch-all phrase for the intense attachment between preteen children, high-end beauty stores and the expensive, sometimes harsh, products that are sold within them – is now well established.... The trend is driven by skincare content produced by beauty influencers – many of whom are tweens and teens themselves.... skincare routines posted by teens and tweens on TikTok contained an average of 11 potentially irritating active ingredients per routine, which risked causing acute reactions and triggering lifelong allergies.

Breakage by Mary Oliver

I go down to the edge of the sea.
How everything shines in the morning light!
The cusp of the whelk,
the broken cupboard of the clam,
the opened, blue mussels,
moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred—
and nothing at all whole or shut, but tattered, split,
dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture gone.
It's like a schoolhouse
of little words,
thousands of words.
First you figure out what each one means by itself,
the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop
full of moonlight.

Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.

************

Link

We now have a washer again

I am just brimming over with excitement.

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( Read more... )

(no subject)

Happy birthday,

auguris and

fitzcamel!

King Gilgamesh at Soulpepper

https://operaramblings.blog/2025/09/17/a-great-king-a-lonely-king/

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Still sleep deprived Wednesday sinks into Buffy S4 & memage

Fair warning? Still sleep deprived, so irritable, tired and slightly depressed due to well lack of sleep. (I'm waking up in the middle of the night in pain and can't get back to sleep.) (I'm only revealing it - because I'm snappish at the moment, and not necessarily my best self.)

1. Having completed Buffy S3 in my rewatch. Am now finally in Buffy S4 and watched the Freshman, which has a couple of interesting guest stars, Pedro Pascal is in it. (Noticed something I hadn't previously? Spike is the front credits in various sections - previewing he's returning.) He's not going by Pascal, this is before he changed his name, also he's about twenty-five years younger. He plays the first victim and Buffy's friend in the episode.

I'm reminded of why I preferred the later seasons? I like the characters better? All of them. Willow's wardrobe is better and Willow becomes less of a damsel and more interesting. Also Xander is no longer a jerk, he's actually interesting and better developed. I actually like Xander. (Although he was more or less likable post the Zeppo. Xander's main problem was Angel - once Angel leaves, Xander kind of calms down.) Also his jokes are more self-deprecating and less nasty. (After the Zeppo, Xander becomes a touch more likable and gets over his skanky self - I finally figured out where I got the phrase "get over your skanky self" from? Buffy.) Giles and Joyce on the other hand - I wanted to smack - which feels like a continuation of S3, I wanted to smack them in S3 at various points, too. OZ remains as comforting and cool as ever.

Also the writing is a touch better - mainly because the writers are no longer attempting to write about their high school experiences which were about fifteen to twenty years ago? ( Read more... )

2. I finished reading The Perfect Rake - which didn't work for me? The writer was clearly trying to go for a Georgette Heyer style, and I found it tiresome. Also her prose was touch more purple than required. So you have bad Georgette Heyer with Purple Prose. I skimmed most of it. Otherwise I wouldn't have finished it? It's very skimmable - a lot of repetition. I don't know why I keep trying romance novels - I've clearly burned out on the genre? It's annoying at the moment.

Anyhow - I moved on to Spinning Silver by Naomi Novick rec'd by selenak. And so far? It's rather good. It's a retelling of the Miller's Daughter tale or Rumplestilskin. The second retelling that I've tackled.
The first was "The Croning" - a "cosmic" horror novel along the lines of HP Lovecraft that really disturbed me and I can't quite shake from my head. ( Read more... )

Also, stand a lone, like Uprooted was. I rather loved Uprooted and it stuck with me. So this is working for me for the same reasons it did.

I don't like "series" - I prefer stand-a-lone in novels. ( Read more... )

I do love fairy tales - or novels/stories that do twists on fairy tales, which is why I read The Croning. I find them interesting.

