all is near and can't be touched

Apr. 21st, 2019 04:30 pm
musesfool: "We'll sleep later! Time for cake!" (time for cake!)
[personal profile] musesfool
Happy Easter to those who are celebrating! Happy Passover to those who are celebrating that! And Happy Sunday if you are not celebrating anything!

I got up this morning and made a blueberry cobbler and some whipped cream (pics) and then I ate some for breakfast and it was delicious.

I currently have a ginormous ham in the oven, because when I ordered it, I thought L might be coming for Easter dinner, but she wasn't feeling up to it, so I have a 10lb spiral ham (I thought I was getting something that was 6 or 7 lbs, so you can imagine my surprise when this behemoth showed up) and I guess I'll be eating it for lunch all week in sandwiches, and with eggs and in fried rice and I'm sure I'll figure out a couple other ways to eat it. *hands*

Yesterday, I made that peasant bread again and one I left plain - I'll use that for the above ham sandwiches - and the other I added in half a stick of butter mixed with 1 1/2 tablespoons of minced garlic, 1/4 cup of parmesan cheese, and a sprinkle of basil and oregano (pics). I ate it last night for dinner with some fresh mozzarella and it was delicious.

I've actually been writing this weekend, which hadn't happened in a while. Not on any of my wsip of course, but what are you gonna do? Hopefully I'll be able to finish it. I've got three sections left to go.

Anyway, here's today's poem:

Between Going and Staying
by Octavio Paz

Between going and staying the day wavers,
in love with its own transparency.
The circular afternoon is now a bay
where the world in stillness rocks.

All is visible and all elusive,
all is near and can't be touched.

Paper, book, pencil, glass,
rest in the shade of their names.

Time throbbing in my temples repeats
the same unchanging syllable of blood.

The light turns the indifferent wall
into a ghostly theater of reflections.

I find myself in the middle of an eye,
watching myself in its blank stare.

The moment scatters. Motionless,
I stay and go: I am a pause.

Translated by Eliot Weinberger.

alethia: (ST Michael Pike)
[personal profile] alethia
I spent Easter resurrecting Pike. Let's all be shocked.

Title: A Moment in Time
Author: Alethia
Pairing: Michael Burnham/Christopher Pike
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1643

Author's Notes: Post-season Pike fix-it fic that spans both Discovery and TOS because I'm fixing all of it, dammit. I blame theislandergirl for getting this stuck in my head when I should be working on that other story that's getting too long. Also posted here.

Summary: Chris shook his head at her, helpless. "Michael, you can't."

"I can. I did," she said, vehement, as if daring him to refute what his own eyes could see. "You always do what's honorable. I'm doing what's right. Some sacrifices are too much, Chris."


Star Trek: Discovery Fic: A Moment in Time (Burnham/Pike, PG) )

And were we not lovely, then

Apr. 20th, 2019 11:02 am
musesfool: eucalyptus by stephen meyers (Default)
[personal profile] musesfool
by Cecilia Woloch

Didn’t I stand there once,
white-knuckled, gripping the just-lit taper,
swearing I’d never go back?
And hadn’t you kissed the rain from my mouth?
And weren’t we gentle and awed and afraid,
knowing we’d stepped from the room of desire
into the further room of love?
And wasn’t it sacred, the sweetness
we licked from each other’s hands?
And were we not lovely, then, were we not
as lovely as thunder, and damp grass, and flame?

musesfool: Kaylee as Delight (delight)
[personal profile] musesfool
Only a year and two months after I moved in, my mirrors are finally hung! Pics! I'm so pleased with how they look and the guy was so fast! He was done with both in less than an hour! Next weekend, the bench is assembled and that'll go under the mirror in the bedroom - between the windows but away from the radiator - and everything will be complete!!!

The exterminator came also, which is good because last night was like a nightmare in the kitchen. Things had been mostly quiet on the bug front lately, and I guess I got complacent because I was not prepared at all for last night. But I watched him spray the baseboards and put some gel on the lip of the backsplash above the sink where I can't reach, and hopefully that will take care of the problem. There's no food out and the sink is dry after 8 pm, and I wish they would just go away. It's so upsetting.

