Jenni Halpin

Replacing the flowers on St Valentine’s head The purported skull of St Valentine is displayed in the Basilica of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Rome, where it is crowned with flowers. A reliquary is a fine eternity; plush interior, gilt frame, glass window, south facing, the rent paid in prayers and miracles granted. This saint, if that’s who he is, wears a crown of flowers. Daisies, pansies, stems thick and green, turning yellow, brown, dissolving into slime. Unlike stories no flowers last forever. Bone is an uncommon vase, the aura of sainthood no fertiliser. These flowers are replaced when required, their blaze not yet extinguished. Petals unaware — for now, at least — that they, like the saint, are dead.

"Unlike stories no flowers
last forever. Bone is an
uncommon vase, the aura of
sainthood no fertiliser."

- from 'The Vanishing Song'

A valentine from Public Health of Seattle and King County. A man shivers in bed while a smiling lady in a red mask shows off her bandage on her arm. Text: Noses are red Ice packs are blue I'm vaxed so miss me with severe symptoms of flu.

A valentine from Public Health of Seattle and King County. Two lady scientists shrug lackadaisically. Text reads: My love for you can't be explained by science. Just like the new federal vaccine guidelines.

A valentine from Public Health of Seattle and King County. Protesters in Minneapolis wear thick clothes and hold signs of support for immigrant neighbors. Text reads: To the health departments in the Twin Cities: Love unites us. Our hearts are with you.

Oh my GOD King County Public Health is just wilding out for Valentines Day (and a lovely one).

I've been tempted by his wares several times this week!

Would not the correct plural form be Fridays the thirteenth? (E.g., when February 13 falls on a Friday, unless it is a leap year there are two consecutive months with Fridays the thirteenth.)

Regardless, I'm getting this day underway and wishing us all unexpected pleasantness.

You should, I think. The alternative smacks of accepting the horrors or, at least, rendering them run of the mill.

A minister friend recently noted to me that perpetrators of atrocities are also made in the image of God.

True enough, but this does not excuse them from accountability.

If Oscar the Grouch Is a Time Lord, Then What Is the Rest of Sesame Street? An entirely reasonable question prompted by a show that has never once explained where anyone came from or why they’re still here.

An entirely reasonable question prompted by a show that has never once explained where anyone came from or why they’re still here.

#cookiemonster #drwho #elmo #grover #oscar #sesamestreet #snuffleupagus #timelord #vampire #OddNews

Good night, Internet. Today was about seventeen Mondays long, and I have no more cope in me.

May sleep restore each of us to "do the work that is given us to do" tomorrow.

Context: this speech is from SIR THOMAS MORE, a history written, as near as scholars can tell, in the early 1600s by 6 or 7 people including Dekker, Heywood, Chettle, Shakespeare, and Munday.

It was never performed, because Jacobean England was a police state and it was banned by the censor.

My department chair seems to think that Americana Studies includes British literature of the 20th/21st centuries.

Anybody out there able to offer a reasonable logic for such an inclusion?

To my 2 p.m. class:

Perhaps I should apologize for the delicious quantities of raw shallots and garlic in my lunch.

But I regret nothing.

There Are Four Lights: Star Trek’s Unwitting Allegory for Domestic Abuse - Reactor The parallels are unmistakable, once you consider Picard's final confession.

Picard's defiant shout of “There are four lights!” is now a meme, but it's his quieter confession to Troi that makes "Chain of Command" into a metaphor for domestic abuse, offering crucial insight into the experiences of survivors:

#StarTrek

TECHNICALLY it's snowing, here outside Savannah, GA.

Smallish flakes.
Not very many of them.
And, as yet, no accumulation.

Still, it's been a while since I watched snow fall.

No, what this means is that the rich will continue to have tutors, while the poor will have an autocorrect 'teacher' that confidently informs them there are six Rs in "strawberry."

This is either an incredibly ignorant take or blatantly disingenuous.
As many have already posted in the comments -
"The correct response to Dachau was not better training for the guards." —Andrea Pitzer

#Minnesota #MattMoberg #interfaith #protestsong #folk #songwriter I wept to read the Timberwolves' Chaplain, Matt Moberg's, statement today. Then I rewrote it into song-shape, to be SUNG (I hope to have tune in a day or 2). If of use to my friends in the US or beyond, with all love please use it 1/5

Also, may I say that I don’t agree with people saying ICE and CBP need “more training.” They’re doing exactly what this administration has trained them to—impose a reign of fear in blue cities. They don’t need more training. They need to be ripped up root and branch.

Sun's rising in the backyard. Night still reigns over the front windows.

I'm not sure I'll ever get over this daily division.

The pink glow in the east seems hopeful, as I cuddle up to a coffee cup and wait for day.

the only reason "abolish ICE" is seen as radical is that no one will say it but the far left. if every normie Democrat started saying it tomorrow it would move the overton window so far you'd have to squint to find it. my kingdom for leaders who understand they can shape public opinion.

I am ready for Monday, the first day of classes.

Let us refrain from consideration of any further point in the future!

Harvest, by Manjula Padmanaban, is great!

Time again to share the incredible and poingant "Christmas Tree" by James Merrill. Written during what he knew would be his last illness as he was looked after by friends and family.

Merry Christmas to you all, bringers of joy, humor, whimsy, and thoughtfulness to my skyline.

Solstice.

Gratitude for a bright, dry day here. Relief at the prospect of lengthening days. Hopeful in the restoration to be brought by a fallow season.

50 pages into Emily Tesh's THE INCANDESCENT. Very much hooked.

Can y'all think of other academic novels (SFF or otherwise) that are both told from the perspective of a faculty member and set at a secondary school?

Seems to me that overlap is underpopulated.

Far from the end of the sewing season, this is my beginning of it: time to make quite a few fabric projects and other crafting things.

Yet it's the end of a kind of sowing season that makes the space for this sewing: the end of the semester.

Here's to the seasons, both natural and contrived!

On @emmanewman.bsky.social's podcast episode for day 18 of Advent she's just mentioned "the end of the autumn sowing season" and I, despite all contextual information to the contrary, have misheard it as "sewing season."

(This also runs my mind off to "The Soote Season.")

Is sowing like sewing?

Best I can generally do is to avoid clicking the GUI. My kingdom for efficient software.

You'll be missed. Have a lovely and productive end of the year!

I was there most of the day and missed most of the people!

The rosemary in the pot pie in the oven is wafting its fragrance throughout the house, feeding my soul while my belly rumbles.