• Member Since 12th May, 2012
  • offline last seen 4 hours ago

archonix


Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists.

More Blog Posts588

  • 12 weeks
    It's the obligatory new year blog post.

    And yes, I am posting this at around midnight on new year. I have a nasty cold, so I decided to disobey nurgle's one command and stay home.

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    6 comments · 113 views
  • 27 weeks
    Just for kicks

    I'm mucking around with Lulu for a work-related project (very boring stuff) and thought I would do a quality test with something fun.

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    8 comments · 194 views
  • 31 weeks
    Oh shit, words

    Or maybe that comma is in the wrong place. I haven't decided yet.

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    4 comments · 161 views
  • 34 weeks
    The odd things

    I've just been reading through old comments on my scraps story, after publishing yet another chunk from the ancient cutting room floor. It's remarkable how many of the commenters are still around - but also how many logged off for the last time, soon after making their last comment there.

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    10 comments · 204 views
  • 42 weeks
    But in brighter news

    While I'm not making any promises about any particular project here, I am actually writing again. I figure if I write enough of something, some pony words might drop out somewhere along the line as well. You never know. What I'm working on at the moment is essentially a re-write of a story I read a long time ago; an old pulp sci-fi tale, about a spaceship that manages to get lost in the

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    7 comments · 141 views
Sep
28th
2014

Something the wife just sent me on the subject of mules · 7:36pm Sep 28th, 2014

"The mules were my especial delight; and an hour's study of a constant succession of them introduced me to many of their characteristics; for six of these odd little beasts drew each army wagon, and went hopping like frogs through the stream of mud that gently rolled along the street. The coquettish mule had small feet, a nicely trimmed tassel of a tail, perked up ears, and seemed much given to little tosses of the head, affected skips and prances; and, if he wore the bells, or were bedizzened with a bit of finery, put on as many airs as any belle. The moral mule was a stout, hard-working creature, always tugging with all his might; often pulling away after the rest had stopped, laboring under the conscientious delusion that food for the entire army depended upon his private exertions. I respected this style of mule; and had I possessed a juicy cabbage, would have pressed it upon him, with thanks for his excellent example. The historical mule was a melo-dramatic quadruped, prone to startling humanity by erratic leaps, and wild plunges, much shaking of his stubborn head, and lashing out of his vicious heels; now and then falling flat and apparently dying a la Forrest: a gasp—a squirm—a flop, and so on, till the street was well blocked up, the drivers all swearing like demons in bad hats, and the chief actor's circulation decidedly quickened by every variety of kick, cuff jerk, and haul. When the last breath seemed to have left his body, and "Doctors were in vain," a sudden resurrection took place; and if ever a mule laughed with scornful triumph, that was the beast, as he leisurely rose, gave a comfortable shake, and calmly regarding the excited crowd seemed to say—"A hit! a decided hit! for the stupidest of animals has bamboozled a dozen men. Now, then! what are you stopping the way for?" The pathetic mule was, perhaps, the most interesting of all; for, though he always seemed to be the smallest, thinnest, weakest of the six, the postillion, with big boots, long-tailed coat, and heavy whip, was sure to bestride this one, who struggled feebly along, head down, coat muddy and rough, eye spiritless and sad, his very tail a mortified stump, and the whole beast a picture of meek misery, fit to touch a heart of stone. The jovial mule was a roly poly, happy-go-lucky little piece of horse-flesh, taking everything easily, from cudgeling to caressing; strolling along with a roguish twinkle of the eye, and, if the thing were possible, would have had his hands in his pockets, and whistled as he went. If there ever chanced to be an apple core, a stray turnip, or wisp of hay, in the gutter, this Mark Tapley was sure to find it, and none of his mates seemed to begrudge him his bite. I suspected this fellow was the peacemaker, confidant and friend of all the others, for he had a sort of "Cheer-up,-old-boy,-I'll-pull-you-through" look, which was exceedingly engaging."

(Louisa May Alcott, Hospital Sketches)

Apparently later in the book she - an abolitionist - talks about free blacks in Washington with about the same level of patronising condescension.

Funny that.

Report archonix · 185 views ·
Comments ( 9 )

a very interesting little read.

talks about free blacks in Washington with about the same level of patronising condescension.

Such writings punctuated her style and much of her life however, I'm not sure if I agree it's patronising as I found it very open and enjoyable.

2490887 I was going off second-hand info. The wife just explained that I misunderstood what she said earlier. :derpytongue2: Other people wrote about them like that.

I'll just go and sit in the corner with a dunce cap now.

I found myself drawing parallels to ponies: Rarity, Applejack, Dash, Fluttershy, and Pinkie, respectively. Admittedly more than a little disrespectful to Shy, though, likely a sign of my mind crowbaring that which doesn't belong into a familiar framework.

2490908 *Huge gently and tugs off the dunce cap* Pshaw. Misunderstandings happen and surely nobody was all that put out, least of all me.:twilightsmile:

2490976 I found myself drawing those same parallels as I read this. I also wondered how much her perception might have been shaped by her environment, but then I'm always amazed at how varied animals' personalities can be, and how often they can parallel human personalities.

You western people are crazy.

2491509 Eat it or I'll steal your car!

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