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themoonhaslosthermemory
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Name: Jolene Aimee
Birthday: 6/17/1990
Gender: Female
Interests: Writing. Filmmaking. Music. Art. Photography. Poetry. Semicolons. Pointy black pens. Autumn. Tolkien. Harry Potter. Doctor Who. Lost. Infinite other fandoms. History. Language. Etymology. Culture. Mythology. Folklore. Ballads. Celtic Britannia. Long skirts. Rain. Moonlight. Geekery. Blue. Roses. Costumery. Weaponry. Music videos. Elegance. Anglophilism. Education. Grammar. Language history. Fashion. Vintage fashion. Folk music. Folk music festivals. Boston. Eccentricity. Cats. Steampunk. Being a closet madwoman. Accents. Spelling things the British way. Saying things the British way. Weird shoes. Mad vintage clothing. Remus Lupin, Professor Bhaer, Dean Priest, the Tenth Doctor, and various other fictional men. The Oxford English Dictionary. Mixtapes. & suchlike.
Expertise: Mythology (at least in my circles), largely Norse & Greek. Also solely in my own circles: Tolkien, particularly his languages; British slang; word histories; and how to pronounce Welsh words. Missing people. Projecting angst onto unfortunate fictional people. Giving unfortunate fictional people angst for no cathartic reasons whatsoever. Conspiracy theorising. Obessing.
Occupation: Novelist / poet / musician / p
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
6/16/2006
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|  | Currently Listening
Snow Angels
By Over the Rhine
- darlin', christmas is coming, salvation army bells are ringing.
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Today started out with me getting kidnapped. Then I was tangled in a web of deceit. It was grand, I tell you.
Mrs Meholick called around eleven while we were doing school in order to kidnap me for nefarious deed-doing: viz. things involving surprise birthday party for Sarah which is on Friday. Hannah and Alessandra and Caroline were also involved. I was not yet dressed, because I am desperately lazy in the mornings, so I had to run upstairs and change while they made their way to the door (they were at Caroline's, and she lives two houses down). Because I am nothing if not impractical I put on my lovely new ankle-length tulle skirt, for verily it is awesome and I wanted to show it off. It made getting into the car particularly entertaining, though my shoes, which were somewhat large and clunky, were what got stuck at the end. Anyway, we went to the mall to look for birthday presents. We poked around in Claire's looking at earrings: I found a lovely pair of long dangly black earrings with a great deal of carving detail. "Ooh, look at these! They're, like, completely Edwardian Art-Deco, yeah?" Quoth Mrs M: "It really shows how geeky we are that not only did you make that reference, but everyone got it." (Though really the geekier references involved the High School Musical miscellania what had Zac Efron on -- I was all "OH GOSH LOOK WHAT WEE BABY SIMON TURNED INTO!" Because Efron played wee Simon in the "Safe" episode of Firefly and it is really rather terrifying now. And yes, everyone got that one, too. Hobnobbing with people who get my geeky references is lovely. "Can't you just see Simon Tam," says I, "dancing round the set, coat-tails flapping?" No. We couldn't.)
Later we trundled into FYE, and Alessandra insisted I listened to a song on her iPod, which meant that she carried the iPod and I had the earbuds in. "Wither thou goest, so must go I!", quoth Banui.
After the mall came Wal-Mart, where we bought general party supplies (such as peppermint sprinkles for cupcakes) and wandered round trying to find each other again and Hannah and I examined the rather off-putting names of some of the lipstick colours: "toasted rose"? -- and wondered aloud why on earth Tinkerbell is apparently being held up as a role-model for girls nowadays. (She tried to kill Wendy, people. Anyway where are all of the handbags and t-shirts with Wendy on?) And then onto the Peaceable Kingdom for a very specific present, and we oohed and ahhed over our favourite pre-Raphaelite paintings and an extremely shiny thirty-dollar fountain pen with various nibs and an exquisite inkwell, hardly to mention the seals and sealing wax.
