the daydreamers discussion forum (original) (raw)

(no subject)	[Jan. 5th, 2005\|09:33 pm]the_daydreamers
[music \|Bob Dylan "Lay Lady Lay"]I am making an entry to highly recommend Salman Rushdie. What am I saying, recommend? Command. Read him. If you think you don't have enough time, start with Haroun and the Sea of Stories, it only took me about an hour. And he has plenty of short stories (not quite as good as the novels, in my opinion) for those who lack attention spans. I've heard people complain that they can't get into him because of minute allusions, references, assumptions, etc., with which they are unfamiliar. In reading The Satanic Verses, I've wished that I knew, well, anything about Islam. I was fortunate with The Ground Beneath her Feet, because most of the references were to 1960's pop culture. Lucky me, the narrator is spends chapters inspired by Bob Dylan lyrics and creating alternate-dimension versions of Elvis and the Beatles. As for the other minute allusions, though, short of just reading more or ignoring them, I've found a couple of websites that help you out with, say, translating things from Hindu to English, explaining Bollywood lyrics, Britishisms, or London geography...Here is a reference for The Satanic Verses. And one for The Ground Beneath her Feet. I think I prefer this book to the former, but this resource isn't as helpful. I don't say that because I caught many references in this book, I say it because most of what is listed here is obvious or irrelevant.
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(no subject)

[Jan. 5th, 2005|09:33 pm]the_daydreamers

[music |Bob Dylan "Lay Lady Lay"]I am making an entry to highly recommend Salman Rushdie. What am I saying, recommend? Command. Read him. If you think you don't have enough time, start with Haroun and the Sea of Stories, it only took me about an hour. And he has plenty of short stories (not quite as good as the novels, in my opinion) for those who lack attention spans. I've heard people complain that they can't get into him because of minute allusions, references, assumptions, etc., with which they are unfamiliar. In reading The Satanic Verses, I've wished that I knew, well, anything about Islam. I was fortunate with The Ground Beneath her Feet, because most of the references were to 1960's pop culture. Lucky me, the narrator is spends chapters inspired by Bob Dylan lyrics and creating alternate-dimension versions of Elvis and the Beatles. As for the other minute allusions, though, short of just reading more or ignoring them, I've found a couple of websites that help you out with, say, translating things from Hindu to English, explaining Bollywood lyrics, Britishisms, or London geography...Here is a reference for The Satanic Verses. And one for The Ground Beneath her Feet. I think I prefer this book to the former, but this resource isn't as helpful. I don't say that because I caught many references in this book, I say it because most of what is listed here is obvious or irrelevant.

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(no subject)	[Dec. 26th, 2004\|10:11 pm]the_daydreamers
[mood \|sleepy] [music	johnathan rice_the acrobat] i absolutely adore the chronicles of narnia by c.s. lewis, and having recently re-read them, i thought i'd share one of the passages that always stuck with me for being deliciously scary and thought provoking. i have to give credit where credit is due though, i lifted this excerpt from this site: http://www.dtl.org/info/reepicheep.htm while trying to look up this passage on the net instead of having to type it out myself. i know, my laziness astounds me too...i'm blaming the holidays. anyways, i hope it scares all of you as much as it scares me! -martha* -------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Fly! Fly! About with your ship and fly! Row, row, row for your lives away from this accursed shore." "Compose yourself," said Reepicheep, "and tell us what the danger is. We are not used to flying." The stranger started horribly at the voice of the Mouse, which he had not noticed before. "Nevertheless you will fly from here," he gasped. "This is the place where dreams come true." "That's the island I've been looking for this long time," said one of the sailors. "I reckoned I'd find I was married to Nancy if we landed here." "And I'd find Tom alive again," said another. "Fools!" said the man, stamping his foot with rage. "That is the sort of talk that brought me here, and I'd better have been drowned or never been born. Do you hear what I have to say? This is where dreams--dreams, do you understand--come to life, come real. Not daydreams: dreams." There was about a half a minute's silence and then, with a great clatter of armour the whole crew were tumbling down the main hatch as quick as they could and flinging themselves on the oars to row as they had never rowed before; and Drinian was swinging round the tiller, and the boatswain was giving the quickest stroke that had ever been heard at sea. For it had taken everyone just that half minute to remember certain dreams they had had--dreams that make you afraid of going to sleep again--and to realize what it would mean to land on a country where our dreams come true.s Only Reepicheep remained unmoved. "Your Majesty, your Majesty," he said, "are you going to tolerate this mutiny, this poltroonery? This is panic, this is a rout." "Row, row," bellowed Caspian. "Pull for all our lives. You can say what you like, Reepicheep. There are some things no man can face. "It is, then, my good fortune not to be a man," replied Reepicheep with a very stiff bow. -C.S. Lewis from book three, Voyager of the Dawn Treader, chapter twelve, "The Dark Island"
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(no subject)