I also got the laundry done, and I'll fold it tonight while watching the Mets. Yesterday, I caught up on Brooklyn Nine Nine, which was a good choice, because it made me laugh a lot, and then last night's episode made me laugh even more. Everything with Holt was COMEDY GOLD. And Mark Evan Jackson looks amazingly attractive with that beard.

In other news, did you know that jelly shoes are in fashion again? I would like a pair of gold sparkly ones, but I doubt at this point I could wear them comfortably. I lived in them in the early 80s though. And those awful Dr. Scholl's sandals - you know the ones! - before graduating to Candie's.

Anyway, here is today's poem:

All Objects Reveal Something About the Body
by Catie Rosemurgy

Crisp is to the apple what
flexed is to the body.

Poor apple.

Being bitten is to the crisp apple
what walking is to the ripe body, but it's more complicated than that:

the apple of the face has been given
to the running juice of the body

and the body, which is often gracious,
makes it shine.

Lucky apple.

Having a core is to the apple
what having a core is to the body, city, method, circumstance, endeavor.

Having a core is flower-shaped and hurts
in the way that having a shape hurts, which is to say

it hurts ironically, because to have limits
is not just to make a declaration upon a mountainside,

it is also to be the mountainside. Having a flowering core
also hurts in the way that being flower-like always hurts,

which is to say sexually, as if the whole self
has exceeded the skin, which it hasn't, which means

we always seem to be opening but never ever do.
Both these types of suffering color the air

when we pause to have them. The affected atoms
are hard to see amongst the billions

of sofa atoms, newsprint atoms
but, like the illnesses in the crystalline sea, they are there.

Red apple sliced, quartered, salted. Green apple,

alone in the basket.
Anything left on the shelf becomes weak,

suggestible, vulnerable to other shapes, hungry to be refilled
by something other than itself,

a poison apple.
The joining we do with others needs containing.

Apple pie.
Imagine the mess. Imagine a finger touching the sack of the heart.

Imagine being stopped, controlled that powerfully.
Imagine nothing like that being possible. Nothing ever stopping you

at the root of the breath. Huge apple.
The world in reference to you. How you move. Time a backdrop.

Or close the other eye: you in reference to the world.
How it varies and happens simultaneously.

Good morning.
Little apple.

alethia: (ST Michael Pike)
[personal profile] alethia
Title: A New Story
Author: Alethia
Pairing: Michael Burnham/Christopher Pike
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1430

Author's Notes: I'm feeling Very Melancholy about the S2 finale, so the other story I'm writing is getting far longer than I expected. So here's a bite-sized post-ep for 2.11 "Perpetual Infinity." Also posted here.

Summary: "I've seen hundreds of permutations. I know all the variables in play. You have to tell him."

Michael's gut dropped out as she realized what her mom was saying. "Mom."


Star Trek: Discovery Fic: A New Story (Burnham/Pike, PG) )

There, I fixed it. As they say, it writes itself.
musesfool: tasty cosmopolitans (we'll laugh and we'll toast to nothing)
[personal profile] musesfool
So I woke up on Tuesday morning and I thought, I could take Thursday off and have a FIVE DAY weekend. And so that is what I did, and now i am home gloriously doing nothing today, except maybe laundry later. Tomorrow, someone is coming to hang my mirrors, and Saturday I have the cleaning service, so I will have to be up early, but today I slept in until 9! It was amazing!

Last night, I met L for dinner and then we went back to where she is apartment sitting for DG and chatted for a couple of hours, and I didn't get home until about midnight, but it was great just to hang out and talk. Dinner was good too, and there were two for one drinks, so she had some kind of blood orange cocktail and I had one two that had passion fruit and peach in it, and it was delicious.

