Fix mixed-genre issues; compile

12 files changed, 61 insertions, 41 deletions

@@ -84,7 +84,11 @@ end
 
 if intable(args, '-html') then
     print("Compiling HTML ... ")
-    compile(files, "html5", "html", ".template.html", { "smart", "mathml" })
+    compile(files, "html5", "html", ".template.html", {
+        "smart",
+        "mathml",
+        "section-divs",
+    })
     -- move(tabsub(files,'^.*/(.*)%.txt','%1.html'), ".")
 end
 if intable(args, '-river') then
@@ -28,7 +28,7 @@
     <header>
         <!-- title -->
         <h1 class="title">epigraph</h1>
-        <h1 class="subtitle">An epigraph</h1>
+        
 
         
             </header>
@@ -34,42 +34,60 @@
             </header>
 
     <section class="content verse">
-        <h2 id="i">I</h2>
+        <section id="i" class="level2">
+        <h2>I</h2>
         <p>I hear <a href="last-bastion.html">the rats</a> run<br />in the walls like water<br />through a tree. My blood</p>
         <p>thickens. As I dream<br />the masturbation dream<br />the shelf above my bed</p>
         <p>falls covering me in<br />dirt and decaying beetles.<br /><a href="deathstrumpet.html">I see my reflection is headless</a>.</p>
-        <h2 id="ii">II</h2>
+        </section>
+        <section id="ii" class="level2">
+        <h2>II</h2>
         <p>When the waves stop<br /><a href="moon-drowning.html">and the moon grins down</a><br />to overtake me: the car</p>
         <p>ran up the street that night<br />when you were nearly<br />molested in your neighbor’s house:</p>
         <p>is this why we don’t have<br />neighbors? For this the trees<br /><a href="options.html">rot only for us</a>?</p>
-        <h2 id="iii">III</h2>
+        </section>
+        <section id="iii" class="level2">
+        <h2>III</h2>
         <p>I woke screaming and you<br />came to sit next to me. I felt<br />my eyes were open too wide</p>
         <p>that I could not shut them<br />from the horror movie sitting<br />on your lap in the easy chair</p>
         <p>in the dream the other dream<br />in the living room under<br />the tree. Why do I feel guilty?</p>
-        <h2 id="iv">IV</h2>
+        </section>
+        <section id="iv" class="level2">
+        <h2>IV</h2>
         <p>I wake up in a pool of water<br /><a href="theoceanoverflowswithcamels.html">closed over me like an eyelid</a>.<br />There is no longer comfort</p>
         <p>in staring at the ceiling.<br />Its pitch blackness beckons<br />into a future of blankness.</p>
         <p>My body lay still quaking.<br />My mind is chained fast<br />to the beating of my heart.</p>
-        <h2 id="v">V</h2>
+        </section>
+        <section id="v" class="level2">
+        <h2>V</h2>
         <p>I sit up slowly creaking.<br />I find myself alone buried<br /><a href="the-sea_the-beach.html">in an ocean</a>. Far off</p>
         <p><a href="mountain.html">there is an eagle</a> flying<br />toward me. She lands on<br />my knee and lays an egg.</p>
         <p>I think <em>not this again</em><br />something I’ve never<br />thought in my life.</p>
-        <h2 id="vi">VI</h2>
+        </section>
+        <section id="vi" class="level2">
+        <h2>VI</h2>
         <p>I think <em>not this again</em><br />something I’ve never<br />thought in my life. Not</p>
         <p>after losing my car keys<br />in the easy chair. Not after<br />scratching myself on a branch.</p>
         <p>Not after finding the thing<br />in your dresser drawer that<br />night. <a href="ouroboros_memory.html">I remember you suddenly.</a></p>
-        <h2 id="vii">VII</h2>
+        </section>
+        <section id="vii" class="level2">
+        <h2>VII</h2>
         <p><a href="#I">You run through me<br />like rats</a> down an alley.<br />You are in my <a href="plant.html">blood</a>.</p>
         <p>You scared me once<br />remember? Jumped out<br />of the bathroom door.</p>
         <p>I fell screaming onto<br />the linoleum. Did you<br />apologize? Did you need to?</p>
-        <h2 id="viii">VIII</h2>
+        </section>
+        <section id="viii" class="level2">
+        <h2>VIII</h2>
         <p>The ocean that surrounds me<br />creaks like a rocking<br />cradle. Your face bright</p>
         <p>as the moon at eclipse<br />and as <a href="window.html">red</a>. Low song<br />my tide stretching</p>
         <p>to the horizon. Ripples<br />on the surface belie<br />something bigger beneath.</p>
-        <h2 id="ix">IX</h2>
+        </section>
+        <section id="ix" class="level2">
+        <h2>IX</h2>
         <p>In bed I am alone for<br />the only time. In bed<br />I am a grown man.</p>
         <p>Below the blankets I<br />know you for who you are.<br />In bed I see your face</p>
         <p>pressed against the window.<br />I look out and see you<br />and I am not afraid.</p>
+        </section>
     </section>
 </article>
 