Then a complicated series of events ensued that involved Mrs Meholick not being able to bring me home just yet and bringing me along to her house and having to work out a cover story to keep Sarah from being suspicious (fortunately by this time Caroline had had to go home, as that would have been really difficult to explain), so I spent the next two hours petting the new and very friendly kitten and watching a) a film the Meholick kids and Alessandra made of their LotR action figures auditioning for a play, which involved Elrond singing "My Heart Will Go On", Legolas trying to be Bill Sykes, and Nazgul in the family way, and b) Anne of Avonlea, which was sort of on crack as it mingled random elements from about three Anne books into some TOTAL OTHER STORYLINE, which essentially involved this weird cross bloke standing in for Little Elizabeth's father, only she was Emmeline not Elizabeth and she was combined with that one girl who wanted to be in the Mary Queen of Scots play and also had WEIRD HARRY POTTER GLASSES, anyway, LITTLE ELIZABETH'S FATHER PROPOSING TO ANNE. SERIOUSLY. Also Gilbert was a high-voiced personality-less pansy with awful shellacked hair and bore almost no resemblance to book!Gilbert of whom I am very fond. Also Little Elizabeth's grandmother was also the mother of Long-Suffering Pauline who wanted to go to her childhood friend's silver anniversary and WHAT. Then there was this random scene with a sheep stampede, and everyone was wearing clothing that was clearly influenced by the 1980s more than the 1880s. It was all very strange.
Then I came home and was very happy. The wind's been howling around the house all evening, and rain has been intermittently beating on the roof. I lit the big candles on my desk and cosied up with a novel and some cocoa with whipped cream and a stick of peppermint and Over the Rhine's Christmas album, which I convinced Dad to buy, and it is absolutely perfect.
Oh dear, all of this mad enthusing sounds terribly frivolous. But it's so wonderful (and rare!) to have a thoroughly delightful day.
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| I'm just not going to talk about the gap between posts. I've -- well, I think I've been feeling worse than I even realise; tangled in some subliminal, sneaky sort of depression bent on convincing me that really, everything is reasonably okay. I don't know. And then I stop posting because I haven't been posting, and stop checking Xanga because, honestly, I'm a bit embarrassed, and then I feel gloomy because there are all of these days that will have no record. Oh, it's all silly.
Today marks the beginning of the Christmas season, which, aside from October, is my favourite time of the year. It sparkles, you know; and there are lovely things to look forward to: baking, decorating, cutting the tree -- we choose and cut down a tree from a tree farm every year that we've lived here, which is infinitely more romantic than when we used to go to buy them from Wal-Mart.
Thanksgiving was wonderful -- quiet and intimate, lazy and slow. I slept in (but Dad slept later), and wandered downstairs to watch a bit of the Macy's parade and have breakfast, which was breakfast burritos (sausage, egg, and cheese wrapped up in a tortilla), courtesy of Mum, and brown sugar cinnamon muffins, courtesy of me. (They came out a lot nicer than I thought they would.) We spent most of the day cooking, which is always a great deal of fun, although it makes for a bit of a mess trying to get in and out of the kitchen when everyone is trying to use the appliances at once. Really, it was one of the nicest we've had, though nothing much to talk about -- splendid to live, as things often turn out to be. No particularly entertaining anecdotes, though, I'm afraid!
This morning I was dragged out of bed before the sun for Black Friday adventuring. I am not, as you may recall, a morning person. But the morning was beautiful -- soft fluttering snow, the sky all pale and touched with pink, the air very clear and thin. Though, honestly, I doubt I would have come along at all had I not required brassieres so very badly (JC Penney had a sale, and we got some, and I am much more comfortable, and that is that), although I did get buttons for my tweed coat (half of them fell off) and a pretty silver clasp to sew onto my cloak in lieu of the plastic button that broke in half anyway. This makes me sound very clever and artsy, as though I actually can sew, but really I only just learnt to sew buttons and I'm more than a bit clumsy at it. (Which I suppose doesn't matter very much as button stitches are not very prominent unless you use the wrong shade of thread.)
Mum got stuff, but I don't remember what it was. Before long I was very nearly sleeping on my feet. When we got home I crawled into bed and slept for three hours.
I do lead an exciting life.
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| The days lately have tilted on the edge of magic. Last night Dad and I watched The Illusionist, which was beautiful and exactly the sort of aesthetic I crave this time of year; and also one of the most beautifully photographed films I've ever seen (didn't it win an Academy Award for cinematography?). Also yesterday Mum and the girls and I went food-shopping, which was not terribly entertaining, but as we came out of the supermarket the sky was violet-grey with clouds and the trees circled the parking lot and raised their bright branches to it.
Today I woke before the sun, which was not on purpose; siblings were awake and making racket downstairs. I had breakfast and went back to sleep. (Hark you, I was up until two with the film last night.) Mum woke me up around eleven to invite me along to Wal-Mart, which was also not terribly exciting, but I needed cosmetics and wanted to pick the proper ones out myself; afterwards we stopped at a rummage sale the college was having, which was largely devoid of useful and attractive items, but I did find a beautiful 'Compilation of Modern Poetry' published in 1936! It's in excellent shape and smells sweet and old and musty.
