We have internet!
Jul. 11th, 2006 08:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
philenaI write this entry sitting comfortably at home, at a table, on my own computer, with none of this trying to reserve a computer at the library with slow, pokey internet, only to discover that they're all booked until Thursday. Pah! Ерунда! This is so much better, and for you people who want internet, skip AT&T and go with Comcast. I could rhapsodize on for hours about how great this has been, but enough said for now. I'm hooked.
Daniel and I tried our hand at salmon today. We don't have a broiling dish, so we decided to marinate it and bake it. Then we realized we didn't know how to marinate it, so we made it up: red wine, dijon mustard, soy sauce, and fresh basil and oregano from our basil and oregano plants. And salt and pepper. Once we got the salmon cooked (it took a few tries) it was great! Mmmm. I like having our own kitchen.
Ah, yes, and we have pictures too, of our apartment, all beautifully furnished and decorated. They look dark, but it's tremendously well-lit, and the main windows face full west, so, as Lady Catherine says to the Bennets: "This must be a most inconvenient sitting-room for the evening in the summer." Or rather, it would be if we did not have nice curtains in the bedroom (bought today: deep blue) and ugly but effective venetian blinds in the living room.
This first batch of pictures represents the living room, going clockwise around the room from the first view you get as you walk in the door.
Look! internet! Note also how the computer can play videos which we can watch comfortably on the couch.
This bookshelf houses all of our folklore (that's where we put the bible) and Russian stuff: literature and social sciences are separated.
Full west it is, m'lady
The top row is my Horatio Alger collection. The second row is Daniel's complete Harvard Classics, given him by his granny. She's cool; we like her. The rest is all of our literature, with Shakespeare and some reference (including a compact OED) on the bottom.
This is on the other side of the door, which is not photographed. We decided that since we have such a nice ledge underneath the fireplace, we would put my nice accent rugs there and then have some nice cushions on top to make a perch, as we call it. It's very comfy, and I sit there sometimes with Daniel on the papasan chair. He prefers the chair to the couch, so sometimes I humor him, rather than forcing him to sit with me. But we also think the extra seating will be very convenient for when we have company, although to date we have not had any. (San Francisco-area friends, hint hint hint.)
Here's a view of the perch without the Boy on it.
Here's a mobile that for a while we decided we wouldn't take, but now we love it. It's too fabulous, especially reflected in the ridiculous mirror above the fireplace. (This place has too many mirrors: it has a mirror above the fireplace, a huge mirror above the sink in the bathroom, an entire wall of mirrors on the sliding closet doors in the bedroom, and, to top it off, one of those full-length hanging mirrors by the door in the bedroom.)
Between the table and the fireplace (which you can see in the first picture) is the entrance into the kitchen, which is shown below. Note the basil and oregano plants in the window. Note also the clock; you can only see it in profile, but it is the coolest thing ever! Instead of numbers, it has birds, and at the hour that is represented by birds, it will play the appropriate bird call. I've gotten good at recognizing 1:00 (American Robin), but everything else is still a bit fuzzy so far. Yet I still have every intention of learning to tell time by ear before the year is out:
And here's the bedroom, which perhaps I should have neatened up a bit before photographing, but this is much closer to its natural state anyway. Pretend that instead of white curtains there are dark blue ones:
This is my desk, which I put to use today to do some calligraphy! I've decided that I'm going to write out Yeats's "The Second Coming" in Carolingian minuscule*. Maybe I'll take a picture of it and post it (I don't have a scanner) when I'm done, although I suspect what I should really be posting pictures of is the stuff I did in late high school and early college. That was when I was in practice, and that was great stuff. I have every plan to get back into it now that I have space and time.
In the place where stood to take the picture of the kitchen is a little alcove on the left, as you stand looking at it from the kitchen, the bathroom directly ahead, and the bedroom to the right. They don't make for very interesting pictures, but I post a shot of the transition for the sake of completeness, and a close-up of the alcove because that's where Daniel's office is going to be. It should be noted that the shelves are much fuller now than they were when the picture was taken:
*The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all around it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
-W. B. Yeats
Daniel bought the book used, and somebody had heavily annotated the poem, although judging by the annotations, it must have been for high school. Observe:
"Widening gyre": When we are part of the circle, everything is okay
"Anarchy": chaos
The end of the first verse: Best should be full of passionate intensity and worst lack of conviction, but because the circle is falling apart everything is messed up
"Spiritus Mundi": dreams/visions
"Troubles my sight . . . desert birds": This is what he sees as the second coming
"The darkness drops. . . to be born?": He sees the anti-Christ coming in the second coming. First coming was good (Jesus). Second coming (anti-Christ)
I mean, really, this doesn't elucidate anything beyond the obvious. Daniel and I had some fun debating whether "moving its slow thighs" evokes a more human or animal sense of movement (I said human; Daniel said not necessarily), and whether the fact that the desert birds, mainly carrion eaters, are indignant because this creature has been scavenging their carrion. And looking at it just now I'm wondering whether their shadows are reeling because, even as their food is being stolen, their bodies are being attacked--not necessarily directly, but simply by the movement of the beast. And how does one interpret the vexing to nightmare by a rocking cradle? The peace of good Christianity somehow brings forth the beast? Yes, it's clear that the second coming is the anti-Christ. Now get to the good stuff!
