Skip to main content
okay, i didn't mean to disconcert anyone with the stalkerish world map. i just thought you should know that i can tell where people check my blog from. the information is distilled to me in a variety of ways as i choose, either in list form, or as a pie graph, or even in the manner below. i like to know where people are when they read my posts. but don't worry; i don't track down ip addresses to get names or anything. you're still anonymous.

unless i know where you live.

Comments

  1. i know. like a... like... a ... sneak.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm sorry that I didn't check out your blog from Japan and Malaysia. It would have added cool spots for people to question. Even I know that ones underneath Europe are most likely Scotland and Sweden.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Poland, actually. And in Great Britain, they usually come from London.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Can someone please explain why my Quicktime isn't working? Anyone with prophetic awareness of my little Atlas, none so old but recently behaving so?
because you were all wondering what I'm writing my dissertation on, here's a brief synopsis of my 'research context': When James Macpherson published his Fragments of Ancient Poetry in 1760, he went to great lengths to make the Fragments appear to be authentic remains of an ancient, heroic oral tradition. His reasons for this were largely political, and as such, influenced the content of the epics themselves. As an attempt to establish a particularly Scottish identity, the poems were quite effective. However, to do so required both a simplification and a manipulation of traditional mythology. Stripped of anagogical significance, the Ossian epics more or less represented an Enlightenment version of history, tradition, and mythic heritage. The stories themselves were changed by their very purpose and in turn changed the manner of representing myth in future narratives. Moreover, the emphasis on the Ossian epics as authentic tales from the past, as ‘fragments,’ served...
Rounding out my year of dwelling in the Athens of the North, as Edinburgh was called during the Enlightenment, I have experienced the shortest night of my memory. Around eleven o'clock last night, I closed the curtains to a sky streaked with the dark blue of a finally setting sun. I fully intended to drop off to sleep immediately after, but as I usually do, found myself still putting around after two in the morning. Between the curtains, which I had not closed as well as I should have, I noticed something unusual. There was unnaturally natural light streaming through. I opened them wide only to find the sky streaked with the same blue they had been filled with but three hours before. Had there been any night at all? If so, I had closed my curtains to it, only to find morning rising just as sleep found me - morning in the middle of the night. Long live Scotland.