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Lykos

By Lykos,
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Manhole Eunuchsbane Council Member

Manhole Eunuchsbane

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That's awesome, I haven't thought about Gunther in ages! He's the Tommy Wiseau of music, so bad it actually becomes entertaining. You just wonder if he's for real or if it's all an elaborate, Kaufman-esque joke.

Loves me some Gunther. The cool thing about him is that it almost doesn't matter if he's sincere or contrived. The effort put into the character is admirable.

Probably my favorite Christmas inspired comedy bit of all time...Christmas Shoes-by Patton Oswalt (NSFW Language, Sexual content)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iq10bz3PxyY

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Arkhangel Council Member

Arkhangel

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Well I am currently waiting for Christmas to start... It's Christmas morning, but since I'm jet-lagged I've been awake since 3a.m. and my sister might actually commit sororicide (if fratricide is a thing, sororicide can be a thing) if I wake her before 8. It's 6:30 and I am so bored....


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Lykos Council Member

Lykos

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I just remembered that it's tradition where I live to make children recite poems on christmas. So, if you like bring poetry as well.

I'll start with one that reminded me of Hot Pie, I discovered Rimbaud because of ASoIaF and Patti Smith (I made a connection between 998th LC and the 98 wounds and started investigating.)

The Transfixed

Black in the snow and fog,
at the great lighted airshaft, their bums rounded,
on their knees, five little ones - what anguish! -
watch the baker making the heavy white bread.

They see the strong white arm that shapes
the grey dough and sets it to bake in a bright hole.
They listen to the good bread cooking.
The Baker with his fat smile hums an old tune.
They are huddled together, not one of them moves,
in the waft of air from the red vent, warm as a breakfast.

And when, for some midnight breakfast,
plaited like a brioche, the bread is taken out;
When, under the smoky beams, the fragrant crusts hiss,
and the crickets sing; how this warm hole breathes life!

Their souls are so ravished under their rags,
They feel life so strong in them, poor frozen Jesuses,
that they all stay, sticking their little pink snouts
against the wire netting, grunting things through the holes,
quite stupid, saying their prayers, and bending down
towards those lights of opened heaven so hard,
they split their trousers, and their shirt tails flutter in the winter wind.

Rimbaud

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Veltigar Council Member

Veltigar

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Veltigar, I really like this version. (Even if most of the tenors are busy in the toilet.)

That is a nice version. Will listen to it completely :)

The Transfixed

Black in the snow and fog,

at the great lighted airshaft, their bums rounded,

on their knees, five little ones - what anguish! -

watch the baker making the heavy white bread.

They see the strong white arm that shapes

the grey dough and sets it to bake in a bright hole.

They listen to the good bread cooking.

The Baker with his fat smile hums an old tune.

They are huddled together, not one of them moves,

in the waft of air from the red vent, warm as a breakfast.

And when, for some midnight breakfast,

plaited like a brioche, the bread is taken out;

When, under the smoky beams, the fragrant crusts hiss,

and the crickets sing; how this warm hole breathes life!

Their souls are so ravished under their rags,

They feel life so strong in them, poor frozen Jesuses,

that they all stay, sticking their little pink snouts

against the wire netting, grunting things through the holes,

quite stupid, saying their prayers, and bending down

towards those lights of opened heaven so hard,

they split their trousers, and their shirt tails flutter in the winter wind.

Rimbaud

Translated Rimbaud never does it for me :( My French might not be good enough to get all the nuances, but it sounds much better in my head know what I mean? :)

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Lykos Council Member

Lykos

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Oh absolutely, Rimbaud as most other poetry rarely doesn't lose in translation, but this is an english speaking forum. :) I'm just so excited at the moment about it as I used to dismiss Rimbaud as too rich and strongly emotional. I used to prefer aphorisms or cynical detached poetry or onomatopoeic Dada like stuff.


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