anne_liese_w

Ugh. Forgot again. Doing something every day is HARD.

Apparently my copy of Kuruntokai was sent back to the seller as "Damaged" and they've put another one in the mail. I admit I'm finding this a little hard to believe, as in general ABE sellers send out a confirmation email when they receive the order and then again when they ship it. I got neither of these from the seller originally, and it wasn't until *I* contacted *them* that suddenly "Oh, we've put another one in the mail and here's your tracking #."

Suuuuuuuuuure.

At any rate, on to the poetry.

Learning is a fine thing to have if a student helps a teacher
in his troubles, gives him a mass of wealth and honors him
without ever showing disdain! Among those born from the same belly,
who share the same nature, a mother's heart will be most tender
toward the most learned! Of all who are born into a joint family,
a king will not summon the eldest to his side but instead he will
show favor to the man among them who has the greatest knowledge!
And with the four classes of society distinguished as different,
should anyone from the lowest become a learned man,
someone of the highest class, reverently, will come to him to study!

The song of Pantiyan Ariyappatai Katanta Netuceliyan.

Because I have come to you crossing many mountains where the falls
of the water plunge down from caves in stone and I have played for you
on my small yal in the cevvali raga of longing, you should grant me the gift
of yourself seting out today so that the woman, beautifully dark with eyes
that are cooling and proud and streaked with red lines that are lovely,
may have her hair black as collyrium washed until it shines like a polished
sapphire gem and let that hair left dry too long be decorated with flowers
that are fresh, she who was standing in solitude yesterday listening
beside your house to the sweet soud of the monsoon, O king of the Aviyars!

Perunkunrurkilar sings Vaiyavik Kopperum Pekan because of [his wife] Kannaki, whom he abandoned

I like that second one a lot, especially if I read over it a few times. I also like how much it comes out in these old Tamil poems how a woman could be both dark and beautiful or pale and beautiful. So different from the beauty standard you see pushed in India these days.
Oh, and the yal gets mentioned a lot in these poems. I found one analysis that said that "yal" was a generic Tamil word for any stringed instrument, and yet another that claimed the yal wwas a now-extinct ancestor of the veena. There is also a suggestion that it is the single-soundbox/ground instrument held in Shiva's hand in the far right of this image.
I'm curious to find out more, but given my huge amount of fail WRT stringed instruments, I doubt I'd end up going anywhere with it.

ETA: The Government Museum in Chennai has an interesting page with a peacock-harp (mayil yazh) that I think some of you would enjoy.

Waters of Mars - Fascinating as a totally different take on the usual adventure... but also deeply distressing. I think this one plays up a lot of the reasons I was ambivalent about 10.

The Caprica pilot - Huh, interesting. Not at all what I was expecting by way of origin story, but well done and worth watching, although I rolled my eyes a *lot* during the opening sequence. I'm also not so keen on Zoe at the moment -- I guess we'll see if she grows on me.

The Prisoner remake - Ooh, this one was frustrating. I *really* liked where they took the backstory, but their efforts by way of atmospheric weirdness and non-linear storytelling mostly just made the series difficult to follow. The pacing was very strange; at some points it felt like they were expecting an entire season to explore different themes, and then at other points it felt like they were scrambling to pack way too much into too little time. Also, this version of the story is hardcore all about Number 2, which in some ways is a good thing but may be problematic for viewers depending on what elements of the original story they were drawn to.

Caveman - Heh. Heh heh heh.

Whoot! Playoff Berth!

Not her first snow, but definitely her first major snowstorm -- and the first time she's been old enough to really get out and play. The best part? The L.C. made us hot chocolate even though we threw snowballs at him. :) ( I posted one of these on FaceBook already, but here are a few more good shots... )

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The L.C.'s older daughter is coming to visit next month. On Thursday when we found out, Mina was displaying a fair amount of excitement about the idea. It was really cute, so when the L.C. got home from work, I tried to prompt her to repeat what she'd been saying all day, and we had the following exchange:
Me: "Who's coming to see you?"
M: "Uncle Dan! uh... Billy! Brom! Quintus! Rowan!"

*headdesk*

I'm sensing trouble not too far down the line...

This is the speech given the night of the reveal of the Plimoth Jacket: http://thistle-threads.com.mytempweb.com/blog/index.php/2009/12/thank-you-to-all/

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I am really, really irritated that my copy of the Kuruntokai hasn't shown up yet. Seriously people, I ordered it December 1. I know this is the holidays and small business are busy (I ordered this via ABEbooks.com) but I haven't even gotten an order confirmation from these people.

ANNOYED.

I'm going to email them now and be all "WTF, YO?!!?!"

In the meantime, here's some more hot Purananuru action.

For someone to kill his enemies is not difficult, blunting the iron tips
of spears and winning victories in the fierce battles,
but when they know my lord is in the camp, which then becomes
like a hole where a cobra lurks or like the yard where
a murderous bull roams to and fro, then enemies though their strength
is imposing feel fear before
his flashing fame, he who raises his long spear in victory!

The song of Maturai Ilankannik Kocikanar

We'd like to have people be able to send us a phone text message (that we could reply to) either to Meebo or to email. Is it really as easy as having them put in our email address?

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I am totally classless. Tim's working until 10.

I am going to go home and play games or crochet or take a nap or watch stupid stuff on TV. I'm not doing housework. I'm not going to do anything important.
( grades rant )

I am working until Noon tomorrow, and then (except for a few hours on Wednesday to straighten up my office a bit), I'm off until the new year. Vegetative State commences in about 2 hours.

Two of my four classes are officially over now (Literature & Society and Cultural Anthropology) so I have at least half of my brain back. So to celebrate, here are some poems.

This first one seems appropriate in light of all my scholastic activities.

What we know: a handful of dirt. What we don't:
The width of the world. The goddess of learning
Keeps learning.
So, poets, don't bet and talk big.
The body of an ant, too, is eight spans.

Avvaiyar of the Chola Era

I first read this in the Women Writing in India book I mentioned before, and it is the reason I acquired a copy of the Purananuru.

Her purpose is frightening, her spirit cruel.
That she comes from an ancient house is fitting, surely.
In the battle the day before yesterday,
her father attacked an elephant and died there on the field.
In the battle yesterday,
her husband faced a row of troops and fell.
And today,
she hears the battle drum,
and, eager beyond reason, gives him a spear in his hand,
wraps a white garment around him,
smears his dry tuft with oil,
and, having nothing but her one son,
"Go!" she says sending him to battle.

Okkur Macattiyar (from the Purananuru)

And something a little bit more akam (internal).

His matted hair wan as new leaves of a tillai tree, bleached
by the white roaring waterfall, he plucks the leaves from a dense
growth of tali bushes, who to capture the woman that now lives
in his house, and is lovely as a peacock
without guile, would go hunting with a net of words in days gone by!

Maripittiyar

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