Clareified

Those days are gone forever; I should just let 'em go but…

Archive for October, 2009

Conversation of the Day

Friday, October 30th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

So, the Sonic Youth guest starred on Gossip Girl for Lily and Rufus’ wedding, but due to guest crashing, the wedding didn’t go off and Sonic Youth didn’t play. Then tonight I was reading twitter and saw someone mention Sonic Youth again, so I emailed Mary and Alceste:

Me: Somebody bring some Sonic Youth for me to listen to!

Mary: You do know April’s Fool Day is in April, right?

Mood

Friday, October 30th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Cool story about how sometimes, no matter how you wish it weren’t so, things are too broken to be fixed.

“Her group’s singing about hate…literally”

Friday, October 30th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Have a great weekend. Summers out.

Coyotes eat teenager

Thursday, October 29th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Seriously.

Poetry Wednesday

Wednesday, October 28th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Only one poem to pick for the Wednesday before Halloween! No commentary, it’s just pure fun and rhyme.

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of “Never-nevermore.”‘

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore -
Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!

Best stupid mayor bet ever

Wednesday, October 28th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Mayors of New York City and Philadelphia make community service wagers.

I wish they’d just agree to both perform the community service in the other city no matter who wins. I’d like to see Mayor Bloomberg do a hard day’s work. But I so want the Philly guy spending a day in a New York City public school! Who wants to bet on how long before the kids make him cry?

Thanks Jamie!

Tuesday, October 27th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Jamie sent me a gift for absolutely no reason whatsoever!

Okay, so it’s cute and awesome and clever, but there are no instructions and I put the batteries in and I can’t figure out how to make it work…and my electrical engineer is MIA again! (I will get my barbecue, woman!) So, who’s gonna figure this out using the picture and my comment section?

jamie

I wanna play with it!!

#pout #helplessgirl

P.S. The Summersphere very much likes presents for absolutely no reason. Like this or this.

Hee. Class dismissed. :)

UPDATE:

Took it to the experts at the Comedy game and the verdict is in: Broken.
Now is when someone who is not me says “well, it’s the thought that counts.”
Someone who is me now hates stupid Jamie because it turns out I absolutely do need a slot machine drink dispenser!
Holds breath.

Audience Participation Tuesday

Tuesday, October 27th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Are the things yelled in anger the truth or distortions designed to hurt?

I tend to be silent when I’m angry, mostly for fear of saying the things I could never take back because they would ring so damningly true. And it’s the things said to me in anger that I’ll hold onto the longest. I mean, I tend to remember most things said to me, but shit said to me in anger? That I try to forget so hard, it ends up burned into my head verbatim.

Yup, good morning rainy day in New York! You’re just going to be awesome today, I can feel it!

:/

Monday Night Football at Ugarles’

Tuesday, October 27th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

I could feel sorry for the Redskins, but their racist logo makes everything bad that happens to them just feel like karma.
Needless to say, the football on ESPN watching turned into “hey check out this Lawrence Taylor highlight clip” on you tube! However, Ugarles failed to produce any Sidney videos to supplant the footage of Sammy walking by himself at 11 months as the cutest thing ever! That kid has been trying to walk FOREVER! And I’ve been faking footage of him walking for like almost forever…what? If the government could do it with the moon landing…
Anyway, so yeah, cool hanging outness produces classic hilarity:

Me: I’ll pick you up, but you can’t make fun of my outfit.
Ugarles: Am I *that* guy?
Me: No, but it’s *that* outfit.
Ugarles: (pauses) Well, I’m going to have to see it, might be worth taking the subway home.

Ugarles: (As Jim Zorn’s imaginary twitterfeed) Who called the play to throw the ball on the ground at the 4th and goal? Me, I probably would have run it.

And then he laughs out loud and says “I have to tweet that!” And grabs his laptop. This makes me laugh and say “I have to blog that!” I grab my blackberry, but blogging is so much more in depth and difficult, that I couldn’t finish till I got home. Like a nutritious and filling meal that one prepares at home.

His cat tried to kill me twice, but I was in a rocking chair, and everybody knows that’s like kryptonite to a cat.
Note to self: buy rocking chair. And rent that Goldie Hawn coaches a high school football team movie.

Dawnie’s choice

Monday, October 26th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Oh, for those of you wondering, the last post has nothing to do with me staring down the reality of a Yankees/Phillies matchup. Although, all morning I have been enjoying the banter of my fellow Mets fans making their peace with one camp or the other. The stalwart Mets fan deciding that back to back championships would make Philly fans too unbearably cocky, so he’d rather root root root for the home team. Another diehard blue and oranger reasoned that he’d rather watch Yankees fans suffer the humiliation of getting to the World Series and losing for the second time this decade, so he’s donning the proverbial red cap.
I however, nicely summed up my views in the following e-mail:

Tsk, tsk. My fellow Mets fans, you all think too small.
We hate the Yankees.
We hate the Phillies.
Why torture yourselves with questions of which hatred is stronger, which rooting will cause less vomiting and face meltage? As someone who has unfortunately had a recent experience with horrible unthinkable sports impossibilities coming true, I present you with eleven words that will change your life. Are you sitting down? 2009 is the year the World Series of Baseball was canceled.
It’s true. Happened to the Superbowl a couple of years ago. These are freaky occurrences, no one has any control over them, but you shrug your shoulders and move on…be it to hockey or basketball or football or…scotch.
Mets ’10!

Reason number 2 why Dawn Summers is so awesome: she does not accept reality as it is, she bends reality to what it should be.

Go Riots!