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I was planning to go out with the camera today since we got quite a bit of snow over the last few days and it's (presumably) really pretty once you get out of the city, but I turned off the alarm, slept until ten, finally crawled out of bed around 11-ish and didn't have the energy for anything at all. Plus, there's Russian homework that still needs to be written. Yesterday wasn't even particularly stressful, but I've been hurting in one place or the other for the last two weeks, and I have absolutely no tolerance for that kind of thing. My body is supposed to function, damn it, and I hate it when it doesn't. It's enough that my psyche sabotages me all the time. But at least the pain medication doesn't seem to have lastingly upset my stomach...

On the downside, I seem to have developed a quite scary craving for chocolate and sugar. Apparently I can either have stomach problems, or a body I'm moderately happy and content with, but not both.

~ ~ ~

Read Ellen Kushner's story The Man with the Knives, and, meh. I still adore Swordspoint, but every single thing she's written afterwards left me wishing she'd finally leave that universe and those characters alone and create something entirely new. I don't remember much about The Fall of the Kings, except that it left me extremely frustrated and completely indifferent to the characters, and that the sudden introduction of supernatural elements into a universe that used to be entirely secular struck me as odd and OOC. The Privilege of the Sword seemed overly fanservice-y and even though getting a sort of happy ending for Richard and Alec was nice, I still wish she'd stuck to telling the girls' stories and made it a lesbian love story. I ended up liking the protagonist quite a bit, and throwing her into a novel along with already established characters IMO diminished the impact of her story. So now she wrote yet another, this time well and truly final ending for Richard and Alec, and it's depressing as fuck. I'm especially annoyed since I always found Richard the more compelling and interesting character. Alec's overwrought angst and various neuroses are bearable only when balanced by Richard's quiet and calm; on his own he's a character that I find hard to like. And to be perfectly honest, if the story had to continue after Swordspoint (personally, I'd have much preferred it if she'd left the characters there), I would have been perfectly happy with the Greek island ending of TPotS; I didn't need to learn that Richard died (probably suicide?) and Alec's arc, after yet more angst and self-harm, ends with ~healing~ heterosexual marriage. Gah. If she wants to write more female characters, more power to her. But she should give them their own stories.

~ ~ ~

Merlin finale - good parts, blah parts, annoying parts. I'll have to rewatch the last three episodes to sort out my thoughts.

~ ~ ~

I've been wasting way too much time on YouTube recently, but a song I've listened to a lot and really love is Svetlana Surganova's Коробли (Ships). (In case anyone is actually at work on a Sunday—there's a bit of NSFW non-sexual nudity in the video.)







Why am I seeing no ships here,
with sails from the far-off southern seas?
Why is there no wind here, or the sound of waves?
I would like to leave, and be simply with you.

For my house is like a tomb, a crypt made of stone,
Because I'm deaf and I'm blind,
And in my eyes there is only winter night,
This fear of gateways, through which you went away.

I looked for my place following tracks in the snow,
But I understood that I couldn't live like this any more.
And I saw half the world, I'm two thousand years old,
And at the junction of ways there more than a kilometer.

I don't know why I came to this place,
It looked like a star burst into flames.
I don't know how there came to be blood on my cheek,
It seems that here there is a war for love.

And in this battle wine flows as if from the tap
And I'm drunk and I was killed under the star long ago,
Let me leave this war with a sword,
And that there might still be, afterwards,
Continuation.


Почему я не вижу здесь кораблей
С парусами из дальних из южных морей?
Почему здесь нет ветра, не слышен прибой?
Я хотел бы уехать и быть просто с тобой.

Ведь мой дом как могила, как каменный склеп,
Потому что я глух, потому что я слеп,
И в глазах моих видно лишь зимнюю ночь,
Этот страх подворотен, где ты идешь прочь.

Я искал свое место по следам на снегу,
Но я понял, что больше так жить не могу.
И я видел полмира, мне две тысячи лет,
И на стыках путей - не один километр.

Я не знаю, зачем я приехал сюда,
Мне казалось, что здесь загоралась звезда.
Я не знаю, откуда на щеке моей кровь.
Здесь, похоже, война за любовь.

И в этом бою - как из крана вино,
И я пьян и убит под звездою давно.
Дай мне выйти из этой войны с мечом,
И чтоб было потом еще...
Продолженье.

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