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Jun. 11th, 2008 05:22 pmI just wrote the most evil, snarkiest post I have ever penned. Then I realised that the combination of interestingly allergic side effects and PMT means that almost anything I write I shall regret and that post I would regret particularly. Sadly, commonsense ruled and I deleted it. My snark was a boojum, you see, and if I had posted those words I would have softly and silently vanished away from the shame of it.
On a much happier note, tonight I'm reading Franklin's journal. This is the guy whose entire Arctic expedition died of various inspiring happenings, including possible botulism and almost-definite cannibalism. If anyone local needs cheering fare, they can borrow it next week.
Franklin himself died before the cannibalism, so you miss the first hand account of the taste of humans and also the nightmares, which is porbably a good thing, all things considered. (on another note, one of my students knew cannibals in his youth - he's currently reading every piece of poetry TS Eliot ever published - I knew there was a quiet spot on Earth where TS Eliot met with cannibals)
I feel like signing this post "Yours from a place of quiet joy" except it would be such a lie and I'm a sadly truthful soul (unless I get muddled, in which case the untruths are not on purpose, but emanate from vicissitudes of the brain).
On a much happier note, tonight I'm reading Franklin's journal. This is the guy whose entire Arctic expedition died of various inspiring happenings, including possible botulism and almost-definite cannibalism. If anyone local needs cheering fare, they can borrow it next week.
Franklin himself died before the cannibalism, so you miss the first hand account of the taste of humans and also the nightmares, which is porbably a good thing, all things considered. (on another note, one of my students knew cannibals in his youth - he's currently reading every piece of poetry TS Eliot ever published - I knew there was a quiet spot on Earth where TS Eliot met with cannibals)
I feel like signing this post "Yours from a place of quiet joy" except it would be such a lie and I'm a sadly truthful soul (unless I get muddled, in which case the untruths are not on purpose, but emanate from vicissitudes of the brain).