Dug this up. What are your feelings on old stories like this one?
from "The Bush Advocate" in 1892.
more info: http://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/cgi-bin/paperspast?a=d&cl=CL1.BA
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Wednesday, 20 November 2013
The Haunted Vicarage
Dug this up. What are your feelings on old stories like this one?
from "The Bush Advocate" in 1892.
more info: http://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/cgi-bin/paperspast?a=d&cl=CL1.BA
Wednesday, 26 September 2012
Just So Stories
Oddly, this mildly offensive little piece by Rudyard Kipling, one of his "Just So Stories" ,was one of my favorites as a child. I know we had a version of it in an old children's book, belonging to someone around my dad's age, on my dad's side of the family, but I have no idea which book that was, or what happened to it.
As to it being mildly offensive. I can't even quite put my finger on *why* its offensive, apart from a general sort of racial insensitivity. However, I feel like this is somewhat forgivable, given that it was originally published in 1902, and Kipling was very much a product of his time.
Anyway, should you want some children's stories to brighten your dreary Wednesday (and it is dreary, in Montreal, at least), here are some more:
Wednesday, 29 August 2012
Carol.
"So, will you do it?" Carol asks me, her pale blue eyes glittering in the candlelit dimness. She lounges across the low coffee table from me, wine glass casually cradled in her left hand.
I lick my lips. Despite the wine, my mouth incredibly dry. I look down at the tiny yellow pill sitting on the polished mahogany between us. I reach towards the pill, and Carol's mouth quirks up in her usual catlike grin.
Maybe I should tell you a bit about the girl I was before I met Carol Luis. I worked (work) in a publishing house as an editor. I was renowned for my work ethic. My desk was a wonder of Taylorian efficiency and scientific precision. A constant flow of manuscripts and correspondence would make their way from my "In" tray, to my "Out" tray, leaving my workspace marvelously clean and clear at the end of every workday. My bosses loved me, my coworkers admired and envied me, and. . .. Well no, I'm lying. Everyone pretty much ignored me. Except for Rob the copy boy. I caught him making eyes at me a couple of times. I swear. Too bad he's only eighteen.
I wasn't really the sort of girl who would go out on weekends, either. In fact, my social life was pretty much nil, unless you count Sunday dinners and bouts of Euchre with your mom, dad, and little brother.
But I was happy. Or I thought I was happy. Until Carol. Then everything changed.
I changed.
Carol works at a used bookstore on the corner of Fifty Third and Prentice. Apparently the place has been there for something like forever, though I didn't discover it until five months after moving here. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I love to read, so it really is surprising that it took me five months to discover Lines and Dots.
The first thing I noticed about Carol when I first encountered her working in the dusty stacks of Lines and Dots, were her platform "army" boots and short plaid schoolgirlish skirt. The second thing I noticed was that she was perched precariously in those boots upon a rickety old ladder, shelving an armful of John Grisham. The third thing I noticed was that the ladder was starting to tip.
In an uncharacteristic act of heroism, I charged across the room, breaking Carol and John Grisham's fall, and gaining a sprained wrist and a new friend for my trouble (Carol, not John Grisham).
Carol, I soon found, was unlike me in every way. She was spontaneous. She was loud. She liked to party, and she loved to experiment. She was also incredibly open. As she drove me erratically to the hospital at impossible and illegal speeds, she told me a series of awkward sex stories about her and her recently ex-boyfriend. To keep my mind off of the pain, she said. She had decided she was a lesbian, she informed me.
It wasn't long before she was taking me to parties, dragging me to concerts, introducing me to new kinds of people that I had never spoken to before. They had dreadlocks, and purple hair, smoked pot, and had a wide array of cringe-inducing piercings and tattoos. They listened to loud music, were magnetically attracted to fishnet and army surplus, and were frequently violent.
I began to see everything I had once viewed as a strength in myself as a sort of limitation. My organization and commitment to work, my virginity, my desire to constantly "play it safe" were all holding me back from truly living. Now I am someone different. I am not exactly certain who that is, but I do know that in the past three months of friendship I have experienced more than I did in the entire twenty four years prior.
Carol helped me to change. Cracked me open. And here, once again, tonight, she is offering me another opportunity to become someone new.
"Will you do it, Alison?" She asks again, as my hand hovers over the little yellow pill. I meet her gaze, brown eyes to blue, and nod firmly, taking the pill in my sweaty hand.
I swallow the pill down with a mouthful of cheap red wine. It sticks briefly, but another swallow dislodges it. I look across the coffee table at Carol, shifting uncomfortably on the cushions, as nothing happens.
The candle on the coffee table flickers, dances. Dances like Carol's eyes, or like Carol on the dance floor. Wild, mesmerizing. The music I have put on, Enya, I think, is so quiet, so mellow, I can barely hear it, yet it makes me feel as though I am being wrapped in a thick warm blanket.
And suddenly, . .. I am falling. Carol's face grows distant, shrinks, as though she is looking at me down a long dark tunnel. Everything else vanishes, and the most visible thing in my world is her distant half-grinning, half smirk, as she watches me fall. She laughs, and her laughter blends with the music in my ears. She says something, but she is too far, and she speaks in tongues. But then doesn't she always?
I am falling, so slowly. I am falling. . .
Falling. . .
I lick my lips. Despite the wine, my mouth incredibly dry. I look down at the tiny yellow pill sitting on the polished mahogany between us. I reach towards the pill, and Carol's mouth quirks up in her usual catlike grin.
Maybe I should tell you a bit about the girl I was before I met Carol Luis. I worked (work) in a publishing house as an editor. I was renowned for my work ethic. My desk was a wonder of Taylorian efficiency and scientific precision. A constant flow of manuscripts and correspondence would make their way from my "In" tray, to my "Out" tray, leaving my workspace marvelously clean and clear at the end of every workday. My bosses loved me, my coworkers admired and envied me, and. . .. Well no, I'm lying. Everyone pretty much ignored me. Except for Rob the copy boy. I caught him making eyes at me a couple of times. I swear. Too bad he's only eighteen.
I wasn't really the sort of girl who would go out on weekends, either. In fact, my social life was pretty much nil, unless you count Sunday dinners and bouts of Euchre with your mom, dad, and little brother.
But I was happy. Or I thought I was happy. Until Carol. Then everything changed.
I changed.
Carol works at a used bookstore on the corner of Fifty Third and Prentice. Apparently the place has been there for something like forever, though I didn't discover it until five months after moving here. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I love to read, so it really is surprising that it took me five months to discover Lines and Dots.
The first thing I noticed about Carol when I first encountered her working in the dusty stacks of Lines and Dots, were her platform "army" boots and short plaid schoolgirlish skirt. The second thing I noticed was that she was perched precariously in those boots upon a rickety old ladder, shelving an armful of John Grisham. The third thing I noticed was that the ladder was starting to tip.
In an uncharacteristic act of heroism, I charged across the room, breaking Carol and John Grisham's fall, and gaining a sprained wrist and a new friend for my trouble (Carol, not John Grisham).
Carol, I soon found, was unlike me in every way. She was spontaneous. She was loud. She liked to party, and she loved to experiment. She was also incredibly open. As she drove me erratically to the hospital at impossible and illegal speeds, she told me a series of awkward sex stories about her and her recently ex-boyfriend. To keep my mind off of the pain, she said. She had decided she was a lesbian, she informed me.
It wasn't long before she was taking me to parties, dragging me to concerts, introducing me to new kinds of people that I had never spoken to before. They had dreadlocks, and purple hair, smoked pot, and had a wide array of cringe-inducing piercings and tattoos. They listened to loud music, were magnetically attracted to fishnet and army surplus, and were frequently violent.
I began to see everything I had once viewed as a strength in myself as a sort of limitation. My organization and commitment to work, my virginity, my desire to constantly "play it safe" were all holding me back from truly living. Now I am someone different. I am not exactly certain who that is, but I do know that in the past three months of friendship I have experienced more than I did in the entire twenty four years prior.
Carol helped me to change. Cracked me open. And here, once again, tonight, she is offering me another opportunity to become someone new.
"Will you do it, Alison?" She asks again, as my hand hovers over the little yellow pill. I meet her gaze, brown eyes to blue, and nod firmly, taking the pill in my sweaty hand.
I swallow the pill down with a mouthful of cheap red wine. It sticks briefly, but another swallow dislodges it. I look across the coffee table at Carol, shifting uncomfortably on the cushions, as nothing happens.
The candle on the coffee table flickers, dances. Dances like Carol's eyes, or like Carol on the dance floor. Wild, mesmerizing. The music I have put on, Enya, I think, is so quiet, so mellow, I can barely hear it, yet it makes me feel as though I am being wrapped in a thick warm blanket.
And suddenly, . .. I am falling. Carol's face grows distant, shrinks, as though she is looking at me down a long dark tunnel. Everything else vanishes, and the most visible thing in my world is her distant half-grinning, half smirk, as she watches me fall. She laughs, and her laughter blends with the music in my ears. She says something, but she is too far, and she speaks in tongues. But then doesn't she always?
I am falling, so slowly. I am falling. . .
Falling. . .
Friday, 10 August 2012
Troilus and Criseyde: Book I by Geoffrey Chaucer
That's right, kids. For those of you who have been following my blog faithfully for a year and a half *snicker* I'm going back to my roots and converting an Olde (okay, okay, Middle) English tale into modern language, for my amusement and/or your viewing pleasure.
This round (yeah, I never did finish the Niebeliahblahlungenluau, whatever) I am tackling some Chaucer. Namely, Chaucer's take on the love tale of Troilus and Criseyde, set during the Trojan war. Our narrator is Pandarus (origin of the word "panderer" but I don't want to give you a bad impression of him right off the bat), a friend and "uncle" figure for the two lovers (though in the Shakespearean take, he is something more sinister).
Without further ado (and after much ado about nothing),
Book 1:
Pandarus, rapping to the tune of the Fresh Prince
In west Troy, son of Priam, born and raised
on the battleground is where he spent most of his days.
Soon fell in love with a pretty young girl
and that's when his life began to unfurl.
Thesiphone, goddess of torment, listens, and silently facepalms.
Pandarus: This is a sad, sad tale. I weep to write it down. (sobbing) Listen! Stay awhile and listen, Thesiphone! Its ALL MY FAULT! I am filled with pain, writhing in torment! Oh, those poor, poor lovers, would that I had never become an instrument to their --
Thesiphone: On with it!
Pandarus: (sings) What is love! Baby don't hurt me! Don't hurt me! No more!
Pandarus regains composure.
Pandarus: I hope that all you lovers out there. All you happy lovers. All you lucky lovers. (glares around at the audience) All you lovers who are free to love, and do. I hope when you hear this tale, you are grateful for what you have. Grateful! Damn . . .
The Audience: ON WITH IT!
Pandarus : (sings) All you need is love . . . No wait, that isn't where we begin. Where do we begin? Right, straight to the matter: the double sorrows of Troilus in loving Criseyde, and how she forsook him before she died.
So, we all know how the Greeks, strong in arms, came upon Troy in a thousand ships. There was a long seige. Paris, all that, blah blah. Living in Troy at this time, there was a great lord named Calkas, an expert in science, who knew by his science that Troy was bound to be destroyed. So, once he figured this out, he did what any rational man would do, and attempted to flee the city. Silently. In the dead of night.
However, it wasn't long before the people of Troy noticed Calkas was missing. He was called a traitor , accused of allying with Greece. This would have been fine, except for that he left a daughter behind, and left her in bad shape, what with the townspeople crying traitor outside her door, and she with no husband, and all alone in the world.
Her name was Criseyde, and no fairer beauty was there in all of Troy (which makes you really question the point of the whole war, doesn't it?). So angelic was her native beauty, that she seemed like a thing immortal (men looking for pick-up lines, look no further). When she heard of her fathers betrayal, she was half mad with sorrow and fear. In a brown robe (mind you, what she was wearing is important) she fell on her knees before Ector, and begged for mercy.
Now, Ector was a good-hearted man, and it didn't hurt that she was a pretty fine specimen of woman, so he said to her "Its all good"
She thanked him, and went home.
The end.
Just joking! The war went on, and it went on bloody (as wars do) , but talking about the fall of Troy isn't the point of my story. Fuck history anyway.
Although they were besieged, the people of Troy kept up with their yearly rites, and so, come April, they held as always the festival of Palladiones. Everyone, and I mean everyone, went to the temple, decked out in their finest. Among them, was Criseyde, garbed in widow's black (at least she changed her clothes). Yet, even in black, she was still a fine hunk of woman. She stood behind the crowd, alone, and in shame.
Toilus, meanwhile, was scoping the crowd, deeming himself too good for most of the ladies there, indeed, deeming himself altogether above such foolishness as "love". But don't you know that pride comes before a fall? Troilus didn't. As he wandered around, checking out the women, his eyes finally landed upon Criseyde, and his gaze, his heart, and the whole world stopped all at once:
This round (yeah, I never did finish the Niebeliahblahlungenluau, whatever) I am tackling some Chaucer. Namely, Chaucer's take on the love tale of Troilus and Criseyde, set during the Trojan war. Our narrator is Pandarus (origin of the word "panderer" but I don't want to give you a bad impression of him right off the bat), a friend and "uncle" figure for the two lovers (though in the Shakespearean take, he is something more sinister).
Without further ado (and after much ado about nothing),
Book 1:
Pandarus, rapping to the tune of the Fresh Prince
In west Troy, son of Priam, born and raised
on the battleground is where he spent most of his days.
Soon fell in love with a pretty young girl
and that's when his life began to unfurl.
Thesiphone, goddess of torment, listens, and silently facepalms.
Pandarus: This is a sad, sad tale. I weep to write it down. (sobbing) Listen! Stay awhile and listen, Thesiphone! Its ALL MY FAULT! I am filled with pain, writhing in torment! Oh, those poor, poor lovers, would that I had never become an instrument to their --
Thesiphone: On with it!
Pandarus: (sings) What is love! Baby don't hurt me! Don't hurt me! No more!
Pandarus regains composure.
Pandarus: I hope that all you lovers out there. All you happy lovers. All you lucky lovers. (glares around at the audience) All you lovers who are free to love, and do. I hope when you hear this tale, you are grateful for what you have. Grateful! Damn . . .
The Audience: ON WITH IT!
Pandarus : (sings) All you need is love . . . No wait, that isn't where we begin. Where do we begin? Right, straight to the matter: the double sorrows of Troilus in loving Criseyde, and how she forsook him before she died.
So, we all know how the Greeks, strong in arms, came upon Troy in a thousand ships. There was a long seige. Paris, all that, blah blah. Living in Troy at this time, there was a great lord named Calkas, an expert in science, who knew by his science that Troy was bound to be destroyed. So, once he figured this out, he did what any rational man would do, and attempted to flee the city. Silently. In the dead of night.
However, it wasn't long before the people of Troy noticed Calkas was missing. He was called a traitor , accused of allying with Greece. This would have been fine, except for that he left a daughter behind, and left her in bad shape, what with the townspeople crying traitor outside her door, and she with no husband, and all alone in the world.
Her name was Criseyde, and no fairer beauty was there in all of Troy (which makes you really question the point of the whole war, doesn't it?). So angelic was her native beauty, that she seemed like a thing immortal (men looking for pick-up lines, look no further). When she heard of her fathers betrayal, she was half mad with sorrow and fear. In a brown robe (mind you, what she was wearing is important) she fell on her knees before Ector, and begged for mercy.
Now, Ector was a good-hearted man, and it didn't hurt that she was a pretty fine specimen of woman, so he said to her "Its all good"
She thanked him, and went home.
The end.
Just joking! The war went on, and it went on bloody (as wars do) , but talking about the fall of Troy isn't the point of my story. Fuck history anyway.
Although they were besieged, the people of Troy kept up with their yearly rites, and so, come April, they held as always the festival of Palladiones. Everyone, and I mean everyone, went to the temple, decked out in their finest. Among them, was Criseyde, garbed in widow's black (at least she changed her clothes). Yet, even in black, she was still a fine hunk of woman. She stood behind the crowd, alone, and in shame.
Toilus, meanwhile, was scoping the crowd, deeming himself too good for most of the ladies there, indeed, deeming himself altogether above such foolishness as "love". But don't you know that pride comes before a fall? Troilus didn't. As he wandered around, checking out the women, his eyes finally landed upon Criseyde, and his gaze, his heart, and the whole world stopped all at once:
And of hir look in him ther gan to quiken
So greet desir, and swich affeccioun,
That in his herte botme gan to stiken
Of hir his fixe and depe impressioun:
And though he erst hadde poured up and doun,
300 He was tho glad his hornes in to shrinke;
Unnethes wiste he how to loke or winke.
He couldn't get her out of his mind. He became angsty, as only first love can angst. Its true! Criseyde was cold to him, cold to all men, and it was driving him insane, feeling as though he had no chance with her. For three days and three nights, Trolius languished, weeping, moping, calling her name. His parents didn't understand him, his teachers didn't understand him. He dyed his hair black. He painted his nails black. He started listening to Screamo, and grew his hair out. Mostly, he emosturbated. He was in a state.
Pandarus: and that is when I, an old friend of Troilus, came in, and said "Bitch, what the hell is wrong with you?"
/End first half, book one. More later. . .maybe.
Wednesday, 20 June 2012
The Girl in the Window : 2nd draft
second draft based on some feedback from friends. Smoothed out the voice, and made the center bit less choppy and obvious.
We all have our faults, y'know? No one is perfect--not even Brian, though he was maybe as close to perfect as anyone I've ever known. Maybe if I told you a bit about some of his faults, it'd help. Make things a little clearer. Help you understand how he got himself into this mess in the first place. I dunno. But who better to tell you than me? I mean, who knows him better than I do?
When I first met Brian, we were in middle school. I was on my way home, when a group of eighth graders cornered me in the alley I always took as a shortcut. The alley between the SuperSave and Bernie's. You know the one. Anyway, these three older boys surrounded me, started shovin' me around, calling me names. "Tabitha, Scabitha, gross gunty Flabitha." Kids can be real assholes, you know that?
The biggest of the three--I think it was Billy Ray--shoved me down in the dirt. They took my backpack and were digging through it, dumping out all my stuff--pens, notebooks, my sketchpad--while this kid, Billy Ray Warbler, stood with his foot on my back. Its when they were talkin', wonderin' what to do to me next--horrible things, I'm tellin' you, really bad--that Brian rounded the corner, and even though he was a year younger, and had half of Billy Ray's body mass, he started hollerin', kicking up a fuss that would've gotten the shit kicked outta him if the police station hadn't been just a block away. These bigger boys got scared and hightailed it, left me face down in the dirt cryin'.
Brian could've left me then. I would've been safe. But he didn't. He was too big for that. He came over, asked me if I was alright, dusted me off, helped me gather up my things. He even offered to walk me to my front door, in case they came back, but I wouldn't let him. Maybe I was a little vainer back then, but our house isn't anything to shake a stick at, and I didn't want him seein' it.
The point I'm tryin' to make is that Brian was generous, kind almost to a fault. He was so filled with love that he would give away pieces of his heart like it was parade candy. I mean, seriously, the guy had seventeen girlfriends between the tenth grade and his second year of college. Nineteen if you count Laurie and Sue, but I don't. I think we can all agree that that was two weeks of mistakes better left forgotten. Every one of those girls would walk away with a piece of him, an' as he got older, I could see him getting a little more guarded, a little less like the boy who'd helped me in the alley between the SuperSave and Bernie's. He got distant. So, I guess his generosity is his first real fault, if you can call it that.
Anyway, from that day on, I knew we'd be best friends. And we were, though I don't think Brian could ever admit it outright. I wasn't exactly what you'd call "popular", if you hadn't guessed. Not some fuckin' cheerleader. Brian's second major fault was that he always cared too much about what people thought of him. That's why he'd never acknowledge our friendship publicly. That stung a little, I'll admit now. Sometimes it stung more than a little. In his defense, though, he always had my back. An' I always had his.Those seventeen girlfriends? They never got to know him like I did. Not even close.
When I first met Brian, we were in middle school. I was on my way home, when a group of eighth graders cornered me in the alley I always took as a shortcut. The alley between the SuperSave and Bernie's. You know the one. Anyway, these three older boys surrounded me, started shovin' me around, calling me names. "Tabitha, Scabitha, gross gunty Flabitha." Kids can be real assholes, you know that?
The biggest of the three--I think it was Billy Ray--shoved me down in the dirt. They took my backpack and were digging through it, dumping out all my stuff--pens, notebooks, my sketchpad--while this kid, Billy Ray Warbler, stood with his foot on my back. Its when they were talkin', wonderin' what to do to me next--horrible things, I'm tellin' you, really bad--that Brian rounded the corner, and even though he was a year younger, and had half of Billy Ray's body mass, he started hollerin', kicking up a fuss that would've gotten the shit kicked outta him if the police station hadn't been just a block away. These bigger boys got scared and hightailed it, left me face down in the dirt cryin'.
Brian could've left me then. I would've been safe. But he didn't. He was too big for that. He came over, asked me if I was alright, dusted me off, helped me gather up my things. He even offered to walk me to my front door, in case they came back, but I wouldn't let him. Maybe I was a little vainer back then, but our house isn't anything to shake a stick at, and I didn't want him seein' it.
The point I'm tryin' to make is that Brian was generous, kind almost to a fault. He was so filled with love that he would give away pieces of his heart like it was parade candy. I mean, seriously, the guy had seventeen girlfriends between the tenth grade and his second year of college. Nineteen if you count Laurie and Sue, but I don't. I think we can all agree that that was two weeks of mistakes better left forgotten. Every one of those girls would walk away with a piece of him, an' as he got older, I could see him getting a little more guarded, a little less like the boy who'd helped me in the alley between the SuperSave and Bernie's. He got distant. So, I guess his generosity is his first real fault, if you can call it that.
Anyway, from that day on, I knew we'd be best friends. And we were, though I don't think Brian could ever admit it outright. I wasn't exactly what you'd call "popular", if you hadn't guessed. Not some fuckin' cheerleader. Brian's second major fault was that he always cared too much about what people thought of him. That's why he'd never acknowledge our friendship publicly. That stung a little, I'll admit now. Sometimes it stung more than a little. In his defense, though, he always had my back. An' I always had his.Those seventeen girlfriends? They never got to know him like I did. Not even close.
Brian's third fault--and this is the biggest one--was that he was too trusting. Always too trusting. This is prolly a bad example, but I remember the first time his so-called "buddies" asked him out drinkin'. (I say "so-called" 'cause they were always gettin' him into trouble. He would've done better without them around). He was, I dunno, fourteen? It was our first real party, an'I tagged along, even though I wasn't drinkin'. They told him it would be fun to do shots of tequila, but they lied. He trusted them, and he wound up spending most of the night heaving up the ham and provolone sandwich his Mom--Jane, sweet lady-- had made him for lunch. He wouldn't even let me help him. Kept pushing me away, telling me to just fuckin' leave him alone. Yeah, that was pretty messed up. Though that experience didn't put him off of booze. By the time he'd finished his second year of college -- did I mention we were both lucky enough to get into the state college here together? Yeah, different programs, but at least we got to be on the same campus-- he was partyin' every weekend. That probably goes back to
him carin' about what people thought and all. His need to belong. But in the end, I guess that's what everyone is looking for, y'know?
