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yakalskovich) wrote2004-10-29 11:36 pm
yakalskovich) wrote2004-10-29 11:36 pm
Acquisitions
On Tuesday, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
japanologist mailed me to tell me that there was a new CD by Alice Coltrane, whose "Ptah the El Daoud" is an all-time favourite, and actually introduced the harp into jazz music.
I didn't know she was still alive, even! Turns out she didn't have a new record in 26 years. Now there is one: "Translinear Light". Still her typical jazz with mystical and New Age elements, but wow does it make your mind buck and kick when that serious Indian chant suddenly gets syncopated and starts swinging. Here is one example, yousendited, so it is only good for one Roundworld week, starting, erm, now:
Satya Sai Isha
Second acquisition: "The Celebrated Discworld Almanak"
Not a Discworld Diary this time around, although it contains two calendars, one of which contains Octedays, the other no day names, but 36 days to the month. And there is the month of Ick, 16 days between December and Offle, which will be so hard to integrate into the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
discworld_rpg
I don't know who except us RPG muns will ever need that book(let); it contains lots of cute and weird new canon facts wonderful for integrating into RPage, but no story! Instead, lots of astrology and even the occasional bits of astronomy. Of course, what with Great A'Tuin swimming through space, stars come and go, so research astrologers are forever mapping out new constellation and then take surveys on what people born under those new signs are like. And if your sign is left behind, you can apply for a new one.tahira_saki, I fear you will have to get that book just to make Skazz spout the correct kind of jargony nonsense.
So, and third- and lastly, as I had just been mentioning Prince Felix Yusupov tosupiluliumas, I'll do a mini-Ji and post an excerpt from the second part of Felix' autobiography, which was only ever published in French; I translate it, of course, because otherwise the only person on my flist truly enjoying the quotation would be Ji.
I chose a random little passage where he hardly talks about himself, but which is so wonderfully typical: gossippy, bizzare, full of weird humour, but with a sudden depth, and understanding for all the strange little oddities of humanity. Also, there is the strange poignancy of the "eccentric" cross-dressing woman in this little story - whom he accepts as one of the endless varieties that make life interesting, but who is treated with contempt by others, which in turn to him appears weird and bizarre.
Madame Whobee had a niece, just as unique as her aunt but in a totally different way. Valérie dressed as a man, smoked a pipe and wore her black hair cropped short under an urchin's cap. Short and bouncy, with olive skin and black eyes, she had the air of a tall Levantine boy. She lived alone in a cottage, served by a faithful old couple and surrounded by a multitude of animals. For Valérie, who didn't like people much, adored the beasts that she understood, and to whom she could make herself understood.
We had met her by chance, even before we knew her aunt, and we were among the very few persons whom she consented to see occasionally.
There's no doubt that her wildness and even the singularity of her behaviour, was due, to a large extent, to a certain inferiority complex. Her manners erected a barrier between her and the outside world but didn't keep her from being intelligent and good. That was why we liked her very much, despite her sometimes embarrassing eccentricities. She had won many car races. Now, having consented to dine with us and some friends one evening, she told us how she had had her breasts removed which had been in the way when driving her race car. Saying that, she lifted her shirt and showed us the most horrifying scars!
Madame Whobee, who wouldn't tolerate the slightest eccentricity in others, especially not of the sort exhibited by her niece, would never receive her, and when she saw that she'd come to see us, she'd break out into violent anger. After one such epic scene during the course of which several objects had been broken, she suddenly calmed down and said to me: "Rarity, I want to see her; bring her to me this evening for dinner."
She received her niece while lying on her bed and, after having stared at her from head to toes, told her disgustedly: "If one is a hermaphrodite, one should stay at home. Go away, I don't want to see you again."
After the poor Valérie had thus been sent away without dinner, her aunt remained angry for a while, but then suddenly said to me, "Rarity, make some dresses for that monster at [your fashion house] Irfé, three for the afternoon and three for the evening, and a few coats. Hopefully, that will do her good.
