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Sspnkr.bsky.social

Hadn't heard of Unnamed Space Idle before. Guess I'm going to be dual wielding idlers againHadn't heard of Unnamed Space Idle before. Guess I'm going to be dual wielding idlers again

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SCsparkyclarkson.bsky.social

NODEBUSTER - A pretty decent timewaster -- probably has too few enemy types and too many different resources. The tech tree fails to get enough use out of some of them. Its endgame upgrades are a boring grind but don't take too long. Worth the cost of entry even at full price if you like idlers.

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Mmalkintrash.bsky.social

Tag yourself, I'm wastrel "... courtesans, actresses, and other belles of the demimonde; commoner wives and respectable daughters; hustlers and prettyboys; rakehells and wastrels; idlers and spongers; serving boys and confidence men, all packed together like scales on a fish"

BObokane.org

Mid-Autumn Night on Tiger Hill (虎丘中秋夜), by Zhang Dai 張岱 (1597-1684)

On the fifteenth day of the eighth month they came to Tiger Hill: locals and visitors; scholar-officials with families in tow; chanteuses and accompanists; courtesans, actresses, and other belles of the demimonde; commoner wives and respectable daughters; hustlers and prettyboys; rakehells and wastrels; idlers and spongers; serving boys and confidence men, all packed together like scales on a fish. They spread out mats anywhere they could find a place to sit: on the stone ledge where Daosheng preached the Dharma so movingly that even the pebbles nodded, or on Thousand-Man Rock beneath it; between Crane Brook and Sword Pond; in front of the shrine to Grand Secretary Shen and even all the way to the Swordcleft Stone and past the first and second temple gates. Viewed from above, the crowds looked like geese flocking on a sandbar, or sunset clouds gathering over a river. The sky darkened, the moon rose, and from a hundred different spots rose a clamor of pipes and drums, a clash of cymbals
a rumble of Yuyang drums that shook earth and sky and drowned out even the loudest shouts. With the first night watch this gave way to strings, flutes, and singers performing ensemble pieces like "Unfurl the Brocade Sails" and "Across the Limpid Lake" in a commotion of cymbals and citterns and pipes and voices that made it impossible to pick out a rhythm or tell one piece from another. As the night grew deeper, the crowds began gradually to disperse. The scholar-officials took to their pleasure-boats with their families, and the people who remained set about trying to out-sing one another, showing off in a farrago of Southern and Northern styles to the accompaniment by turns of woodwinds and strings. By now, it had become possible to make out the words, and the connoisseurs in attendance offered their appraisals of each line as it was sung.
By the second watch the crowds had quieted and all the instruments fallen silent save for one wisp of flute, clear and plaintive, that wound around the voices of the three or four remaining singers. By the third watch, the moon hung alone in the sky and a chill had come into the air, and everyone was perfectly silent, even the mosquitoes. One lone figure strode out onto a rock high above, sat down, and sang, unaccompanied by flute or clapper, in a voice as fine as silk thread that rose and fell but never wavered, powerful enough to split stones and pierce clouds, every word as clear as a carving. The listeners sat transfixed, listening intently to every subtle modulation of his voice. Nobody dared clap along. The hundred-odd people who sat there like stranded geese could only nod their heads in mute approval. Only in Suzhou will you find such connoisseurs!
虎丘八月半，土著流寓、士夫眷屬、女樂聲伎、曲中名妓戲婆、民間少婦好女、崽子孌童及游冶惡少、清客幫閒、傒僮走空之輩，無不鱗集。自生公台、千人石、鵝澗、劍池、申文定祠下，至試劍石、一二山門，皆鋪氈席地坐，登高望之，如雁落平沙，霞鋪江上。天暝月上，鼓吹百十處，大吹大擂，十番鐃鈸，漁陽摻撾，動地翻天，雷轟鼎沸，呼叫不聞。 更定，鼓鐃漸歇，絲管繁興，雜以歌唱，皆 “錦帆開”，"澄湖萬頃” 同場大曲，蹲踏和鑼絲竹肉聲，不辨拍煞。更深，人漸散去，士夫眷屬皆下船水嬉，席席徵歌，人人獻技，南北雜之，管弦迭奏，聽者方辨句字，藻鑒隨之。 二鼓人靜，悉屏管弦，洞蕭一縷，哀澀清綿，與肉相引，尚存三四，迭更為之。三鼓，月孤氣肅，人皆寂闃，不雜蚊虻。一夫登場，高坐石上，不簫不拍，聲出如絲，裂石穿雲，串度抑揚，一字一刻。聽者尋入針芥，心血為枯，不敢擊節，惟有點頭。然此時雁比而坐者，猶存百十人焉。使非蘇州，焉討識者！
1
BObokane.org

