Aran
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Of the old Administrators, only Stareye remains. (The others in the group are Spidweb, a generated account, and someone who might be IPS staff.) The rest, including Krizsan, are Global Moderators. There are too many of them to realistically list; the list also is subject to regular changes. Maybe rule #5 just needs to go.
a pile of bits to whomever can guess what i think the coc needs more of
hint: it's ponies
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Analizing is like analyzing, but much more obsessively.
also i had no idea that's what calref's new avatar urls looked like, and for a fleeting moment thought aran was hacking calref to display who pics...for some reasonso my hack has gone undetected. for now.
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That URL always points to your current avatar on this forum.
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Who?
Correct!
(People have actually speculated if Yoda's speech is based on German. However, with some attention to detail this doesn't make sense, because Yoda moves the verb to the end almost universally, while German only does so with an infinitive construction like "subject can write [object] -> subject can [object] write" or relative sentences "subject who writes [object] -> subject who [object] writes". And yes, actual linguists have actually analyzed Yoda.)
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EU plans that websurfers needs to chat etc with their real name and face.
This sounded plausible because the EU is starting stuff like this all the time (see data retention laws, blocking of websites, ACTA, SOPA, etc.), but I could find no such thing currently that went beyond a few clueless politicians grandstanding for the media. Is there a specific law in the European parliament that you're talking about?
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Here's one by Alfred Tennyson I just remembered:
The Kraken
Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides: above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant fins the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages and will lie
Battering upon huge seaworms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by men and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.
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I used to play the piano a lot; unfortunately I only get around to it occasionally these days.
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^ Citation
My public key also.
Edit: Sylae, do you want to exchange signatures? Or does "sort of knowing people online" not meet your security standards?
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Arancaytar is unconscious and lying across several seats near the back.
The tremor of the temporal displacement causes him to stir, groaning and blearily opening his eyes.
He makes several more sounds that are mostly consonants while his eyes acclimate to the painfully bright lights. His head feels like it is being hit with a hangover wrapped around a sledgehammer, but without the fun part.
Eventually, he manages to shift and almost sit up.
"What the frack happened last night?"
He looks down.
"And why do I have hooves?"
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I spoke with Zizak-Tel a month ago, they're going to keep writing in that same vein.
FYI, Zizak's a she.
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The double round robin rules means the number of games grows quadratically. I guess that's why Sylae closed it after 12 entrants; we already have 132 matches and another would make it 156.
Maybe it could be more manageable if the next tournament were split in two groups followed by a match between the best four. Or something.
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... oof.
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Beautiful building, though the organization that owns it sounds kinda freaky. I'm not sure how happy the man himself (natural philosopher, humanist and kinda-but-not-really-Christian) would have been to be associated with spiritual mysticism. Though apparently he did dabble a bit in it, so who knows.
Since I'm now studying in Goethe's birthplace, my university is also named after him.
Edit: I don't normally like to post stuff that isn't done, but this line somehow got into my mind while I was waiting for the bus this morning.
Brittle the air that turns leaves into glassThis is usually how I start. Not sure if or when I'll manage to come up with the rest. But I want to invoke an image of a really cold day without using any word actually related to cold.
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There's another one by Goethe that mostly sticks to this meter:
Hat der alte Hexenmeister
sich doch einmal wegbegeben!
Und nun sollen seine Geister
auch nach meinem Willen leben!
Seine Wort´ und Werke
merk´t ich und den Brauch,
und mit Geistesstärke
tu ich Wunder auch.
Walle! walle
manche Strecke,
daß zum Zwecke
Wasser fließe
und mit reichem, vollem Schwalle
zu dem Bade sich ergieße!
Und nun komm, du alter Besen,
nimm die schlechten Lumpenhüllen!
Bist schon lange Knecht gewesen;
nun erfülle meinen Willen!
Auf zwei Beinen stehe,
oben sei ein Kopf!
Eile nun und gehe
mit dem Wassertopf!
Walle! walle
manche Strecke,
daß zum Zwecke
Wasser fließe
und mit reichem, vollem Schwalle
zu dem Bade sich ergieße!