Yesterday was full of surprising good things. I had my review, which went exceptionally well and better than I expected, given what happened last year. But boss3 said that not only had I risen to the occasion of having more and more work piled onto my plate, but she noticed that I had taken her advice from last year seriously and also seemed more engaged and interested in the work than I had been previously. So that was great.

Because of how the day was scheduled, I wasn't going to be able to eat lunch until 3:30, unless I ate at 12 noon, which I normally don't like doing, but I ran out and bought a bagel and scarfed it down, but after my review, it turned out that I did not have to cover reception, and in fact the receptionist had made me up a plate of food from a retirement party that had happened at lunchtime, and left it on my desk! So I ate a little bit of that (it was about 2:30 by that time, so my usual lunch hour), and then one of the other assistants guided me to where they were keeping the leftover cake, so I also got a piece of cake out of it.

That seemed like a good note to go out on for the week, so I'm glad I am off today, since yesterday could probably not be topped, unless they decided to give me a raise. Which sadly they did not, as there is no increase attached to the performance review process.

Now I need to find something to eat because I've just been drinking coffee all morning and it's starting to make me shaky.


Today's poem:

How to Write a Story
by Cyn Kitchen


here, we join Ted
a man in a tree.
how he got there
you decide.
scuttling branch to branch,
lowered by chopper, launched
from trebuchet, a beginning.
here he sits, whistling, whittling.
above, birds flit among leaves
below, pasture green & rolling.
Ted is in the tree, you put him there
but make no mistake it was under
his own power.
throw rocks at Ted.
start small,
bean him with pebbles.
muster strength to heave
stones fist-big,
boulders round & smooth as a heart.
observe. take notes.
consider more rocks.
let exhilaration blow through you
as you throw, observe, repeat.
do not go easy.
watch him in the tree, tattered
bleeding, wide-eyed
as an empty house.
writers never pity. 
this mess is of his own making.
it is not Ted's tree.
he does not live here; 
he was only visiting.
suddenly, a tornado
sweeping over the prairie.
there is no cover. this is
between Ted & the finger
of God that will flick him from
his branch. or
that hunter in boredom
will blow him off his high horse
double-ott buck,
send him in a high arc over
crest of hill.
perhaps the same chopper
could pluck him away.
a ladder? too easy.
nevertheless, get him down.
Ted is in handcuffs. the story took off
on its own while you were looking
straight at it. not what you had planned
but there it is, undeniable.
you did all you could
still you ended up here,
struck like a match. keep taking notes,
follow at a safe distance.
up ahead, another tree.
how he gets there you don’t know.
fill your pockets with stones
caress them like old lovers.
the story has not ended.
the story does not end.
it keeps going whether you
are watching it or not. 

alethia: (TMG Eliot)
[personal profile] alethia
This ep needed a trigger warning!

The Magicians 4.13 No Better to Be Safe Than Sorry )
musesfool: kara, pretty (nothing but the rain)
[personal profile] musesfool
It is so cold in this office today. On the upside, it's keeping me awake?

What I'm reading Wednesday:

What I've just finished
The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie, which I thought was intriguing but the narrative structure was too distant for me to get emotionally involved with the characters. spoilers ) I thought everything about the gods was so interesting - do humans know this? does it affect the human story-telling tradition? the development of language? but the Hamlet rehash plotline was only okay because we were never in the other characters' feelings. And the ending is a bit abrupt and anticlimactic.

I also read these two articles which I recommend:

+ Lloyd Dobler is Cameron Crowe’s original manic pixie dream date #this movie is the best movie #formative influences

+ The Legend of Keanu Reeves #my lifelong keanu reeves situation continues

What I'm reading now
The last Amberlough book: Amnesty. I just started it this morning, so I don't have much to say except I think it was a questionable editorial choice to enclose a 'foreign' language in « » instead of regular quotation marks - I can't remember if the earlier books did this, but since I don't remember, I'm guessing they didn't. The words are still in English! This isn't a comic book where you might need the visual signal that a different language is being spoken. That's what narrative text is for. Idk. It jumped out at me this morning and not in a good way.

