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Allas! Whi nil min hert breke!
Jan. 19th, 2011 08:48 pmThree Things About Wednesday:
1. Now that I can look at food again without wanting to curl up and die, I've been making good use of my kitchen. So far this week: pan-fried steak and fried polenta, Tofu With Three Sauces (and no cilantro), sweet-and-sour pork with smashed potatoes (not the bad take-out sweet and sour, more of a western kind of thing with mirin standing in for the white wine and rice vinegar for the white wine vinegar), and tonight, Asian-ish Tofu and baby bok choy, my most favorite of vegetables. I feel like it's worth noting that I am on my third bottle of soy sauce and my second jar of chile paste since I moved in here, but the red wine vinegar and the barbecue sauce are still largely untouched. Also, I have given up on ever getting caught up with the dishes. I shall console myself with homemade sourdough bread.
2. Did anyone else watch the pilot of the US remake of Being Human? SO UNIMPRESSED. Look, people, I can throw a rock and hit fifteen other sci fi/fantasy series in which conventionally attractive twenty-five-year-olds have are portentiously, melodramatically miserable about their plight in front of grey-toned scenery. I don't really need another one when I can just go watch Supernatural again instead. I'll give it one more episode to not suck, but with the new series of the UK version starting this weekend, I think I'll probably just be a BBC-snob and stick with that. (Besides, fake!Mitchell is not nearly as cute as real!Mitchell. DNW.)
3. Apropos of absolutely nothing, have some Middle English. Because this section of Sir Orfeo is kind of wonderful.
(context: Orfeo, the harper-king, is wandering in the forest when he encounters a group of fairy-women out hawking. When he follows them, one of the women turns out to be his wife, who has been a captive of the fair folk for ten years and whose abduction was the impetus for Orfeo's self-imposed exile.)
Yern he biheld hir, and sche him eke,
Ac noither to other a word no speke;
For messais that sche on him seighe,
That had ben so riche and so heighe,
The teres fel out of her eighe.
The other levedis this y-seighe
And maked hir oway to ride -
Sche most with him no lenger abide.
"Allas!" quath he, "now me is wo!"
Whi nil deth now me slo?
Allas, wreche, that y no might
Dye now after this sight!
Allas! to long last mi liif,
When y no dar nought with mi wiif,
No hye to me, o word speke.
Allas! Whi nil min hert breke!
1. Now that I can look at food again without wanting to curl up and die, I've been making good use of my kitchen. So far this week: pan-fried steak and fried polenta, Tofu With Three Sauces (and no cilantro), sweet-and-sour pork with smashed potatoes (not the bad take-out sweet and sour, more of a western kind of thing with mirin standing in for the white wine and rice vinegar for the white wine vinegar), and tonight, Asian-ish Tofu and baby bok choy, my most favorite of vegetables. I feel like it's worth noting that I am on my third bottle of soy sauce and my second jar of chile paste since I moved in here, but the red wine vinegar and the barbecue sauce are still largely untouched. Also, I have given up on ever getting caught up with the dishes. I shall console myself with homemade sourdough bread.
2. Did anyone else watch the pilot of the US remake of Being Human? SO UNIMPRESSED. Look, people, I can throw a rock and hit fifteen other sci fi/fantasy series in which conventionally attractive twenty-five-year-olds have are portentiously, melodramatically miserable about their plight in front of grey-toned scenery. I don't really need another one when I can just go watch Supernatural again instead. I'll give it one more episode to not suck, but with the new series of the UK version starting this weekend, I think I'll probably just be a BBC-snob and stick with that. (Besides, fake!Mitchell is not nearly as cute as real!Mitchell. DNW.)
3. Apropos of absolutely nothing, have some Middle English. Because this section of Sir Orfeo is kind of wonderful.
(context: Orfeo, the harper-king, is wandering in the forest when he encounters a group of fairy-women out hawking. When he follows them, one of the women turns out to be his wife, who has been a captive of the fair folk for ten years and whose abduction was the impetus for Orfeo's self-imposed exile.)
Yern he biheld hir, and sche him eke,
Ac noither to other a word no speke;
For messais that sche on him seighe,
That had ben so riche and so heighe,
The teres fel out of her eighe.
The other levedis this y-seighe
And maked hir oway to ride -
Sche most with him no lenger abide.
"Allas!" quath he, "now me is wo!"
Whi nil deth now me slo?
Allas, wreche, that y no might
Dye now after this sight!
Allas! to long last mi liif,
When y no dar nought with mi wiif,
No hye to me, o word speke.
Allas! Whi nil min hert breke!