Ohboy, am tipsy.  No, make that drunk.  I hope tomorrow will not be miserable.

But you see, I had about a third of a bottle of Tanqueray gin (no, no, I didn't drink it all --  it was the inspiration for the experiment), and R. brought a bottle of Bokma genever back from Norway a couple of weeks ago -- genever is the proto-gin, you see, and tastes like -- well, it tastes like a medieval distilled herbal concoction would, especially if it was the kind of thing Victorians might further pare down into gin.

In other words, genever is to gin as medieval tapestry looms are to steampunk difference engines.

In other other words -- slurred, orotund words -- genever makes a vastly superior martini.  Screw vermouth.  Genever is the martini mixer par excellence.

That was the experiment.  It was a success.  We both had a few.  Discussion ranged from the superiorness of genever, through my personal life circa 2002, through polyamory as a neo-tribal practice, to British colonial racism in the African colonies vs. British colonial racism in the Asian colonies.  This is exactly why I love drinking with academics.

I feel sorry for my head tomorrow morning.

That is all.

This has got to be the most mind-itchingly beautiful thing I've seen in at least three weeks. ; ) Not entirely work-safe.




GORBACHOV: THE MUSIC VIDEO - BIGGER AND RUSSIANER from Tom Stern on Vimeo.

Ganked with great delight and much love from a_nightengale, here's WRAL's web article on ol' Jesse's passing.  Lookit that url, isn't that pretty?

http://www.wral.com/news/local/politics/story/1755723/?good-riddance 

Sometimes I heart the old home town.  : )

  When I was a kid, I saw a music video on MTV* that evidently crawled under my skin and laid eggs in my bloodstream.  (Watch it -- you'll see what I mean ; )**  I never caught the band's name, and never saw the video again, but a few lines from the chorus stuck in my memory.  And now, thanks to Youtube, I've found it!

  I have to apologize, the sound doesn't quite sync up with the picture, but this was the only one I could find: Device -- Hanging on a Heart Attack


* That and the costumes should tell you how long ago this was.  ; ) 
** No really, this probably explains a lot about me.  Well, this and all the Pink Floyd I imbibed a few years later.

EDIT:

  Oooh ooh ooh, and this one!  And for the trifecta of weird, this one.  Seriously, checkerboard floors still show up in a good number of the things I draw . . .

I was just reading a little of Rob Brezhny nattering on about the Tao, and found this line:  . . . the ultimate union of the wound and the cure.

That's . . . really a neat concept, actually.  Gotta think about that.

    Jason Pitzl-Waters has an article over at The Wild Hunt today on some Morris sides in England who are putting modern twists on the old traditions.

    Allow me to illustrate:



    That would be the Gothic Wolf's Head and Vixen side.  Be sure to check out the picture of the Pagan Hunter's Moon side, too.

    Aside from the fact that I heart the Goth aesthetic, and aside from the fact that the troupe above totally put me in mind of a pack of Ghedes as well, this article is making me six kinds of excited because this is exactly how you carry old traditions on: you "preserve" them by playing with them, letting them grow and change in the process, not by trying to fossilize them into some kind of 'living history museum' exhibition.*  Squee!



* Not that I have anything against living history museums themselves.  Quite the contrary.

    Wow.  22,000+ people dead in Burma from that hurricane, and another 41,000+ people missing.  (Here's the BBC's article.)

A Los Angeles reporter decided to try to put a human face on the murders that happen daily in L.A.  Here's the CNN story, and her blog, The Homicide Report.

Admirable.

I can't promise they're any good, but I had fun writing them!  Enjoy!

The ambulance flies
through traffic -- someone's dying --
banshee sirens scream.

A knock at the door.
There are two Marines waiting.
"We have some bad news . . . "

and,

"Cards on the table time," he joked, shouting
over the music.  Tom Waits.  Napkin, lipstick,
wineglass, cards:
a Tarot hand for the gothic man before me.
Thin cheeks and lank hair,
scarred lips, and a smile
that did not reach his eyes.  Talk of New Orleans,
and he said, "There's nothing for me here."
Those lizard eyes, and stitch-scarred mouth
on your glass, cards
in your hand: and tell me,
Who are you this time?

