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]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/5529178/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/5529178/ Thu, 02 Jun 2005 07:30:11 PDT
Note how I say 'stumbled upon', in likeness of many specially favoured by Fate.

So I'm not generally that sort of person. But today, on account of the subscription (and the stumbling upon therebefore pregendered), is not a day that abides generality. I thus, today, cast aside my general-ness, if only for this short bit.

And I shout it out!

No ads!
Large thumbnails!
Polls so I can annoy everyone else!
And
Complicated Journals!

I'm pretending to be so excited that I'm almost pretending I'm drunk!

Exclamation! Yes!

P.S. Pasties are cool. ]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/4972009/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/4972009/ Fri, 01 Apr 2005 16:07:22 PST [link] made me cry.

Edit: dA doesn't seem to be able to display the entire link. There's a 'sort by' list at the very top-- Click on 'popularity' please.

It's a list of dA smileys sorted by popularity. Why cry, you ask? Scroll down to the bottom (hit the 'End' button) and you'll find the following five emoticons are the least popular:

5.
4.
3.
2.

And at the very bottom of the ladder, the very unfortunate



Now I don't care much for numbers 2, 3 and 4. 2 and 4 are flags, which are national/nationalistic symbols, which translate eventually into a consummation of border-lines and *hippy voice* like, put up walls around people, dude. Number 3 () is a rotating head, which also I don't care much for. I like my disembodied heads to float or stay still-- not rotate, sorry.

Therefore I shall be replacing them with numbers 7, 9 and 11:

11.
9.
7.

All of which have my sympathies to some extent.

The revised least-popular emoticon list, then, is:







Now, I ask of all ye, are these poor prodigals, these 'waterflies, dimunitives of nature' really all that bad?

Not bloody much.

Popularity is a fickle whore.

I beseech any and all those reading this to please, in the name of good works and philanthropy (philemoticy?) make more frequent use of the following five smileys, and help knock them off the least-popular slot.

Dedicated to ninjaplot, spyed, noir, alphaosiris, and halfliquid.

]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/4845902/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/4845902/ Fri, 18 Mar 2005 12:57:20 PST
Manjusri replied, "I do not see myself as outside. Why enter?"

--Gyomay Kubose, Zen Koans ]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/4476885/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/4476885/ Wed, 02 Feb 2005 04:28:32 PST In 1851 Seattle, chief of the Suquamish and other Indian tribes around Washington’s Puget Sound, delivered what is considered to be one of the most beautiful and profound enviromental statements ever made. The city of Seattle is named for the chief, whose speech was in response to a proposed treaty under which the Indians were persuaded to sell two million acres of land for $150,000.

How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us.

If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water how can you buy them?

Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clearing and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the red man.

The white man’s dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters; the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony, and man—all belong to the same family.

So, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us. the Great Chief sends word he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably to ourselves. He will be our father and we will be his children.

So we will consider your offer to buy our land. But it will not be easy. For this land is sacred to us, this shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you land, you must remember that it is sacred, and you must teach your children that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water’s murmur is the voice of my father’s father.

The rivers are our brothers, they quench our thirst. The rivers carry our canoes, and feed our children. If we sell you our land, you must remember, and teach your children, that the rivers are our brothers and yours, and you must henceforth give the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.

We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his fathers’ grave behind, and he does not care. He kidnaps the earth from his children, and he does not care. His father’s grave, and his children’s birthright are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert.

I do not know. Our ways are different from your ways. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. There is no quiet place in the white man’s cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring or the rustle of the insects’s wings. The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of the frogs around the pond at night? I am a red man and do not understand. The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond and smell of the wind itself, cleansed by a midday rain, or scented with pinon pine.

The air is precious to the red man for all things share the same breath, the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath. The earth is our mother. whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.

This we know: the earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. All things are connected. We may be brothers after all. We shall see. One thing we know which the white man may one day discover: our God is the same God.

You may think now that you own Him as you wish to own our land; but you cannot. He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for the red man and the white. This earth is precious to Him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator. The whites too shall pass; perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Contaminate your bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.

But in your perishing you will shine brightly fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and o... ]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/4448092/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/4448092/ Sat, 29 Jan 2005 19:29:05 PST La donna è mobile
qual piuma al vento
muta d'accento
e di pensiero

Sempre un'amabile
leggiadro viso
in pianto e in riso
è menzognero

La donna è mobil
qual piuma al vento
muta d'accento
e di pensier
e di pensier
e di pensier

È sempre misero
chi a lei s'affida
chi le confida
mal cauto il core

Pur mai non sentesi
felice appieno
chi su quel seno
non liba amore

La donna è mobil
qual piuma al vento
muta d'accento
e di pensier
e di pensier
e di pensier!

-Giuseppe Verdi, Rigoletto ]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3962073/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3962073/ Wed, 01 Dec 2004 06:33:55 PST Cat's Cradle; Chapter 2: Nice, nice, very nice:

"If you find your life tangled up with somebody else's life for no very logical reasons," writes Bokonon, "that person may be a member of your karass."

At another point in The Books of Bokonon he tells us, "Man created the checkerboard; God created the karass." By that he means that a karass ignores national, institutional, occupational, familial, and class boundaries.