The next day, I took Valérie to the Rue Duphot where her arrival produced an effect that can be imagined! In the midst of general astonishment, she made her choice, and the order was sent to the workshop.
Madame Whobee kept nagging me when the dresses would be ready as she wanted to organise a family dinner to reconcile Valérie with her other uncles and aunts who didn't want to see her any more than she did, horrified by her masuline behaviour.
When the day arrived, Madame Whobee installed herself in her drawing room, accompanied by her family, all facing the door where Valérie was due to enter. But when she arrived, the unfortunate was greeted with a general cry of horror: when dressed as a man, Valérie had still had vague airs of the feminine about her, but when dressed as a woman, she looked totally like a man!
Madame Whobee hid her face in her hands and said, her voice almost stifled with rage, "S**t! Somebody give her back her trousers!" The unfortunate Valérie, completely confused, turned tail and fled, this time again without dinner.
japanologist mailed me to tell me that there was a new CD by Alice Coltrane, whose "Ptah the El Daoud" is an all-time favourite, and actually introduced the harp into jazz music.I didn't know she was still alive, even! Turns out she didn't have a new record in 26 years. Now there is one: "Translinear Light". Still her typical jazz with mystical and New Age elements, but wow does it make your mind buck and kick when that serious Indian chant suddenly gets syncopated and starts swinging. Here is one example, yousendited, so it is only good for one Roundworld week, starting, erm, now:
Satya Sai Isha
Second acquisition: "The Celebrated Discworld Almanak"
Not a Discworld Diary this time around, although it contains two calendars, one of which contains Octedays, the other no day names, but 36 days to the month. And there is the month of Ick, 16 days between December and Offle, which will be so hard to integrate into the
discworld_rpgI don't know who except us RPG muns will ever need that book(let); it contains lots of cute and weird new canon facts wonderful for integrating into RPage, but no story! Instead, lots of astrology and even the occasional bits of astronomy. Of course, what with Great A'Tuin swimming through space, stars come and go, so research astrologers are forever mapping out new constellation and then take surveys on what people born under those new signs are like. And if your sign is left behind, you can apply for a new one.
tahira_saki, I fear you will have to get that book just to make Skazz spout the correct kind of jargony nonsense.So, and third- and lastly, as I had just been mentioning Prince Felix Yusupov to
supiluliumas, I'll do a mini-Ji and post an excerpt from the second part of Felix' autobiography, which was only ever published in French; I translate it, of course, because otherwise the only person on my flist truly enjoying the quotation would be Ji.I chose a random little passage where he hardly talks about himself, but which is so wonderfully typical: gossippy, bizzare, full of weird humour, but with a sudden depth, and understanding for all the strange little oddities of humanity. Also, there is the strange poignancy of the "eccentric" cross-dressing woman in this little story - whom he accepts as one of the endless varieties that make life interesting, but who is treated with contempt by others, which in turn to him appears weird and bizarre.
Madame Whobee had a niece, just as unique as her aunt but in a totally different way. Valérie dressed as a man, smoked a pipe and wore her black hair cropped short under an urchin's cap. Short and bouncy, with olive skin and black eyes, she had the air of a tall Levantine boy. She lived alone in a cottage, served by a faithful old couple and surrounded by a multitude of animals. For Valérie, who didn't like people much, adored the beasts that she understood, and to whom she could make herself understood.
We had met her by chance, even before we knew her aunt, and we were among the very few persons whom she consented to see occasionally.
There's no doubt that her wildness and even the singularity of her behaviour, was due, to a large extent, to a certain inferiority complex. Her manners erected a barrier between her and the outside world but didn't keep her from being intelligent and good. That was why we liked her very much, despite her sometimes embarrassing eccentricities. She had won many car races. Now, having consented to dine with us and some friends one evening, she told us how she had had her breasts removed which had been in the way when driving her race car. Saying that, she lifted her shirt and showed us the most horrifying scars!