Seht, er läuft zum Ufer nieder;
wahrlich! ist schon an dem Flusse,
und mit Blitzeschnelle wieder
ist er hier mit raschem Gusse.
Schon zum zweiten Male!
Wie das Becken schwillt!
Wie sich jede Schale
voll mit Wasser füllt!
Stehe! Stehe!
Denn wir haben
deiner Gaben
vollgemessen! -
Ach, ich merk´ es! Wehe, wehe!
Hab ich doch das Wort vergessen!
Ach, das Wort, worauf am Ende
er das wird, was er gewesen.
Ach, er läuft und bringt behende!
Wärst du doch der alte Besen!
Immer neue Güsse
bringt er schnell herein,
ach, und hundert Flüsse
stürzen auf mich ein!
Nein, nicht länger
kann ich´s lassen;
will ihn fassen.
Das ist Tücke!
Ach, nun wird mir immer bänger!
Welche Miene! Welche Blicke!
Oh, du Ausgeburt der Hölle!
Soll das ganze Haus ersaufen?
Seh´ ich über jede Schwelle
doch schon Wasserströme laufen.
Ein verruchter Besen,
der nicht hören will!
Stock, der du gewesen,
steh doch endlich wieder still!
Willst´s am Ende
gar nicht lassen?
Will dich fassen,
will dich halten
und das alte Holz behende
mit dem scharfen Beile spalten.
Seht, da kommt er schleppend wieder!
Wie ich mich nur auf dich werfe,
gleich, o Kobold, liegst du nieder;
krachend liegt die glatte Schärfe.
Wahrlich, brav getroffen!
Seht, er ist entzwei!
Und nun kann ich hoffen,
und ich atme wieder frei!
Wehe!Wehe!
Beide Teile
stehn in Eile
schon als Knechte
völlig fertig in die Höhe!
Helft mir, ach, ihr hohen Mächte!
Und sie laufen! Naß und nässer
wird´s im Saal und auf den Stufen.
Welch ein entsetzliches Gewässer!
Herr und Meister! Hör mich rufen! -
Ach, da kommt der Meister!
Herr, die Not ist groß!
Die ich rief, die Geister,
werd´ich nun nicht los!
"In die Ecke,
Besen! Besen!
Seid´s gewesen!
Denn als Geister
ruft euch nur zu seinem Zwecke
erst hervor der alte Meister!"
There are several English versions, but I like this one most:
That old sorcerer has vanished
And for once has gone away!
Spirits called by him, now banished,
My commands shall soon obey.
Every step and saying
That he used, I know,
And with sprites obeying
My arts I will show.
Flow, flow onward
Stretches many
Spare not any
Water rushing,
Ever streaming fully downward
Toward the pool in current gushing.
Come, old broomstick, you are needed,
Take these rags and wrap them round you!
Long my orders you have heeded,
By my wishes now I've bound you.
Have two legs and stand,
And a head for you.
Run, and in your hand
Hold a bucket too.
Flow, flow onward
Stretches many,
Spare not any
Water rushing,
Ever streaming fully downward
Toward the pool in current gushing.
See him, toward the shore he's racing
There, he's at the stream already,
Back like lightning he is chasing,
Pouring water fast and steady.
Once again he hastens!
How the water spills,
How the water basins
Brimming full he fills!
Stop now, hear me!
Ample measure
Of your treasure
We have gotten!
Ah, I see it, dear me, dear me.
Master's word I have forgotten!
Ah, the word with which the master
Makes the broom a broom once more!
Ah, he runs and fetches faster!
Be a broomstick as before!
Ever new the torrents
That by him are fed,
Ah, a hundred currents
Pour upon my head!
No, no longer
Can I please him,
I will seize him!
That is spiteful!
My misgivings grow the stronger.
What a mien, his eyes how frightful!
Brood of hell, you're not a mortal!
Shall the entire house go under?
Over threshold over portal
Streams of water rush and thunder.
Broom accurst and mean,
Who will have his will,
Stick that you have been,
Once again stand still!
Can I never, Broom, appease you?
I will seize you,
Hold and whack you,
And your ancient wood
I'll sever,
With a whetted axe I'll crack you.
He returns, more water dragging!
Now I'll throw myself upon you!
Soon, 0 goblin, you'll be sagging.
