(no subject)

Oct. 12th, 2015 10:43 pm
jhameia: ME! (Default)
[personal profile] jhameia
I have a date for my prospectus defense! It is November 17th. Dr. ML and HBZ and SV talked very quickly and hammered out a date very fast.

I went with the GSA Council President and VPEA to meet with the new Vice-Provost of International Affairs, which was a very interesting conversation. We didn't get any commitments, but we did get a plan of action. There was an international student survey a while back, and it's time to re-visit that. I'd almost forgotten about it--I'll follow up on getting the data tomorrow and trying to figure out how to best refine further questions on issues of concern.

Raccoon eyes! Why do I have them! I've been going to bed at reasonable hours to wake up at 7am... I strongly suspect that even though the last time I did a sleep test they somehow drew the conclusion that I didn't have sleep apnea, I'm still developing some snoring problems. (Also, at that test, the nurse was like "yeah you slept the night through" and I was like uhm no, I distinctly recall waking up at least three times because your beds are hella uncomfortable.) I'm planning on seeing a doctor sometime soon about that, and about possibly getting a prescription for a CPAP machine. (Folks have suggested the nose strips to me; I've tried them, and they don't work. The issue is not with my nose, it's with my tongue falling into the back of my mouth when I sleep. Unfortunately, the simple solution of sleeping on my side doesn't work and I somehow always end up on my back.)

Right after the meeting with the Vice Provost, I went to see Nalo about subbing for her on Thursday. It's an intro to Fantasy creative writing class, and technically it's a lecture. She's got to go to LA for a panel, and she's already assigned some reading to them. I'll go over their reading on portal fantasy! Yay! I'm gonna get them to lay out elements of portal fantasies from the chapter they've been assigned, encourage them to consider how different movies do them, then spend the rest of the time writing and workshopping, and I'll work with them individually on their stuff. That should fill up three hours easily.

I got practically nothing done today except for a couple of ficlets for AnomalyCon... they're putting together a set of "AnomalyCards" which attendees have to trade to get the whole set. The invited authors write flash fic, which are illustrated by the invited artists. Sounds like fun! Also means I get to pull out the characters for the steampunk bomoh story I wrote, and I set them in the Belum-Temenggor forest.

Night Light | Nancy Willard

Oct. 12th, 2015 09:05 pm
okrablossom: (somerville watercolor)
[personal profile] okrablossom posting in [community profile] poetry
Hello, all! My first stint as host coincides with my birthday week so I am going to share five of my favorite poems. I hope you enjoy.


Night Light

The moon is not green cheese.
It is china and stands in this room.
It has a ten-watt bulb and a motto:
Made in Japan.

Whey-faced, doll-faced,
it's closed as a tooth
and cold as the dead are cold
till I touch the switch.

Then the moon performs
its one trick:
it turns into a banana.
It warms to its subjects,

it draws us into its light,
just as I knew it would
when I gave ten dollars
to the pale clerk

in the store that sold
She asked, did I have a car?
She shrouded the moon in tissue

and laid it to rest in a box.
The box did not say Moon.
It said This side up.
I tucked the moon into my basket

and bicycled into the world.
By the light of the sun
I could not see the
moon under my sack of apples,

moon under slab of salmon,
moon under clean laundry,
under milk its sister
and bread its brother,

moon under meat.
Now supper is eaten.
Now laundry is folded away.
I shake out the old comforters.

My nine cats find their places
and go on dreaming where they left off.
My son snuggles under the heap.
His father loses his way in a book.

It is time to turn on the moon.
It is time to live by a different light.