What I'm reading next


Today's poem:

What I Mean By Ruin Is...

When there's only condiments left in the fridge
and you join a free online dating service
so men will buy you dinner.

When you've shucked the night with the dull blade
of indecision and gulped down everything,
even the pearls.

When some old, left-handed love has left
your guitar strung backwards
and you can't find any songs
for rain in its frets.

When you wake up next to the body
of your past and it looks ready
to wrinkle and bald.

When the last burn of summer is peeling
from your breasts and there's nothing to husk
the pale, raw of new flesh.

When the woman who wears her hair
in the old way quits mumbling about Jesus
on the street corner and takes her salvation
pamphlets to a pauper's grave.

When you're too ugly to pray,
but pray
              and the only voice
on the drunk subway wails
                         good grief.

~Stevie Edwards


Now I have to go to a meeting. Sigh.


took up God's house to meet him

Apr. 16th, 2019 10:45 am
musesfool: close up of the Chrysler Building (home)
[personal profile] musesfool
The news about Notre Dame was so heartbreaking but it seems to not be quite as complete a destruction as first reported, which is a small balm to the hurt, and I have to believe that it will be rebuilt, somehow.

[personal profile] selenak posted this poem, which seems like the best response in poetry form I could imagine:

The Cathedral Builders
by John Ormond

They climbed on sketchy ladders towards God,
with winch and pulley hoisted hewn rock into heaven,
inhabited the sky with hammers,
defied gravity,
deified stone,
took up God's house to meet him,
and came down to their suppers
and small beer,
every night slept, lay with their smelly wives,
quarrelled and cuffed the children,
lied, spat, sang, were happy, or unhappy,
and every day took to the ladders again,
impeded the rights of way of another summer's swallows,
grew greyer, shakier,
became less inclined to fix a neighbour's roof of a fine evening,
saw naves sprout arches, clerestories soar,
cursed the loud fancy glaziers for their luck,
somehow escaped the plague,
got rheumatism,
decided it was time to give it up,
to leave the spire to others,
stood in the crowd, well back from the vestments at the consecration,
envied the fat bishop his warm boots,
cocked a squint eye aloft,
and said, 'I bloody did that.'


In less noteworthy news, my storage bench, which was supposed to arrive on Monday, April 22nd, when I am scheduled to be home, arrived yesterday, Monday, April 15th, when I was at work. Luckily, the delivery guy carried it up to my apartment door, so I only had to wrangle it into the bedroom, but it seems to me that we live in a time when delivery estimates are more fine-tuned than that, so I should not have been surprised by an email saying my package was delivered a week early.

Unfortunately, I can't seem to reschedule my Handy appointment to put it together to be earlier than it is (or, rather, I can't confirm an earlier appointment until 4 hours before the appointment is supposed to happen, which is not a situation I find appealing), so it will have to sit in the box until 4/28, when someone is scheduled to come and assemble it, but at least it's in my possession? And the mirrors are going to be hung on Friday (or, at least the bedroom mirror will be hung; and I'll finally see if the one for the hallway works out), so the final stages are at least commencing.


In fannish news, I recently discovered two DCU/White Collar crossovers where Neal Caffrey was previously Robin, and I was excited, because you know peak Matt Bomer is my mental Dick Grayson, so imagine my surprise (and dismay tbh) when it turned out that Neal was not, in fact, an alias for Dick, but instead in one case he was Tim and in the other he was Damian. In my surprise and disappointment, I did not continue reading either story, so I can't comment on their quality, just that they were not what I was hoping to read when I clicked.

musesfool: Ahsoka Tano (my power's turned on)
[personal profile] musesfool
That storm last night/early this morning woke me up and I had to run into the living room to close the window because so much water was coming in. Ugh.

Today's poem:

Geography IV
by Susan Rich

Of what is the earth's surface composed?
– Elizabeth Bishop, Geography III

The world is a little place – a feather, a pebble, a spoon;
it turns to the left and taps its foot, a soldier signaling

to the rest of its platoon. The world doesn't know
it's a little world, thinks it's Greta Garbo in her Paris debut.

