11 November 2009 @ 09:13 pm
What woman would not have kindled to see what Orlando saw then burning in the snow — for all about the looking glass were snowy lawns, and she was like a fire, a burning bush, and the candle flames about her head were silver leaves; or again, the glass was green water, and she a mermaid, slung with pearls, a siren in a cave, singing so that oarsmen leant from their boats and fell down, down to embrace her; so dark, so bright, so hard, so soft, was she, so astonishingly seductive that it was a thousand pities that there was no one there to put it in plain English, and say outright "Damn it Madam, you are loveliness incarnate," which was the truth.
 
 

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12 November 2009 @ 03:53 pm
Sorry if this has been posted before
I am looking for a hair dresser in the SE suburbs (somewhere in walking distance from the train line) that is fairly cheap in price but still does a decent job on cut and colour.

Thanks
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 08:52 pm
Sign-ups for [info]festivids, a rare-vidding-fandom vid exchange, are live. Please read the rules before signing up. Hope to see some of you!
 
 


today is your day to celebrate
your day to be the star
so let the ones you love all cheer
& say how special you are
happy happy birthday [info]subtle__sarcasm!!!
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 08:45 pm
His hour came with the shells,
with the notched iron splinters,
in the smoke and flame,
in the shaking and terror of the battlefield.

Word came to him in the bullet shower
that he should be a hero briskly,
and he was that while he lasted,
but it wasn't much time he got.

He kept his guns to the tanks,
bucking with tearing crashing screech,
until he himself got, about the stomach,
that biff that put him to the ground,
mouth down in sand and gravel,
without a chirp from his ugly high-pitched voice.

No cross or medal was put to his
chest or to his name or to his family;
there were not many of his troop alive,
and if there were their word would not be strong.
And at any rate, if a battle post stands,
many are knocked down because of him,
not expecting fame, not wanting a medal
or any froth from the mouth of the field of slaughter.

I saw a great warrior of England,
a poor manikin on whom no eye would rest;
no Alasdair of Glen Garry;
and he took a little weeping to my eyes.


Thainig uair-sin lis na sligean )
 
 
12 November 2009 @ 09:04 am
" Memory is the sense of loss, and loss pulls us after it. God Himself was pulled after us into the vortex we made when we fell, or so the story goes. And while He was on earth He mended families. He gave Lazarus back to his mother, and to the centurion he gave his daughter again. He even restored the severed ear of the soldier who came to arrest Him - a fact that allows us to hope the resurrection will reflect a considerable attention to detail. Yet this was no more than tinkering. Being man He felt the pull of death, and being God He must have wondered more than we do what it would be like. He is known to have walked upon water, but He was not born to drown. And when He did die it was sad - such a young man, so full of promise, and His mother wept and His friends could not believe the loss, and the story spread everywhere and the mourning would not be comforted, until He was so sharply lacked and so powerfully remember that his friends felt Him beside them as they walked along the road, and saw someone cooking fish on the shore and knew it to be Him, and sat down to supper with Him, all wounded as He was.There is so little to remember of anyone - an anecdote, a conversation at table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long."


Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping.
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 10:41 pm
Out of my mouth is coming, at some
distance from me, a thin gnawing sound
which you could confuse with prayer except that
praying is not constrained.

Or is it, Lord?
Maybe it's more like being strangled
than I once thought. Maybe it's
a gasp for air, prayer.
Did those men at Pentecost
want flames to shoot out of their heads?
Did they ask to be tossed
on the ground, gabbling like holy poultry,
eyeballs bulging?

As mine are, as mine are.
There is only one prayer; it is not
the knees in the clean nightgown
on the hooked rug.
I want this, I want that.
Oh far beyond.
Call it Please. Call it Mercy.
Call it Not yet, not yet,
as Heaven threatens to explode
inwards in fire and shredded flesh, and the angels caw.

--Margaret Atwood, "Half-Hanged Mary"
 
 

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11 November 2009 @ 10:29 pm

[72] Mad Men Cast Icons


HERE at [info]cigarsgalore
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 10:27 pm

[72] Mad Men Cast Icons


HERE at [info]cigarsgalore
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 10:24 pm
6 Doctor Who
3 Billie Piper
4 Merlin
6 The Mentalist
5 Buffyverse (1 Eliza Dushku)
3 Roswell
1 STXI



HERE @ [info]ruby_ribbons.
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 08:46 pm
Super HOT one-of-a-kind "Biohazard Orange Crinoline Tutu Petticoat Skirt".

Make it yours!

And check out our other new stuff!

Dark Delicious Smiles
:)Mazy

Mechanical Bunny Boutique

 
 
When they were introduced, he made a witticism, hoping to be liked. She laughed extremely hard, hoping to be liked. Then each drove home alone, staring stright ahead, with the very same twist to their faces.
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 08:11 pm




Thank you for your time!
 