(no subject)

Oct. 11th, 2015 09:57 pm
jhameia: ME! (Default)
[personal profile] jhameia
YL loaned to me her copy of Renditions, a Chinese-to-English translation journal; it's the special double-issue of translated Chinese SFF. It's got "The Poetry Cloud" by Liu Cixin", lots of older writers, some newer writers, a really cool mix. Besides "The Poetry Cloud" I also really liked "1923--A Shanghai Fantasy" because a) Shanghai and b) character obviously based on Brigitte Lin's Peking Opera Blues character, who was one of my first girlcrushes and tomboy ideals. It's about the nature of memory and dreams, and trying to capture them during a time when political stride means no one really cares about that. It also has a rumination on the nature of being a woman doing the work of revolution, and how the two kinds of work cancel each other out during a time when no one is allowed to be both. It's also a hella cool Chinese dieselpunk story :D

Maybe it's the way the translation works, but there's something I recognized in the stories, in terms of storytelling style, narratival frames and priorities. It makes me think about the first criticism I got of "Between Islands," that it was hard to get into Johari's head (which was kind of confusing because Johari is, after all, not the only character; the story unfolds through the head-hopping of the ensemble cast, but not focused on one character in particular). And also about voice, and reader. These are voices that, despite being from a different language in translation, that I felt an actual kinship to, for the first time. Is this what white people feel when they read white fantasy? And it looks like most of these writers are men, so what about Chinese women writers in translation?

The only other time I've felt like this was reading Laurie Tom's "Even The Mountains Are Not Forever" and I thought, oh, it's because Laurie's my friend and we've spoken about this difficulty before! Of course I would recognize something of voice and storytelling style in it. Now I'm not so sure. So this makes me even more excited to pick up THREE BODY PROBLEM (although YL says that Ken changed the genders of a few characters, reassigning them to make it more palatable to the Western audience).

The Trees | Philip Larkin

Oct. 11th, 2015 09:44 pm
kaberett: Reflections of a bare tree in river ice in Stockholm somehow end up clad in light. (tree-of-light)
[personal profile] kaberett posting in [community profile] poetry
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

Small Boy | Norman MacCaig

Oct. 10th, 2015 10:44 am
kaberett: a watercolour painting of an oak leaf floating on calm water (leaf-on-water)
[personal profile] kaberett posting in [community profile] poetry
He picked up a pebble
and threw it into the sea.

And another, and another.
He couldn't stop.

He wasn't trying to fill the sea.
He wasn't trying to empty the beach.

He was just throwing away,
nothing else but.

Like a kitten playing
he was practising for the future

when there'll be so many things
he'll want to throw away

if only his fingers will unclench
and let them go.

Possession | Caitríona O'Reilly

Oct. 9th, 2015 11:53 am
kaberett: Overlaid Mars & Venus symbols, with Swiss Army knife tools at other positions around the central circle. (Default)
[personal profile] kaberett posting in [community profile] poetry
That anxious way you have of closing doors
(like the brown of your eyes and hair)
was never really yours.
My arms and elongated nose were owned before --
fragments of jigsaw
in the rough art assemblage whose end we are.

Sometimes I don't know where we live
or whose voice I still
hear and remember
inside my head at night. In darkness and in love
we are dismembered,
so that the fact of our coming to at all

becomes a morning miracle. Let's number
our fingers and toes again.
Do I love you piecemeal
when I see in your closing hand a valve-flower
like a sea-anemone,
or is it our future I remember, as the White Queen

remembered her pinpricked finger? All of you
that's to be known
resides in that small gesture.
And though our days consist of letting go --
since neither one can own
the other -- what still deepens pulls us back together.
marina: (Default)
[personal profile] marina
If you have no intention of reading this entry, I'd like to still bring your attention that it took approximately 5 seconds from the moment I typed the words "I will never watch this show" to the moment I started watching the show. Yes, I skimmed large parts of it, but. This is not a coincidence - it is precisely the level on which my brain is viciously contrary, and why I am usually so careful to put in disclaimers and not make absolute statements about myself. CURSE YOU, BRAIN!

Anyway, I've been sick and braindead and miserable (and at WORK, fml) and so I've skimmed all 3 seasons of Hannibal. Brief notes under the cut.

spoilers )

(no subject)

Oct. 7th, 2015 08:03 am
jhameia: ME! (Default)
[personal profile] jhameia
GSA Office Hour: Mostly wrote emails, then had a sit-down with the VP Ext to discuss how to deal with international student associations, which are classified as "cultural/ethnic" organizations. Currently they run under the same aegis as the undergrad orgs, which they're not. However, the GSA has a budget cut, so we won't be able to offer them any reimbursement. The VP Ext and I are gonna try to talk to the new Provost of External Affairs. Who is conveniently the husband of the new professor in my department.

Office Hours: I didn't do very much. Probably should have.

I moseyed over to the Special Collections to acquaint myself with the new Eaton librarian, because I could. She was on her way out to the Asian American SF panel anyway so we moseyed over together.

Asian American SF Panel: Well..... that was..... interesting, considering two of the four panelists were NOT science fiction readers. They were all Asian Americanists, and it's very reflected in their analysis. The moderator and the guy who didn't come in with a prepared statement were the SF fans (the moderator is, impressively, working his way through as many YA novels as possible). Some quick takeaways before my laptop died:

- two types of As Am writing: the ones which are about specific narratives (intergenerational conflict, war trauma), and the deracialized ones which try to be move away from the narratives.
- Asian American literature that talk about being the Other, or the Otherness of parents, are very science fictional, because aliens
- Ted Chiang's stories are super Asian American even though he specifically says his stories aren't about that.
- A lot of Asian American literature is science fictional because of how they deal with the body, and self.

So, a good day, professionally, if alienating personally.

Back to work. Today's a long day.
jjhunter: Serene person of color with shaved head against abstract background half blue half brown (scientific sage)
[personal profile] jjhunter posting in [community profile] poetry
J.J. here in my thirteen incarnation as your host. I have for you today two translations of a poem by the Chinese poet Li Bai, also known as Li Po, which I first encountered in a poetry workshop as an exercise in sharpening one's ear for nuance in diction. Writing a poem requires translating what is in one's head into specific words in the air or on the page; in reading and comparing translations of a particular poem from its original language to another, we can also get a feel for refining the act of writing itself.

If you only have time to read one translation today, read Pound's; but if you have a breath more to read two, start with the first translation by Witter Bynner, and then read Pound's. What images, what impressions do you get from the former vs the latter? Are there particular wordings that seem more or less effective in conveying the speaker's experience?

'A SONG OF CH' ANG-KAN' trans. by Witter Bynner )

trans. by Ezra Pound

While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played about the front gate, pulling flowers.
You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse,
You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums.
And we went on living in the village of Chokan:
Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.
At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed, being bashful.
Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.
Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.

At fifteen I stopped scowling,
I desired my dust to be mingled with yours
Forever and forever and forever.
Why should I climb the look out?

At sixteen you departed,
You went into far Ku-to-en, by the river of swirling eddies,
And you have been gone five months.
The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.

You dragged your feet when you went out.
By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,
Too deep to clear them away!
The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.
The paired butterflies are already yellow with August
Over the grass in the West garden;
They hurt me. I grow older.
If you are coming down through the narrows of the river Kiang,
Please let me know beforehand,
And I will come out to meet you
      As far as Cho-fu-Sa.

For more translations of the poem in question, see Other Translations of 'A River Merchant's Wife", and A. W. Allworthy's review of 'the New Directions Anthology of Classical Chinese Poetry', ed. Eliot Weinberger, which discusses Pound's translation of this poem in the context of translations by William Carlos Williams and David Hinton. If you have any particular favorite translation to recommend, or one you've done yourself, please share in the comments!

(no subject)

Oct. 6th, 2015 12:13 am
jhameia: ME! (Default)
[personal profile] jhameia
Man, that was a super busy weekend:

Friday, had class from 1 to 2, then Eric, YL and I hit the road. We got to [personal profile] yeloson's place around 9pm, had pizza, chilled out, went to bed around midnight. It was good to catch up with yeloson--I suppose we could have shelled out more money for a less stressful drive out to Burlingame but at yeloson's we get physiotherapy advice, so it all works out.

Saturday, we had breakfast together, then yeloson bounced, and then the three remaining of us headed out to Burlingame, where I was on a panel with Bryan Worra, Nor Sanavongsay, Emily Jiang and zm quynh about SEAsian SFF. We had very few people in attendance (it was a 10am panel!) but it was still a good conversation. Balogun Ojetade was in attendance! So good to see him. Then it was off to the Non-European Steampunk panel with Bryan and Nor, where I met Heidi, a co-panelist, and Pat, a Native American writer. Heidi turned out to be mixed-Malaysian-Iban! So cool!

YL, Emily, Pat, Heidi and I went upstairs to my room to chill out for a bit... then I had ANOTHER panel, on Diversity in SF, with Balogun, Bradford, Gregg, and Thaddeus Howze! I got Thaddeus to sign my copy of MOTHERSHIP, which we're both in (his story is "Bludgeon," which is essentially an alien encounter story involving baseball, I highly recommend it). And Erica Mulkey, aka Unwoman, was in the audience!

Emily, YL and I had tea with Erica, and it was SO GOOD! I haven't sat down with Erica in YEARS and it was just so nice. We talked about the steampunk community, then about the SFF community. Erica is one of those WW who's very good at being a moderate AND being honest about the compromises she makes in order to make a living. We hung for two hours in the little grill diner, where Erica got progressively hungry because the place didn't serve gluten-free food.

YL had to nap, because she was so overwhelmed by the activity of the day, so Emily, Eric and I went to dinner with [personal profile] oyceter & partner!!!!

Aaaaahhh the weather was so nice and cool and such a relief after a scorching summer. We ate at a Chinese restaurant, went to get some dessert, and when Eric and I got back to the hotel room, we chilled.

Sunday, we got up, had breakfast at that grill, then I went to see Emily and zm be on a panel on dystopias, which was fun. Then Emily and I were on a panel with Bradford, where we proceeded to babble a lot XD Then I finished my con with a reading. After which there was a quick trip to the vendor hall, then protracted goodbyes. By the time we were on the road, it was 3pm, and we listened to Christopher Moore's Blood Sucking Fiends the whole trip. I slept some.

Like, damn. I'm STILL feeling tired from the trip. But I feel good overall and back to believing my dissertation is worth the pain, so back to work it is for me. Dr. ML wants me to work on the description of whiteness more, so I'm back to trying to figure out exactly what I mean there, and how to talk about it.

sick and miserable and at work

Oct. 6th, 2015 09:21 am
marina: (Default)
[personal profile] marina
Well, I'm back at work, after a fairly lengthy vacation (thanks, Jewish holidays!).

blah blah health stuff )
marina: (Kenzi shrug)
[personal profile] marina
Well, I have finished a new draft of my scifi novella! \\\o///

It's about 35k (up from 24k of the previous draft), and I love it a lot. I also think some things about it aren't working well, and I need outside perspective to figure out what's wrong and how to fix it (you don't have to know how to fix it, I just need to know what you think is wrong).

So, I am desperately in need of beta readers!

Let us first introduce the novella:

Summary: Claudia is a disgraced military veteran sent to manage a school of no importance on the outskirts of the galaxy. Vrei must figure out how to save her residential district from the scrutiny of the new Headmistress. Kim must find a way to bring order and stability to his district, in the wake of a tragedy. Ebie must barter and trade to keep the person she loves most out of harm's way, before the clock runs out and the school faces its end-of-year reckoning: Transfer Day.

...OK, I don't know how great that summary is, but a few years ago the idea of sharing even that in public made me want to climb under tables, so, this is progress. Here is a rough idea of what the story's about! I will also mention the story has references to off-screen child abuse and child sexual abuse, so while none of that is graphic, please consider this fact if you'd like to volunteer.

So, what I need:
* People who can read 34k in the next 2-3 weeks and give me feedback
* Feedback that is primarily about: plot, characters, worldbuilding. Does the story work? Did it draw you in? Which parts of it seemed boring or unnecessary? Which parts seemed exciting and intriguing?
* Things I do NOT need at this time: help with prose, SPAG, line edits. (I mean, I never say no to edits! But it's really not necessary right now.)

ARE YOU A PERSON WHO WOULD BE INTERESTED IN DOING THIS? Please leave/send me your email, and whether you're OK working in gdocs or prefer a different format/program.

If anyone actually volunteers for this, I expect I'll send you the draft within 12 hours of posting this entry.
sine_nomine: (Default)
[personal profile] sine_nomine posting in [community profile] poetry

The world is dark and far.
The birds lie early still.
And all about us are
the workings of His will.

Always the same great star
crosses the wandering sky;
over and over fly
the rapid whippoorwil,

seeking what is to tell;
wrapped in what other sky.
How deep the dark clouds lie
crowded against the hill!

Mist rises under grass;
the little mice lie still.
Time, like an angry glass,
flashes a faint thin chill.

The birds flock down the hill;
the little fawns run by;
the white clouds now lie still
locked in the lake's dark eye.

Summer is gone, and I
run with the first bright dew
into the spinning sky
as all slain soldiers do.

-- Jocelyn Hollis (from Collected Vietnam Poems and Other Poems)

Untitled by Beth Meacham

Oct. 2nd, 2015 10:50 am
sine_nomine: (Default)
[personal profile] sine_nomine posting in [community profile] poetry

A smear of red on my fingers.
When I was a child, it could have been
Raspberry jam.
But I know that it is
Relic of my daily sacrifice
Another garnet drop welling up
When I wasn't looking.

Medicine is my Goddess
And She has given me my ritual.
Like a Mayan noblewoman
I prick my fingers and
No cenote to carry my red drops to the sea,
They are shed for the machine
That counts the sweetness of the hour.

No one else sees
That when I hold out my hand
In greeting or to make a gesture,
I am holding up a million drops of
And I will shed them one by one,
By my own hand.
It is the price of my life.

-- Beth Meacham (b. 1951)

(Copyright 2008; reprinted without permission and begging forgiveness because "oof" and "more people should know both this poem and its author imho")
marina: (sexy vamps)
[personal profile] marina
So, like many (?) I have recently been enjoying a lot of excellent Hannibal fic. I've actually been reading Hannibal almost since the the beginning of the fandom - when so many SPN writers migrated en masse to Hannibal and AO3 was flooded with "not-a-cannibal!AU"s. I am, however, unable to watch the show because my tolerance for horror is zero and even watching a few graphic scenes would probably give me nightmares for a week. (I'm someone who doesn't mind the actual content, but the intent. For example, Chuck Palahniuk's early books are full of horror-like imagery, gore and dark humor. I loved them! But once he switched to writing horror, the same exact content became impossible for me to read. I quit the very first book halfway through.)

Anyway, at this point I've seen fanvids, clips, read fanfic, read ACTUAL EPISODE SCRIPS, looked at sketches and interviews and other behind-the-scenes stuff, enjoyed fanart. I don't know what the cutoff point for being in a fandom is - even I, who's always read liberally in canons I knew nothing about, feel like "being in a fandom" when you have no intention of ever watching the canon is stretching it a bit. But, consuming so much material has given me Thoughts, so, here we are. Meta about fic for a show I will never watch.

what's interesting to me about the gender dynamics of the main pairing )

The other thing I've found fascinating is how much tension there is in the Hannibal fics I've read. Let me make a grand statement: I've never been in a fandom where generation tension between the two leads was so easy. Never. Hannibal fic can, in a universe without homophobia, make Will and Hannibal's first kiss seem more intense than "finally doing it after 50k of pining" sex in other fandoms. That is absolutely remarkable to me, and I've spent some time trying to analyze why.

On narrative tension )

Anyway, if you don't care about any of this, let me just share this amazing fanvid with you (it doesn't trigger my horror issues at all, though it does contain graphic imagery), which I've been rewatching over and over again lately. Mostly it accentuates the amazing nuances of Hugh Dancy's acting - his casting was brilliant, I think, not only because no matter how much you slow down his performance in gifs he' still doing something fascinating with his face in every frame, but also because his features lend themselves so well to built-in vulnerability.

(no subject)

Oct. 1st, 2015 08:08 pm
jhameia: ME! (Default)
[personal profile] jhameia
SMEGBALLS these things don't end.

Went to campus to do office hours, during which AA came to visit, which was very nice! Then lecture at 1pm. In between, I went to the grill, and they now have a breakfast menu!! Breakfast grilled cheese sammich with bacon, yay!

I went home, had a good nap, then went back to campus for my first council meeting. Seems like most people are about as clueless as I am, so I'm not going to look more incompetent than everybody else.

But the meeting dragged on even though I asked YL to wait for me so we could walk home together /o\ I felt so bad!

Today I went to print flyers for the IndieGoGo, and the guy at the FedEx center did a miracle and centered them perfectly for me, even said he'd saved the file in case I needed more. I might! We'll see.

I had my meeting with Student Life and then worked on my prospectus, re-reading a LOT of things I shouldn't have to re-read.

The IGG is at 79% now! Someone dumped a fuckton of money all of a sudden, which made me quite verklempt.
forestlight: (milky way)
[personal profile] forestlight posting in [community profile] poetry
Death comes to me again, a girl
in a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling.
It's not so terrible she tells me,
not like you think, all darkness
and silence. There are windchimes
and the smell of lemons, some days
it rains, but more often the air is dry
and sweet. I sit beneath the staircase
built from hair and bone and listen
to the voices of the living. I like it,
she says, shaking the dust from her hair,
especially when they fight, and when they sing.
sine_nomine: (Default)
[personal profile] sine_nomine posting in [community profile] poetry
(Apologies to the community... this is a bit of a redux because of formatting and cut issues due to unfamiliarity with the Rich Text Editor... but it may not be the same as my previous post because I failed to mark the pieces I'd chosen in the first place and deleted the "test run"(because see "unfamiliarity with the Rich Text Editor") that I did privately in my own journal  before actually double-checking how stuff showed up here! so, witthout further adoo: Here! Have some Tagore!)

According to the author, "Fireflies had their origin in China and Japan where thoughts were very often claimed from me in my handwriting on fans and pieces of silk."

According to the editor of the volume I own (published originally in 1928; I own it in a 1950s reprint), "These exquisite little poems of only two or three lines are of those that in the Orient are written on fans or bits of gay silk. They are gems of thought and of phrasing which often show Tagore at his best."

My fancies are fireflies --
     Specks of living light
          twinkling in the dark.

Each rose that comes brings me greetings
          from the Rose of an eternal spring.
     God honours me when I work,
            He loves me when I sing.

Form is in Matter, rhythm in Force,
     meaning in the Person.

Bigotry tries to keep truth safe in its hand
     with a grip that kills it.
Wishing to hearten a timid lamp
     great night lights all her stars.

The worm thinks it strange and foolish
     that man does not eat his books.

We gain freedom when we have paid the full
     for our right to live.

Faith is the bird that feels the light
     and sings when the dawn is still dark.

Read more... )

Before the end of my journey
     may I reach within myself
          the one which is the all,
               leaving the outer shell
     to float away with the drifiting multitude
          upon the current of chance and change.

-- Rabindranath Tagore (7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)

"Delta" by Adrienne Rich

Sep. 30th, 2015 07:02 am
sine_nomine: (Default)
[personal profile] sine_nomine posting in [community profile] poetry


If you have taken this rubble for my past
raking through it for fragments you could sell
know that I long ago moved on
deeper into the heart of the matter

If you think you can grasp me, think again:
my story flows in more than one direction
a delta springing from the riverbed
with its five fingers spread.

Adrienne Rich (1929-2012)


oncejadedtwicesnarked: Spivak is looking disgruntled and pissed. (Default)

March 2012


Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 13th, 2015 01:34 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios