The Workshop

Welcome to the workshop.

 

 Elsewhere, I am attempting to modify the template here, in order to make the fonts bigger.  I don't care to look at the place with the font so small, and I don't expect others to as well.

Soon, perhaps.

Not Gone

I took down the "Gone" post, because it is rather obvious that I am not gone.
Just not that active here.  Very active elsewhere though.

Still, having gained ownership of this site, as my co-blogger has no further interest in continuing it, I prefer to retire this site to turn a new page, so to speak, in establishing another.
To be frank, I am stretched a bit thin these days, and have applied little thought to the matter.

Perhaps at Spring Break there will be something at hand.

Regards,

---W

Rumors of My Demise

have been exaggerated. I am still alive and reasonably well. I've just been busy, and much has been happening. In 2011, my father, my uncle, and my beloved Dachshund, Gus, passed away within the space of  4 months. My employer went out of business, and the job offer I had fell through. My best friend in Memphis, Joe, and I grew apart to the point that we went for weeks without speaking. I spent the next eight months looking for a job and working as a temp.

On February 4 of this year, my mother became extremely short of breath. I rushed her to the hospital at about 10pm because her breathing didn't sound right. I got them to come and get her in a wheelchair so I could drive across the parking lot to the spots for ER patients. By the time I got inside (less than 5 minutes) she was on the table with 7 people standing around her. I felt like I had just walked into an episode of "Trauma: Life in the ER." She proceeded to have a massive coronary on the table. Her lungs were filled with fluid, and she had a urinary tract infection. Her kidneys were not able to work sufficiently to draw the fluid off her lungs, even with the help of strong diuretics. She had to go on dialysis for 5 weeks. Her heart rate was erratic for the first 2 weeks, so she kept going through the revolving door from the ICU to the step down unit and back again. After 3 weeks in the normal hospital, she went to the rehab hospital for 2 weeks because her heart was so weak, she couldn't walk without assistance. She still needs a cardiac bypass, but the cardiac surgeon decided that she needed more time for her body to gain strength. She has to wear an external defibrillator at all times in case her heart goes into arrythmia. It's funny how you can get up one morning, think your parent looks ill, spend you day trying to persuade her to get medical treatment, and not know that 24 hours later your life will have changed irrevocably. If we could see the future, most of us couldn't cope.

Of course, I had to catch bronchitis and get so sick that I ended up in the ER. I spent 4 days in bed with fever, wheezing, aches and pains, etc. I did manage to stay hydrated with broth and Sprite. I spent most of that time in a cough-syrup induced coma punctuated by trips to the bathroom and calls from my oldest and best friend who was a great source of support through that time. I am so thankful for my friend Gary. He has been loyal and steady since we were 6 years old.

Mom is home now and improving a little every day, but her activity is still very restricted. I am trying to work, manage a household, and keep all the daily business of housekeeping done, so it doesn't leave much time for indulging in creative efforts. Also, with all that has happened, my creativity seems to be shriveled up like a TV dinner pea.

I still miss Gus every day. After 17 years, I acutely feel the absence of the comfort I got from his presence.  I know his is still with me in spirit, but it is hard not to have him with me physically. He was a constant source of love and support for me, and he gave me more strength than I realized. He died in my arms on an April night when I got home from work. Even at the end, he was loyal. He didn't go before I could say goodbye to him. He had gotten to the point where he could no longer walk on his own. He still didn't want to abandon his house training, so I would lie him on a puppy pad. When he used it, he would whine to let us know so we could change it. I wish I could have done more for him. It happened at a time when I had no resources to use to help him. He didn't deserve that sort of life in his golden years. I still have Cash, the dog Joe gave me, and I love him dearly, but I'll never have another dog like Gus. 

I wish I could do more for my mom, too. I am scared by the prospect of my mother having heart surgery. It is a HUGE surgery, involving breaking bones in the chest, cutting into the heart and the large veins near it, and sometimes involving incisions in the arm or leg to get a vein. The patients have to remain entubated after surgery, and they can have dementia like symptoms if the heart is stopped and they are put on a heart-lung bypass machine. I am a terrible caregiver, so I am not sure I am up to the task.