Madame Whobee, who wouldn't tolerate the slightest eccentricity in others, especially not of the sort exhibited by her niece, would never receive her, and when she saw that she'd come to see us, she'd break out into violent anger. After one such epic scene during the course of which several objects had been broken, she suddenly calmed down and said to me: "Rarity, I want to see her; bring her to me this evening for dinner."
She received her niece while lying on her bed and, after having stared at her from head to toes, told her disgustedly: "If one is a hermaphrodite, one should stay at home. Go away, I don't want to see you again."
After the poor Valérie had thus been sent away without dinner, her aunt remained angry for a while, but then suddenly said to me, "Rarity, make some dresses for that monster at [your fashion house] Irfé, three for the afternoon and three for the evening, and a few coats. Hopefully, that will do her good.
The next day, I took Valérie to the Rue Duphot where her arrival produced an effect that can be imagined! In the midst of general astonishment, she made her choice, and the order was sent to the workshop.
Madame Whobee kept nagging me when the dresses would be ready as she wanted to organise a family dinner to reconcile Valérie with her other uncles and aunts who didn't want to see her any more than she did, horrified by her masuline behaviour.
When the day arrived, Madame Whobee installed herself in her drawing room, accompanied by her family, all facing the door where Valérie was due to enter. But when she arrived, the unfortunate was greeted with a general cry of horror: when dressed as a man, Valérie had still had vague airs of the feminine about her, but when dressed as a woman, she looked totally like a man!
Madame Whobee hid her face in her hands and said, her voice almost stifled with rage, "S**t! Somebody give her back her trousers!" The unfortunate Valérie, completely confused, turned tail and fled, this time again without dinner.
no subject
That's odd. I thought I remembered reading somewhere that they had 13 months with either 30 or 31 days in each; 10 months of 31 and 3 months of 30 would get you 400 days, which is the length of the Discworld (short) year, right? I can't figure out how a 36-day month would work.
no subject
It's all a bit confusing; I haven't really worked it out yet.
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no subject
On his own, Felix Yusupov would never have undertaken the murder of Rasputin, that is exceedingly obvious. I prefer to hedge my bets here, and sit on my line of argumentation, as I still need it for something else that I am doing; sorry. But, erm, killing anything or anybody is totally out of character for Felix Yusupov, who could see the aspect of interesting bizzarerie in everybody, and appreciate it - even in Rasputin, which becomes very clear in his account.
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http://alexanderpalace.org/lostsplendor/intro.html
That's the first part of his 1950s autobiography, up to the moment he has to leave Russia; in English, and completely online. The sequel, though, that I was quoting from, is available only in French or Russian, and on dead trees.
Belated reply
Thank you belatedly for the link! I'm so plugging it in my next post. :D
Re: Belated reply
Dead trees are very handy for reading on a plane or train, you know.
no subject
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*uses only blue Charmin', no banal Zewa Soft*
outhouse discussion
i actually was told at zielpunkt today that whatever i had was no longer in discount, so i had to trudge to bipa. theirs is smaller though. and white. bah.
Re: outhouse discussion
Re: outhouse discussion
i'd already be happy if you told me where i picked that up yesterday.
i hate grey, but my bath and toilet are also grey. even the toilet bowl. hate it. but i don't think i have actually ever seen blue paper! i am so deprived and impoverished!
Re: outhouse discussion
And IKEA buitt the pyramids? Like, in
DjelibeybiEgypt? I only know the pyramid-shaped (sort of) set of shelves my little niece has.Re: outhouse discussion
i wish i had not lost all!all of my drive. after 4 yours i still have not moved in, and i know there's some sort of slanted shelf in the cellar, but i am sick of the black left here for me. i want to get wooden stuff, but it costs muchly.
do you have pictures then?!
it was a throwaway joke on tv or lj. as i have both running simultaneously, i forget.