It is as free-form as an amoeba.

In his "Fifty-third Calypso," Bokonon invites us to sing along with him:

Oh, a sleeping drunkard
Up in Central Park,
And a lion-hunter
In the jungle dark,
And a Chinese dentist,
And a British queen--
All fit together
In the same machine.
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice--
So many different people
In the same device. ]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3814180/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3814180/ Thu, 11 Nov 2004 23:24:49 PST I am the eye in the sky
Looking at you
I can read your mind

I am the maker of rules
Dealing with fools
I can cheat you blind

And I don't need to see any more
To know that
I can read your mind, [looking at you]
I can read your mind, [looking at you]
I can read your mind, [looking at you]
I can read your mind.

-The Alan Parsons Project: Eye in the Sky ]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3642738/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3642738/ Thu, 21 Oct 2004 13:58:53 PDT
[LOCK, SHOCK & BARREL]
Kidnap Mr. Sandy Claws

[LOCK]
I wanna do it

[BARREL]
Let's draw straws

[SHOCK]
Jack said we should work together
Three of a kind

[LOCK, SHOCK & BARREL]
Birds of a feather
Now and forever
Wheeee
La, la, la, la, la

Kidnap the Sandy Claws, lock him up real tight
Throw away the key and then
Turn off all the lights

[SHOCK]
First, we're going to set some bait
Inside a nasty trap and wait
When he comes a-sniffing we will
Snap the trap and close the gate

[LOCK]
Wait! I've got a better plan
To catch this big red lobster man
Let's pop him in a boiling pot
And when he's done we'll butter him up

[LOCK, SHOCK & BARREL]
Kidnap the Sandy Claws
Throw him in a box
Bury him for ninety years
Then see if he talks

[SHOCK]
Then Mr. Oogie Boogie man
Can take the whole thing over then
He'll be so pleased, I do declare
That he will cook him rare

[LOCK, SHOCK & BARREL]
Wheeee!

[LOCK]
I say that we take a cannon
Aim it at his door and then
Knock three times and when he anwers
Sandy Claws will be no more

[SHOCK]
You're so stupid, think now
If we blow him up into smithereens
We may lose some pieces
And then Jack will beat us black and green

[LOCK, SHOCK & BARREL]
Kidnap the Sandy Claws
Tie him in a bag
Throw him in the ocean
Then see if he is sad

[LOCK & SHOCK]
Because Mr. Oogie Boogie is the meanest guy around
If I were on his Boogie list, I'd get out of town

[BARREL]
He'll be so pleased by our success
That he'll reward us too, I bet

[LOCK, SHOCK & BARREL]
Perhaps he'll make his special brew
Of snake and spider stew
Ummm!

We're his little henchmen
And we take our job with pride
We do our best to please him
And stay on his good side

[SHOCK]
I wish my cohorts weren't so dumb

[BARREL]
I'm not the dumb one

[LOCK]
You're no fun

[SHOCK]
Shut up!

[LOCK
Make me

[SHOCK]
I've got something, listen now
This one is real good, you'll see
We'll send a present to his door
Upon there'll be a note to read
Now, in the box we'll wait and hide

[LOCK, SHOCK & BARREL]
Until his curiousity
Entices him to look inside
And then we'll have him
One, two, three

[LOCK, SHOCK & BARREL]
Kidnap the Sandy Claws, beat him with a stick
Lock him for ninety years, see what makes him tick

Kidnap the Sandy Claws, chop him into bits
Mr. Oogie Boogie is sure to get his kicks
Kidnap the Sandy Claws, see what we will see
Lock him in a cage and then throw away the key ]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3487070/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3487070/ Fri, 01 Oct 2004 10:46:59 PDT I love you so,
I know not why

I love you so,
I know not how

I love you
In all the ways I know

And I love you
In all the ways I do

I care not why
I care not how

All I know
Is I love you so.

(Written for my PS2.) ]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3267494/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3267494/ Mon, 06 Sep 2004 22:36:44 PDT Tomb flowers will bloom
With new tales of random serenity
And the fabric of dreams
Will always exist.

Like a soul in action
From the kingdom
Of the white on white idols
Here dreaming in new gowns.
You'll hear the riddle of prayers calling
In the lurking lipstick scenes
And a young man held to a flexible God
And pretty girls who scream.

The lost and found
Will lay with their still love
And lift your echoing heart
In a private paradise of dreams

And an air that falls apart.

-Bauhaus, 1998. ]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3242937/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3242937/ Sun, 29 Aug 2004 21:17:58 PDT I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to withdraw from the tumult of cemetries.
I want to sleep the dream of that child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

I don't want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood,
that the putrid mouth goes on asking for water.
I don't want to learn of the tortures of the grass,
nor of the moon with a serpent's mouth
that labors before dawn.

-Federico García Lorca; Gacela of the Dark Death ]]> ~Rasalhague http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3232463/ http://Rasalhague.deviantart.com/journal/3232463/ Mon, 24 Jan 2005 21:16:31 PST I like my town with a little drop of poison
Nobody knows they're lining up to go insane
I'm all alone, I smoke my friends down to the filter
But I feel much cleaner after it rains.

-Tom Waits; Little Drop of Poison.

That's from a song, it is. ]]> ~Rasalhague