 
Current Mood: artistic
 
 
12 November 2009 @ 01:54 am
Я возвращался домой пустыми переулками станицы; месяц, полный и красный, как зарево пожара, начинал показываться из-за зубчатого горизонта домов; звезды спокойно сияли на темно-голубом своде, и мне стало смешно, когда я вспомнил, что были некогда люди премудрые, думавшие, что светила небесные принимают участие в наших ничтожных спорах за клочок земли или за какие-нибудь вымышленные права!.. И что ж? эти лампады, зажженные, по их мнению, только для того, чтобы освещать их битвы и торжества, горят с прежним блеском, а их страсти и надежды давно угасли вместе с ними, как огонек, зажженный на краю леса беспечным странником! Но зато какую силу воли придавала им уверенность, что целое небо со своими бесчисленными жителями на них смотрит с участием, хотя немым, но неизменным!.. А мы, их жалкие потомки, скитающиеся по земле без убеждений и гордости, без наслаждения и страха, кроме той невольной боязни, сжимающей сердце при мысли о неизбежном конце, мы не способны более к великим жертвам ни для блага человечества, ни даже для собственного счастия, потому знаем его невозможность и равнодушно переходим от сомнения к сомнению, как наши предки бросались от одного заблуждения к другому, не имея, как они, ни надежды, ни даже того неопределенного, хотя и истинного наслаждения, которое встречает душа во всякой борьбе с людьми или судьбою...

I returned home through the deserted side
streets of the village. The full moon, red as the lurid glow of a fire, was just coming up over the jagged skyline of the housetops. The stars shone placidly in the dark-blue firmament, and I was amused at the thought that there once were sages who believed the heavenly bodies have a share in our wretched squabbles over a tiny territory or some other imaginary rights. Yet these lamps, which they thought had been lighted only to illuminate their battles and triumphs, still burn with undiminished brilliance, while their passions and hopes have long since died out together with them like a campfire left burning on the fringe of a forest by a careless wayfarer. But what strength of will they drew from the certainty that all the heavens with their numberless inhabitants looked down on them with constant though mute sympathy! Yet we, their pitiful descendants, who roam the earth without convictions or pride, without joys or fear other than the nameless dread that constricts the heart at the thought of the inevitable end, we are no longer capable of great sacrifices either for the good of mankind or even for our personal happiness, since we know that happiness is impossible; and we pass indifferently from one doubt to another just as our forebears floundered from one delusion to another, without the hopes they had and without even that vague but potent sense of joy the soul derives from any struggle with man or destiny . . .
 
 

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11 November 2009 @ 05:40 pm
Song: What About Everything?
Artist: Carbon Leaf
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, and just about everyone else
Pairings: I think I hit just about every canon ship of any significance... anything beyond that depends entirely on your shipper goggles.
Episodes: 1x01 - 5x08
Summary: Whump, crack, and Winchesters: a nostalgic look back on four and a half years of friends, family, hunting, and the apocalypse... because even a show about the end of the world can be optimistic.

Download and streaming at my journal.
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 05:40 pm


Song: What About Everything?
Artist: Carbon Leaf
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, and just about everyone else
Pairings: I think I hit just about every canon ship of any significance... anything beyond that depends entirely on your shipper goggles.
Episodes: 1x01 - 5x08
Summary: Whump, crack, and Winchesters: a nostalgic look back on four and a half years of friends, family, hunting, and the apocalypse... because even a show about the end of the world can be optimistic.

Download and streaming at my journal.
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 08:47 pm
"Now I will walk, as if I had an end in view, across the room, to the balcony under the awning. I see the sky, softly feathered with its sudden effulgence of moon. I also see the railings of the square, and two people without faces, leaning like statues against the sky. There is then a world immune from change. When I have passed through this drawing-room flickering with tongues that cut me like knives, making me stammer, making me lie, I find faces rid of features, robed in beauty. The lovers crouch under the plane tree. The policeman stands sentinel at the corner. A man passes. There is then a world immune from change. But I am not composed enough, standing tiptoe on the verge of fire, still scorched by the hot breath, afraid of the door opening and the leap of the tiger, to make even one sentence. What I say is perpetually contradicted. Each time the door opens I am interrupted. I am not yet twenty-one. I am to be broken. I am to be derided all my life. I am to be cast up and down among these men and women, with their twitching faces, with their lying tongues, like a cork on a rough sea. Like a ribbon of weed I am flung far every time the door opens. The waves breaks. I am the foam that sweeps and fills the uttermost rims of the rocks with whiteness;  I am also a girl, here in this room."

Virginia Woolf, The Waves

 
 
 
12 November 2009 @ 02:00 am
Another V Entry:


http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e375/desperatepics/Wheeeee/ericajack01b-icequeen3101.png
 
 
Current Mood: artistic
Current Music: Muse - Undisclosed Desires | Powered by Last.fm
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 07:28 pm
What is your HG long-wearing foundation? I'm currently using Lancome's Teint Idole Ultra, which I really like, but I'm looking for something with a bit more coverage to hide pores, some redness from pimples, as well as some minor acne scarring. Plus I'm a bit of a foundation whore and always wonder if I can find something better. I've tried Colorstay and Estee Lauder Double Wear and loved the fact that they looked flawless almost all day, but they always break me out (maybe it's the SPF?). Some foundations I'm thinking of trying are Make Up For Ever Matt Velvet, Make Up For Ever HD, Prescriptives All Skin Liquid Mineral Foundation, and Diorskin Forever Extreme Wear. I have very sensitive combination skin that is especially prone to breakouts. I'm also pretty fair skinned with pinkish undertones, so good color selection is important. Does anyone have any reviews or recommendations? I'd really appreciate it! :D