In Homer’s Iliad, there appears the following passage. Translation by yours truly, because if you can’t use your 7 years of ancient Greek for translating things like this, what can you use it for?
… And to their lord hastened Golden servants like living maidens. In them were minds and hearts, voice and strength, And they have learned skills from the deathless gods. They hurried around and about their master. (Iliad 18.417-421)
Why am I posting about ancient Greek lady-robots made of gold? It’s a secret—for now. Feel free to let your imaginations go wild. (Lord knows I did!)
Well! The vacation was lovely — even during the part where I threw up on a fish — but it took us two full days to get home again. And then! I undertook a full backup of my computer — a huge backup that erased all the other littler backups — and in the middle of this important process my hard drive up and died like Sean Bean when he’s got second billing.
For a while it looked as though I’d lost everything — photos, music, the entire contents of my documents folder, with its current manuscripts and past manuscripts and half-finished manuscripts, can you imagine – but luckily the inimitable Mr. Waite was able to salvage the documents from the half-finished backup. And now I’m writing this blog post from a brand-new, shiny computer.
But what does a writer do when her primary mode of composition is unavailable?
This writer makes jewelry.
I’m calling this the Botticelli Bangle. The pattern is the Scheherezade Bangle from Sabine Lippert‘s Beaded Fantasies, though I took liberties with the colors and bead amounts. Bonus: it continues this summer’s Grecian theme! I can wear it to the other four weddings we’re attending in the months to come!
So yes, I promise I’ll be back to blogging regularly now. But it’s nice to know I can be productive even when I’m being unproductive.
All of a sudden a shiny new idea has coalesced and is writing itself. The reins have fallen between the horses’ legs and all I can do is hang on. In lieu of blogging today, please enjoy this brilliant and mind-bendingly geeky Lego recreation of the equally mind-bending Antikythera Mechanism.
What do ancient Greek mechanical wonders and writing excitement have to do with one another? Keep an eye on this site for future developments!
On a recent trip to Astoria, Mr. Waite and I were walking back from dinner when we quite literally stumbled over a man on the sidewalk outside a tattoo parlor. He had a butane torch and was running it along the back of a small metal rectangle, held carefully in his fingertips. Beside him on […]
Welcome, O Reader, to the final entry in this spontaneous Bad Poetry Week Celebration. Spurred by Amanda Palmer‘s example at the start of the week, we’ve since gawked at horrifying lizard-themed word-butchery by Troy Lumber, a cringeworthy WWI song, and and ode by the Cheese Poet. But lest we start to feel superior, in comparison […]
For our penultimate day of Bad Poetry Week, I’d like to introduce you to the work of Canada’s James MacIntyre, also known as the Cheese Poet. This is a man who cruelly and with malice aforethought rhymed “cheese” with “squeeze” in more than one poem. So please allow me the dubious pleasure of presenting my […]
The First World War is often remembered for the amount of poetry it produced. Alan Seeger’s beautiful and chillingly accurate “I Have a Rendezvous with Death” speaks for the pro-war poets, while Wilfred Owen’s harrowing “Dulce et Decorum Est” comes down on the side of war being absurdly horrifying. And then, sitting in the middle like your […]
Bad poetry is like karaoke: best when shared. One site dedicated to doing just that is the aptly named Very Bad Poetry, where I found the gem of a poem below. Which, incidentally, definitely needs to be a song — I’m thinking a kind of folk-metal combo, with a jazz flute. Reptilicus by Troy Lumber […]