I am so freekin' happy right now.

'Re: Your Brains' by Jonathan Coulton, performed in ZSL (Zombie Sign Language) by Stephen Torrence )

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Carmen 72
Dicebas quondam solum te nosse Catullum,
Lesbia, nec prae me velle tenere Iouem.
dilexi tum te non tantum ut vulgus amicam,
sed pater ut gnatos diligit et generos.
nunc te cognovi: quare etsi impensius uror,
multo mi tamen es vilior et levior.
qui potis est, inquis? quod amantem iniuria talis
cogit amare magis, sed bene velle minus.

Once you used to say that you knew only Catullus,
Lesbia, nor did you wish to hold Jove before me.
I loved you then, not just as a commoner loves his girl,
but as a father loves his sons and sons-in-law.
Now I know you: therefore, even if I burn the more,
to me you are nevertheless much less worthy and more trivial.
How is this possible, you ask? Because a hurt such as this
compels a lover to love more, but to respect less.

I find that my previous translation differs a bit. My strength and balance are returning after the events of the last month, albeit not as quickly as I would prefer. I have yet to return to my workshop, however, and look forward to getting back to my tinkering.

Thus, a meme from [livejournal.com profile] labelleizzy:
Your result for The Steampunk Archetype Test...

The Crazy Clockwork Tinkerer

9 Swashbuckling Engineer, 54 Crazy Clockwork Tinkerer, 40 Charming Noble, 8 Roguish Pirate, 0 Mechanical Fian and 25 Aetherist Bodger!

What is life? If something simulates life so well that no one knows that it is simulated and treats it like it were alive, would that be just like life? And if you were the one to create this simulated life, would that make you a god of some sort? Quite possibly, and that may be one of the many motivations behind your projects. Your clockwork mechanisms started off simple and cute, but as you attempted to replicate life in your machines, you created bigger mechanisms, golems of gears, that do your bidding. You are a genius, but a crazy genius.

Take The Steampunk Archetype Test at HelloQuizzy

Talulah died this afternoon. [livejournal.com profile] threetimes and I were holding her in the vet office, waiting for the doctor. She fluttered, stiffened, relaxed, and was gone.

Home again, I need to keep my eyes and hands full. A clumsy translation of 3 Catullus, along with Talulah's memory, has occupied this last hour. I'll not think of the many hours to come.

Lugete, O Veneres Cupidinesque,
et quantum est hominum venustiorum:
passer mortuus est meae puellae,
passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quem plus illa oculis suis amabat.
Nam mellitus erat suamque norat
ipsam tam bene quam puella matrem,
nec sese a gremio illius movebat,
sed circumsiliens modo huc modo illuc
ad solam dominam usque pipiabat.
Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum
illuc, unde negant redire quemquam.
At vobis male sit, malae tenebrae
Orci, quae omnia bella devoratis:
tam bellum mihi passerem abstulistis.
O factum male! O miselle passer!
Tua nunc opera meae puellae
flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.

Mourn, Graces and Loves, 
and all those loved by such. 
The sparrow of my girl is dead, 
the sparrow, pet of my girl, 
whom she loved more than her eyes themselves; 
for he was honey-sweet, and knew her 
the same as a girl knows her mother. 
Not stirring from her lap, 
but hopping about here and there, 
he was continually cooing only to his mistress. 
Now he goes along a shadowy way, 
to a place from where they say no one returns. 
But curses on you, wicked shades 
of Orcus, who devour all things of beauty:
for you have taken away my beautiful sparrow. 
Oh, cruelty! Poor sparrow! 
Now all because of you, my girl's dear eyes 
are heavy and red with tears.

I have no doubt battered sense and syntax, and it is a poorer offering to the gods than knucklebones. But I wonder, did I live only to see so much death?


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