But about Brian being too trustin' . . .the moment I met Samantha, I knew she couldn't be trusted. I mean, think about it. Can any woman with red painted fingernails and red lipstick be trusted? Especially one who wears her skirt about four inches above the knee? I'm not really one to subscribe to stereotypes, but there was somethin' evil about her, that I sensed right off. They were eating lunch together outside the campus cafeteria. Her long black hair shone down her back and she was smoking a cigarette, probably giving Brian lung cancer. All that second hand smoke. She smoked like a chimney, or like Satan. I'm not sure. You'd think she coulda at least quit, for his sake.
Apparently, he had met her a few nights before at the on-campus bar, the Lazy Owl. I hadn't been able to make it that night, because I was visitin' my father up at Sunnybrook. I guess you would know all about him, wouldn't you? If I'd been there, I would have put a stop to it. But by the time I first saw Samantha, it was too late. She'd sunk her claws into him. That was probably why her nails were so red, nevermind her lips. Harpy.
Within a week they were facebook official. Within a month there were 142 pictures of them up together, mostly of her being a camera whore, shovin' Brian to the background. Which is exactly what their relationship was like, though I don't think he really noticed. He was totally smitten with her. She must've been great in bed, but I don't really like to think about it.Brian, in bed, I mean. I'm not that kinda girl.
She would text him constantly. I checked his phone once. Every five minutes it was "I wuv you snugglerabbit", or "can't wait to see u tonite", or "Should I buy those shoes we saw?". Disgusting. She was slowly beginning to take over his life. Every single evening was spent with her. He slept at her place at night, and ate lunch with her every day. He bought her things--clothes, jewelry, concert tickets. Like I said, Brian was always really generous. I imagine she felt like she had a pretty sweet deal in him, and wanted to keep it that way. Yet, for some reason, I was the only one who could see it. I was the only one who realized how she was manipulating him towards that night back in March when he got down on one knee at the Oriental Gardens and asked her to marry him.
I couldn't let that happen. You have to understand. I couldn't. Brian was too essentially good to wind up bound for life with that crazy, overbearing, greedy, red-nailed . . . sorry.
So, I decided to put an end to it. The night all this happened, I went over there, to their new apartment, while Brian was still at work. All I wanted to do was talk to her. Confront her. Call her out for using Brian in the same way all of his other girlfriends had. I couldn't stand to see him hurt again. She pretended not to know who I was, but I knew she knew better. I knew Brian would have told her about me. After all, I was his best friend.No way he'd hide someone that important from the girl he wanted to marry.
I guess that made me angry. That she pretended not to know who I was.
It was when I was pulling the stainless steel kitchen knife from her chest cavity for the fifth time that Brian walked in. Though she was gone at that point, her blood turning the white tiles crimson, her claws were still in him. It was the first time I'd ever seen Brian really angry, when he lunged at me, but I knew he'd get over it. True friends can never stay angry at eachother for long, you know what I mean?
Its true. He didn't really look angry anymore, when his eyes were glazing over, and I laid him down on the floor. He looked peaceful. Peaceful, like he finally understood. I think, at the end, he finally knew how much I meant to him. I knew that I had done the right thing.
So those were Brian's flaws: he was too generous, too concerned with appearances, an' too trusting, all of which led to the situation the other night. But I can't really blame him. Like I said, we all have our flaws. Its just a matter of learnin' to deal with them, and make the right decisions.
Am I right?
him carin' about what people thought and all. His need to belong. But in the end, I guess that's what everyone is looking for, y'know?
But about Brian being too trustin' . . .the moment I met Samantha, I knew she couldn't be trusted. I mean, think about it. Can any woman with red painted fingernails and red lipstick be trusted? Especially one who wears her skirt about four inches above the knee? I'm not really one to subscribe to stereotypes, but there was somethin' evil about her, that I sensed right off. They were eating lunch together outside the campus cafeteria. Her long black hair shone down her back and she was smoking a cigarette, probably giving Brian lung cancer. All that second hand smoke. She smoked like a chimney, or like Satan. I'm not sure. You'd think she coulda at least quit, for his sake.
Apparently, he had met her a few nights before at the on-campus bar, the Lazy Owl. I hadn't been able to make it that night, because I was visitin' my father up at Sunnybrook. I guess you would know all about him, wouldn't you? If I'd been there, I would have put a stop to it. But by the time I first saw Samantha, it was too late. She'd sunk her claws into him. That was probably why her nails were so red, nevermind her lips. Harpy.
Within a week they were facebook official. Within a month there were 142 pictures of them up together, mostly of her being a camera whore, shovin' Brian to the background. Which is exactly what their relationship was like, though I don't think he really noticed. He was totally smitten with her. She must've been great in bed, but I don't really like to think about it.Brian, in bed, I mean. I'm not that kinda girl.
She would text him constantly. I checked his phone once. Every five minutes it was "I wuv you snugglerabbit", or "can't wait to see u tonite", or "Should I buy those shoes we saw?". Disgusting. She was slowly beginning to take over his life. Every single evening was spent with her. He slept at her place at night, and ate lunch with her every day. He bought her things--clothes, jewelry, concert tickets. Like I said, Brian was always really generous. I imagine she felt like she had a pretty sweet deal in him, and wanted to keep it that way. Yet, for some reason, I was the only one who could see it. I was the only one who realized how she was manipulating him towards that night back in March when he got down on one knee at the Oriental Gardens and asked her to marry him.
I couldn't let that happen. You have to understand. I couldn't. Brian was too essentially good to wind up bound for life with that crazy, overbearing, greedy, red-nailed . . . sorry.
So, I decided to put an end to it. The night all this happened, I went over there, to their new apartment, while Brian was still at work. All I wanted to do was talk to her. Confront her. Call her out for using Brian in the same way all of his other girlfriends had. I couldn't stand to see him hurt again. She pretended not to know who I was, but I knew she knew better. I knew Brian would have told her about me. After all, I was his best friend.No way he'd hide someone that important from the girl he wanted to marry.
I guess that made me angry. That she pretended not to know who I was.
It was when I was pulling the stainless steel kitchen knife from her chest cavity for the fifth time that Brian walked in. Though she was gone at that point, her blood turning the white tiles crimson, her claws were still in him. It was the first time I'd ever seen Brian really angry, when he lunged at me, but I knew he'd get over it. True friends can never stay angry at eachother for long, you know what I mean?
Its true. He didn't really look angry anymore, when his eyes were glazing over, and I laid him down on the floor. He looked peaceful. Peaceful, like he finally understood. I think, at the end, he finally knew how much I meant to him. I knew that I had done the right thing.
So those were Brian's flaws: he was too generous, too concerned with appearances, an' too trusting, all of which led to the situation the other night. But I can't really blame him. Like I said, we all have our flaws. Its just a matter of learnin' to deal with them, and make the right decisions.
Am I right?
Tuesday, 19 June 2012
One Shot: The Girl In The Window
We all have our faults. No one is perfect--not even Brian, though he was maybe as close to perfect as anyone I've ever known. Maybe if I told you a bit about some of his faults, it'd help. Make things a little clearer. Help you understand how he got himself into this mess in the first place. I dunno. But who better to tell you than me? I mean, who knows him better than I do?
When I first met Brian, we were in middle school. I was on my way home, when a group of eighth graders cornered me in the alley I always took as a shortcut. The alley between the SuperSave and Bernie's. You know the one. Anyway, these three older boys surrounded me, started shoving me around, calling me names. "Tabitha, Scabitha, gross gunty Flabitha." Kids can be real assholes, you know that?
The biggest of the three--I think it was Billy Ray--shoved me down in the dirt. They took my backpack and were digging through it, dumping out all my stuff--pens, notebooks, my sketchpad--while this kid, Billy Ray Warbler, stood with his foot on my back. Its when they were talking, wondering what to do with me next--horrible things, I'm talking, really bad--that Brian rounded the corner, and even though he was a year younger, and had half of Billy Ray's body mass, he started hollerin', kicking up a fuss that would have gotten the shit kicked outta him if the police station hadn't been just a block away. These bigger boys got scared and hightailed it, leaving me face down in the dirt, crying.
Brian could have left me then. I would have been safe. But he didn't. His heart was too big for that. He came over, asked me if I was alright, dusted me off, helped me gather up my things. He even offered to walk me to my front door, in case they came back, but I wouldn't let him. Maybe I was a little vainer back then, but our house isn't anything to shake a stick at, and I didn't want him seein' it.
But the point I'm trying to make is that Brian was generous, kind almost to a fault. He was so filled with love that he would give away pieces of his heart like it was parade candy. I mean, seriously, the guy had seventeen girlfriends between the tenth grade and his second year of college. Nineteen if you count Laurie and Sue, but I don't. I think we can all agree that that was two weeks of mistakes better left forgotten. Every one of those girls would walk away with a piece of him, and as he got older, I could see him getting a little more guarded, a little less like the boy who had helped me in the alley between the SuperSave and Bernie's. Greedy girlfriends who would walk all over his generosity and take it for granted started to take their toll on Brian, and there was really nothing I could do but watch. So, I guess his generosity is his first real fault, if you can call it that.
I knew, from that day when he helped me, that we would grow to become the closest of friends. And we did, though Brian never admitted it outright. I wasn't exactly what you would call "popular", if you hadn't guessed. Not some fucking cheerleader. Brian's second major fault was that he always cared too much about what people thought of him. That's why he would never publicly acknowledge our friendship. That stung a little, I'll admit that now. Sometimes it stung more than a little. In his defense, though, he always had my back. And I always had his.Those seventeen girls? They never got to know him like I did. Not even close.
Anyway, yeah, Brian cared way too much about what people thought. Always put a little extra effort into his hair and clothes. Always had those girls swooning over him, and could you blame them? Still, I knew even then that his heart would never belong to anyone as dopey as any of them. He was a special guy, and he deserved a special girl. I think I figured that out a long time before he did. If he ever figured it out at all. All I can do is hope that he figured it out before the end.
Brian's third fault--and this is the biggest one--was that he was too trusting. Always too trusting. I remember the first time his so-called "buddies" asked him out drinking. (I say "so-called" because they were always getting him into trouble. He would have done so much better without them in his life). He would have been, I dunno, fourteen? It was our first real party, and though I wouldn't drink, I tagged along. They told him it would be fun to do shots of tequila, but they lied. He trusted them, and he wound up spending most of the night heaving up the ham and provolone sandwich his mother had made him for lunch. He wouldn't even let me help him. Kept pushing me away, telling me to just fuckin' leave him alone. Goes to show how messed up tequila can make you, huh? Though that experience didn't put him off of it. By the time he had finished his second year of college -- did I mention we were both lucky enough to get into the state college here together? Yeah, different programs, but at least we got to be on the same campus-- he was partying every weekend. That probably goes back to his need to please people. His need to belong. But in the end, I guess that's what everyone is looking for.
I'm rambling. Back to trust.The moment I met Samantha, I knew she couldn't be trusted. I mean, think about it. Can any woman with red painted fingernails and red lipstick be trusted? Especially one who wears her skirt about four inches above the knee? I'm not really one to subscribe to stereotypes, but there was something essentially evil about her, that I sensed the moment I first saw her. They were eating lunch together outside the campus cafeteria. Her long black hair shone down her back and she was smoking a cigarette, probably giving Brian lung cancer, the poor dear boy. All that second hand smoke. She smoked like a chimney, or like Satan. I'm not sure.