    YouTube has let me down: I was looking for a video of Oysterband doing "The World Turned Upside Down" ('cause I love the trumpet in their version), and there wasn't one to be found.

    But as a consolation prize, I got this: June Tabor and the Oysterband singing "Love Will Tear Us Apart."

My sister emailed me this article.  Rawther nice.

XKCD's tribute to Gary Gygax:

laurahcory's d20 icon reminded me of the 2000 year old Roman d20 that Christie's auctioned a few years ago.



If you missed this, here's an article about it.

I don't really play anymore, but once upon a time, I loved me some roleplaying games.  Thanks for the good times and the war stories, Mr. Gygax.

I went to the grocery for birdseed and came back with both birdseed and some fairly sexy collards.  Since I also had some canned tuna, Tabasco, and flour at hand, the idea came to me to try winging some gumbo.  Investigation showed that I had no veggie stock (nor meat-based), but there was miso in the fridge and that actually seemed to work pretty well.  I also included black-eyed peas, because, well, collards.

And roux.  I was proud of the roux.  Dark, walnut-stain brown richness, yum.  I've read a couple of cookbooks that insisted one must never, ever make roux with olive oil, but I've been doing that for the last year or so, and it tastes quite good.

Assembled the ingredients in what seemed to be a logical manner and set them to simmer, while adding pinches of every green Mediterranean leafy-type spice I had on hand (sadly, not much; and especially sadly lacking bay leaves, which would have been really nice in this.  Still, it's hard not to like basil, sage, thyme, and rosemary).  I also added a slug of Scotch to the stew.  It came out looking appropriately swampy, and tasted actually pretty good.  It also shows every sign of tasting better tomorrow, after the flavors get to know each other in the fridge.  I'm rather pleased.

I wish I'd had more fish, or fresh fish, or shellfish.  Yum.

I'll have to try okra next time, too.

More Tabasco.

I can totally see why you'd put sausage in this sort of thing, too.  Something else to try next time.

On the other hand, I've had pan-seared tempeh before that tasted surprisingly like bacon (the cook used soy sauce in the pan with it), and I bet if I can figure out how to do the tempeh, and crumble it before putting it in the gumbo, I could make a pretty decent vegetarian -- even vegan -- gumbo.  Which seems terribly wrong somehow, but also kinda amusing.

I've had gumbo before that was so rich and overwhelmingly flavorful, eating it was nearly a spiritual experience.  My attempt tonight was nowhere near that exalted level.  Still, I think that this is something I can actually aspire to!

Happy Birthday to andelku!   You make February worth getting up for!

Yarrrrrr!

Yesterday, the Art Group What Needs a Name met for potluck and some light show and tell of our work.  borea's "soul journal" hit a painful-in-a-good-way sort of chord with me, and left me mulling over two things: First, that way back in the day, when I made art easily and often, nearly everything I made was (at least obliquely, and often overtly) a self-portrait.  And second, that I've rather been avoiding anything that might lead to self-discovery for some time now.  Seriously, anything deeper than an Internet quiz will make me suddenly remember that I have laundry to do.  Which sounds stupid, because I'm awfully self-absorbed, but it's true.

So I think I'm going to steal the soul journal idea, see what happens if I allow myself to.

And I've had "Anyway, People Die" stuck in my head since dinner yesterday, mostly because of the "Who am I?  Who do you say I am?" lines.  

Well, that didn't go so well.

I almost made it two weeks with the 'locks, but my scalp started itching really badly about five days in, and I couldn't get it to stop.  Also, when I washed my hair, some of the wax would melt out of the locks and onto my skin, so I'd get out of the shower feeling dirtier than when I got in. 

Thus, last night I came home from work, put the extended version of The Two Towers on, and spent the next few hours working the tangles back out of my hair.

Oh well.  It was worth a try.  Too bad I didn't get pictures!