Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
Nov. 22nd, 2007 08:48 pmEven if love was underneath it all, there was a great deal piled on top, and what would you find when you dug down? Not a simple gift, pure gold and shining; instead, something ancient and possibly baneful, like an iron charm rusting among old bones. A talisman of sorts, this love, but a heavy one; a heavy thing for me to carry around with me, slung on its iron chain around my neck.
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
Nov. 14th, 2007 06:55 pmFarewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. Solid flesh can never live up to the bright shadow cast by its absence. Time and distance blur the edges; then suddenly the beloved has arrived, and it’s noon with its merciless light, and every spot and pore and wrinkle and bristle stands clear.
Also significant is that the earliest theorist on color, Empedocles, ascribed all the colors to variations between light or white, dark or black, and red and yellow, which must exist as elements in the eye in order to be perceived. This selection being fairly consistent with Homer supports the premise that earlier Greeks thought of color in only these distinctions. Aristotle and others ascribed all color to gradations of light and shadow3. Xenophanes described the rainbow as having three colors; a purple, a yellow green, and a red.
via
nemuri_neko
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Army of Clones & Wrath of Our Lawyers
Nov. 12th, 2007 10:50 pmЭто я
vriad_lee подсунула на перевод длиннющее, заунывнейшее лицензионное соглашение, а он там вон чего накопал:
The Software and all copyrights, trademarks and all other conceivable intellectual property rights related to the Software are owned byPublisher, Developer or such parties' licensors and are protected by United States copyrights laws, international treaty provisions, an army of clones, and all applicable law, such as the Lanham Act
...
Upon termination, you must destroy the Software and related documentation. Please don't wait for us to come after you; it would not be pleasant for either of us. If we do have to come after you, we're going to expect you to pay us for our troubles, including the cost of our lawyers.
...
At that point, this License is automatically terminated and you must immediately delete this software from your PC. Failure to comply with this last bit (deleting the software) may bring on the wrath of the lawyers. Trust us… you don't want that.
Вот клерки какие-то оттянулись. Душа радуется!
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The Software and all copyrights, trademarks and all other conceivable intellectual property rights related to the Software are owned by
...
Upon termination, you must destroy the Software and related documentation. Please don't wait for us to come after you; it would not be pleasant for either of us. If we do have to come after you, we're going to expect you to pay us for our troubles, including the cost of our lawyers.
...
At that point, this License is automatically terminated and you must immediately delete this software from your PC. Failure to comply with this last bit (deleting the software) may bring on the wrath of the lawyers. Trust us… you don't want that.
Вот клерки какие-то оттянулись. Душа радуется!
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
Nov. 11th, 2007 07:15 pmHaving long ago whispered "I want to die", I now realize that this wish will indeed be fulfilled, and sooner rather than later. No matter that I’ve changed my mind about it.
The Blind Assassin
The Blind Assassin
Анна Каренина - это я!
Nov. 1st, 2007 10:45 amWHAT I HATE (or rather WHAT I AM - in this journal)
I hate to see a little girl
That does not love to rise,
And have the water, fresh and sweet,
Cover her face and eyes.
I hate to see her pretty dress
So careless look and tossed,
Her toys all scattered here and there,
Her thread and needle lost.
I hate to see her, at her play,
When little girls have met
To frolic, laugh and run about,
Grow peevish, cry and fret.
I hate to hear her tell a lie -
What's not her own to take;
Mamma's commands to disobey,
And father's rules to break.
And now I've told you what I hate,
I'll only stop to say,
Perhaps I'll tell you what I love
Upon some other day.
via
seminarist - там много, много, много таких же волшебных стихов! Кто пропускает - тот лопух!
I hate to see a little girl
That does not love to rise,
And have the water, fresh and sweet,
Cover her face and eyes.
I hate to see her pretty dress
So careless look and tossed,
Her toys all scattered here and there,
Her thread and needle lost.
I hate to see her, at her play,
When little girls have met
To frolic, laugh and run about,
Grow peevish, cry and fret.
I hate to hear her tell a lie -
What's not her own to take;
Mamma's commands to disobey,
And father's rules to break.
And now I've told you what I hate,
I'll only stop to say,
Perhaps I'll tell you what I love
Upon some other day.
via
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Мой любимый американец съездил в Киев!
Aug. 25th, 2007 07:34 amOn my first amble about the city, I was completely surprised by how attractive it is. Conglomerations of gilded onion domes sparkle in the summer sunshine, while large, leafy parks provide shade and respite. The city seems to be what Moscow would look like, if it weren’t so damned ugly...