Apparently, he had met her a few nights before at the on campus bar, the Lazy Owl. I hadn't been able to make it that night, because I was visiting my father up at Sunnybrook. I guess you guys would know all about him, wouldn't you? If I'd been there, I would have put a stop to it. But by the time I first saw Samantha, it was much too late. She had sunk her claws into his heart. That was probably why her nails were so red, nevermind her lips. Harpy.
Within a week they were facebook official. Within a month there were 142 pictures of them up together, mostly of her being a camera whore, shoving Brian to the background. Which is exactly what their relationship was like, though I don't think he really noticed. He was, by this point, totally smitten with her. She must have been great in bed, but I don't really like to think about it.
She would text him constantly. I checked his phone once. Every five minutes it was "I wuv you snugglerabbit", or "can't wait to see u tonite", or "Should I buy those shoes we saw?". Disgusting. She was slowly beginning to take over his life. Every single evening was spent with her. He slept at her place at night, and ate lunch with her every day. He bought her things--clothes, jewelry, concert tickets. Like I said, Brian was always really generous. I imagine she felt like she had a pretty sweet deal in him, and wanted to keep it that way. Yet, for some reason, I was the only one who could see it. I was the only one who realized how she was manipulating him, gradually, towards that one night back in March when he got down on one knee at the Oriental Gardens and asked her to marry him.
I couldn't let that happen. You have to understand. I couldn't. Brian was too essentially good to wind up bound for life with that crazy, overbearing, greedy, red-nailed slut. Pardon my language.
So, I decided to put an end to it. The night all this happened, I went over there, to their new apartment, while Brian was still at work. All I wanted to do was talk to her. Confront her. Call her out for using Brian in the same way all of his previous girlfriends had. I couldn't stand to see him used and hurt again. She pretended not to know who I was, but I knew she knew better. I knew Brian would have told her about me. After all, I was his best friend.
I guess that made me angry. That she pretended not to know who I was. It was when I was pulling the stainless steel kitchen knife from her chest cavity for the fifth time that Brian walked in through the door. Though she was gone at that point, her blood turning the white tiles a lurid crimson, she had not released her hold on him. It was the first time I had ever seen Brian really angry, when he lunged at me, but even then I knew he'd get over it. True friends can never stay angry at eachother for long, right?
Its true. He didn't really look angry anymore, as his eyes began to glaze over, and I laid him down on the floor. He looked peaceful. Peaceful, like he finally understood. I think, at the end, he finally knew how much I meant to him. I knew then, that I had done the right thing.
So those were Brian's flaws: that he was too generous, too concerned with appearances, and too trusting, all of which led to the situation the other night. But I can't really blame him. Like I said, we all have our flaws. Its just a matter of learning to deal with them, and making the right decisions.
Right?
**yay for twisted short story. Too bloody hot to sleep, so I thought I'd finish it tonight.
When I first met Brian, we were in middle school. I was on my way home, when a group of eighth graders cornered me in the alley I always took as a shortcut. The alley between the SuperSave and Bernie's. You know the one. Anyway, these three older boys surrounded me, started shoving me around, calling me names. "Tabitha, Scabitha, gross gunty Flabitha." Kids can be real assholes, you know that?
The biggest of the three--I think it was Billy Ray--shoved me down in the dirt. They took my backpack and were digging through it, dumping out all my stuff--pens, notebooks, my sketchpad--while this kid, Billy Ray Warbler, stood with his foot on my back. Its when they were talking, wondering what to do with me next--horrible things, I'm talking, really bad--that Brian rounded the corner, and even though he was a year younger, and had half of Billy Ray's body mass, he started hollerin', kicking up a fuss that would have gotten the shit kicked outta him if the police station hadn't been just a block away. These bigger boys got scared and hightailed it, leaving me face down in the dirt, crying.
Brian could have left me then. I would have been safe. But he didn't. His heart was too big for that. He came over, asked me if I was alright, dusted me off, helped me gather up my things. He even offered to walk me to my front door, in case they came back, but I wouldn't let him. Maybe I was a little vainer back then, but our house isn't anything to shake a stick at, and I didn't want him seein' it.
But the point I'm trying to make is that Brian was generous, kind almost to a fault. He was so filled with love that he would give away pieces of his heart like it was parade candy. I mean, seriously, the guy had seventeen girlfriends between the tenth grade and his second year of college. Nineteen if you count Laurie and Sue, but I don't. I think we can all agree that that was two weeks of mistakes better left forgotten. Every one of those girls would walk away with a piece of him, and as he got older, I could see him getting a little more guarded, a little less like the boy who had helped me in the alley between the SuperSave and Bernie's. Greedy girlfriends who would walk all over his generosity and take it for granted started to take their toll on Brian, and there was really nothing I could do but watch. So, I guess his generosity is his first real fault, if you can call it that.
I knew, from that day when he helped me, that we would grow to become the closest of friends. And we did, though Brian never admitted it outright. I wasn't exactly what you would call "popular", if you hadn't guessed. Not some fucking cheerleader. Brian's second major fault was that he always cared too much about what people thought of him. That's why he would never publicly acknowledge our friendship. That stung a little, I'll admit that now. Sometimes it stung more than a little. In his defense, though, he always had my back. And I always had his.Those seventeen girls? They never got to know him like I did. Not even close.
Anyway, yeah, Brian cared way too much about what people thought. Always put a little extra effort into his hair and clothes. Always had those girls swooning over him, and could you blame them? Still, I knew even then that his heart would never belong to anyone as dopey as any of them. He was a special guy, and he deserved a special girl. I think I figured that out a long time before he did. If he ever figured it out at all. All I can do is hope that he figured it out before the end.
Brian's third fault--and this is the biggest one--was that he was too trusting. Always too trusting. I remember the first time his so-called "buddies" asked him out drinking. (I say "so-called" because they were always getting him into trouble. He would have done so much better without them in his life). He would have been, I dunno, fourteen? It was our first real party, and though I wouldn't drink, I tagged along. They told him it would be fun to do shots of tequila, but they lied. He trusted them, and he wound up spending most of the night heaving up the ham and provolone sandwich his mother had made him for lunch. He wouldn't even let me help him. Kept pushing me away, telling me to just fuckin' leave him alone. Goes to show how messed up tequila can make you, huh? Though that experience didn't put him off of it. By the time he had finished his second year of college -- did I mention we were both lucky enough to get into the state college here together? Yeah, different programs, but at least we got to be on the same campus-- he was partying every weekend. That probably goes back to his need to please people. His need to belong. But in the end, I guess that's what everyone is looking for.
I'm rambling. Back to trust.The moment I met Samantha, I knew she couldn't be trusted. I mean, think about it. Can any woman with red painted fingernails and red lipstick be trusted? Especially one who wears her skirt about four inches above the knee? I'm not really one to subscribe to stereotypes, but there was something essentially evil about her, that I sensed the moment I first saw her. They were eating lunch together outside the campus cafeteria. Her long black hair shone down her back and she was smoking a cigarette, probably giving Brian lung cancer, the poor dear boy. All that second hand smoke. She smoked like a chimney, or like Satan. I'm not sure.
Apparently, he had met her a few nights before at the on campus bar, the Lazy Owl. I hadn't been able to make it that night, because I was visiting my father up at Sunnybrook. I guess you guys would know all about him, wouldn't you? If I'd been there, I would have put a stop to it. But by the time I first saw Samantha, it was much too late. She had sunk her claws into his heart. That was probably why her nails were so red, nevermind her lips. Harpy.
Within a week they were facebook official. Within a month there were 142 pictures of them up together, mostly of her being a camera whore, shoving Brian to the background. Which is exactly what their relationship was like, though I don't think he really noticed. He was, by this point, totally smitten with her. She must have been great in bed, but I don't really like to think about it.
She would text him constantly. I checked his phone once. Every five minutes it was "I wuv you snugglerabbit", or "can't wait to see u tonite", or "Should I buy those shoes we saw?". Disgusting. She was slowly beginning to take over his life. Every single evening was spent with her. He slept at her place at night, and ate lunch with her every day. He bought her things--clothes, jewelry, concert tickets. Like I said, Brian was always really generous. I imagine she felt like she had a pretty sweet deal in him, and wanted to keep it that way. Yet, for some reason, I was the only one who could see it. I was the only one who realized how she was manipulating him, gradually, towards that one night back in March when he got down on one knee at the Oriental Gardens and asked her to marry him.
I couldn't let that happen. You have to understand. I couldn't. Brian was too essentially good to wind up bound for life with that crazy, overbearing, greedy, red-nailed slut. Pardon my language.
So, I decided to put an end to it. The night all this happened, I went over there, to their new apartment, while Brian was still at work. All I wanted to do was talk to her. Confront her. Call her out for using Brian in the same way all of his previous girlfriends had. I couldn't stand to see him used and hurt again. She pretended not to know who I was, but I knew she knew better. I knew Brian would have told her about me. After all, I was his best friend.
I guess that made me angry. That she pretended not to know who I was. It was when I was pulling the stainless steel kitchen knife from her chest cavity for the fifth time that Brian walked in through the door. Though she was gone at that point, her blood turning the white tiles a lurid crimson, she had not released her hold on him. It was the first time I had ever seen Brian really angry, when he lunged at me, but even then I knew he'd get over it. True friends can never stay angry at eachother for long, right?
Its true. He didn't really look angry anymore, as his eyes began to glaze over, and I laid him down on the floor. He looked peaceful. Peaceful, like he finally understood. I think, at the end, he finally knew how much I meant to him. I knew then, that I had done the right thing.
So those were Brian's flaws: that he was too generous, too concerned with appearances, and too trusting, all of which led to the situation the other night. But I can't really blame him. Like I said, we all have our flaws. Its just a matter of learning to deal with them, and making the right decisions.
Right?
**yay for twisted short story. Too bloody hot to sleep, so I thought I'd finish it tonight.
Friday, 1 June 2012
S. J. Perelman, Part 1
S. J. Perelman was an American humourist, author, and screenwriter, whose works most frequently appeared in The New Yorker, and who was most famous for his scripts for the Marx Brother films. I just discovered this dude today, and intrigued, I took "The Best of S. J. Perelman" out of the library to read.
Omg, this guy is too funny. Rather than wax literary about *why* exactly he's funny, I think I am just going to throw down a few of the insanely random quotes that really make me giggle as I go along.
"She had the rippling muscles of a panther, the stolidity of a water buffalo, the lazy insolence of a shoe salesman. . ..as she bent down to lift her suitcase, she picked up the car by mistake and had it halfway down the slope before I pointed out her mistake."
"That Philomene was a manic-depressive in the downhill phase was, of course, instantly apparent to a boy of five Several boys of five, who happened to be standing aroud and were by way of being students of psychopathology, stated their belief to me in just those words"
"She was as dead as a stuffed mongoose"
" 'Soda?' offered Snubbers. I took it to please him, for Gabriel's cellar was reputedly excellent. A second later, I wished that I had drunk the cellar instead. Baking soda is hardly the thing after a three-hour bicycle trip"
"The outcome of the necking bee was as follows: Canadians 12, Visitors 6."
"Living almost entirely on cameo brooches and the few ptarmigan which fell to the ptrigger of his pfowlingpiece."
"If I ever see a postman trudging toward my house with a copy of the American Bee Journal, I'm going to lodge myself in the dead-air space between the walls, and no amount of small boys smeared with honey will ever get me out."
Omg, this guy is too funny. Rather than wax literary about *why* exactly he's funny, I think I am just going to throw down a few of the insanely random quotes that really make me giggle as I go along.
"She had the rippling muscles of a panther, the stolidity of a water buffalo, the lazy insolence of a shoe salesman. . ..as she bent down to lift her suitcase, she picked up the car by mistake and had it halfway down the slope before I pointed out her mistake."
