Scintillate

New take on an old poem that I can't stop reciting to myself.  I wish I had thought of it.

Scintillate, scintillate globule vivivic,
Would I could fathom thy matter specific.
Lustily proud in the ether capacious,
Strongly resembling a gem carbonaceous.

(If that makes no sense to you, recite Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star to yourself and then read it again.)

*****

I am sad to report that the youngest of the Frasers has succumbed to the recent heat wave.  Tavish developed a fever yesterday morning that rose in the evening to a peak of 39.5 degrees C (103 F).  I spent two hours in the waiting room at the local clinic for a two minute consult with the doctor.  Just to allay our fears, really.  Tavish developed a fever when he was two months old that resulted in a febrile seizure.  That's when your baby turns sort of purple and his limbs go rigid.  Scary.  We are understandably cautious.

He's OK though.  Had himself a good puke before bed and a necessary cooling shower with his dad, who managed to catch most of the effluent before it dribbled all over the floor.  His fever broke this morning (I was told on the phone) and he's on his way to his usual vivacious self.

*****

We're having our living room furniture picked up today so it can be steam cleaned.  We've owned it for four years and had it cleaned once after the first year.  With two kids and two dogs having been exposed to it in the past three years, it's developed a sort of waft that makes you cringe every time you sit down.  It's best not to look too closely either.

The Febreze just ain't covering up the aroma like it used to.  Especially in this heat.

We'll get the furniture back in a few days and the same company will steam clean the carpets tomorrow.  In the mean time, we have some throw cushions we can plop around the living room and will probably hose off the plastic patio chairs by the fire pit so we can pretend like we're white trash.  If I can convince my wife to hold my beer in her cleavage I'll let you know.  She totally could!

*****

After struggling, sometimes mightily, for the past eight months or so, I finally finished Moby Dick on the weekend.  Not for lack of interest in the book, certainly, but my drive to carve out time so that I might consume whole chunks of the tome at a single sitting had unwontedly waned.  I blame my inconvenient family.  They're always getting in the way of everything I want to do.  It frustrates me sometimes.

The book, though, was intimidatingly awesome.  It's not really about a whale, you know?  I need to read it again with a pen and notebook at hand so I can transcribe all my favourite parts.  It'll probably take another eight months, but it would be totally worth it.  It's truly a mighty book, as Melville himself states:

"To produce a mighty book, you must choose a mighty theme.  No great and enduring volume can ever be written on the flea, though many there be have tried it."

Tongue in cheek, the book also made me think to provide this visual synopsis:

Comments

[Moksha Gren]

Yes, Simon. I too am kicking myself for not thinking up that poem. How could I have missed it? Oh, I know...even having read it I'm lost, so the odds of me writing it in the first place seem remote. Although I am a monkey of sorts and I do own a type writer. So I guess there was a chance.

I'm glad Tav is feeling better. It's just so heart wrenching when the little ones are ill and you have to sit there helpless and wait for everything to run its course.

Our living room rug has developed a certain funk in its year with Norah. When finances allow, I plan on having it cleaned but good. Luckily the couches are leather...very baby puke friendly.

And hurray, hurray, hurray for the completion of Moby Dick. You are the only non-English professor I personally know who has actually finished it. I know English grad students who had tried and failed. But you made it. I am impressed.

Oh, and inspired by your wonderful pictionary, I found this.

[Mark]

Hurray for quick recovery. We no lika da feva in da little ones.

Glad to hear MD is a good book. I've never even started Moby Dick, and I have an English degree. It just never popped up on any of my many syllabi.

Now, how long you think Hyperion will take?

Again I'm left out of the whole furniture/carpet stink thing. Ben just never was a spit-upper or puker (yet).

[Simon]

Moksha, I've added a line under the poem to make its origin clearer. (more clear?) I called my wife late morning and both boys were howling at her in stereo, so it seems that the younger is well recovered. And yeah, leather couches are on my wish-list to replace the upstairs furniture when we're forced to buy new stuff after the basement renos are done. Moby Dick really is an awesome piece of work. There were a couple chapters whose inclusion seemed odd, but a masterful piece of writing that should not be missed.

I can't thank you enough for that picture. It will probably find its way onto this site before too long...

[Simon]

Mark, we cross-commented. Hyperion will be much faster. It's shorter, for one, and I don't have to worry about overcoming 150 years worth of evolution in the English language.

But seriously, I do highly recommend Moby Dick.

[Moksha Gren]

Ah...the poem is now indeed very funny. Thanks.

When you're done with Hyperion...you should write an inscription and mail it off to Mark with a strange bookmark still in place. It seems fitting somehow. ;)

[Émilie B]

Glad to hear Tavish is doing better! It's rough on the heart to know one's kid is in pain when one doesn't have the power to change this.

Moksha's picture would not display; only the page url was typed out within the page. Luckily, though, I posess enough geekness to resolve this issue, and tried the url with IExplorer, which produced the correct image - thus deducting a cool point from Flock. Firefox proved worthy, though, which surprised me : I thought this Mozilla-based browser would behave like Flock.

Good job on finishing a classic! I have about 4/5th of the Illiad plowed through myself. I'm determined to finish it... someday.

[Tal]

So glad you dumbed it down!

[Paul]

I tag thee, sir Simian: a meme.