а вот хит сезона, там же:
Not far away, the Rodina Mat is, quite possibly, the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. ( ... ) Only in the former Soviet Union would they build a thirty-two meter tall steel woman just for the hell of it. In my opinion, the Rodina Mat would be an excellent gay icon. She’s enormous, she’s ferocious, and she’s MADE OF STEEL. I picture them dressing her in giant, thirty-two meter tall drag and ringing around the base of the statue, singing crude new lyrics to the tune of old Soviet anthems. Yes, the scene would be delightful because it would be just SO DAMN OUTLANDISH. Which, for a city that boasts a thirty-two meter tall steel woman, is absolutely perfect.
а вот хит сезона, там же:
Not far away, the Rodina Mat is, quite possibly, the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. ( ... ) Only in the former Soviet Union would they build a thirty-two meter tall steel woman just for the hell of it. In my opinion, the Rodina Mat would be an excellent gay icon. She’s enormous, she’s ferocious, and she’s MADE OF STEEL. I picture them dressing her in giant, thirty-two meter tall drag and ringing around the base of the statue, singing crude new lyrics to the tune of old Soviet anthems. Yes, the scene would be delightful because it would be just SO DAMN OUTLANDISH. Which, for a city that boasts a thirty-two meter tall steel woman, is absolutely perfect.
Margaret Atwood
Jul. 4th, 2007 09:17 amSo she ought to be able to remember this, what it's like, what's coming. But who can remember pain, once it's over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.
================
Now we walk along the same street, in red pairs, and no man shouts obscenities at us, speaks to us, touches us. No one whistles.
There is more than one kind of freedom, said Aunt Lydia. Freedom to and freedom from. In the days of anarchy, it was freedom to. Now you are being given freedom from. Don't underrate it.
================
I go back, along the dimmed hall and up the muffled stairs, stealthily to my room. There I sit in the chair, with the lights off, in my red dress, hooked and buttoned. You can think clearly only with your clothes on.
What I need is perspective. The illusion of depth, created by a frame, the arrangement of shapes on a flat surface. Perspective is necessary. Otherwise there are only two dimensions. Otherwise you live with your face squashed against a wall, everything a huge foreground, of details, close-ups, hairs, the weave of the bedsheet, the molecules of the face. Your own skin like a map, a diagram of futility, crisscrossed with tiny roads that lead nowhere. Otherwise you live in the moment. Which is not where I want to be.
Atwood, Margaret - The Handmaid's Tale.rar (186 Kb).
================
Now we walk along the same street, in red pairs, and no man shouts obscenities at us, speaks to us, touches us. No one whistles.
There is more than one kind of freedom, said Aunt Lydia. Freedom to and freedom from. In the days of anarchy, it was freedom to. Now you are being given freedom from. Don't underrate it.
================
I go back, along the dimmed hall and up the muffled stairs, stealthily to my room. There I sit in the chair, with the lights off, in my red dress, hooked and buttoned. You can think clearly only with your clothes on.
What I need is perspective. The illusion of depth, created by a frame, the arrangement of shapes on a flat surface. Perspective is necessary. Otherwise there are only two dimensions. Otherwise you live with your face squashed against a wall, everything a huge foreground, of details, close-ups, hairs, the weave of the bedsheet, the molecules of the face. Your own skin like a map, a diagram of futility, crisscrossed with tiny roads that lead nowhere. Otherwise you live in the moment. Which is not where I want to be.
Atwood, Margaret - The Handmaid's Tale.rar (186 Kb).
Жить тяжело, работы слишком много
Jun. 26th, 2007 10:08 amЗаглянула во внешний мир, слегка вдохнув между озвучками, - а тут, оказывается, 100 лет Тарковскому-папе, все радуются.
Тарковского-сына я даже притвориться так и не смогла, что люблю, когда на орле это было совершенно так же обязательно, как на решке - сходить по свистку в комсомольское собрание. А Тарковского-отца очень честно полюбить старалась, даже стихов до сих пор помню наизусть великое множество.
А осталось от него в моей книге жизни в результате всего одно четверостишие, зато осталось насовсем:
Твой Игорь не умер в плену от печали,
Погоне назло доконал он коня
А как мы рубились на темной Каяле -
Твой князь на Каяле оставил меня.
Странно, должна отметить. Такая это лотерея - что зацепит в книге и останется в памяти.
Похоже на удачные цитаты из неудачных фильмов.
