Recent posting trends caused me to slowly remember a double dactyl that I wrote in 2007, which went from being, yesterday, a flicker of an impression of something I might once have thought--under the dark, under the park, tunnel that's under a park?--to complete phrases until at dinner tonight I remembered about Joyce and fluorescence and everything except the opening nonsense syllables, which I had to recover by finding where I originally wrote the thing down--which is funny, because I think reading those syllables on the wall was the only reason I thought of making a double dactyl in the first place. (I got them slightly wrong actually--it's "hitherandthithering" and it's from Finnegans Wake.)
so, a 19-year-old contribution to the moment:
Hithering-thithering:
Joyce on the walls of the
long subway tunnel be-
neath Bryant Park;
words about night nearly
unrecognizable
under fluorescence that
wards off the dark.
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so when i was a kid a read this story where a boy gets turned into a mouse by evil witches. at the end (spoilers) him and his beloved grandmother manage to slaughter all the witches but they do NOT manage to turn him back to a human child. he stays a mouse. the grandmother rebuilds her home to be mouse accessible. and they discuss the fact that he's aging like a mouse, so he probably only has a few years to live; but it's ok, because the grandmother confesses that she ALSO only has a few years to live and they both agree that they wouldn't want to live without the other. So everything is alright then, and they're happy, and that's the end of the story. it's probably been over two decades since i read it and quite frankly i am still processing the intertwining concepts of love and mortality but anyway that's not my point. my point is that Rocky did not die of acute radiation sickness because he spent enough time shielded by astrophage that his body was able to handle the damage, but holy shit does he have every type of cancer. he didn't die entering grace's atmosphere but all of his organs caught fire. I repeat — his internal organs caught fire. he spent several decades in a low gravity environment. Do you know what human bodies do in low gravity? it's not good man. 20% muscle loss in two weeks. 1% bone density loss every month. Maybe carapaces and low organic matter would handle the change better, but idk, it might actually be worse.
anyway my point is, actually, i do think that Rocky and Grace would get to grow old together.
i know i'm op but op the idea of Grace arriving at Erid on the verge of death, recovering, and then living a long and full (maybe not especially healthy) life, vs Rocky arriving home a trimphant hero, a miraculous survivor of a thousand calamaties only to at long last have to pay the toll, dying tragically young, I'm.
Rocky and Grace jokingly comparing the pros and cons of bipedal vs pentapedal joint pain. Rocky wearing the xenonite exo-suit because it actually helps keep his carapace from collapsing to the ground. Grace affectionately bumping his cane against it in morse code because of course their stupid ernglish pidgin isn't enough; now that everyone know english they also need a secret language that's just for them.
Grace in his motorized bubble scooter touring the city. Naturally, Rocky's going to keep him company by riding in the stupid sidecar, how would he explain everything if he was walking beside him? And of course Rocky's telling people to repeat things and his voice is weirdly pitchy, Grace is there and human hearing is awful. It would be rude to talk normally.
Rocky pulling out the old hamster ball and curling up inside. And he knows, he knows its bad posture, but right now it hurts less. Grace curled up around him, the exterior of the ball a carefully calibrated 39 C. They are both hiding from well meaning physical therapists. Whispering doesn't actually do anything in that regard, but Rocky finds whispering hilarious for some reason (Eridian equiv of helium infused squeaky voice).
Gravity as Erid's love for them, a painful embrace they wouldn't trade for anything.
They get to grow old together. It's not enough time, but its so much more than they thought they would have; it's surprisingly easy to be okay with it. It's a tragedy from every angle except perhaps the inside.
#whatever you do don't think about adrien ok#adrien got him back. They got to see him again. There's 23 other mates who can't say the same#i think there's a world with pebbles and an affectionate blobby uncle#but in this one the infertility is the first warning that he's maybe not okay#(of course rocky avoided mentioning the chronic pain - he'd been living with most of it for decades at this point)#(and for the first year or 2 he's dead serious about getting Every doctor to work on Grace. Like at first you think hes being hyperbolic#But theres a solid period where rocky is genuinely indignant at the concept of any doctor anywhere working on someone who isn't grace#Yes he knows other people need doctors too.#but also did you consider that they can fucking wait question???)#Anyway#In the end#In the end rocky falls asleep with grace watching. a few hours go by. and then a few more.#and then grace figures rocky won't mind if he rests his eyes for just a minute.#and neither of them have to mourn.
I just recently read the entirety of Sarah Williams' "The Old Astronomer," and I was very surprised how long it is. The most famous lines jump out at you, and then the poem goes on for SIX stanzas more. The ending is nice but the envoy has clearly already happened by the time you get there.
Entire poem behind the cut.
Reach me down my Tycho Brahé,—I would know him when we meet,
When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;
He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how
We are working to completion, working on from then till now.
