also a really good a.s. byatt fairy tale that you can read online! is a stone woman (much body horror therein)

Oh wow!  This is a really good folk tale!

(But seriously, Body Horror warning!  But it’s the kind of Beautiful/Love-filled body horror you get in Clive Barker or Nina Kiriki Hoffman. <3)

That was beautiful.

Yes, it was amazing.  I love stories that are that… elemental, in a good way.

!!! Thanks for that! I love the story itself and I love how it was written.


Someone told me to ‘stop now before I become this generation’s version of a crazy and a cat lady’

Well, I am a lady

I am crazy

And I have a cat


(via youneedacat)


Have a great day

This made me go awww out loud! :D

(via youneedacat)

Monkey and Bear (the Joanna Newsom song)

(still on a Ys kick this week, this isn’t a bad thing) :)

Link to video (just the song + picture of the album cover, sadly nobody seems to have created an animated version, which would be *awesome*):

"Monkey and Bear" is the second track on Ys. The first time I heard it my impression was, "wow, this is like a really messed-up Disney movie". Then I learned it was partly supposed to be a telling of the creation-myth for one of the Ursa constellations, and that totally made sense.  

It’s an amazing song however you interpret it. Though I definitely prefer NOT to (as I’ve seen some people do) take the ending as being “Bear was so sad that she drowned herself”, but rather, “Bear was so sick of being exploited that she basically went ‘screw this bullshit, I’m going to TRANSFORM INTO THE WILD ESSENCE OF ALL THAT IS BEAR kthxbye’.” 



Down in the green hay,
where monkey and bear usually lay,
they woke from a stable-boy’s cry.
He said: “someone come quick —
the horses got loose, got grass-sick —
they’ll founder! Fain, they’ll die.”

What is now known by the sorrel and the roan?
By the chestnut, and the bay, and the gelding grey?
It is: stay by the gate you are given.
Remain in your place, for your season.
O, had the overfed dead but listened
to that high-fence, horse-sense, wisdom…

“Did you hear that, bear?” said
monkey, “we’ll get out of here, fair and square
they’ve left the gate open wide!

“So, my bride.

“Here is my hand. Where is your paw?
Try and understand my plan, Ursala.
My heart is a furnace
full of love that is just, and earnest.
We know that we must unlearn this
allegiance to a life of service,
and no longer answer to that heartless
hay-monger, nor be his accomplice —
(that charlatan, with artless hustling!)
But Ursala, we’ve got to eat something,
and earn our keep, while still within
the borders of the land that man has girded,
(all double-bolted and tightfisted!),
until we reach the open country,
a-steeped in milk and honey.
Will you keep your fancy clothes on, for me?
Can you bear a little longer to wear that leash?

“My love, I swear by the air I breathe:
Sooner or later, you’ll bare your teeth.

“But for now, just dance, darling.
C’mon, will you dance, my darling?
Darling, there’s a place for us;
can we go, before I turn to dust?
Darling there’s a place for us.

“Darling. C’mon will you dance,
My darling?
The hills are groaning with excess,
like a table ceaselessly being set.
C’mon, will you dance, my darling?
And we’ll get there yet.”

They trooped past the guards,
past the coops, and the fields, and the
farmyards, all night, till finally,

the space they gained
grew much farther than
the stone that bear threw,
to mark where they’d stop for tea.

“Walk a little faster,
don’t look backwards —

“your feast is to the East, which lies a little past the pasture.

“When the blackbirds hear tea whistling they rise and clap.
Their applause caws the kettle black.
And we can’t have none of that!
Move along, Bear; there, there; that’s that.”

(Though cast in plaster,
our Ursala’s heart beat faster
than monkey’s ever will.)

But still,
they have got to pay the bills.
Hadn’t they?
That is what the monkey would say.
So, with the courage of a clown, or a cur,
or a kite, jerking tight at its tether,
in her dun-brown gown of fur,
and her jerkin of
swansdown and leather,
Bear would sway on her hind legs;
the organ would grind dregs of song,
for the pleasure
of the children who’d shriek,
throwing coins at her feet,
then recoiling in terror.

Sing, “dance, darling.
C’mon, will you dance, my darling?
Darling, there’s a place for us;
can we go, before I turn to dust?
Darling there’s a place for us.

C’mon, will you dance, my darling?
Keep your eyes fixed on the highest hill,
where you’ll ever-after eat your fill.
O darling…dear…mine…if you dance,
darling: I will love you still.”


Deep in the night
shone a weak and miserly light,
where the monkey shouldered his lamp.
Someone had told him the
bear’d been wandering a fair piece away
from where they were camped.
Someone had told him
the bear had been sneaking away,
to the seaside caverns, to bathe;
and the thought troubled the monkey,
for he was afraid of spelunking
down in those caves.
And also afraid what the
village people would say,
if they saw the bear in that state —
lolling and splashing obscenely
well, it seemed irrational, really,
washing that face;
washing that matted and flea-bit pelt
in some sea-spit-shine —
old kelp dripping with brine.
But monkey just laughed, and he muttered,
“When she comes back, Ursala will be bursting with pride —
till I jump up!
Saying, ‘You’ve been rolling in muck!
Saying, ‘You smell of garbage and grime!’”

But far out,
far out,
by now,
by now —
far out, by now, Bear ploughed,
Because she would
Not drown:

First the outside-legs of the bear
up and fell down, in the water, like knobby garters,
Then the outside-arms of the bear
fell off, as easy as if sloughed
from boiled tomatoes.
Low’red in a genteel curtsy,
bear shed the mantle of her
diluvian shoulders;
and, with a sigh,
she allowed the burden of belly to drop,
like an apronfull of boulders.

If you could hold up her
threadbare coat to the light,
where it’s worn translucent in places,
you’d see spots where,
almost every night of the year,
Bear had been mending,
suspending that baseness.

Now her coat drags through the water,
bagging, with a life’s-worth of hunger,
limitless minnows;

in the magnetic embrace,
balletic and glacial,
of bear’s insatiable shadow —

Left there!
Left there!
When bear
Left bear;

Left there,
Left there,
When bear
stepped clear of bear.

(Sooner or later you’ll bury your teeth)


Fey gets that way a lot, I never know what to make of it.

I wonder if it’s the same as when you’re bored and irritable so you just sort of kick around restlessly.

Nikki gets that way a lot too. She is also very serious about playing in general, though. And very self-conscious. She doesn’t like getting caught having fun.

Happiness is…

…finishing the popsicle without dropping that last little nub on the ground.


banana slugs are sooo cute!

Ee! I love them. They are adorable!

(via youneedacat)

…but on the upside

…I would like to thank the young lad who, wonder of wonders, just plugged his headphones in after I requested he please turn down the music he was blasting through his phone speakers. 

I don’t understand why anyone would want to listen to tinny, overdriven speakers in the first place but it was nice that this kid wasn’t a dick about stopping the racket when asked.

Good grief…

I swear, the people who take up the most space (and are the most rude about it) on public transit are NOT fat people. Like, basically ever. The worst offenders are almost invariably skinny to medium-sized dudes. 

(There’s this guy across from me on the train right now who I swear is doing his best to take up 6 separate seats in 3 rows.

He’s making me want to move to a different part of the train even though he’s not physically encroaching on my row yet, because he’s just positioning himself in ways that are translating as “territorial aggression” and I don’t want to deal with that at all).


I like Ys best of all Joanna Newsom’s albums. Her voice isn’t to everyone’s taste (I think it works for what she sings; my SO can’t stand it; YMMV). But this album is amazing and I love that she was brave enough to actually make it. There are only 5 songs on it but they’re LONG,…

I don’t want to speculate too specifically about someone who is both real and currently alive, but having seen a couple video interviews with her (Joanna Newsom)…it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she were neuro-atypical in some way. Her manner of relating to reality is uncannily familiar.