@@ -13,8 +13,8 @@
     <script src="./js/lozenge.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
     <script src="./js/hylo.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
 
-        <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="./css/verse.css">
-    <script src="./js/verse.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
+        <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="./css/prose.css">
+    <script src="./js/prose.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
             <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="./css/stark.css">
     <script src="./js/stark.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
         <!--[if lt IE 9]>
@@ -38,16 +38,20 @@
                 <div class="epigraph-attrib">Thomas Wolfe</div>
                     </header>
 
-    <section class="content verse">
-        <h2 id="i.-walter">I. Walter</h2>
+    <section class="content prose">
+        <section id="i.-walter" class="level2">
+        <h2>I. Walter</h2>
         <p>Walter <a href="sense-of-it.html">rides the bus</a> into work on Wednesday morning when he realizes, with the force and surprise of a rogue current, that he is in the home-for-death phase of life. That era in which the next time he goes under, to the fields of seaweed waving gently, the anemones slowly filtering seawater, it will most likely be for a death in the family.</p>
         <p>He is able to idly speculate on who it might be, and this surprises him. Not much does surprise him after these few months above the waves, because so many things did surprise him those first few months: the plants standing still, the quickness of the fluid these creatures walk in, the lack of pressure that still makes him feel so alone and cold—as if all of his life he had been in an embrace by the ocean, and now for some reason it’s pulled away from him, and it doesn’t love him anymore.</p>
         <p>His speculations lead him to picture his grandmother, small and frail and forgetful. He always assumed she’d be next, since last year when the other one died and Gina said, “I wonder who’ll be next.” She said what they’d both been thinking.</p>
         <p>Soon after that he’d come up to land, to the mountains of all places, the most land-like land, and started a job with an <a href="telemarketer.html">accounting firm</a>. While it was challenging to adjust to the change in pressure and movement, to people staring at him on the bus, in the supermarket, at the job, him with his scales and fins and breathing machine, he’d always made a point to make the best out of a situation. The problem was that the best wasn’t good enough.</p>
-        <h2 id="ii.-lappel-du-vide">II. L’appel du vide</h2>
+        </section>
+        <section id="ii.-lappel-du-vide" class="level2 verse">
+        <h2>II. L’appel du vide</h2>
         <p>And I’ll get in my car and drive<br />and I’ll want to keep driving<br />straight into the next state<br />or even the next country<br />or even even the ocean</p>
         <p>and go down deeper<br />keep exploring forever<br />find out what’s down there<br />go to the Marianas trench<br />miss the air world and<br />come back up<br />itself a kind of unknown<br />the homecoming after</p>
         <p>What happened to the home I was?</p>
+        </section>
     </section>
 </article>
 
@@ -1,6 +1,4 @@
 epigraph
-an
-epigraph
 i
 saw
 my
@@ -1,8 +1,3 @@
-let's
-start
-with
-something
-simple
 in
 mammals
 the
@@ -7,17 +7,13 @@
     <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0, user-scalable=yes">
     <meta name="author" content="Case Duckworth">
     <!-- more meta tags here -->
-    <title>Let’s start with something simple | Autocento of the breakfast table</title>
+    <title> | Autocento of the breakfast table</title>
     <!-- general styles & scripts -->
     <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="./css/common.css">
     <script src="./js/lozenge.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
     <script src="./js/hylo.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
 
-        <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="./css/verse.css">
-    <script src="./js/verse.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
-            <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="./css/autocento.css">
-    <script src="./js/autocento.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
-        <!--[if lt IE 9]>
+            <!--[if lt IE 9]>
     <script src="http://html5shim.googlecode.com/svn/trunk/html5.js"> </script>
     <![endif]-->
     <!-- <script src="js/external.js"> </script> -->
@@ -27,13 +23,13 @@
 <article id="container">
     <header>
         <!-- title -->
-        <h1 class="title">Let’s start with something simple</h1>
+        
         
 
         
             </header>
 
-    <section class="content verse">
+    <section class="content ">
         <p>in mammals the ratio between bladder size<br />and urethra is such that it takes<br />all of them the same time to piss. Take<br />for example the fact that Fibonnacci<br />numbers show up everywhere. How can you<br />look at this at all of this all of<br />these facts and tell me to my face there<br />is no God? And yet there isn’t<br />you murmer quietly into my ear over<br />and over like a low tide sounding<br />its lonely waves on an abandoned beach.<br />The ocean that birthed us holds us<br />still. We are tied, you and I, together<br />in her arms. The <a href="moon-drowning.html">moon, caring father,</a><br />looks down from a dispassionate sky.</p>
     </section>
 </article>
@@ -1,6 +1,5 @@
 ---
 title: epigraph
-subtitle: An epigraph
 genre: prose
 
 project:
@@ -1,6 +1,6 @@
 ---
 title: L'appel du vide
-genre: verse
+genre: prose
 
 epigraph:
     content: You can never go home again.
@@ -43,7 +43,7 @@ The problem was that the best wasn't good enough.
 