[Dec. 26th, 2004|10:11 pm]the_daydreamers

[mood** |sleepy] [music**

johnathan rice_the acrobat] i absolutely adore the chronicles of narnia by c.s. lewis, and having recently re-read them, i thought i'd share one of the passages that always stuck with me for being deliciously scary and thought provoking. i have to give credit where credit is due though, i lifted this excerpt from this site: http://www.dtl.org/info/reepicheep.htm while trying to look up this passage on the net instead of having to type it out myself. i know, my laziness astounds me too...i'm blaming the holidays. anyways, i hope it scares all of you as much as it scares me! -martha* -------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Fly! Fly! About with your ship and fly! Row, row, row for your lives away from this accursed shore." "Compose yourself," said Reepicheep, "and tell us what the danger is. We are not used to flying." The stranger started horribly at the voice of the Mouse, which he had not noticed before. "Nevertheless you will fly from here," he gasped. "This is the place where dreams come true." "That's the island I've been looking for this long time," said one of the sailors. "I reckoned I'd find I was married to Nancy if we landed here." "And I'd find Tom alive again," said another. "Fools!" said the man, stamping his foot with rage. "That is the sort of talk that brought me here, and I'd better have been drowned or never been born. Do you hear what I have to say? This is where dreams--dreams, do you understand--come to life, come real. Not daydreams: dreams." There was about a half a minute's silence and then, with a great clatter of armour the whole crew were tumbling down the main hatch as quick as they could and flinging themselves on the oars to row as they had never rowed before; and Drinian was swinging round the tiller, and the boatswain was giving the quickest stroke that had ever been heard at sea. For it had taken everyone just that half minute to remember certain dreams they had had--dreams that make you afraid of going to sleep again--and to realize what it would mean to land on a country where our dreams come true.s Only Reepicheep remained unmoved. "Your Majesty, your Majesty," he said, "are you going to tolerate this mutiny, this poltroonery? This is panic, this is a rout." "Row, row," bellowed Caspian. "Pull for all our lives. You can say what you like, Reepicheep. There are some things no man can face. "It is, then, my good fortune not to be a man," replied Reepicheep with a very stiff bow. -C.S. Lewis from book three, Voyager of the Dawn Treader, chapter twelve, "The Dark Island"

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(no subject)	[Nov. 28th, 2004\|02:46 pm]the_daydreamers
I really loved these two quotes by Anais Nin. thought I'd do my first contribution to this community. its a really awesome idea. if only people would post more! Anais Nin:"Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living."Anais Nin:"The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle."I know Im like, totally not the facilitator of this community but i thought it would be kinda cool if people posted their (more non-personal) dreams on here. goin with the whole dream-esque theme... i cant think of any now.. but what do you think?
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(no subject)

[Nov. 28th, 2004|02:46 pm]the_daydreamers

I really loved these two quotes by Anais Nin. thought I'd do my first contribution to this community. its a really awesome idea. if only people would post more! Anais Nin:"Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living."Anais Nin:"The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle."I know Im like, totally not the facilitator of this community but i thought it would be kinda cool if people posted their (more non-personal) dreams on here. goin with the whole dream-esque theme... i cant think of any now.. but what do you think?

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(no subject)	[Sep. 29th, 2004\|10:14 pm]the_daydreamers
"Creativity is essentially a lonely art. An even lonelier struggle. To some a blessing. To others a curse. It is in reality the ability to reach inside yourself and drag forth from your very soul an idea." - Lou DorfsmanThoughts?
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(no subject)	[Sep. 29th, 2004\|10:11 pm]the_daydreamers
"Creativity is essentially a lonely art. An even lonelier struggle. To some a blessing. To others a curse. It is in reality the ability to reach inside yourself and drag forth from your very soul an idea." - Lou DorfsmanThoughts?
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prettiness	[Aug. 22nd, 2004\|02:41 am]the_daydreamers
[mood \|enthralled] [music	... soundtrack to the christian dior runway show?]"These are morning matters, pictures you dream as the final wave heaves you up on the sand to the bright light and drying air. You remember pressure, and a curved sleep you rested against, soft, like a scallop in its shell. But the air hardens your skin; you stand; you leave the lighted shore to explore some dim headland, and soon you're lost in the leafy interior, intent, remembering nothing."- Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie DillardThis was the only bit of this book I liked. And I love it. LOVE.
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prettiness

[Aug. 22nd, 2004|02:41 am]the_daydreamers

[mood |enthralled] [music

... soundtrack to the christian dior runway show?]"These are morning matters, pictures you dream as the final wave heaves you up on the sand to the bright light and drying air. You remember pressure, and a curved sleep you rested against, soft, like a scallop in its shell. But the air hardens your skin; you stand; you leave the lighted shore to explore some dim headland, and soon you're lost in the leafy interior, intent, remembering nothing."- Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie DillardThis was the only bit of this book I liked. And I love it. LOVE.