I have learned now that I am officially middle-aged. I have had to accept the fact that things can happen to people (and pets) that I love, and I cannot stop them. I have had to wrestle with choosing not the best alternative, but the best alternative out of a group of shitty alternatives from which no one would want to choose. I have learned that losing a loyal pet is worse than losing a friend or a lover. We lose friends and lovers all the time. While we think the world revolves around this, it really doesn't. I miss Gus a thousand times more than I've ever missed Joe. People come and go in our lives, but our pets remain constant as long as we treat them properly. I have had to make things work when there aren't enough hours in the day, enough strength left in my body, or enough concentration left in my mind to cope. Somehow, you get through it. You can eat salad from fast food restaurants every day because most days, you don't realize what you're eating anyway. You make it to the end of the day even when you think the first thing you want to do when you get in the house is crawl in your bed and pass out even before it gets dark. You can load the dishwasher when you feel like you can't stay awake for another second. You can get up 15 times in a row at one minute intervals to get someone things they want when you could have gotten up once and completed the  list the first time. Just consider all the exercise you're getting by jumping back up as soon as your butt hits the couch. It costs a lot less than a gym membership. To me, these are things that can only be accomplished by the middle-aged. It takes time and experience and patience to cope with such things. Young people cannot cope with the lack of control. Young people want to be certain of everything. Much of life, I have learned, is not at all certain. You have to tolerate the ambiguity.

I still miss my Uncle Vernon every day, too. Out of all my mom's brothers, he was the one who was most like a dad to everyone. All us wayward kids who had an absent parent sort of gravitated toward him. His house was always a kid-friendly place. You didn't have to worry about getting dirt on anything, forgetting to put your stuff away, or falling asleep on the couch. He didn't get mad if we were painting the fence for him and we got more paint on each other than we got on the fence. As we got older, he taught us the value of a good work ethic and how to make decisions by listing the good and bad things about each choice and deciding logically based on how we felt about the criteria. He was a good, family man, and I never heard anyone say a bad word about him. I can still hardly talk about him without crying. I couldn't tell you how many times in the past year and a half that I have picked up the phone and started to dial his number for our five minute conversation (he rarely talked on the phone more than five minutes) and have had to stop because I remembered he is no longer there. I have wanted to be strong and support my cousins during this time, but I have failed at this. Every time I try to comfort them, I end up blubbering with them comforting me.

My dad--there's a subject. We were never close. I always felt like my grandpa and my uncles were more like fathers to me than he was. He wasn't a bad man, just one who put his own needs and happiness ahead of everyone else's. For a long time, I thought I hated him, but I never really did. For most of my life, I just felt indifferent about him. By the time I realized it, he already had another family, and my mom's family was MY family. So, whose fault is this lack of a relationship? Mine? His? God's? I kind of felt like he was the adult and the parent. Maybe he should have been the one who tried harder to have a relationship with me. But, for almost 30 years of that time, I was an adult, too, so was it my responsibility? Was it no one's fault? Does there have to be blame? It was what it was. We didn't hate each other, so I suppose that's a positive thing. I had hoped that we could at least be friends. However, he died of a massive coronary at the dinner table at the age of 66, so I can't get that chance back.

Work--it's a good thing. I don't have the world's best job or the best pay rate, but I LOVE pharmacy. When I get up in the morning and go to work, I know there is nothing else I'd rather do. Dealing with the people sucks sometimes, but how many people can get to middle age and say that they have spent most of their working life doing something they truly enjoy???? I am glad I was out of a job when I was because it made me available to my mom when she needed me. It also gave me time to grieve without having to worry about whether I was being nice enough to people. Sometimes people expect more than they're entitled to expect in terms of ass kissing. I am glad to be back at work, though, because it keeps my mind focused and I feel like I make a difference. It gives me a break from being a caregiver at home, and it keeps my life balanced. When I get tired there, I get to come home, and when I get tired of home, I know I'll have to go to work.

Well, that's pretty much where I am and why I started this blog and then abandoned it. I don't know that I am capable, at this point, of writing anything anyone would want to read. All of this sounds like too much drama. Who needs the Soap Opera Network when you can read the saga of Shakespeare's Cousin? Who wants either? I do appreciate your friendship and support. I do feel better for having written this, even though posting it and inflicting it on others should probably be illegal. I think Mercutio has been doing a great job with the blog. I am thankful for his friendship and for the diverse content he brings to the blog. Thanks for being my online friends. I will try to post more when I'm in a better frame of mind. Now I am going to go fall into bed and, hopefully, be comatose in the next ten minutes. My little dog is snoozing on the recliner footrest, so it's time for bed. Nite!!!