Mid-Autumn Night on Tiger Hill (虎丘中秋夜), by Zhang Dai 張岱 (1597-1684)

On the fifteenth day of the eighth month they came to Tiger Hill: locals and visitors; scholar-officials with families in tow; chanteuses and accompanists; courtesans, actresses, and other belles of the demimonde; commoner wives and respectable daughters; hustlers and prettyboys; rakehells and wastrels; idlers and spongers; serving boys and confidence men, all packed together like scales on a fish. They spread out mats anywhere they could find a place to sit: on the stone ledge where Daosheng preached the Dharma so movingly that even the pebbles nodded, or on Thousand-Man Rock beneath it; between Crane Brook and Sword Pond; in front of the shrine to Grand Secretary Shen and even all the way to the Swordcleft Stone and past the first and second temple gates. Viewed from above, the crowds looked like geese flocking on a sandbar, or sunset clouds gathering over a river. The sky darkened, the moon rose, and from a hundred different spots rose a clamor of pipes and drums, a clash of cymbals
a rumble of Yuyang drums that shook earth and sky and drowned out even the loudest shouts. With the first night watch this gave way to strings, flutes, and singers performing ensemble pieces like "Unfurl the Brocade Sails" and "Across the Limpid Lake" in a commotion of cymbals and citterns and pipes and voices that made it impossible to pick out a rhythm or tell one piece from another. As the night grew deeper, the crowds began gradually to disperse. The scholar-officials took to their pleasure-boats with their families, and the people who remained set about trying to out-sing one another, showing off in a farrago of Southern and Northern styles to the accompaniment by turns of woodwinds and strings. By now, it had become possible to make out the words, and the connoisseurs in attendance offered their appraisals of each line as it was sung.
By the second watch the crowds had quieted and all the instruments fallen silent save for one wisp of flute, clear and plaintive, that wound around the voices of the three or four remaining singers. By the third watch, the moon hung alone in the sky and a chill had come into the air, and everyone was perfectly silent, even the mosquitoes. One lone figure strode out onto a rock high above, sat down, and sang, unaccompanied by flute or clapper, in a voice as fine as silk thread that rose and fell but never wavered, powerful enough to split stones and pierce clouds, every word as clear as a carving. The listeners sat transfixed, listening intently to every subtle modulation of his voice. Nobody dared clap along. The hundred-odd people who sat there like stranded geese could only nod their heads in mute approval. Only in Suzhou will you find such connoisseurs!
虎丘八月半，土著流寓、士夫眷屬、女樂聲伎、曲中名妓戲婆、民間少婦好女、崽子孌童及游冶惡少、清客幫閒、傒僮走空之輩，無不鱗集。自生公台、千人石、鵝澗、劍池、申文定祠下，至試劍石、一二山門，皆鋪氈席地坐，登高望之，如雁落平沙，霞鋪江上。天暝月上，鼓吹百十處，大吹大擂，十番鐃鈸，漁陽摻撾，動地翻天，雷轟鼎沸，呼叫不聞。 更定，鼓鐃漸歇，絲管繁興，雜以歌唱，皆 “錦帆開”，"澄湖萬頃” 同場大曲，蹲踏和鑼絲竹肉聲，不辨拍煞。更深，人漸散去，士夫眷屬皆下船水嬉，席席徵歌，人人獻技，南北雜之，管弦迭奏，聽者方辨句字，藻鑒隨之。 二鼓人靜，悉屏管弦，洞蕭一縷，哀澀清綿，與肉相引，尚存三四，迭更為之。三鼓，月孤氣肅，人皆寂闃，不雜蚊虻。一夫登場，高坐石上，不簫不拍，聲出如絲，裂石穿雲，串度抑揚，一字一刻。聽者尋入針芥，心血為枯，不敢擊節，惟有點頭。然此時雁比而坐者，猶存百十人焉。使非蘇州，焉討識者！
1
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