By the way, here's some Carolingian minuscule:
Daniel and I tried our hand at salmon today. We don't have a broiling dish, so we decided to marinate it and bake it. Then we realized we didn't know how to marinate it, so we made it up: red wine, dijon mustard, soy sauce, and fresh basil and oregano from our basil and oregano plants. And salt and pepper. Once we got the salmon cooked (it took a few tries) it was great! Mmmm. I like having our own kitchen.
Ah, yes, and we have pictures too, of our apartment, all beautifully furnished and decorated. They look dark, but it's tremendously well-lit, and the main windows face full west, so, as Lady Catherine says to the Bennets: "This must be a most inconvenient sitting-room for the evening in the summer." Or rather, it would be if we did not have nice curtains in the bedroom (bought today: deep blue) and ugly but effective venetian blinds in the living room.
This first batch of pictures represents the living room, going clockwise around the room from the first view you get as you walk in the door.
Look! internet! Note also how the computer can play videos which we can watch comfortably on the couch.
This bookshelf houses all of our folklore (that's where we put the bible) and Russian stuff: literature and social sciences are separated.
Full west it is, m'lady
The top row is my Horatio Alger collection. The second row is Daniel's complete Harvard Classics, given him by his granny. She's cool; we like her. The rest is all of our literature, with Shakespeare and some reference (including a compact OED) on the bottom.
This is on the other side of the door, which is not photographed. We decided that since we have such a nice ledge underneath the fireplace, we would put my nice accent rugs there and then have some nice cushions on top to make a perch, as we call it. It's very comfy, and I sit there sometimes with Daniel on the papasan chair. He prefers the chair to the couch, so sometimes I humor him, rather than forcing him to sit with me. But we also think the extra seating will be very convenient for when we have company, although to date we have not had any. (San Francisco-area friends, hint hint hint.)
Here's a view of the perch without the Boy on it.
Here's a mobile that for a while we decided we wouldn't take, but now we love it. It's too fabulous, especially reflected in the ridiculous mirror above the fireplace. (This place has too many mirrors: it has a mirror above the fireplace, a huge mirror above the sink in the bathroom, an entire wall of mirrors on the sliding closet doors in the bedroom, and, to top it off, one of those full-length hanging mirrors by the door in the bedroom.)
Between the table and the fireplace (which you can see in the first picture) is the entrance into the kitchen, which is shown below. Note the basil and oregano plants in the window. Note also the clock; you can only see it in profile, but it is the coolest thing ever! Instead of numbers, it has birds, and at the hour that is represented by birds, it will play the appropriate bird call. I've gotten good at recognizing 1:00 (American Robin), but everything else is still a bit fuzzy so far. Yet I still have every intention of learning to tell time by ear before the year is out:
And here's the bedroom, which perhaps I should have neatened up a bit before photographing, but this is much closer to its natural state anyway. Pretend that instead of white curtains there are dark blue ones:
This is my desk, which I put to use today to do some calligraphy! I've decided that I'm going to write out Yeats's "The Second Coming" in Carolingian minuscule*. Maybe I'll take a picture of it and post it (I don't have a scanner) when I'm done, although I suspect what I should really be posting pictures of is the stuff I did in late high school and early college. That was when I was in practice, and that was great stuff. I have every plan to get back into it now that I have space and time.
In the place where stood to take the picture of the kitchen is a little alcove on the left, as you stand looking at it from the kitchen, the bathroom directly ahead, and the bedroom to the right. They don't make for very interesting pictures, but I post a shot of the transition for the sake of completeness, and a close-up of the alcove because that's where Daniel's office is going to be. It should be noted that the shelves are much fuller now than they were when the picture was taken:
*The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all around it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
-W. B. Yeats
Daniel bought the book used, and somebody had heavily annotated the poem, although judging by the annotations, it must have been for high school. Observe:
"Widening gyre": When we are part of the circle, everything is okay
"Anarchy": chaos
The end of the first verse: Best should be full of passionate intensity and worst lack of conviction, but because the circle is falling apart everything is messed up
"Spiritus Mundi": dreams/visions
"Troubles my sight . . . desert birds": This is what he sees as the second coming
"The darkness drops. . . to be born?": He sees the anti-Christ coming in the second coming. First coming was good (Jesus). Second coming (anti-Christ)
I mean, really, this doesn't elucidate anything beyond the obvious. Daniel and I had some fun debating whether "moving its slow thighs" evokes a more human or animal sense of movement (I said human; Daniel said not necessarily), and whether the fact that the desert birds, mainly carrion eaters, are indignant because this creature has been scavenging their carrion. And looking at it just now I'm wondering whether their shadows are reeling because, even as their food is being stolen, their bodies are being attacked--not necessarily directly, but simply by the movement of the beast. And how does one interpret the vexing to nightmare by a rocking cradle? The peace of good Christianity somehow brings forth the beast? Yes, it's clear that the second coming is the anti-Christ. Now get to the good stuff!
By the way, here's some Carolingian minuscule: