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scab-eater.bsky.social
[kai:la ɛvənz]
@scab-eater.bsky.social
13 followers 13 following 9 posts
poet, linguist, part-time Canadian

Newsletter: https://scabeater.substack.com/
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scab-eater.bsky.social
[kai:la ɛvənz] @scab-eater.bsky.social · May 2
In case anyone's interested in reading my paper now that it's done, I've set up a newsletter to post it and hopefully other writings in the future on. You can find the link to the paper in the article :)

scabeater.substack.com/p/i-wrote-a-...
scab-eater.bsky.social
open.substack.com/pub/scabeate... Now that I'm done with grad school I've been looking for a job. It's not going terribly well so far.
Kafka on Indeed
Job searching is a nightmare we endure for only vague reasons
open.substack.com
May 26, 2025 at 2:15 PM
scab-eater.bsky.social
In case anyone's interested in reading my paper now that it's done, I've set up a newsletter to post it and hopefully other writings in the future on. You can find the link to the paper in the article :)

scabeater.substack.com/p/i-wrote-a-...
May 2, 2025 at 10:51 PM
Reposted by [kai:la ɛvənz]
bokane.org
“Fine Furs, Sleek Horses” (輕肥), Bai Juyi 白居易 (772-846)
Full of pride they fill the road, Horses and saddles glittering through the dust. I stop to ask a passerby who they are— Someone says they're from the imperial court. Vermillion tassels mean high ministers; the purple sashes, probably generals. Their horses streaming past like wind-borne clouds Descending on the regimental feast.  Goblets brim over with the finest wine  and the bounty of land and sea overspreads their tables. They split open Dongting tangerines, Slice up Tianchi fish for a cold appetizer, Without a care as they stuff their bellies,   Growing merrier as the wine goes to their heads— Drought took the rice crop in Jiangnan this year. In Quzhou the starving ate the dead. 白居易 - 輕肥 意氣驕滿路，鞍馬光照塵。 借問何為者，人稱是內臣。 朱紱皆大夫，紫綬或將軍。 誇赴軍中宴，走馬去如雲。 尊罍溢九醞，水陸羅八珍。 果擘洞庭橘，膾切天池鱗。 食飽心自若，酒酣氣益振。 是歲江南旱，衢州人食人。
February 6, 2025 at 5:19 PM
scab-eater.bsky.social
Thinking about changing my thesis' title to "I Live In Constant Fear of Deportation: Why You Should Judge This Thesis Satisfactory (Please, I Would Appreciate It)"
February 6, 2025 at 7:05 PM
scab-eater.bsky.social
Hey, folks! I'm the student in question. If you'd like to contact me directly you can email me at kevan045@uottawa.ca . Thanks again, Brendan!
bokane.org Brendan O’Kane @bokane.org · Jan 24
Sinologists! A former student is writing an MA thesis on count classifiers in early Middle Chinese. Anybody know of good corpora from the Warring States through Sui-Tang or so, particularly epigraphy, excavated texts, and anything else (particularly if vernacular) that might be a good source? 🀄📚
January 24, 2025 at 5:51 PM
scab-eater.bsky.social
learning to suck less
a poem that reads as follows: i have to forget what poetry is. learn to break the rules rules ive made for myself only i have to bash my brains against the wall until all this education leaks out like an overflowing septic tank and im left with something real glinting among scrambled grey matter blood and bone fragments with untamed words carved into them to read as ancient poetic divinations the same poem continued: i have to destroy the me on paper. the irony of centering someone i hate so much but maybe theyre just excusing themselves. if they think so much about someone what could it be but love. a toxic love of attachment so familiar where they can't let go until their mind drowns in need but even then there is no end until they learn to grasp and breathe in the world i have to become again
November 8, 2024 at 5:12 PM
scab-eater.bsky.social
i barely even remember writing this one. it feels like i wrote it in another life, but it was only a few years ago. im quite fond of it, though
a short poem that reads as follows: it's a wonder we've made it this far just Wandering at night with tall oaks, Cutting slices of the moon That paints the fallen leaves Yet leaves my feet in the dark
October 23, 2024 at 2:47 AM
scab-eater.bsky.social
sitting alone in the national gallery of canada
a poem that reads as follows: in an empty wing of an art gallery - i came here alone while everyone was out doing some such this or that. quiet as a chapel save for a distant din of the one they have rebuilt here, a motley of faces and feelings - reconstructions of what was or may have been. i wonder if they feel lonely, when no one is around to appreciate their gentle brush strokes their vibrant colors, no one is around to sympathize with the pain etched upon their faces i would.
October 23, 2024 at 2:37 AM
scab-eater.bsky.social
Fisher-esque
October 22, 2024 at 3:29 PM
scab-eater.bsky.social
mall rat
October 22, 2024 at 3:28 PM