Crash! The sharp axe has undone you.
What a good blow, truly!
There, he's split, I see.
Hope now rises newly,
And my breathing's free.
Woe betide me!
Both halves scurry
In a hurry,
Rise like towers
There beside me.
Help me, help, eternal powers!
Off they run, till wet and wetter
Hall and steps immersed are Iying.
What a flood that naught can fetter!
Lord and master, hear me crying! -
Ah, he comes excited.
Sir, my need is sore.
Spirits that I've cited
My commands ignore.
"To the lonely
Corner, broom!
Hear your doom.
As a spirit
When he wills, your master only
Calls you, then 'tis time to hear it."
Oh, and if this seems familiar, you may be thinking of this.
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Here's another one I dug up, which I've probably never put online. I think it was originally for a story I was writing and then took on a life of its own.
Also, still trochaic tetrameter. It really is my favorite. Pretty much no rhyming.
cast your gaze about the tower
see ye not the signs of daybreak?
mind ye well these words of foresight:
here the night shall not endure
wisdom of the stars is fading
in the age of sunrise ending
grey and shrouded world awaking
from its slumber unto dawn
here the night is slow in leaving
see the north-star, star of guidance:
six and twenty thousand winters
has it shone and will yet shine
there the signs of day arriving
red star passing, sunlight's herald
all the world in scarlet dousing
end of shadows, end of fear.
then the ocean's empire rising
beacon of the great tomorrow
destiny of earth propelling
from the waves unto the stars
ware the words of wrath emerging
see them written, hear them spoken
bar your heart and mind against them
darkness beckons those that heed
age of light and thought arriving
discord and disorder breeding
thus behold the mighty towers
dragon's ire laid them low
of all perils fear the silence
for no noise can hold such terror
neither discord sow such darkness
neither words can spell such doom
heed these words yet seek for wisdom
follow none yet serve all others
and by dawn remember starlight
when the morning turns to day.
(Don't really know what's up with the lowercase. It's not like the style has any similarity to ee cummings or something.)
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I think the verb can go anywhere. Was für eine Sprache.
I can without problems English sentences write. The word order correctly to choose, find I very easy!
(That was actually difficult. When you learn a language long enough, its grammar becomes so ingrained it is almost impossible to deliberately substitute another.)
word order isn't really a thing in latin. i mean it kind of is but you can mess around with it a lot and still make comprehensible sentences
I guess "summus gratus non sum" would change the meaning to "I am not the one most welcome". But yeah, that sounds fair.
(To check, is the pronoun just optional and usually left out, or would it be incorrect to include an "ego"?)
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"Ergo" is Latin for "therefore". By "summus" Harehunter probably meant "sum", "I am". "Summus" means "top" or "highest".
Or "Ergo, summus non gratus sum" which sounds like "Therefore, I am the most unwelcome." (if mangled. "sum summus"? To be honest, I never know where to put the verb.)
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And I'm guessing your packets had to travel uphill both inbound and outbound...
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Reading it more closely, I'm somehow stumbling over "from across the distant plains / at the edges of the fields", since it's two headless lines in a row where it otherwise alternates (in fact, this tipped me off to there being an odd number of lines in the first half). Of course, the meter becomes less strict in the second half, so it doesn't stand out much.
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This is one of the earliest things I ever wrote, I think. I like the how rhythm in the first half makes me a little breathlessness, but it's certainly not my favourite.
In the purple hues of twilight
Just outside her window frame
Where she sat and saw the sun set
On the darkened evening grass,
[...]
❤
The imagery and meter are both great. I don't think of the trochaic tetrameter as particularly breathless; but it does have this rolling and somewhat implacable/inevitable/endless feeling (I also used it in Nightfall for that reason). I looked for examples on Wikipedia, which lists Hiawatha and the Kalevala, some pretty neat works.
Tempted to say the Raven (actually octametric) is another example but for line-breaks, since the rhymes divide each sixteen-syllable line in two.
Speaking of it, that's one of my favorite poems and hasn't been posted yet, so here goes:
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
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risk dying (or worse, being near those camel spiders)
Ditto on that one.
Update the Code of Community?
in General
Posted
Fillybustered.