April 3rd, 2010

yoshitoshi: yorimasa

(no subject)

'That series of named days', as mauvecloud said, not referring to Nix but to Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Al. For this ex-Catholic the Easter cycle has always felt oddly-- very oddly, given the doctrine involved-- unchancy and disquieting. You don't get nice babies in cradles and fun music and snow; you get weather that's either bad-tempered or oppressive, and empty tombs and winding sheets, and someone who looks like the man you knew but who isn't quite and who says not to touch him. Or maybe I'm the only one who finds the risen Christ as uneasy-making as the risen Gandalf? (There's also the weirdness of a Friday holiday. Puts the time sense off badly.)

I've been time-travelling again, back to the mid and late 90s. Time-travelling is bad for the health, along the lines of 'The counsel of the dead is not profitable to the living.' However time travel reminds me why LJ is a good thing. You get to see people in something more of the round than you do in email and mailing lists; you can check them out for signs of notable batshittery. It would have saved a lot of grief if I'd been able to do that in, say, 1995 or 1998.

But to happier things. octopedingenue has an entry about Sherlock Holmes that not only traces Death Note L's chair-perching back to the Master, it reveals what a fanboi P.G. Wodehouse was.

The following poem is copied from an Oxford collection of some Sherlock Holmes short stories by Arthur Conan Doyle. At the back of the collection it was apparently deemed appropriate and scholarly to include old-school Holmes fanfic.
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