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love, above all things	[Aug. 15th, 2004\|07:35 am]the_daydreamers
[mood \|enthralled] [music	shrek 2 soundtrack, of all things]"Love is the extremely difficult realisation that something other than oneself is real."I forgot who this quote is by, and I'm too lazy to google it, but it is just such an insanely sexy quote that I had to post it.
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gotta love the edna	[Aug. 14th, 2004\|10:46 am]the_daydreamers
[music \|Foo Fighters- Disenchanted Lullaby]The Unexplorer There was a road ran past our houseToo lovely to explore.I asked my mother once -- she saidThat if you followed where it ledIt brought you to the milk-man's door.(That's why I have not travelled more.)-- Edna St. Vincent MillayI posted this in my own journal a while back, but I thought I would post it again here, because it is just that good. You have to love Edna, for all that she was a tad disturbed at times. :)
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gotta love the edna

[Aug. 14th, 2004|10:46 am]the_daydreamers

[music |Foo Fighters- Disenchanted Lullaby]The Unexplorer There was a road ran past our houseToo lovely to explore.I asked my mother once -- she saidThat if you followed where it ledIt brought you to the milk-man's door.(That's why I have not travelled more.)-- Edna St. Vincent MillayI posted this in my own journal a while back, but I thought I would post it again here, because it is just that good. You have to love Edna, for all that she was a tad disturbed at times. :)

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Evensong	[Jun. 16th, 2004\|02:33 pm]the_daydreamers
[mood \|creative]an excerpt that makes me smile...I sat in the gazebo in the main square of my heaven (our neighbors, the O'Dwyers, had a gazebo; I had grown up jealous for one), and watched my sister rage. Hours before I died, my mother hung on the refrigerator a picture that Buckley had drawn. In the drawing a thick blue line seperated the air from the ground. In the days that followed I watched my family walk back and forth past that drawing and became convinced that that thick blue line was a real place - an Inbetween, where heaven's horizon met Earth's. I wanted to go there, into the corflower blue of Crayola, the royal, the turquoise, the sky.Often I found myself desiring simple things and I would get them. Riches in furry packages. Dogs. Every day in my heaven tiny dogs and big dogs, dogs of every kind, ran through the park outside my room. When I opened the door I saw them fat and happy, skinny and hairy, lean and hairless even. Pitbulls rolled on their backs, the nipples of the females distended and dark, begging for their pups to come and suckle them, happy in the sun. Bassets tripped over their ears, ambling forward, nudging the rumps of the dachshunds, the ankles of greyhounds, and the heads of the pekingese. And when Holly took her tenor sax, set herself outside the door that looked onto the park, and played the blues, the hounds all ran to form her chorus. On thier haunches they sat wailing. Other doors opened then, and the women stepped out from where they lived alone or with room-mates. I would step outside, Holly would go into an endless encore, the sun going down, and we would dance with the dogs - all of us together. We chased them, they chased us. We wore spotted gowns, flowered gowns, striped gowns, plain. When the moon was high the music would stop. The dancing would stop. We froze. Mrs. Bethel Utermeyer, the oldest resident of my heaven, would bring out her violin. Holly trod lightly on her horn. They would do a duet. One woman old and silent, one woman not past girl yet. Back and forth, a crazy schizoid solice they'd create. All the dancers would slowly go inside. The song reverberated until holly, for a final time, passed the tune over, and Mrs. Utemeyer, quiet, upright, historical, finished with a jig.The house asleep by then; this was my Evensong.~ The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
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Evensong