"That Philomene was a manic-depressive in the downhill phase was, of course, instantly apparent to a boy of five Several boys of five, who happened to be standing aroud and were by way of being students of psychopathology, stated their belief to me in just those words"
"She was as dead as a stuffed mongoose"
" 'Soda?' offered Snubbers. I took it to please him, for Gabriel's cellar was reputedly excellent. A second later, I wished that I had drunk the cellar instead. Baking soda is hardly the thing after a three-hour bicycle trip"
"The outcome of the necking bee was as follows: Canadians 12, Visitors 6."
"Living almost entirely on cameo brooches and the few ptarmigan which fell to the ptrigger of his pfowlingpiece."
"If I ever see a postman trudging toward my house with a copy of the American Bee Journal, I'm going to lodge myself in the dead-air space between the walls, and no amount of small boys smeared with honey will ever get me out."
Monday, 11 April 2011
Niebelungenlied, Chapter 21
Entitled: Twenty-First Adventure - How Kriemhild fared to the Huns:
Verse one:Following is the story of how Kriemhild went to the huns.
Verse two-four: Long tearful goodbyes with her youngest brothers. Lots of kissing.
Verse five: Everyone was very pretty while they rode to the huns.
Verse six-end: They arrive in the land of the Huns (which is near Vienna) and party with a bishop and Ruedigar's wife and assorted others, stopping and visiting and distributing gifts many times along the way (no wonder travel in medieval times took so long), and finally arriving at king Etzel.
That's a whole lotta verses to say not very much. I'm wondering when we will run out of ways to say "Kriemhild gave out treasure" and "the men jousted."
If you ever wanted an example of what can happen in an epic when you kill off the main character, this is it. The answer is: not a helluva lot.
Verse one:Following is the story of how Kriemhild went to the huns.
Verse two-four: Long tearful goodbyes with her youngest brothers. Lots of kissing.
Verse five: Everyone was very pretty while they rode to the huns.
Verse six-end: They arrive in the land of the Huns (which is near Vienna) and party with a bishop and Ruedigar's wife and assorted others, stopping and visiting and distributing gifts many times along the way (no wonder travel in medieval times took so long), and finally arriving at king Etzel.
That's a whole lotta verses to say not very much. I'm wondering when we will run out of ways to say "Kriemhild gave out treasure" and "the men jousted."
If you ever wanted an example of what can happen in an epic when you kill off the main character, this is it. The answer is: not a helluva lot.
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
Niebelungenlied: Chapter 20
Chapter 20:
Enter King Etzel, recently widowed, of Hunland. (Funny, I didn't know the Huns were out of Vienna. Oh well)
King Etzel's friends: Dude, you should lay Siegfried's wife.
King Etzel: But. . .I'm not Christian.
King Etzel's friends: Pfft. Who cares? Do her anyway. She's hot.
King Etzel: K! Ruediger, if you can go there and win her for me, I'll give you presents ^_^.
Ruediger: Fine.
King Etzel:
“When now wilt thou fare
To seek the lovely lady? / God of thee have care
To keep thee on thy journey / and eke a wife to me.
Therein good fortune help me, / that she to us shall gracious be.”
(notice the reference to God, lol. Heathen my ass.)
Ruediger stops by at his own estate with his men on the way to Worms, to tell his wife and daughter what's going on:
“My master now hath sent me / to woo him other wife,
Since that by death was ended / the fair [Queen] Helke’s life." <-- really? Her life was ended? By death?
Ruediger's wife dresses all the knights up nice, and then off they got to Gunther's court.
Gunther: Who're they?
Hagen: Huns, sir.
Gunther: What do you want
Ruediger: To get your sister to marry my king, sir.
Gunther: Meh, I'm fine with it. Go ask her.
Hagen: IF SHE MARRIES A KING, SHE'LL RAISE AN ARMY AGAINST US *paranoid twitch*
Hagen's dire warnings aside, Kriemhild's brothers attempt to persuade her to marry King Etzel. She is adamantly against it, although she does agree to speak to Ruediger.
Scene:
Kriemhild, surrounded by her ladies, all in fine dress, is not looking so fine herself. She is dishevelled, wearing poor clothes, and sobbing her eyes out. Ruediger winces, shrugs, and kneels before her
Ruediger: My king Etzel is in love with you. He's been widowed too, you know.
Kriemhild: I've been widowed more! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE LOST!
Ruedigar: Yes, well. . .perhaps you could seek solace in one another. . .
Kriemhild: I SHALL NEVER MARRY AGAIN! There is no solace for the loss I have endured!
Ruedigar: But --
Kriemhild: Talk to me tomorrow.
Exit, Ruediger and his men. Enter Kriemhild's mother and youngest (nicest) brother, Giselher.
Kriemhild: Something terrible has happened!
Mother: You broke a nail?
Giselher: You're terminally ill?
Mother: You discovered that the world will end in 28 days?
Kriemhild: Worse. I've been proposed to by King Etzel.
Giselher: You know, that might not be such a bad--
Kriemhild: Weeping loudly I SHALL MOURN FOREVER MY DARLING SIEGFRIED.
Mother: We're all getting tired of seeing you in mourning.
Kriemhild: But. . .he's not as handsome, wealthy, or christian as Siegfried.
Mother/Giselher: Well, no. . .
Kriemhild: curls into the fetal position, weeping. I'll think about it.
The next day, enter Ruediger and his men into Kriemhild's presence.
Ruediger: My dear lady--
Kriemhild: I WONT MARRY HIM
Ruediger: If you'd just listen--
Kriemhild: NO HUSBAND WILL EVER BE AS GOOD
Ruediger: M'lady--
Kriemhild: BEGONE
Ruediger: We can help you get your vengeance for Siegfried's murder.
Kriemhild: Abruptly cheerign up Suddenly interested! But your king is still a heathen.
Ruediger: Meh. So baptize him.
Kriemhild agrees to journey to Hunland with what is left of her treasure to become King Etzel's wife.
Enter King Etzel, recently widowed, of Hunland. (Funny, I didn't know the Huns were out of Vienna. Oh well)
King Etzel's friends: Dude, you should lay Siegfried's wife.
King Etzel: But. . .I'm not Christian.
King Etzel's friends: Pfft. Who cares? Do her anyway. She's hot.
King Etzel: K! Ruediger, if you can go there and win her for me, I'll give you presents ^_^.
Ruediger: Fine.
King Etzel:
“When now wilt thou fare
To seek the lovely lady? / God of thee have care
To keep thee on thy journey / and eke a wife to me.
Therein good fortune help me, / that she to us shall gracious be.”
(notice the reference to God, lol. Heathen my ass.)
Ruediger stops by at his own estate with his men on the way to Worms, to tell his wife and daughter what's going on:
“My master now hath sent me / to woo him other wife,
Since that by death was ended / the fair [Queen] Helke’s life." <-- really? Her life was ended? By death?
Ruediger's wife dresses all the knights up nice, and then off they got to Gunther's court.
Gunther: Who're they?
Hagen: Huns, sir.
Gunther: What do you want
Ruediger: To get your sister to marry my king, sir.
Gunther: Meh, I'm fine with it. Go ask her.
Hagen: IF SHE MARRIES A KING, SHE'LL RAISE AN ARMY AGAINST US *paranoid twitch*
Hagen's dire warnings aside, Kriemhild's brothers attempt to persuade her to marry King Etzel. She is adamantly against it, although she does agree to speak to Ruediger.
Scene:
Kriemhild, surrounded by her ladies, all in fine dress, is not looking so fine herself. She is dishevelled, wearing poor clothes, and sobbing her eyes out. Ruediger winces, shrugs, and kneels before her
Ruediger: My king Etzel is in love with you. He's been widowed too, you know.
Kriemhild: I've been widowed more! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE LOST!
Ruedigar: Yes, well. . .perhaps you could seek solace in one another. . .
Kriemhild: I SHALL NEVER MARRY AGAIN! There is no solace for the loss I have endured!
Ruedigar: But --
Kriemhild: Talk to me tomorrow.
Exit, Ruediger and his men. Enter Kriemhild's mother and youngest (nicest) brother, Giselher.
Kriemhild: Something terrible has happened!
Mother: You broke a nail?
Giselher: You're terminally ill?
Mother: You discovered that the world will end in 28 days?
Kriemhild: Worse. I've been proposed to by King Etzel.
Giselher: You know, that might not be such a bad--
Kriemhild: Weeping loudly I SHALL MOURN FOREVER MY DARLING SIEGFRIED.
Mother: We're all getting tired of seeing you in mourning.
Kriemhild: But. . .he's not as handsome, wealthy, or christian as Siegfried.
Mother/Giselher: Well, no. . .
Kriemhild: curls into the fetal position, weeping. I'll think about it.
The next day, enter Ruediger and his men into Kriemhild's presence.
Ruediger: My dear lady--
Kriemhild: I WONT MARRY HIM
Ruediger: If you'd just listen--
Kriemhild: NO HUSBAND WILL EVER BE AS GOOD
Ruediger: M'lady--
Kriemhild: BEGONE
Ruediger: We can help you get your vengeance for Siegfried's murder.
Kriemhild: Abruptly cheerign up Suddenly interested! But your king is still a heathen.
Ruediger: Meh. So baptize him.
Kriemhild agrees to journey to Hunland with what is left of her treasure to become King Etzel's wife.
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Nibelungenlied: Chapter 18-19
Chapter 18:
Siegfried's dad offers to hand over the crown to Kriemhild (determined to preserve his retirement), while Kriemhild's relatives (the ones who DIDN'T murder her husband) try to persuade her to stay.
There is a brief tug-of-war, but finally Kriemhild does exactly what you would expect her to do, being the logical, responsible woman she is: she spits on Siegmund's offer of a crown and decides to stay behind in Worms, abandoning her son.
And so, the Nibelungenlads leave without Kriemhild. But vengeance is in their minds.
Chapter 19:
Kriemhild gets a house of her very own built for her, right near where Siegfried is buried, so she can go weep over him whenever she pleases (and this does please her well). She proves inconsolable, refuses to speak to Gunther for three whole years, and refuses to even look at Hagen.
Her brothers have had just about enough of her sulking and try to lure her back to court, but still she refuses to forgive Hagen.
Kriemhild's brothers ride to Niebelungenland to retrieve her bridal treasure, which is being protected by the dwarf Alberich (remember him?). He hands the treasure over to Kriemhild (it is her right, after all), but mourns the loss of the invisible cloak.
It takes three trips to move all the treasure back to the Rhine. Predictably, Hagen wants it for himself (greedy bastard). Among the more interesting items is a wish-rod made of gold, which makes its wielder master over men (apparently).
But Kriemhild is not interested in these thousands of pounds of treasure just hauled to Worms by the sweat and blood of slave labour:
And had it e’en been greater, / yea a thousandfold,
If but again might Kriemhild / safe her Siegfried hold,
Fain were she empty-handed / of all the boundless store.
Spouse than she more faithful / won a hero nevermore.
(d'awwww)
Kriemhild begins giving away her vast treasure to all sorts of people, and Hagen (the greedy bastard) begins to worry that she might win over the people and raise an army.
Gunther: "pfft, why should I care who she gives her treasure to?"
To which Hagen has another one of those delightful misogynist responses:
“No man that boasteth wit
Should to any woman / such hoard to hold permit.
By gifts she yet will bring it / that will come the day
When valiant men of Burgundy / rue it with good reason may.”
Ahh, the old medieval problem of women with property.
Hagen wanders in and steals all of her treasure anyway (which is quite the undertaking, given the amount of it--no wonder he could kill Siegfried). She never gets the treasure back.
Siegfried's dad offers to hand over the crown to Kriemhild (determined to preserve his retirement), while Kriemhild's relatives (the ones who DIDN'T murder her husband) try to persuade her to stay.
There is a brief tug-of-war, but finally Kriemhild does exactly what you would expect her to do, being the logical, responsible woman she is: she spits on Siegmund's offer of a crown and decides to stay behind in Worms, abandoning her son.
And so, the Nibelungenlads leave without Kriemhild. But vengeance is in their minds.
Chapter 19:
Kriemhild gets a house of her very own built for her, right near where Siegfried is buried, so she can go weep over him whenever she pleases (and this does please her well). She proves inconsolable, refuses to speak to Gunther for three whole years, and refuses to even look at Hagen.
Her brothers have had just about enough of her sulking and try to lure her back to court, but still she refuses to forgive Hagen.
Kriemhild's brothers ride to Niebelungenland to retrieve her bridal treasure, which is being protected by the dwarf Alberich (remember him?). He hands the treasure over to Kriemhild (it is her right, after all), but mourns the loss of the invisible cloak.
It takes three trips to move all the treasure back to the Rhine. Predictably, Hagen wants it for himself (greedy bastard). Among the more interesting items is a wish-rod made of gold, which makes its wielder master over men (apparently).
But Kriemhild is not interested in these thousands of pounds of treasure just hauled to Worms by the sweat and blood of slave labour:
And had it e’en been greater, / yea a thousandfold,
If but again might Kriemhild / safe her Siegfried hold,
Fain were she empty-handed / of all the boundless store.
Spouse than she more faithful / won a hero nevermore.
(d'awwww)
Kriemhild begins giving away her vast treasure to all sorts of people, and Hagen (the greedy bastard) begins to worry that she might win over the people and raise an army.
Gunther: "pfft, why should I care who she gives her treasure to?"
To which Hagen has another one of those delightful misogynist responses:
“No man that boasteth wit
Should to any woman / such hoard to hold permit.
By gifts she yet will bring it / that will come the day
When valiant men of Burgundy / rue it with good reason may.”
Ahh, the old medieval problem of women with property.
Hagen wanders in and steals all of her treasure anyway (which is quite the undertaking, given the amount of it--no wonder he could kill Siegfried). She never gets the treasure back.
Tuesday, 29 March 2011
Nibelungenlied: Chapter 17
So, the hero is dead. Where can the story possibly go from here, for another twelve chapters?
Lets find out. . .
Chapter 17:
The nasty Knights bring Siegfried's corpse back to the castle, laying it out in the corridor where Kriemhild is sure to trip over it on the way to Matins. (insult to injury?). For some reason, neither the chamberlain, nor any of Kriemhild's attendants recognize the hero, saying: “What if’t a stranger were?", but Kriemhild knows the corpse is that of her husband. She also knows who did the evil deed: Hagen, under the encouragement of Brunhild. (so much for hoping to hide the murder, guys. Maybe if you hadn't dumped his body in the hall outside of Kriemhild's room, that might've worked out better for ya).
All of her attendants / did weep and wail enow
With their beloved mistress, / for filled they were with woe
For their noble master / whom they should see no more.
(Jesus, two minutes ago they didn't know who the man was)
A messenger runs off to alert the Knights of Nih (er, Niebelungenland) of their leader's death, and another goes to tell Siegfried's father.
One thousand, one hundred knights, a king, a queen, and her attendants all gather in the hall (big hall) and weep over Siegfried. It is very loud.
Group therapy session over with, Siegfried's knights arm themselves, and prepare for battle with Gunther's forces. Kriemhild is afraid they're all gonna die (well, its all her own damn fault anyway). She convinces them to wait to fight another day, and focus instead on burying Siegfried in a big ol' gold casket.
At the funeral, Kriemhild accuses Gunther and his men of the murder. They deny it.
Gunther: "it was. . .uh. . .robbers"
(NICE SAVE, Gunther! robbers, who dumped the body in the hall outside of Kriemhild's chamber)
For three days, and three nights, Kriemhild and the Nibelungenlads watch over Siegfried's corpse, making certain it doesn't reanimate. Then they put him in the ground.
Lets find out. . .
Chapter 17:
The nasty Knights bring Siegfried's corpse back to the castle, laying it out in the corridor where Kriemhild is sure to trip over it on the way to Matins. (insult to injury?). For some reason, neither the chamberlain, nor any of Kriemhild's attendants recognize the hero, saying: “What if’t a stranger were?", but Kriemhild knows the corpse is that of her husband. She also knows who did the evil deed: Hagen, under the encouragement of Brunhild. (so much for hoping to hide the murder, guys. Maybe if you hadn't dumped his body in the hall outside of Kriemhild's room, that might've worked out better for ya).
All of her attendants / did weep and wail enow
With their beloved mistress, / for filled they were with woe
For their noble master / whom they should see no more.
(Jesus, two minutes ago they didn't know who the man was)
A messenger runs off to alert the Knights of Nih (er, Niebelungenland) of their leader's death, and another goes to tell Siegfried's father.
One thousand, one hundred knights, a king, a queen, and her attendants all gather in the hall (big hall) and weep over Siegfried. It is very loud.
Group therapy session over with, Siegfried's knights arm themselves, and prepare for battle with Gunther's forces. Kriemhild is afraid they're all gonna die (well, its all her own damn fault anyway). She convinces them to wait to fight another day, and focus instead on burying Siegfried in a big ol' gold casket.
At the funeral, Kriemhild accuses Gunther and his men of the murder. They deny it.
Gunther: "it was. . .uh. . .robbers"
(NICE SAVE, Gunther! robbers, who dumped the body in the hall outside of Kriemhild's chamber)
For three days, and three nights, Kriemhild and the Nibelungenlads watch over Siegfried's corpse, making certain it doesn't reanimate. Then they put him in the ground.
Friday, 25 March 2011
Nibelungenlied: Chapter 16
Chapter 16:
Kriemhild, FOR SOME REASON, has a sense of forboding about this hunting trip, and begs Siegfried not to go. He goes anyway.
Siegfried cheerfully slaughters furry woodland creatures, and finally winds up capturing a bear, which he takes back to entertain them at the feast (PETA would not be amused). Siegfried lets the bear go, and all hell breaks loose. Siegfried kills the bear too.
Now, as yet another part of this convoluted plan of Hagen's (Doctor Evil would have difficulty besting him), the wine was left behind in Worms. To quench their thirst, the hunters must drink from a stream nearby. Hagen challenges Siegfried to a race to get to this stream (another part of his evil plan). They take off their armour and weapons (aha!) and race, Siegfried winning, of course.
Hagen hides Siegfried's sword and arrows, and then takes up his spear while Siegfried is drinking, and stabs him through that useful little cross Kriemhild had sewn on his tunic.
Siegfried, feeling the spear sink into his back, stands with the thing sticking out of him, and strikes Hagen a mighty blow with his shield. As Siegfried dies, there is a dialogue of Shakesperian proportions: "a plague on both your houses", "tell Kriemhild I love her", "don't. . .forget.. . my.. . story" etc etc etc.
The heroic knights decide to cover up the murder, and bring the body back to Worms.
Kriemhild, FOR SOME REASON, has a sense of forboding about this hunting trip, and begs Siegfried not to go. He goes anyway.
Siegfried cheerfully slaughters furry woodland creatures, and finally winds up capturing a bear, which he takes back to entertain them at the feast (PETA would not be amused). Siegfried lets the bear go, and all hell breaks loose. Siegfried kills the bear too.
Now, as yet another part of this convoluted plan of Hagen's (Doctor Evil would have difficulty besting him), the wine was left behind in Worms. To quench their thirst, the hunters must drink from a stream nearby. Hagen challenges Siegfried to a race to get to this stream (another part of his evil plan). They take off their armour and weapons (aha!) and race, Siegfried winning, of course.
Hagen hides Siegfried's sword and arrows, and then takes up his spear while Siegfried is drinking, and stabs him through that useful little cross Kriemhild had sewn on his tunic.
Siegfried, feeling the spear sink into his back, stands with the thing sticking out of him, and strikes Hagen a mighty blow with his shield. As Siegfried dies, there is a dialogue of Shakesperian proportions: "a plague on both your houses", "tell Kriemhild I love her", "don't. . .forget.. . my.. . story" etc etc etc.
The heroic knights decide to cover up the murder, and bring the body back to Worms.
Nibelungenlied: Chapter 15
Chapter 15:
Gunther's nasty knights, led by Hagen, develop an evil plan. They trick Siegfried into thinking Gunther's kingdom is coming under attack once again, and once again Siegfried offers to play hero. Kriemhild happily (stupidly) watches him go, proud that her husband can help her brother.
Before they go, Hagen pauses to flirt a bit with Kriemhild, promising to protect Siegfried during battle (and by protect he means stab him in the back). Kriemhild puts her foot in her mouth once again (maybe this is where the women should be seen and not heard rule comes from), saying that because he once bathed in the blood of a dragon, Siegfried can only be wounded by the spear, not by any weapon that cuts, and only on one spot between his shoulders.
Hagen tells Kriemhild to sew a token there in that spot, so he "knows where Siegfried needs to be protected" *shifty eyes*.
Kriemhild, in an effort to be helpful, sews a big freaking bulls-eye onto Siegfried's jacket, so that his weak spot can be apparent to the whole world. (SHE'S SO SMART!).
Right after they leave, a messenger rides up saying : "Good news, chaps! No longer under attack!" (not exactly sure what the point in that ruse was.) So, Gunther, under Hagens guidance, decides to go hunting instead, and Siegfried agrees to go with.
Gunther's nasty knights, led by Hagen, develop an evil plan. They trick Siegfried into thinking Gunther's kingdom is coming under attack once again, and once again Siegfried offers to play hero. Kriemhild happily (stupidly) watches him go, proud that her husband can help her brother.
Before they go, Hagen pauses to flirt a bit with Kriemhild, promising to protect Siegfried during battle (and by protect he means stab him in the back). Kriemhild puts her foot in her mouth once again (maybe this is where the women should be seen and not heard rule comes from), saying that because he once bathed in the blood of a dragon, Siegfried can only be wounded by the spear, not by any weapon that cuts, and only on one spot between his shoulders.
Hagen tells Kriemhild to sew a token there in that spot, so he "knows where Siegfried needs to be protected" *shifty eyes*.
Kriemhild, in an effort to be helpful, sews a big freaking bulls-eye onto Siegfried's jacket, so that his weak spot can be apparent to the whole world. (SHE'S SO SMART!).
Right after they leave, a messenger rides up saying : "Good news, chaps! No longer under attack!" (not exactly sure what the point in that ruse was.) So, Gunther, under Hagens guidance, decides to go hunting instead, and Siegfried agrees to go with.
Wednesday, 23 March 2011
Nibelungenlied, Chapter 11-14
Chapter 11:
Siegfried: Well, I think its about time for me to be taking Kriemhild home to my kingdom.
Gunther&co.: But. . .whyyyyyy?
Siegfried: Dudes, I've been here for like three years now. Its time to go home.
Gunther & co.: We'll give you presents if you stay a bit longer!
Siegfried: Goodbye, Gunther & co.
So, Siegfried takes his beautiful new wife home to his kingdom, his father immediately steps down and hands his crown over, and within ten years, Kriemhild gives birth to a son, whom they name Gunther. Why they wanted to name their son after that dumbass, I'll never know, but so it was.
At the same time, Brunhild gives birth to a son, and they name him Siegfried. (if you thought things were confusing before. . .. )
Chapter 12:
Brunhild, over the past ten years has, unsurprisingly, grown quite bitter. She is jealous of Kriemhild's happiness with Siegfried, and is upset by the fact that the other royal couple didn't send so much as a postcard from their honeymoon trip.