Watch as the world decorates half-moons and cinnamon stars,
slips the Sound some islands to improve a stellar view.

Tonight the world wishes to sing what it means
to miss New Orleans; listens to drowned hymns

of the Tchoupotulas while waiting on help,
recompense, a cat with seventeen kittens. Now the globe

pulls round again, scattering meaning in gold
rings of ramekins; a wizard of chemical breathing.

When invited to a soiree by this parched world,
down the Pinot Grigio while your inner life implodes

knowing nothing is serene as it seems – the past
lit with menthol cigarettes, our futures just as unclean.


The Clone Wars season 7 trailer gave me A LOT of FEELINGS in re:

- ♥♥♥AHSOKA♥♥♥

- Snips and Skyguy reunited! Just break my heart all over again why don't you?


- Maul!

spoilers I guess? )

Between this and Falcon & Winter Soldier, the Disney streaming service is certainly making a tempting case for itself.

Lastly, Matt Lanter & Hayden Christensen, or as I tagged it on tumblr, #same hat. (I amuse myself anyway.)

musesfool: Daisy Ridley as Rey with lightsaber (you were not mine to save)
[personal profile] musesfool
Today's poem:

by Aracelis Girmay

What to do with this knowledge
that our living is not guaranteed?
Perhaps one day you touch the young branch
of something beautiful. & it grows & grows
despite your birthdays & the death certificate,
& it one day shades the heads of something beautiful
or makes itself useful to the nest. Walk out
of your house, then, believing in this.
Nothing else matters.

All above us is the touching
of strangers & parrots,
some of them human,
some of them not human.

Listen to me. I am telling you
a true thing. This is the only kingdom.
The kingdom of touching;
the touches of the disappearing, things.


I'm having a fairly lazy Sunday, after a fairly lazy Saturday. Last night, I made the dough for cream cheese preserves cookies, and this morning I made the cookies, and they are delicious! but the dough is almost impossible to handle. I don't know what the problem is (not enough flour probably?) but my sister said they had the same problem with the recipe and so use a different recipe now.

my grandmother's preserves cookie recipe )

I also made strawberry cream cheese ice cream, because I still have a bunch of strawberries, and it turned out excellent as it always does. I guess it was a weekend for baking with cream cheese?

Pics are here.


I'm still thinking about Episode IX and someone - [personal profile] gffa I think? - mentioned the callbacks and references to the OT, and how everyone (note: not me! I loved them! but I love variations on a theme) complained about them as laziness in TFA, but with this trailer, we see that, to quote another SF franchise (that was inspired by the OT), "all of this has happened before. And all of this will happen again." THEY ARE STILL FIGHTING THE SAME WAR. Which makes sense (I have this whole PT = WWI*, OT = WWII, ST = now-ish thing that I've never gotten around to writing up), especially with George Lucas's whole, "it doesn't repeat but it does rhyme" (QFM) thing.

*I mean, the PT is clearly influenced by Shrub-era politics, but I can make the case for a WWI parallel! trust me!

I just really hope that "the rise of Skywalker" isn't some bullshit redemption arc for Kyle. I hope instead it refers to Rey (or Finn, but as I've said before, so much of her styling and history etc. goes there and it's poor storytelling to waste that just to thwart expectations) either being a Skywalker or taking the name. Idk. I'm just glad to see the new trio + Rose having adventures together, I guess.

My deep dive back into DCU fandom has reminded me that in the end, for fannish purposes, canon is the clay we build stories with, and we can ignore a lot of the stuff we don't like. (And obviously what you do or don't take and what you leave is dependent on what you personally like and may not match up with what other fans like or leave behind.) So that is what I do these days; it makes being disappointed or enraged by the actual canon slightly easier. (I mean, obviously I am still both of those things sometimes, but less so than I used to be. *hands*)

musesfool: Daisy Ridley as Rey with lightsaber (you were not mine to save)
[personal profile] musesfool
poetry month has infiltrated my dreams, because this morning I woke up with lines of (non-existent) poetry in my head and thought, I have to post that one today! Except there is no such poem. The lines were:

My vocabulary does not contain the following:
disavow, good morning, potato
Please substitute:
promise, good night, my heart.

I don't know what my brain was doing. *hands* Have today's poem:

The River

This is my formula for the fall of things:
we come to a river we always knew we'd have to cross.
It ferries the twilight down through fieldworks

of corn and half-blown sunflowers.
The only sounds, one lost cicada calling to itself
and the piping of a bird that will never have a name.

Now tell me there is a pause
where we know there should be an end;
then tell me you too imagined it this way

with our shadows never quite touching the river
and the river never quite reaching the sea.

~John Glenday

With that said, let's talk fandom stuff:

First, in brief: Falcon & Winter Soldier is a go! Please be the odd couple superhero comedy I've been yearning for! And when I say "odd couple" I mean it - Sam as Felix and Bucky as Oscar! Or v.v., I'm not picky. I can already hear the old Odd Couple theme music in my head! (I guess this means neither Bucky nor Sam becomes Captain America after Endgame? Or will timeline shenanigans prevent that and this will be a whole new timeline?) I still have no plans to splash out for the Disney service, but [personal profile] angelgazing mentioned it might be bundled with Hulu, which I already get, and between this and the new Clone Wars season, I might be tempted...

And speaking of TCW, the trailer for Star Wars IX: The Rise of Skywalker dropped yesterday and while I'm trying not to get my hopes up after TLJ made me ANGRY WITH RAGE (no, I don't want to rehash it now), there are some things that are EXCITING!!! in it:

spoilers want you to DO IT )

Anyway, that was a lot and it gave me a lot of feels and I would really like for them not to fuck this up, because it should have been Leia's movie, and we've been robbed of that, and they really need to honor her properly here.


WGA - Agency fight

Apr. 12th, 2019 11:01 pm
alethia: (Writing GK)
[personal profile] alethia
I don't generally talk about Hollywood business here because who cares, but this news is industry-shaking, so in case anyone's interested in what's up: all WGA members are firing their agents tonight, in about an hour. This video simply and clearly explains the WGA's position on the conflicts of interest.

Hollywood press has been incredibly shitty on this (hilariously because of their own conflicts of interest), so if you're looking for info, don't go to sites like The Hollywood Reporter or Deadline or anything. WaPo had a good one a ways back: In a twist, Hollywood writers are feuding with an unlikely subject: Their own agents. Here's IndieWire more recently.

David Simon has been ON FIRE about this on twitter, btw. It's going to be a mess.

But the writers are righteous, essentially standing up to private equity and saying no.

ETA: To be clear, this isn't a strike and no currently-produced shows or movies will be affected. If anything, it'll slow down the development pipeline, but that's got a years-long horizon anyway. But it is a rare case of a bunch of artists pushing back at Wall Street in a meaningful way.
alethia: (ST Pike)
[personal profile] alethia
I've decided that Disco is the perfect fandom show: it's decent, with deeply engaging characters, but flawed enough that you can find lots of holes to tell stories in. If only it had started with more hot white guys so that fandom actually gave a shit.

I had to watch this one twice and really think on it.

Star Trek: Discovery 2.13 Such Sweet Sorrow )
musesfool: art deco brandy ad (been drinking since half-past three)
[personal profile] musesfool
Free breakfast at work today! And hot (well, relatively speaking) breakfast to boot! Pancakes and bacon! There were also eggs and potatoes but they all had peppers in them and peppers and I are unmixy things thanks to acid reflux.


So after waffling a bit - mostly over delivery dates and vacation days - I ended up ordering the storage bench I mentioned last week, except I ordered it from Wayfair instead of Amazon because 1. the bench itself was cheaper, and 2. the charge for assembling it was cheaper. So it's supposed to arrive on Monday, 4/22, which is good because I will be home. And they should deliver it right to my door so I don't have to schlep it up any stairs or in the elevator, and then someone will come the next weekend to put it together. And I've scheduled a guy to hang the mirrors next Friday - or at least the bedroom one, which is important because right now it's just sitting on the floor where the bench will go. But once those two things are done, my bedroom will finally be complete!

I will share pictures when the time comes.


I have been thinking about iced tea sangria all week - I might try to make some this weekend as a test run for Easter. I already have an iced tea called hibiscus sangria tea (it is delicious and I recommend it as a refreshing iced beverage at any time #i like cool beverages) so adding some wine and some fruit to it could be good. I have another iced tea I haven't tried yet (Chardonnay iced tea, made with white grape skins and hints of pineapple and peach, also from Republic of Tea), that sounds like it would also lend itself to adding wine to it, especially a sweet, fizzy wine like Moscato. I have to clean out the refrigerator first though. *wry*


Today's poem:

In the Microscope

Here too are dreaming landscapes,
lunar, derelict.
Here too are the masses,
tillers of the soil.
And cells, fighters
who lay down their lives
for a song.

Here too are cemeteries,
fame and snow.
And I hear murmuring,
the revolt of immense estates.

—Miroslav Holub
translated by Ian Milner

musesfool: jason todd is not all right (always all right)
[personal profile] musesfool
On Sunday afternoon, I was not feeling my earlier plans to make a whole lot of food for this week, but around 4:30 pm, I decided to just get off the couch and do it, so I ended up making a big tray of ziti, and also a pot of French onion pasta, since I didn't really have room in the fridge or the freezer to keep the onions, and I didn't want them to go to waste. By 6:30 pm, everything was packed into little containers for lunch and dinner all week and lunch has been great. The problem is that baked ziti is very filling, so I haven't actually wanted to eat dinner when I get home. Last night, I waited until about 7:30 pm, when I was hungry again, to eat another bowl of pasta, but I can see that while well-intentioned, this was not the best meal plan I ever made, and I won't be repeating it.

I'm still figuring out what I want to do for Easter dinner, since I have currently not accepted any of the invitations I've received and will probably stay home regardless. Should I do a little roast beast? A steak? Or should I be more traditional and see if I can get a small loin of pork? (I don't like lamb.) I love a spiral ham, but it is too big and too expensive for one person. I did invite L over in case she's not going out of town to her family, but I doubt she'll come.

And then there's dessert... Maybe blueberry cobbler? Or one of the many lemon cakes I have bookmarked? Or maybe just a regular little yellow cake with frosting? I've been meaning to make preserves cookies and they are very springlike so that's a possibility. I could try to make grain pie again - I was the only one who liked it last time, but now I don't have to worry about pleasing anyone else...

In more fannish news, a couple of people have mentioned to me AUs where Jason comes back with amnesia and becomes a doctor, either in the ER or in Leslie Thompkins' clinic (which, wouldn't she have recognized him?), but while I read and enjoyed one where he became a nurse, I have yet to turn up an AU where he's a doctor. And believe me, I've looked. Anyone know what I'm talking about and have a link?

And lastly, today's poem:

Our Origins Are In The Sea
by Eavan Boland

I live near the coast. On these summer nights
Arcturus is already there, steadfast
in the southeast. I stand at the edge of our grass.

I do not connect them: once they were connected—
the fixity of stars and unruly salt water—
by sailors with an avarice for landfall.

And this is land. The way the whitebeams will
begin their fall to an alluvial earth and
a bicycle wheel is spinning on it, proves that.

From where I stand the sea is just a rumor.
The stars are put out by our street lamp. Light
and seawater are well separated. And how little

survives of the sea captain in his granddaughter
is everywhere apparent. Such things get lost:
He drowned in the Bay of Biscay. I never saw him.

I turn to go in. The hills are indistinct.
The coast is near and darkening. The stars are clearer.
The grass and the house are lapped in shadow.

And the briar rose is rigged in the twilight,
the way I imagine sails used to be—
lacy and stiff together, a frigate of ivory.

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