[Jun. 16th, 2004|02:33 pm]the_daydreamers

[mood |creative]an excerpt that makes me smile...I sat in the gazebo in the main square of my heaven (our neighbors, the O'Dwyers, had a gazebo; I had grown up jealous for one), and watched my sister rage. Hours before I died, my mother hung on the refrigerator a picture that Buckley had drawn. In the drawing a thick blue line seperated the air from the ground. In the days that followed I watched my family walk back and forth past that drawing and became convinced that that thick blue line was a real place - an Inbetween, where heaven's horizon met Earth's. I wanted to go there, into the corflower blue of Crayola, the royal, the turquoise, the sky.Often I found myself desiring simple things and I would get them. Riches in furry packages. Dogs. Every day in my heaven tiny dogs and big dogs, dogs of every kind, ran through the park outside my room. When I opened the door I saw them fat and happy, skinny and hairy, lean and hairless even. Pitbulls rolled on their backs, the nipples of the females distended and dark, begging for their pups to come and suckle them, happy in the sun. Bassets tripped over their ears, ambling forward, nudging the rumps of the dachshunds, the ankles of greyhounds, and the heads of the pekingese. And when Holly took her tenor sax, set herself outside the door that looked onto the park, and played the blues, the hounds all ran to form her chorus. On thier haunches they sat wailing. Other doors opened then, and the women stepped out from where they lived alone or with room-mates. I would step outside, Holly would go into an endless encore, the sun going down, and we would dance with the dogs - all of us together. We chased them, they chased us. We wore spotted gowns, flowered gowns, striped gowns, plain. When the moon was high the music would stop. The dancing would stop. We froze. Mrs. Bethel Utermeyer, the oldest resident of my heaven, would bring out her violin. Holly trod lightly on her horn. They would do a duet. One woman old and silent, one woman not past girl yet. Back and forth, a crazy schizoid solice they'd create. All the dancers would slowly go inside. The song reverberated until holly, for a final time, passed the tune over, and Mrs. Utemeyer, quiet, upright, historical, finished with a jig.The house asleep by then; this was my Evensong.~ The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold

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SEM + Literature --> H20 + CO2	[May. 20th, 2004\|11:10 pm]the_daydreamers
[music \|The Pixies - Wave Of Mutilation]"Our day-to-day life is bombarded with fortuities or, to be more precise, with the accidental meetings of people and events we call coincidences. 'co-incidence' means that two events unexpectedly happen at the same time, they meet: Tomas appears in the hotel restaurant at the same the radio is playing Beethoven. we do not even notice the great majority of such coincidences. If the seat Tomas occupied had been occupied instead by the local butcher, Tereza never would have noticed that the radio was playing Beethoven (though the meeting of Beethoven and the butcher would also have been an interesting coincidence). but her nascent love inflamed her sense of beauty, and she would never forget that music. Whenever she heard it, she would be touched. Everything going on around her at that moment would be haloed by the music and take on its beauty.Early in the novel that Tereza clutched under her arm when she went to visit Tomas, Anne meets Vronsky in curious circumstances: they are at the railway station when someone is run over by a train. this symmetrical composition - the same motif appears at the beginning and at the end - may seem quite 'novelistic' to you, and I am willing to agree, but only on condition that you refrain from reading such notions as 'fictive,' 'fabricated,' and 'untrue to life' into the word 'novelistic.' because human lives are composed in precisely such a fashion.They are composed like music. guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence (Beethoven's music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life. Anna could have chosen another way to take her life. but the motif of death and the railway station, unforgettably bound to the birth of love, enticed her in her hour of despair with its dark beauty. Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress.It is wrong, then, to chide the novel for being fascinated by mysterious coincidences (like the meeting of Anna, Vronsky, the railway station, and death or the meeting of Beethoven, Tomas, Tereza, and the cognac), but it is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. For he thereby deprives his life of a dimension of beauty."The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
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SEM + Literature --> H20 + CO2

[May. 20th, 2004|11:10 pm]the_daydreamers

[music |The Pixies - Wave Of Mutilation]"Our day-to-day life is bombarded with fortuities or, to be more precise, with the accidental meetings of people and events we call coincidences. 'co-incidence' means that two events unexpectedly happen at the same time, they meet: Tomas appears in the hotel restaurant at the same the radio is playing Beethoven. we do not even notice the great majority of such coincidences. If the seat Tomas occupied had been occupied instead by the local butcher, Tereza never would have noticed that the radio was playing Beethoven (though the meeting of Beethoven and the butcher would also have been an interesting coincidence). but her nascent love inflamed her sense of beauty, and she would never forget that music. Whenever she heard it, she would be touched. Everything going on around her at that moment would be haloed by the music and take on its beauty.Early in the novel that Tereza clutched under her arm when she went to visit Tomas, Anne meets Vronsky in curious circumstances: they are at the railway station when someone is run over by a train. this symmetrical composition - the same motif appears at the beginning and at the end - may seem quite 'novelistic' to you, and I am willing to agree, but only on condition that you refrain from reading such notions as 'fictive,' 'fabricated,' and 'untrue to life' into the word 'novelistic.' because human lives are composed in precisely such a fashion.They are composed like music. guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence (Beethoven's music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life. Anna could have chosen another way to take her life. but the motif of death and the railway station, unforgettably bound to the birth of love, enticed her in her hour of despair with its dark beauty. Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress.It is wrong, then, to chide the novel for being fascinated by mysterious coincidences (like the meeting of Anna, Vronsky, the railway station, and death or the meeting of Beethoven, Tomas, Tereza, and the cognac), but it is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. For he thereby deprives his life of a dimension of beauty."The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

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