Но вообще я хотела песню выложить - это специальная Песня На Случай Переработки. Не в смысле переработки одного в другое, а в смысле если работы невыносимо много, просвета не видно, а кругом лето и земляника вот-вот сойдет. Это народная английская песня, называется она Prickle Holly Bush. Она про то, как Джорджа хотят повесить, а он говорит палачу: придержи коня, вон, идет мой папа (потом мама, брат сестра и чуть ли не тетя с дядей), небось денег тебе несут, чтобы ты меня отпустил. А те на самом деле ничего не несут, а пришли посмотреть. И так это продолжается пока не приходит sweetheart с деньгами и не вытаскивает Джорджа из этого метафорического колючего куста, куда он обещает ни за что больше не попадать.
Лошадь здесь имеется в виду не в переносном смысле, а в буквальном - песня старая, тогда на виселицу поднимали, перекинув веревку через очень высокую перекладину, так что на одном конце был человек, на другом лошадь, и кто кого перетянет. Лошадь начинала идти, но ме-е-е-едленно. Так что у sweetheart времени было завались и больше.
prickle holly bush - 12Mb
Oh, slack your horse, cries George
Come slack it for a while
For I think I see my father coming
Over yonder stile
Did you bring gold?
Did you bring silver to set me free?
For to save my body from the cold jail wall
And me neck from the high gallows tree
( дальше )
Тарковского-сына я даже притвориться так и не смогла, что люблю, когда на орле это было совершенно так же обязательно, как на решке - сходить по свистку в комсомольское собрание. А Тарковского-отца очень честно полюбить старалась, даже стихов до сих пор помню наизусть великое множество.
А осталось от него в моей книге жизни в результате всего одно четверостишие, зато осталось насовсем:
Твой Игорь не умер в плену от печали,
Погоне назло доконал он коня
А как мы рубились на темной Каяле -
Твой князь на Каяле оставил меня.
Странно, должна отметить. Такая это лотерея - что зацепит в книге и останется в памяти.
Похоже на удачные цитаты из неудачных фильмов.
Но вообще я хотела песню выложить - это специальная Песня На Случай Переработки. Не в смысле переработки одного в другое, а в смысле если работы невыносимо много, просвета не видно, а кругом лето и земляника вот-вот сойдет. Это народная английская песня, называется она Prickle Holly Bush. Она про то, как Джорджа хотят повесить, а он говорит палачу: придержи коня, вон, идет мой папа (потом мама, брат сестра и чуть ли не тетя с дядей), небось денег тебе несут, чтобы ты меня отпустил. А те на самом деле ничего не несут, а пришли посмотреть. И так это продолжается пока не приходит sweetheart с деньгами и не вытаскивает Джорджа из этого метафорического колючего куста, куда он обещает ни за что больше не попадать.
Лошадь здесь имеется в виду не в переносном смысле, а в буквальном - песня старая, тогда на виселицу поднимали, перекинув веревку через очень высокую перекладину, так что на одном конце был человек, на другом лошадь, и кто кого перетянет. Лошадь начинала идти, но ме-е-е-едленно. Так что у sweetheart времени было завались и больше.
prickle holly bush - 12Mb
Oh, slack your horse, cries George
Come slack it for a while
For I think I see my father coming
Over yonder stile
Did you bring gold?
Did you bring silver to set me free?
For to save my body from the cold jail wall
And me neck from the high gallows tree
( дальше )
Они нас уже похоронили!
Apr. 23rd, 2007 02:20 pmиз детской игры
The Arctic Fox is also often called Ice Fox, Snow Fox or White Fox. It lives in many areas of northern and western Alaska, for instance in northern Canada, former Russia and Greenland
Вообще, если шутки в сторону, то английские тексты в не-английских играх становятся все чудовищнее и чудовищнее. Раньше люди явно искали носителя, потом - специалиста с более-менее приличным багажом, а теперь просто делают это сами.
Переведено профессиональными программистами. Глобальный стиль эпохи.
The Arctic Fox is also often called Ice Fox, Snow Fox or White Fox. It lives in many areas of northern and western Alaska, for instance in northern Canada, former Russia and Greenland
Вообще, если шутки в сторону, то английские тексты в не-английских играх становятся все чудовищнее и чудовищнее. Раньше люди явно искали носителя, потом - специалиста с более-менее приличным багажом, а теперь просто делают это сами.
Переведено профессиональными программистами. Глобальный стиль эпохи.
