friends

( Hard Disc Drive Replacement )

x-posted to macosx

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♠

“And it’s fine because it’s been this way with girls a while now, these random things, because I know I’m too much for anyone, that if I let myself I’d love them all, I’d think they could fix me. But I know they can’t, and it’s enough, because every so often when a girl kisses me, touches my hand, my face, I remember that the world has light.”

- Brad Land, Goat





Ω

Is there a DeVeDe equivalent for macosx?

iDVD doesn't come close.... Needs to support dixv, xvid, h.264...etc.

I can remember the title, author, and location of every book in this library, Matthew. Every book that's ever been dreamed. Every book that's ever been imagined. Every book that's ever been lost. Millions upon millions of them. That's what I remember. It's my job. Other things … I forget sometimes.

But to go deeper, beneath what people said (and these judgements, how superficial, how fragmentary they are!) in her own mind now, what did it mean to her, this thing she called life? Oh, it was very queer. Here was So-and-so in South Kensington; some one up in Bayswater; and somebody else, say, in Mayfair. And she felt quiet continuously a sense of their existence and she felt what a waste; and she felt what a pity; and she felt if only they could be brought together; so she did it. And it was an offering; to combine, to create; but to whom?

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

"If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days."

In the world of the dreamer there was solitude: all the exaltations and joys came in the moment of preparation for living. They took place in solitude. But with action came anxiety, and the sense of insuperable effort made to match the dream, and with it came weariness, discouragement, and the flight into solitude again. And then in solitude, in the opium den of remembrance, the possibility of pleasure again.

The morning I got up to begin this book I coughed. Something was coming out of my throat: it was strangling me. I broke the thread which held it and yanked it out. I went back to bed and said: I have just spat out my heart.

Just started reading this book. I looked through the tags and didn't see this posted, but apologies in advance if this is a repeat. I'm posting this b/c it puts into words one reason why I think reading is so fascinating.

“People disappear when they die. Their voice, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living memory of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continue to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humor, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.”


– The Thirteenth Tale, Diane Setterfield

My Christmas present to myself? A very short 1.3 mile run.

I've been staying with my bf all month and haven't run since late November! So while he was napping off a stomach ache I grabbed my shoes outta my car and got some air! Sadly I noticed a bit of my endurance was gone, but it felt good.

Now that I feel a bit more comfortable with this city and found a route I might like, I'm getting back on the wagon :)

I'm sending encouraging thoughts to those who've been slacking with me!

You drift in a pool
of silver air

where wounds and dreams of wounds
rise from the deep
humus of sleep
to bloom like flowers against the glass.


--Mark Strand, "The Man in the Mirror"

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

"...I began then to think of time as having a shape, something you could see, like a series of liquid transparencies, one laid on top of another. You don't look back along time but down through it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away."

- from Cat's Eye by Margaret Atwood

HO! HO! HO! (PIMP!) Good morning runners and Merry Christmas (to those of you who celebrate it, for everyone else -- Merry Last Friday in 2009)! Here's the daily training thread!

Yesterday's neighborhood nine miler was fantastic. And I procrastinated long enough that I actually DID get a chance to see lots of Christmas lights along my route. Today I'll be opening some presents shortly and then giving myself a present -- 12 miles, my first double digit run since November 8th! This is also something of a tradition, my '12 miles of Christmas' run.

So what is everyone else doing today, training and otherwise?

Question! What did you find underneath your tree/in your stocking/wherever this morning? Or, what do you HOPE to find there? (Again, for those here who don't do the Christmas thing... what WOULD you want to find if you DID have a Christmas tree?)

Wherever you are and whatever you celebrate this time of year, I hope it's all very very merry for all you here in runners !



Discuss... and MERRY CHRISTMAS (AND HAPPY RUNNING)!

At last the anchor was up, the sails were set, and off we glided. It was a short, cold Christmas; and as the short northern day merged into night, we found ourselves almost broad upon the wintry ocean, whose freezing spray cased us in ice, as in polished armor. The long rows of teeth on the bulwarks glistened in the moonlight; and like the white ivory tusks of some huge elephant, vast curving icicles depended from the bows.

Lank Bildad, as pilot, headed the first watch, and ever and anon, as the old craft deep dived into the green seas, and sent the shivering frost all over her, and the winds howled, and the cordage rang, his steady notes were heard,—

 Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood,
   Stand dressed in living green.
 So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
   While Jordan rolled between.

Never did those sweet words sound more sweetly to me than then. They were full of hope and fruition. Spite of this frigid winter night in the boisterous Atlantic, spite of my wet feet and wetter jacket, there was yet, it then seemed to me, many a pleasant haven in store; and meads and glades so eternally vernal, that the grass shot up by the spring, untrodden, unwilted, remains at midsummer.