Hauser: You really think you can solve the problem? Come into Wolfram & Hart and make everything right? Turn night into glorious day? You pathetic little fairy. Angel: I'm not little.

'Just Rewards (2)'


We're Literary 2: To Read Makes Our Speaking English Good  

There's more to life than watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer! No. Really, there is! Honestly! Here's a place for Buffistas to come and discuss what it is they're reading, their favorite authors and poets. "Geez. Crack a book sometime."


Pix - Apr 07, 2004 10:59:07 am PDT #2066 of 10002
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie

I've been inspired to change my tag.

Dana - speaking of, I adore yours. Where did it come from?


Dana - Apr 07, 2004 11:01:09 am PDT #2067 of 10002
I'm terrifically busy with my ennui.

I was chatting with a friend about the trip to NY I'm taking. I'm doing a Broadway run, seeing Sondheim's Assassins, Avenue Q (which involves puppets), and The Boy From Oz (which involves Hugh Jackman singing and dancing in nicely tight pants).


Jessica - Apr 07, 2004 11:08:14 am PDT #2068 of 10002
And then Ortus came and said "It's Ortin' time" and they all Orted off into the sunset

On our way back from Avenue Q, my sister and I passed by the theatres where The Boy From Oz and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof are playing (right next door to each other). There is a review of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof that praises the show's "pure, naked" direction posted on the outside wall of the theatre. We both noticed the words "pure, naked" next to the giant picture of Hugh Jackman and simultaneously gasped, before realizing that those words didn't mean what we'd assumed they did. t /pointless anecdote


Pix - Apr 07, 2004 11:09:25 am PDT #2069 of 10002
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie

Now that's doing Broadway right.


Calli - Apr 07, 2004 11:14:14 am PDT #2070 of 10002
I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul—Calvin and Hobbs

I love Oliver's poems, too. Here's my favorite:

Poppies
Mary Oliver

The poppies send up their
orange flares; swaying
in the wind, their congregations
are a levitation
of bright dust, of thin
and lacy leaves.

There isn't a place
in this world that doesn't
sooner or later drown
in the indigos of darkness,
but now, for a while,
the roughage
shines like a miracle
as it floats above everything
with its yellow hair.

Of course nothing stops the cold,
black, curved blade
from hooking forward—
of course
loss is the great lesson.

But I also say this: that light
is an invitation
to happiness,
and that happiness,
when it's done right,
is a kind of holiness,
palpable and redemptive.

Inside the bright fields,
touched by their rough and spongy gold,
I am washed and washed
in the river
of earthly delight—

and what are you going to do—
what can you do
about it—
deep, blue night?


Steph L. - Apr 07, 2004 11:18:07 am PDT #2071 of 10002
I look more rad than Lutheranism

Oh! We read Mary Oliver in my writing class all the time, and, in fact, my teacher used "The Journey" as sort of a theme threaded throughout the semester a year or two ago.

KristinT -- I meant to make that my tagline recently, and forgot. I found it on my writing teacher's business card for her massage therapy business.


Pix - Apr 07, 2004 11:20:01 am PDT #2072 of 10002
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie

Teppy - do you want to share? I can share. I can even give, to someone with a cu...I mean snazzy hairdo like yours. :)


Steph L. - Apr 07, 2004 12:49:44 pm PDT #2073 of 10002
I look more rad than Lutheranism

Oh, thanks, sweetie! For now, I'm good with my current tag, since I had a luchadore move pulled on me last night.


Beverly - Apr 07, 2004 2:49:08 pm PDT #2074 of 10002
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.

More Oliver. This one makes me think of Susan, picking her "feralberries" for jam.

August

When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is. In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.


Deena - Apr 07, 2004 3:38:29 pm PDT #2075 of 10002
How are you me? You need to stop that. Only I can be me. ~Kara

oh.

Those are lovely.

Someone, I can't recall who, posted Wild Geese quite a while ago and I used part of it as a tag. I want more. I'll have to request some Mary Oliver from the library.