(also, she misses her girlfriend)
Sayeth Brunhild of Kriemhild:
“Thy sister’s lofty bearing / and all her courtesy,
Whene’er I think upon it, / full well it pleaseth me,
How we did sit together / when erst I was thy spouse!
Well in sooth with honor / might she the valiant Siegfried choose.”
(sounds like a girlcrush to me)
So, Brunhild whines to her husband about it, and they plot to lure Kriemhild and Siegfried back to Worms with a feast (at least its not a play).
King Gunther's messengers arrive, and proceed to relentlessly guilt Siegfried into agreeing to the visit.
Chapter 13:
Apparently medieval women pack like women today: "Carrying-chests full many / for the way they made ready".
Leaving behind their son, Kriemhild and Siegfried set forth to other-Gunther's court. Oh, and BAD THINGS ARE GOING TO HAPPEN (medieval foreshadowing is about as subtle as a baseball bat to the head).
The visitors are greeted warmly. Especially warm is the greeting Brunhild gives Kriemhild:
"oft her glances / Brunhild was seen to cast
Upon the Lady Kriemhild, / for she was passing fair.
In lustre vied her color / with the gold that she did wear"
Chapter 14:
AAAAAND Kriemhild puts her foot in it, saying to Brunhild:
“Such spouse in sooth have I,
That all these mighty kingdoms / might well beneath his sceptre lie.”
to which Brunhild responds:
“How stately thy spouse be,
Howe’er so fair and worthy, / yet must thou grant to me
Gunther, thy noble brother, / doth far beyond him go:
In sooth before all monarchs / he standeth, shalt thou truly know.”
(*snicker* as if)
this devolves into:
"My husband is better!"
"No! Shut up! Mine is!"
So, to prove her point, Kriemhild goes and plays dressup, hoping to awe Brunhild into submission with fine clothes (hell, it worked last time).
The arguement rages, until finally Kriemhild drops the bomb:
“for that thy body fair
First was clasped by Siegfried, / knight full dear to me.
In sooth ’twas ne’er my brother / won first thy maidenhead from thee."
OHO, things just got nasty. To prove that Siegfried had lain with Brunhild that night, Kriemhild shows her the ring and the girdle he had stolen from Brunhild (knew that would come back to bite him in the ass).
Siegfried and Gunther unite valiantly to attempt to preserve their lie, but the damage has been done. Half the castle is up in arms, wanting Siegfried dead for laying with their queen, the other half insist he doesn't deserve it.
Siegfried: Well, I think its about time for me to be taking Kriemhild home to my kingdom.
Gunther&co.: But. . .whyyyyyy?
Siegfried: Dudes, I've been here for like three years now. Its time to go home.
Gunther & co.: We'll give you presents if you stay a bit longer!
Siegfried: Goodbye, Gunther & co.
So, Siegfried takes his beautiful new wife home to his kingdom, his father immediately steps down and hands his crown over, and within ten years, Kriemhild gives birth to a son, whom they name Gunther. Why they wanted to name their son after that dumbass, I'll never know, but so it was.
At the same time, Brunhild gives birth to a son, and they name him Siegfried. (if you thought things were confusing before. . .. )
Chapter 12:
Brunhild, over the past ten years has, unsurprisingly, grown quite bitter. She is jealous of Kriemhild's happiness with Siegfried, and is upset by the fact that the other royal couple didn't send so much as a postcard from their honeymoon trip.
(also, she misses her girlfriend)
Sayeth Brunhild of Kriemhild:
“Thy sister’s lofty bearing / and all her courtesy,
Whene’er I think upon it, / full well it pleaseth me,
How we did sit together / when erst I was thy spouse!
Well in sooth with honor / might she the valiant Siegfried choose.”
(sounds like a girlcrush to me)
So, Brunhild whines to her husband about it, and they plot to lure Kriemhild and Siegfried back to Worms with a feast (at least its not a play).
King Gunther's messengers arrive, and proceed to relentlessly guilt Siegfried into agreeing to the visit.
Chapter 13:
Apparently medieval women pack like women today: "Carrying-chests full many / for the way they made ready".
Leaving behind their son, Kriemhild and Siegfried set forth to other-Gunther's court. Oh, and BAD THINGS ARE GOING TO HAPPEN (medieval foreshadowing is about as subtle as a baseball bat to the head).
The visitors are greeted warmly. Especially warm is the greeting Brunhild gives Kriemhild:
"oft her glances / Brunhild was seen to cast
Upon the Lady Kriemhild, / for she was passing fair.
In lustre vied her color / with the gold that she did wear"
Chapter 14:
AAAAAND Kriemhild puts her foot in it, saying to Brunhild:
“Such spouse in sooth have I,
That all these mighty kingdoms / might well beneath his sceptre lie.”
to which Brunhild responds:
“How stately thy spouse be,
Howe’er so fair and worthy, / yet must thou grant to me
Gunther, thy noble brother, / doth far beyond him go:
In sooth before all monarchs / he standeth, shalt thou truly know.”
(*snicker* as if)
this devolves into:
"My husband is better!"
"No! Shut up! Mine is!"
So, to prove her point, Kriemhild goes and plays dressup, hoping to awe Brunhild into submission with fine clothes (hell, it worked last time).
The arguement rages, until finally Kriemhild drops the bomb:
“for that thy body fair
First was clasped by Siegfried, / knight full dear to me.
In sooth ’twas ne’er my brother / won first thy maidenhead from thee."
OHO, things just got nasty. To prove that Siegfried had lain with Brunhild that night, Kriemhild shows her the ring and the girdle he had stolen from Brunhild (knew that would come back to bite him in the ass).
Siegfried and Gunther unite valiantly to attempt to preserve their lie, but the damage has been done. Half the castle is up in arms, wanting Siegfried dead for laying with their queen, the other half insist he doesn't deserve it.
Monday, 21 March 2011
Nibelungenlied: Chapter 9 & 10
Chapter 9:
King Gunther: "Oh, gee, I guess we should let mom and sis know I'm coming back with a monster-er--wife. Hagen! Go play messenger"
Hagen: "Hell no, I'm staying right here with the treasure and the women. Send Siegfried."
Siegfried: *whines* "Do I have to? Can't you people do anything on your own?"
King Gunther: "You'll get to see Kriemhild"
Siegfried: "And I'm off. See you later!"
Kriemheld is so happy to hear about her brother's impending wedding, that she gives Siegfried twelve armlets. Which he promptly gives away: "he dealt them all around/Unto her fair attendants / whom he within the chamber found." (a little rude, don't you think?)
Chapter Ten:
Brunhild and Gunther return. Jousting, feasting, so on and so forth. Lots of friendmaking and flirting happen between members of Brunhild's party, and Gunther's court.
Kriemheld's hand is finally given to Siegfried, and the rest of her too. Brunhild seems upset by this, having apparently developed an infatuation with Kriemheld of her own. She claims Kriemhild will be dishonoured and wasted by Siegfried.
Gunther tells her to shut her hor mouth, and get her ass into the marriage bed. Bad idea, Gunther. Brunhild is less than willing to consumate their marriage (I know, I lied again), until he tells her what part Siegfried played in the winning of her.
Gunther gets all "wrathy" and attempts to rape Brunhild. Brunhild, being Brunhild, trusses him up and hangs him up on a nail on the wall. (this chick is awesome). She leaves him there, all night, until finally by morning Gunther is swearing to never touch her again if she'll just let him down. (beautiful scene, really)
Gunther whines about getting shut down and humiliated to Siegfried, and Siegfried must ONCE AGAIN go to the rescue, his mission this time to get Brunhild to give up her virginity to Gunther. This really is getting a little excessive.
So, Siegfried dons his invisible dwarf cloak (come to think of it, how can it fit him?) --nearly giving Kriemhild a heart attack in so-doing--and crawls into bed next to Brunhild under cover of invisibility and darkness. He attempts to hold her, and she hurls him across the room. Then:
"Up sprang again undaunted / the full doughty man,
To try for fortune better. / When he anew began
Perforce to curb her fury, / fell he in trouble sore.
I ween that ne’er a lady / did so defend herself before.
“Ah me!"–so thought the hero– / “shall I now my life
Lose at hand of woman, / then will every wife
Evermore hereafter / a shrewish temper show
Against her lord’s good wishes, / who now such thing ne’er thinks to do.”
Chauvanism, ladies and gentlemen.
They continue to grapple, and finally, Siegfried gets the upper hand. Having beaten Gunther's bride to nearly a pulp, she begs for mercy, and promises to never resist Gunther again. Siegfried steals her ring and her girdle for Kriemhild, to add insult to injury. Gunther tags in for Siegfried and makes love to Brunhild's cold, unwilling body. (sigh)
King Gunther: "Oh, gee, I guess we should let mom and sis know I'm coming back with a monster-er--wife. Hagen! Go play messenger"
Hagen: "Hell no, I'm staying right here with the treasure and the women. Send Siegfried."
Siegfried: *whines* "Do I have to? Can't you people do anything on your own?"
King Gunther: "You'll get to see Kriemhild"
Siegfried: "And I'm off. See you later!"
Kriemheld is so happy to hear about her brother's impending wedding, that she gives Siegfried twelve armlets. Which he promptly gives away: "he dealt them all around/Unto her fair attendants / whom he within the chamber found." (a little rude, don't you think?)
Chapter Ten:
Brunhild and Gunther return. Jousting, feasting, so on and so forth. Lots of friendmaking and flirting happen between members of Brunhild's party, and Gunther's court.
Kriemheld's hand is finally given to Siegfried, and the rest of her too. Brunhild seems upset by this, having apparently developed an infatuation with Kriemheld of her own. She claims Kriemhild will be dishonoured and wasted by Siegfried.
Gunther tells her to shut her hor mouth, and get her ass into the marriage bed. Bad idea, Gunther. Brunhild is less than willing to consumate their marriage (I know, I lied again), until he tells her what part Siegfried played in the winning of her.
Gunther gets all "wrathy" and attempts to rape Brunhild. Brunhild, being Brunhild, trusses him up and hangs him up on a nail on the wall. (this chick is awesome). She leaves him there, all night, until finally by morning Gunther is swearing to never touch her again if she'll just let him down. (beautiful scene, really)
Gunther whines about getting shut down and humiliated to Siegfried, and Siegfried must ONCE AGAIN go to the rescue, his mission this time to get Brunhild to give up her virginity to Gunther. This really is getting a little excessive.
So, Siegfried dons his invisible dwarf cloak (come to think of it, how can it fit him?) --nearly giving Kriemhild a heart attack in so-doing--and crawls into bed next to Brunhild under cover of invisibility and darkness. He attempts to hold her, and she hurls him across the room. Then:
"Up sprang again undaunted / the full doughty man,
To try for fortune better. / When he anew began
Perforce to curb her fury, / fell he in trouble sore.
I ween that ne’er a lady / did so defend herself before.
“Ah me!"–so thought the hero– / “shall I now my life
Lose at hand of woman, / then will every wife
Evermore hereafter / a shrewish temper show
Against her lord’s good wishes, / who now such thing ne’er thinks to do.”
Chauvanism, ladies and gentlemen.
