Odious and Peculiar

Philology and esoterica: scribblings, ravings and mutterings.

O&P's Current Pick:

Forging the Sampo

Odious' Links:

The Little Bookroom
The Pumpkin King
Larissa Archer
Inverted Iambs
Eve Tushnet
Pamela Dean
Kambodia Hotel
Pen and Paper

Charles Darwin's Beagle Diary
Deep-Sea News
NASA's Mars Website
Classics Online
Perseus Digital Library

Nine Scorpions
The Blithe Kitchen
Letter from Hardscrabble Creek
Arts & Letters Daily
About Last Night



Chas Clifton's Nature Blog
Rock Art Photo Blog
Girl on a Whaleship
Nature Lyrics Languagehat
Jabal al-Lughat
Laputan Logic
Strange Maps
Vladimir Dinets: Polymath Russian Adventurer
Virtual Tour of Almaty, Kazakhstan
Aerial Landscape Photography
USGS Earth As Art
Panoramic Aerial Maps of the American West

The Internet Bird Collection
Bird Families of the World
Ancient Scripts
The Aberdeen Bestiary Project
The Cephalopod Page
The Ultimate Ungulate
The Red Book of the Peoples of the Russian Empire
USGS Streamflow Data

Worthy Miscellany
Finno-Ugrian Music
Boojum Expeditions
American River Touring Association

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Thursday, November 11, 2004
Cast among the waves, then thrown
On the beach to be met
By men like beasts. There may you
Chew slaves' dark bread
Full of foulness, and shudder,
Freezing, in foam and sea-tangle,
Piss, and puke like a dog,
Helpless, your teeth hammered, broken,
And lost. Let you laugh, then, like you did
Before, pledging our friendship.



i hope you end up lost at sea.
and you wash up on a desert island.
and the only people there are hairy savages.
and they only give you moldy old bread to eat.
and you can't chew it because your teeth are all broken.
and you end up on all fours puking.
and you're covered in seaweed.
and it's freezing cold.

and i hope you look as happy
as you did when we swore
best friends forever.

I used this text. And didn't stick too closely, either.

As long as I'm at it:

Listen, lads, you'd better know
what the women get up to while we're gone
and what they'll say when we get back:
"My lover returns from his journey,
and his large ship batters the waves in his haste.
Why didn't he die at sea?
For I have found a youth
who has never worn ox-hide.
[...] at night.
Straightly [...]
My glances are wound around [...]
like silk threads."


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