3. Greatest Comic Book Superhero of All Time - Prove ME Wrong via Screenrant
( excerpt )
While I do agree with the selection, I don't like using the word "greatest" - and wish I could remove it from the current lexicon? After reading the comments - I also think this depends on how you view superheros? And what you are looking for in a character and that's subjective and personal? ( Read more... )

********

Question a Day - Memage

11. Do you like the taste of fresh basil? What other fresh herbs do you like or dislike?

I love basil, rosemary, dill, chives, sage, thyme. I hate fennel or anise, licorice and I don't get along.

12. Have you ever kept a paper journal? What about a bullet journal?

Yes. I don't know what a bullet journal is? Looks it up. Bullet Journal - and uh, that would be a no.

13. Did you have a baby doll when you were growing up? How about a Barbie (or equivalent fashion doll)?

Not a baby doll. A Barbie doll - yes, and Madame Alexander Dolls. My mother loved dolls and bought them for me. (I wasn't really that into them outside of using them to tell stories.)

14. When was the last time you had to dress up for a special occasion? What did you wear?

My father's funeral. Black skirt, red silk top.

15. Do you enjoy driving a car, or is it just a way to get from one place to another?

Just a means of getting from one place to another. Also I can't drive. And rarely use a car to get anywhere. I use subways and trains. The only time I'm in a car is if I'm going to the airport, or visiting and someone else is driving. And no, I don't enjoy driving, or riding in cars.

16. Do you have pierced ears? If not, do you still wear earrings?

Yes. I have pierced ears. I rarely wear earrings - because I wear head-phones to work and at work all day long.

17. Do you own a smart speaker (Amazon Echo, Google Nest, Apple HomePod). If so, what do you use it for?

No. I do have a speaker, that you can use Alexa with - but I can't get it to work properly. I'm not techie. Nor really into gadgets. Also the whole idea of a smart speaker creeps me out.

Entry tags:

Wednesday is indulging in a spicy margarita

What I read

A little while ago Kobo had an edition of CS Lewis's 'Space Trilogy' on promotion, so I thought, aeons since I read that, why not? It turned out to have been not terribly well formatted for e-reader but I have encountered worse, it was bearable. Out of the Silent Planet, well, we do not go to CLS for cosmological realism, do we? But why aliens still so binary, hmmm? (okay, I think there is probably some theological point going on there, mmmhmm?) (though in That Hideous Strength there is a mention of 7 genders, okay Jack, could you expand that thought a little?) I remembered Perelandra as dull, at least for my taste - travelogue plus endless theological wafflery - and it pretty much matched the remembrance. However, while one still sees the problematic in That Hideous Strength (no, really, Jack, cheroot-chomping lesbian sadist? your id is very strange) he does do awfully well the horrible machinations of the nasty MEN in their masculine institutions, and boy, NICE is striking an unexpected resonance with its techbros and their transhuman agenda. Also - quite aside from BEARS!!! - actual female bonding.

Possibly it wasn't such a great idea to go on to Andrew Hickey, The Basilisk Murders (Sarah Turner Mysteries #1) (2017), set at a tech conference, which I think I saw someone recommend somewhere. Not sure it entirely works as a mystery (and I felt some aspects of the conference were a little implausible) - and what is this thing, that this thing is, of male authors ~~doing the police in different voices~~ writing first-person female narrative crime fiction? This is at least the second I have encountered within the space of a few weeks. We feel they have seen a market niche.... /cynicism

Apparently I already read this yonks ago and have a copy hanging around somewhere? I was actually looking for something else by Dame Rebecca and came across this, The Essential Rebecca West: Uncollected Prose (2010), which is more, some odd stray pieces it is nice to have (I laughed aloud at the one on Milton and Paradise Lost) but hardly essential among the rest of her oeuvre.

At the same time I picked up Carl Rollyson, Rebecca West and the God That Failed: Essays (2005), which apparently I have also read before. It's offcuts of stuff that didn't make it into his biography, mostly talks/articles on various aspects that he couldn't go into in as much detail as he would have liked.

On the go

Rebecca West, The Return of the Soldier (1918), on account of we watched a DVD of the movie recently. Yes, I have a copy of the book but have no idea where it is. I was also looking for Harriet Hume, ditto.

Up next

Not sure.