Muriel Spark
Mar. 7th, 2007 09:06 pmThis was strangely true, and she did not again experience her early sense of erotic wonder in life until suddenly one day when she was nearly forty, an actress of moderate reputation married to a theatrical manager. It happened she was standing with a man whom she did not know very well outside a famous building in Rome, waiting for the rain to stop. She was surprised by a reawakening of that same buoyant and airy discovery of sex, a total sensation which it was impossible to say was physical or mental, only that it contained the lost and guileless delight of her eleventh year. She supposed herself to have fallen in love with the man, who might, she thought, have been moved towards her in his own way out of a world of his own, the associations of which were largely unknown to her. There was nothing whatever to be done about it, for Jenny had been contentedly married for sixteen years past; but the concise happening filled her with astonishment whenever it came to mind in later days, and with a sense of the hidden possibilities in all things.
Go Down Moses
Mar. 3rd, 2007 08:12 pmПочитала в журнале
gingenius комменты по поводу моих сугубо гениальных стихотворений. В одном из них меня тут же обвинили, что я подражаю Багрицкому. Но ведь это неправда! Если не ограничивать свои поэтические интересы белой палатой и крашеной дверью, то сразу можно понять, что на самом деле я подражала Есенину - "ты сама ведь знаешь, знаешь хорошо, не тебя я вижу, не к тебе пришел" (это что я первое вспомнила, надо еще в памяти покопаться, чему я там подражаю).
Но я на самом деле не про это, а опять про разные исполнения всякого фолка: Go Down Moses - Луи Армстронг и Поль Робсон. Кто слышал только Армстронга - настоятельно рекомендую послушать второй вариант, он не джазовый, а выглядит, натурально, как песня протеста, и такая трактовка вопля Let My People Go натурально сносит крышу. А кто и Армстронга не слышал - это уж на ваше усмотрение, вам уже никакой врач не поможет.
Go Down Moses - Louis Armstrong
Go Down Moses - Paul Robeson
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Но я на самом деле не про это, а опять про разные исполнения всякого фолка: Go Down Moses - Луи Армстронг и Поль Робсон. Кто слышал только Армстронга - настоятельно рекомендую послушать второй вариант, он не джазовый, а выглядит, натурально, как песня протеста, и такая трактовка вопля Let My People Go натурально сносит крышу. А кто и Армстронга не слышал - это уж на ваше усмотрение, вам уже никакой врач не поможет.
Go Down Moses - Louis Armstrong
Go Down Moses - Paul Robeson
Fears over Cyprus baby cash plan
Feb. 26th, 2007 06:45 pmA proposal to give a huge cash bonus to Cypriot women who have large families could in fact lead to an "epidemic" of abortions, an MP has warned.
The government has proposed a ?23,000 (34,000 euro) bonus to mothers who have three or more children.
Maria Kyriacou says several pregnant women have contacted her to find out when the scheme is likely to start.
Women expecting a third child are considering aborting, and trying again once the payments are active, she said.
Даже и не знаю, что сказать по этому поводу. Пробивает на хи-хи, хотя по совести не смешно совершенно.
The government has proposed a ?23,000 (34,000 euro) bonus to mothers who have three or more children.
Maria Kyriacou says several pregnant women have contacted her to find out when the scheme is likely to start.
Women expecting a third child are considering aborting, and trying again once the payments are active, she said.
Даже и не знаю, что сказать по этому поводу. Пробивает на хи-хи, хотя по совести не смешно совершенно.
Return to Earth
Feb. 17th, 2007 10:13 amParaglider survives 32,000ft fall
Ewa Wisnierska, 35, who lost consciousness as she soared skywards, was covered in ice and battled hailstones the size of oranges.
She was pulled 9,940m (32,612 feet) above sea level in the storm near Tamworth, in New South Wales, paragliding officials said.
...
"There's no oxygen," Mr Wenness said. "She could have suffered brain damage but she came to again at a height of 6,900m with ice all over her body and slowly descended herself."
Ms Wisnierska says she felt like an astronaut returning from the Moon as she landed.
"I could see the Earth coming - wow, like Apollo 13 - I can see the Earth," she said.
Ewa Wisnierska, 35, who lost consciousness as she soared skywards, was covered in ice and battled hailstones the size of oranges.
She was pulled 9,940m (32,612 feet) above sea level in the storm near Tamworth, in New South Wales, paragliding officials said.
...
"There's no oxygen," Mr Wenness said. "She could have suffered brain damage but she came to again at a height of 6,900m with ice all over her body and slowly descended herself."
Ms Wisnierska says she felt like an astronaut returning from the Moon as she landed.
"I could see the Earth coming - wow, like Apollo 13 - I can see the Earth," she said.