The weather was perfect for my ride to the library: brisk and chilly, wind stirring up the leaves. No-one in the neighbourhood seems to be especially keen on raking, for which I am very glad. I love the autumn carpets of leaves (and also skidding through a gutter full of them on a bicycle is great fun). The sky was all bruised over with clouds and tall black trees with bright branches bending in the wind. It hasn't rained yet, for which I am surprised; the wind was certainly acting as though it would this afternoon. I really ought to start leaving for the library earlier; I had only ten minutes to hunt up books today. Fortunately I was somehow very quick at finding things, which is not especially usual. (It was rather a relief to exchange last week's books for new ones: without really intending to, all of the books I wanted to read last week were hardcovers! Imagine bicycling along with five or six hardcover novels thumping against your hipbones! This week, also without really intending to, I ended up with a satchel-full of paperbacks. My back is much grateful.)
When I say "ride", what I really mean is "walk beside the bicycle pushing it for at least half of the journey". Ah me. Yes, the bicycle is still held up with duct tape, but that's not really working the way I wanted it to, and the seat is extremely uncomfortable, tilted as it is. Dad bought a new seat for my bicycle, which I miss (it's taller, for one thing!), but I can't find where to attach it. There seems to be some hardware on my bicycle gone missing.
Tonight I am going to a play with the Meholicks!
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|  | Currently Listening
Day One
By Sarah Slean
- when another midnight comes to rest on the cheek of our sleeplessness.
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Today it was windy and rainy and dark, and a few hours ago I slipped
out of the house with my cloak on and ran around outside staring at the
trees, blazing in orange and gold -- the two great orange trees across
from our parking lot have carpeted the road with leaves. And it was
dusk and the clouds were so thick and dark and stormy and there was
rain of water and rain of leaves and it was perfect. The world
rarely looks the way it seems to in photographs and films, but tonight
glimmered with the sorts of lights and shadows and contrasts that you
don't believe exist. I ran barefoot up the back road and along the base
of the hill and the wind whipped me round and I was gloriously chilly
and wet. The rest of the day was unexceptional, but this evening made
it magical.
And yesterday I made cookies and listened to NPR a lot. Actually, this seems to be the story of my life lately: cookies, bread, NPR, lots of books, and stormy weather. Not much to write about, but except when I get gloomy, it's not so bad to live.
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| So, today has been lovely. Exactly the way a Saturday in October ought to be: the winds are brisk and chilly and keen through the trees, and though there was never rain stormclouds rolled over the sky half the morning. I woke late but not too late, and my Abigail Washburn album had come, which is a wonderful thing to wake up to, let me tell you. I dressed and took it outside to listen to -- lay in a pile of sweetly damp leaves the siblings had raked up several days ago and forgotten, and I watched the clouds roiling over the orange-green tree above me and the stark reaching one with tufts of gold still clinging here and there to its branches. I like for my first experience with an album to have a taste to it. And Song of the Travelling Daughter is exquisitely right for autumn; all raw gorgeous keening Appalachian-bluegrass-Chinese-Depression music with banjos and also a cello and really I have not heard something this brilliant in a long time. Dad and I saw Abigail Washburn and her band the Sparrow Quartet at Grey Fox and we were absolutely stunned. Seriously, go hunt her out sometime, for the glorious marriage of traditional American and Chinese music if nothing else. (Or if you watch Firefly. Ah, yes.)
I bicycled to the library: rather, I bicycled in spurts and got off to walk here and there because the bicycle seat is still angled all wrong and will not be corrected by even copious amounts of duct tape, but other than that it was a lovely ride, and I had on my cloak, and it blew in the wind very romantically (except when it was busy getting caught in my bicycle mechanisms, which was irritating and also very not-romantic). And I found some new books for once, including Robin McKinley's newest, Dragonhaven, which I am a bit over halfway finished with and currently loving. (I was pleasantly shocked that the library had it, because they have a tendency to not be so much on the ball, as it were, especially in regards to things I actually want to read. Your Danielle Steeles and James Patersons they purchase in abundance.)
Treasure Lake Church had some sort of hayride-and-food event, which we went to, as it saved us the bother of getting dinner for ourselves (well, no, we're not really that lazy), and bits of it were awkward (why can I not hold a hot dog without getting catsup all down my arm? -- why do people want to talk? All right, that was being facetious, but carrying on a conversation with a stranger is very difficult to do without showing effort, and there are always awkward pauses when we run out of things to talk about and have to make some excuse about going to procure another hot dog or whatnot), and bits were wonderful: I found a tree that had apparently sprouted two trunks, and one had been sawed off, and it made the loveliest shelf, so I sat and read while the sun set over the people and the little glowing fires and the air was crisp and sharp and cold and full of wind and leaves.
This is the part where I go to bed.
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