 [accounting firm]: telemarketer.html
 
-II. L'appel du vide
+II. L'appel du vide {.verse}
 -------------------
 
 And I'll get in my car and drive \
@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
 ---
-title: Let's start with something simple
+title: 'Let's start with something simple:'
 genre: verse
 
 project:
@@ -8,7 +8,7 @@ project:
     css: autocento
 ...
 
-I. Eli {#i.-eli .unnumbered}
+I. Eli {#eli}
 ------
 
 "Can one truly describe an emotion?"  Eli asked me over the walkie-talkie.
@@ -43,7 +43,7 @@ So I walked around the coffee table as he sat down, not looking at me anymore, a
 The blanket I had been sitting in was crumpled next to him like a dead bird.
 I opened my mouth but thought better of talking, and closed the door behind me slowly.
 
-II. Dimorphic {#ii.-dimorphic .unnumbered}
+II. Dimorphic {#dimorphic .verse}
 -------------
 
 [Oranges][].  Poison.  A compromise \
@@ -57,7 +57,7 @@ has a seething mass of eels \
 for a brain, mating in the water so forcefully \
 that it could [drown you under the moon][].
 
-III. Declaration of Poetry {#iii.-declaration-of-poetry .unnumbered}
+III. Declaration of Poetry {#declaration-of-poetry}
 --------------------------
 
 You have to go one line at a time, and you have to start on the first or second line.
@@ -34,7 +34,8 @@
             </header>
 
     <section class="content prose">
-        <h2 id="i.-eli" class="unnumbered">I. Eli</h2>
+        <section id="eli" class="level2">
+        <h2>I. Eli</h2>
         <p>“Can one truly describe an emotion?” Eli asked me over the walkie-talkie. He was in the bathroom, &amp; had taken the walkie-talkie in with him absent-mindedly. I could hear sounds of his piss hitting the toilet water.</p>
         <p>“I can hear you peeing,” I said. He didn’t answer so I said in apology, “It’s okay. Humans are sexually dimorphic.” I was sitting on my blue baby blanket texting Jon, who was funny and amicable over the phone. He made a three-message joke about greedy lawyers and I would have been laughing if not for my embarrassment toward Eli. He finally came out of the bathroom and kept his eyes straight ahead, toward the wall calendar and not at me, as he passed through the family room into his bedroom, were he shut the door quietly. Presently I heard some muffled noise as he turned on his iPod. I guessed he didn’t feel like talking so I stayed on my blanket watching the <em>Price is Right</em> and texting Jon.</p>
         <p>Drew Carrey was doing his wrap-up speech on TV when Eli finally came out of his room, red puffy streaks covering his face. His eyes and nose were red too, which was almost festive against the pale green and white of the <a href="wallpaper.html">wallpaper</a>. I had been laughing at the goofy costumes on the <em>Price is Right</em> and the jokes Jon was texting me, but when Eli came out of the room I stopped and just looked at him as well as I could. He was staring at my right shoulder as he said, “Go home now.”</p>
@@ -43,11 +44,16 @@
         <p>“Look, Eli, I’m sorry—”</p>
         <p>“It doesn’t have anything to do with you, I swear. Just go, okay? <a href="riptide_memory.html">Go home now</a>.”</p>
         <p>I got up and tried to give him a hug but he withdrew from me sharply. So I walked around the coffee table as he sat down, not looking at me anymore, and stared at the blank TV. The blanket I had been sitting in was crumpled next to him like a dead bird. I opened my mouth but thought better of talking, and closed the door behind me slowly.</p>
-        <h2 id="ii.-dimorphic" class="unnumbered">II. Dimorphic</h2>
+        </section>
+        <section id="dimorphic" class="level2 verse">
+        <h2>II. Dimorphic</h2>
         <p><a href="seasonal-affective-disorder.html">Oranges</a>. Poison. A compromise<br />between Mary &amp; <a href="spittle.html">Judas</a>. Blue<br />baby blankets swaddling greedy lawyers.</p>
         <p>Can one truly describe an emotion?<br />I cut my ankle with a razor blade.<br />I can only go one at a time. Humanity<br />has a seething mass of eels<br />for a brain, mating in the water so forcefully<br />that it could <a href="moon-drowning.html">drown you under the moon</a>.</p>
-        <h2 id="iii.-declaration-of-poetry" class="unnumbered">III. Declaration of Poetry</h2>
+        </section>
+        <section id="declaration-of-poetry" class="level2">
+        <h2>III. Declaration of Poetry</h2>
         <p>You have to go one line at a time, and you have to start on the first or second line.</p>
+        </section>
     </section>
 </article>