Pray, remember, that I leave you all my theory complete,
Lacking only certain data, for your adding, as is meet;
And remember, men will scorn it, 'tis original and true,
And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.
But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learnt the worth of scorn;
You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn;
What, for us, are all distractions of men's fellowship and smiles?
What, for us, the goddess Pleasure, with her meretricious wiles?
You may tell that German college that their honour comes too late.
But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant's fate;
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.
What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;
You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.
I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.
You "have none but me," you murmur, and I "leave you quite alone"?
Well then, kiss me,—since my mother left her blessing on my brow,
There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;
I can dimly comprehend it,—that I might have been more kind,
Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.
I "have never failed in kindness"? No, we lived too high for strife,—
Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;
But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you still
To the service of our science: you will further it? you will!
There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,
To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;
And remember, "Patience, Patience," is the watchword of a sage,
Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.
I have sown, like Tycho Brahé, that a greater man may reap;
But if none should do my reaping, 'twill disturb me in my sleep.
So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;
See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.
I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;
Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:
It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars,—
God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.
The other surprising thing is that in a spot where the commonly quoted version (apparently from an anthology published after the poet's death) says "fondly," the original poem says "truly." "I have loved the stars too truly." I found it jarring when I noticed this, but I think Williams got that part right. "Fond" has, especially in a 19th century context or older, a slight connotation of irrationality; and what this poem is about most of the time is the pursuit of knowledge, which has to come to a natural end but has never been abandoned.
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it's very funny to me that the advice in the notes divides cleanly into two camps:
Actually actionable advice (break it down into smaller pieces, leave and come back later, find somebody to do it with you so you aren't doing it alone)
People who are Jared, 19 and just say something that's fundamentally a variation on "just do it scared"
Warning: advice that "you have to leave your comfort zone to grow" is meant for people who are IN their comfort zone the majority of the time. If you rarely/never feel comfortable and safe, you actually need to get more comfortable and safe before you can grow 👍
'take the exploitation you're used to without fuss because it seems normal/think of how much worse things could get if you make a scene' is without question the default mindset of most of humanity, and societies based around peasant agriculture sure as hell weren't any more revolutionary by instinct.
I just recently read the entirety of Sarah Williams' "The Old Astronomer," and I was very surprised how long it is. The most famous lines jump out at you, and then the poem goes on for SIX stanzas more. The ending is nice but the envoy has clearly already happened by the time you get there.
Entire poem behind the cut.
Reach me down my Tycho Brahé,—I would know him when we meet,
When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;
He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how
We are working to completion, working on from then till now.
Pray, remember, that I leave you all my theory complete,
Lacking only certain data, for your adding, as is meet;
And remember, men will scorn it, 'tis original and true,
And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.
But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learnt the worth of scorn;
You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn;
What, for us, are all distractions of men's fellowship and smiles?
What, for us, the goddess Pleasure, with her meretricious wiles?
You may tell that German college that their honour comes too late.
But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant's fate;
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.
What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;
You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.
I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.
You "have none but me," you murmur, and I "leave you quite alone"?
Well then, kiss me,—since my mother left her blessing on my brow,
There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;
I can dimly comprehend it,—that I might have been more kind,
Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.
I "have never failed in kindness"? No, we lived too high for strife,—
Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;
But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you still
To the service of our science: you will further it? you will!
There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,
To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;
And remember, "Patience, Patience," is the watchword of a sage,
Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.
I have sown, like Tycho Brahé, that a greater man may reap;
But if none should do my reaping, 'twill disturb me in my sleep.
So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;
See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.
I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;
Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:
It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars,—
God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.
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Finally, to forgo love is to kiss a leaf,
is to let rain fall nakedly upon your head,
is to respect fire,
is to study man's eyes and his gestures
as he talks,
is to set bread upon the table
and a knife discreetly by,
is to pass through crowds
like a crowd of oneself.
Not to love is to live.
To love is to be led away
into a forest where the secret grave
is dug, singing, praising darkness
under the trees.
To live is to sign your name,
is to ignore the dead,
is to carry a wallet
and shake hands.
To love is to be a fish.
My boat wallows in the sea.
You who are free,
rescue the dead.
I had an entire backstory for pre-canon Rocky and Adrian, how they met, their love story, etc.etc. Then I saw the cameo where James Ortiz said they had an arranged marriage that worked out and threw it all out the window WELP. Anyways, here's their first arranged meeting :)
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I've been away for a week and there's absolutely no hope of catching up on here, so my intention is not to try, but that's always somehow easier said than done.
Also, I read Always Coming Home while I was gone and I'm not the same as I was before. I don't know how I would have read that book without taking a vacation and dedicating days to it, but if possible you should find a way to read it regardless.
Marjorie Rose @marjorierose - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
