I am sooooo wiped out from working at Otakon. Otakon is giant fun for me, not because I like anime and les choses japonaises, but because for a few blessed precious days, I'M the NORMAL ONE in the room! I am looking forward to going back to work so I can rest.
And I *do* need to rest. This is "hell week" for the show, and I've got dress rehearsal/shows every night until Sunday. The invitational dress rehearsal is on Wednesday---just show up behind the pagoda at Patterson Park with a picnic and a blanket around 8 PM to take in the theatrical disaster for the bargain price of 100% off. Otherwise, you gots to shell out $6.00 to see me (and 30 other "grown ups") embarrass the bejesus out of ourselves. (Go to http://www.fluidmovement.org and click on "coming soon" for more information.
That's me in the publicity poster. That's also me on the cover of the freakin' Pennysaver which I was MORTIFIED to discover last Friday.)
Today's favorite poem is by W. H. Auden.
It's beautiful and sad, and if it were ever read to me at bedtime, I'd probably melt into tears.
"Lullaby
Lay Your Sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm:
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
Soul and body have no bounds:
To lovers as they lie upon
Her tolerant enchanted slope
In their ordinary swoon,
Grave the vision Venus sends
Of supernatural sympathy,
Universal love and hope;
While an abstract insight wakes
Among the glaciers and the rocks
The hermit's carnal ecstasy,
Certainty, fidelity
On the stroke of midnight pass
Like vibrations of a bell
And fashionable madmen raise
Their pedantic boring cry:
Every farthing of the cost.
All the dreaded cards foretell.
Shall be paid, but from this night
Not a whisper, not a thought.
Not a kiss nor look be lost.
Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of welcome show
Eye and knocking heart may bless,
Find our mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness find you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love."
And I *do* need to rest. This is "hell week" for the show, and I've got dress rehearsal/shows every night until Sunday. The invitational dress rehearsal is on Wednesday---just show up behind the pagoda at Patterson Park with a picnic and a blanket around 8 PM to take in the theatrical disaster for the bargain price of 100% off. Otherwise, you gots to shell out $6.00 to see me (and 30 other "grown ups") embarrass the bejesus out of ourselves. (Go to http://www.fluidmovement.org and click on "coming soon" for more information.
That's me in the publicity poster. That's also me on the cover of the freakin' Pennysaver which I was MORTIFIED to discover last Friday.)
Today's favorite poem is by W. H. Auden.
It's beautiful and sad, and if it were ever read to me at bedtime, I'd probably melt into tears.
"Lullaby
Lay Your Sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm:
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
Soul and body have no bounds:
To lovers as they lie upon
Her tolerant enchanted slope
In their ordinary swoon,
Grave the vision Venus sends
Of supernatural sympathy,
Universal love and hope;
While an abstract insight wakes
Among the glaciers and the rocks
The hermit's carnal ecstasy,
Certainty, fidelity
On the stroke of midnight pass
Like vibrations of a bell
And fashionable madmen raise
Their pedantic boring cry:
Every farthing of the cost.
All the dreaded cards foretell.
Shall be paid, but from this night
Not a whisper, not a thought.
Not a kiss nor look be lost.
Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of welcome show
Eye and knocking heart may bless,
Find our mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness find you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love."
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
o2bnlove:
I'm glad you like the poem, Windy. It can be said that Auden writes with more heat than light, but I seem to have an affinity for "warmth, close in darkness." What do you make of the last stanza? My gin-soaked brain can't seem to figure it out. 
bi_photo_chick:
My darling I got your email but when I relpied it gave me an email demon 
feel free to email me personally anytime you like...of IM me at the same addy...I am usually invisable but you can try anyway
feel free to email me personally anytime you like...of IM me at the same addy...I am usually invisable but you can try anyway