They continue to grapple, and finally, Siegfried gets the upper hand. Having beaten Gunther's bride to nearly a pulp, she begs for mercy, and promises to never resist Gunther again. Siegfried steals her ring and her girdle for Kriemhild, to add insult to injury. Gunther tags in for Siegfried and makes love to Brunhild's cold, unwilling body. (sigh)
Nibelungenlied, Chapter 8
Chapter seven was actually epically awesome. . .I highly suggest reading the real thing. But then, I have a thing for strong beautiful women. In other news, in doing research on the translator of the version of the Nibelungenlied I am reading, I discovered that he is most likely the father of one of the people I admire most in the world--Mary Needler Hind (now deceased), whose father was indeed a scholar named George Henry Needler. Mary Hind is probably one of the biggest influences on me, and was just an absolutely astounding woman. She was a code breaker in the second world war, went on to become the Dean of Classical Studies at the University of Toronto (something that was, I imagine, almost unheard of for women in her time), she was obviously highly educated, could read and I believe speak latin and greek, and got married for love rather than out of desperation to start a family and be supported at the ripe age of sixty-something. I didn't know her until she was already in her eighties, at which age she was still volunteering at the local school to help children learn to read. She lived to be 98 (the exact age she always said she wanted to live to), and kept her faculties largely about her until the very end. If I can live to be a quarter as impressive as she, I'll have done a damn fine job at life.
But, back to butchering her father's life's work (how's *that* for gratitude?). Hopefully, though, my paraphrase will get at least one person interested enough in this classic German poem to read a chapter or two of the actual translation. Or maybe not. Either way, I am keeping myself entertained, and now have an even bigger reason to slog through the thirty nine chapters myself, hahah.
Chapter 8:
Okay, remember when I said that King Gunther and Brunhild had gotten happily married in chapter seven? I lied. Brunhild's not the sort of gal who will take matrimony lying down. She is, in actuality, calling all of her relatives to come fight Gunther and his men, so she can continue to live free as the kickass amazon that she is.
ONCE AGAIN, its Siegfried to the rescue (he's probably wishing he'd never gone to King Gunther's court at this point). Under his invisible cloak, Siegfried takes Gunther's boat and sails in quest of a ready-made army nearby, with which to defend the king from Brunhild and her clan.
He comes to the isle of the Nibelungen (sound familiar?), and seeing a castle on the hill, and being travel weary, goes to it, knocking upon the door. The door is guarded by a giant.
Giant: "Fee Fie Fo Fum, who goes there?"
Siegfried: "One badass knight, that's who. Now let me in or you will know the true meaning of CHAOS" (cue epic metal theme).
This, of course, pisses off the gigantic doorman, who changes out of his footie pajamas, throws on his armour, and comes at Siegfried with a club.
The fight rages, echoing throughout the castle, and all the lands of the Nibelungen. Siegfried, for once, actually fears for his life (angry Porters are dangerous things indeed), however, eventually he bests the giant -- Only to be set upon by a dwarf named Alberich!
Not wanting to harm the little man (its bad luck to hit a dwarf, you know), Siegfried grabs him by the beard, whereupon Alberich squeals for mercy, and promises to serve Siegfried. Siegfried lets teh dwarf and the giant go, and Alberich runs to the knights of the Nibelungen, telling them to come before Siegfried.
They do. Another feast (dayum the middle ages were good times--you know, apart from feudalism, famine, and the black plague). Siegfried gets the Knights drunk, and they agree to help him fight Brunhild (you need to be drunk to take on a dame of her stature).
Once again Siegfried's plan involves fancy clothes, hoping to awe Brunhild into submission. So he, and one thousand finely dressed knights return to her kingdom. Brunhild is, of course, awed into submission by this display, she hands out treasures all round, and agrees to return with Gunther to his kingdom, as his wife
But, back to butchering her father's life's work (how's *that* for gratitude?). Hopefully, though, my paraphrase will get at least one person interested enough in this classic German poem to read a chapter or two of the actual translation. Or maybe not. Either way, I am keeping myself entertained, and now have an even bigger reason to slog through the thirty nine chapters myself, hahah.
Chapter 8:
Okay, remember when I said that King Gunther and Brunhild had gotten happily married in chapter seven? I lied. Brunhild's not the sort of gal who will take matrimony lying down. She is, in actuality, calling all of her relatives to come fight Gunther and his men, so she can continue to live free as the kickass amazon that she is.
ONCE AGAIN, its Siegfried to the rescue (he's probably wishing he'd never gone to King Gunther's court at this point). Under his invisible cloak, Siegfried takes Gunther's boat and sails in quest of a ready-made army nearby, with which to defend the king from Brunhild and her clan.
He comes to the isle of the Nibelungen (sound familiar?), and seeing a castle on the hill, and being travel weary, goes to it, knocking upon the door. The door is guarded by a giant.
Giant: "Fee Fie Fo Fum, who goes there?"
Siegfried: "One badass knight, that's who. Now let me in or you will know the true meaning of CHAOS" (cue epic metal theme).
This, of course, pisses off the gigantic doorman, who changes out of his footie pajamas, throws on his armour, and comes at Siegfried with a club.
The fight rages, echoing throughout the castle, and all the lands of the Nibelungen. Siegfried, for once, actually fears for his life (angry Porters are dangerous things indeed), however, eventually he bests the giant -- Only to be set upon by a dwarf named Alberich!
Not wanting to harm the little man (its bad luck to hit a dwarf, you know), Siegfried grabs him by the beard, whereupon Alberich squeals for mercy, and promises to serve Siegfried. Siegfried lets teh dwarf and the giant go, and Alberich runs to the knights of the Nibelungen, telling them to come before Siegfried.
They do. Another feast (dayum the middle ages were good times--you know, apart from feudalism, famine, and the black plague). Siegfried gets the Knights drunk, and they agree to help him fight Brunhild (you need to be drunk to take on a dame of her stature).
Once again Siegfried's plan involves fancy clothes, hoping to awe Brunhild into submission. So he, and one thousand finely dressed knights return to her kingdom. Brunhild is, of course, awed into submission by this display, she hands out treasures all round, and agrees to return with Gunther to his kingdom, as his wife
Saturday, 19 March 2011
Niebelungenlied. . .
IS in fact a word!
This is the title of an epic German poem from the middle ages, which I had never heard of until today, but which possesses much of the charming epic epicness that characterizes the poetry of the period. I just didn't realize the Germans were being epicly epic as well. I should have known.
(just look at this epic badassery: siegfried killing the dragon)
I found a translation online
at: http://www.authorama.com/nibelungenlied-1.html
As with many translations of poetry into English, this is a little awkward and nursery rhyme-ish. Then again, it is translated from German, which isn't known for its beauty (zing!).
You could read it yourself, but I think I'd rather provide a Stevie's notes version:
Chapter 1:
Kriemhild, our heroine, doesn't want to get married. Her three thuggish brothers, who are all very manly and have unhealthy obsessions with protecting their sister, vow to do just that, and keep her virginity safe from anyone not related to them.
Chapter 2:
Enter Siegfried, a young knight who is described as having the looks of Brad Pitt, the charm of Cassanova, and the penis of Adonis (ok, I made that up). Kid likes to party, enter long description of jousting/feasting/drinking, littered with poorly veiled sexual references to "swords". Oh, and did I mention Siegfried is a badass?
Chapter 3:
Siegfried has a hard-on for Kriemhild of Worms (which is just about the sexiest name ever), and decides to take a bunch of his good looking knight friends (because everyone in the middle ages was fek hawt) to her kingdom. There, they get the kings panties in a knot by not telling him anything about who they are and why they are there. Luckily, the king has a know-it-all brother, who guesses Siegfried's identity. Siegfried in a moment of senseless faux pas brags about his martial prowess, and this "chafes" the king's "thanes" . It looks like a brawl is going to break out, but everyone calms down, and Siegfried gets to stay for a year, while Kriemhild the Worms princess falls for him. As well she should, for "none there that was his equal-so mickle was his might-- if they the stone were putting, or hurling shaft with rival Knight" (which just sounds dirty).
She starts to stalk him. Its creepy, but his heart aches for her affection.
Chapter 4:
The Saxons are angry at King Gunther of Worms for having an overly appealing name! Twelve weeks (which is dam quick in medieval time) until the helm clefting begins! Siegfried, with his epic badass ways, offers to save the day, saying in his tacit manner "stay here with your whores, old man, I've got this one", or something to that effect. King Gunther illogically sends the Saxon kings a return threat and some gifts of gold, and, angered by this mixed messages, they gather up forty thousand men for WAR.
Scouting out the enemy forces, and finding his Knights greatly outnumbered, the brave hero Siegfried becomes greatly excited and jumps up and down waving his arms about, getting the attention of one of the Saxon kings. They joust, they fight, sparks fly, the world turns, and in a final round of rock paper scissors, Siegfried defeats the saxon king. Woe to Saxony! This put the defeated saxon king into a "gloomy mood", causing him to beg Siegfried for his life (that's what I do when I'm feeling gloomy too). Siegfried takes the king captive, after killing thirty of his men in a fit of bloodthirsty badassery. Still not satisfied, Siegfried leads Gunther's whole army against the saxons. Enter battle montage.
The win, of course, taking both of the Saxon kings prisoner, and then doing the logical thing, which is throwing a party for them. Everyone gets happily drunk, gold and silver are tossed about, and Siegfried doesn't even kill anyone.
Chapter 5:
The party is so good, they decide to pick it up a month later (you know, after the wounded had healed from the war they just fought and won in a day). Apparently things got a little violent, when the thirty two princes present "vied with one another to deck themselves the ladies all". All wife beating aside, something very important did happen at the party pt. deux: Siegfried FINALLY got his chance to meet Kriemhild up close and personal. *cue angelic chorus as Kriemhild walks on stage*
Obviously, its love at first sight. Obviously, there is foreshadowing of woe to come from this loving meeting.
"’Twas her surpassing beauty / that made the knight to stay.
With many a merry pastime / they whiled the time away;
But love for her oppressed him, / oft-times grievously.
Whereby anon the hero / a mournful death was doomed to die."
:o!
(oh, and the captive Saxon kings were finally let free)
Chapter 6:
King Gunther gets all hot and bothered about a broad named Brunhild (who wouldn't). The thing about Brunhild though, is that she's in a constant state of uber-PMS and tends to kill anything with a penis that comes near her (I'm sure many of us can relate). King Gunther, knowing Siegfried is the biggest badass he has, promises to let Siegfried marry his sister Kriemhild, if Siegfried will win Brunhild for him. (Gotta love pre-feminist times. Go chattel!)
In a surprising plot twist, Siegfried's plan is not to just kill everything in Brunhild's kingdom and steal her away, but to have Kriemhild make him and his companions some very fancy clothes to try to impress the lady. Huh.
So, off Siegfried goes with his companions in a wee little boat (well provisioned with wine) in a contest for two wives, wearing a bunch of fancy new clothes (described in detail for about eight verses, for anyone who is interested) and the magic invisible cloak he won off of a dwarf prior to these annals. (I'm not joking)
Chapter 7:
"their ship did forward glide So near unto the castle / that soon the king espied Aloft within the casements / many a maiden fair to see. That all to him were strangers / thought King Gunther mournfully."
(horny bastard)
Luckily for Gunther, it seems that these maids have not (unsurprisingly) seen a man in a very, VERY long time:
"Unto the narrow casements / came the crowding on, When they spied the strangers: / that they might also see"
So, we have a horny king, and a castleful of sex deprived maidens. Sounds like the setup to a porno to me.
Things get even kinkier as Brunhild prepares herself for the customary feats of strength, her shield and spear and shot-put so large and heavy that it takes three chambermen to carry what she can carry on her own.
Grunther, seeing her absurd strength, shits himself.
Luckily, he has an invisibly cloaked Siegfried to help him.
The Spear Throwing Contest: Siegfried helps brace the shield against the spear Brunhild hurls with awe-inspiring strength at Gunther. Siegfried throws the spear back, but not wanting to hurt the maid, hurls it so she is only hit with the butt end (is this possible?)
The Shot Put: Equally did Siegfried aid Gunthor in pwning the robust maiden at the hurling of the rocks.
Gunthor and Brunhild get married, and live happily ever after (that is except for when Brunhild shatters three of Gunther's vertibrae in bed on the wedding night).
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