The May-Apple

This is a group of May-apples, also known as the American mandrake.


You can see one tiny flower over to the right. It's quite a beautiful flower, really, though each plant produces only one.

The leaf is one broad radial shape. Most are nine-pointed, though there is some variance.

The plant produces a lemon-flavored fruit about mid-summer.

We'll check in on the May-apples from time to time to see how they're doing.

More on the May-apple to be found here.

From a Skeptic’s View: The Media and the Right

This item is cross-posted at Publius’ Forum.

I’m something of a skeptic, and especially so where politics is concerned. I’m aware that both the Left and the Right misrepresent themselves to some degree, and political advertisements are exactly that— advertisements with political content— and their objective is the same as any other advertisement— they’re trying to get something out of you.

So, I really didn’t take it seriously when I heard complaints about how the mainstream media (MSM) is biased against Republicans.

I’m no partisan, and I’ve always been a split-ticket voter. I consider the person to be of greater importance than their party affiliation. Locally, the big election is for County Coroner, and I don’t see it as particularly important if a Democrat or a Republican does that job.

Historically, I was a lifelong Democrat, up until about 2007 or so. A lot of that had to do with my concern with local politics rather than at the national level; and frankly, I didn’t pay attention all that much. I was a fairly typical blue dog Democrat, and I fit the profile.

My first big break with the Democratic Party was when I was in a forum with a group of “progressives,” and they were advocating an end to equitable representation of racial minorities. This might sound odd to some of you, but they wanted to push their agenda on abortion, and racial minorities tend to be a bit more socially conservative. I found that to be nothing short of monstrous. But the experience clued me in that the Left means what they say only long enough to argue for a specific policy position, after which no one knows what position they may take. And my skepticism was on red alert.

Later, I came to the understanding that the Left’s use of the word “Tolerance” entailed believing whole-heartedly and without question each and every policy position as they themselves did. The moment I exercised any manner of independent thought on any subject, I could no longer be “tolerant.”

As noted previously, I’m a fairly typical blue dog. I’m a blue collar worker, and a journeyman in a trade union. I supported Gov. John Kasich’s (Ohio) position against public employee unions more than that of Gov. Scott Walker (Wisconsin), because Kasich included police officers and firefighters as well as public employees and teachers. Anyone with a passing knowledge of labor history will understand this as the old split in the AFL and the CIO from 1935 - 1955. Unions have been a part of America since 1609, but they really picked up steam during the years of the industrial revolution; and not only the counter the excesses of the robber barons, but those of the government as well. I see it as extremely distasteful that public employees (including teachers, police, firefighters, and postal employees), the ground troops of Team Gov, should be unionized. It’s nothing short of subversive to both our government and our unions.

I don’t care for FOX news. I find Hannity to be nothing other than a party tool, and a grasping one at that; contrived. I find Glenn Beck to be nothing other than a clown. But I like Bill O’Reilly. I had a very good friend that encouraged me to watch his show, because she said that we were a lot alike. I didn’t believe it, because I had already bought into the hype about him. But I watched his show, and I do like him. I don’t watch anymore, because I don’t own a TV. But O’Reilly and I tend to view things in much the same way. A notable instance is the recent Rush/Fluke hubbub, where I referred to Fluke as a “stooge.” In talking with my friend, I found that O’Reilly had much the same thoughts, but referred to Fluke as a “pawn.” So, even without watching his show, I still come to pretty much the same conclusions independently.

I feel fairly confident in stating that I don’t believe that Mr. O’Reilly would consider me to be “intolerant” due to the fact that I considered the facts independently and came to my own conclusions.

As I said, I never did believe this whole thing about Left-wing bias in the mainstream media. I get a lot of my news from NPR and the BBC, and from the internet (Yahoo news) and various newspapers. As stated by commenter kenB at the League of Ordinary Gentlemen:

FWIW, speaking as an avid NPR listener, I can hear the liberalness in almost every program, including ATC and Morning Edition. I trust NPR to be careful with the facts, but the reporters’ background assumptions leak into the interviews, the way that they present the R vs D points and rebuttals, the story selection etc. And obviously many of the non-news programs are unapologetic about their politics.

I didn’t always notice this — it was only once I started regularly visiting non-liberal blogs/sites and questioning many of my own prior political beliefs that I recognized those same beliefs at play elsewhere.

This is very much in keeping with my own experience. I would note that the selection of topics often displays a bias as well.

There have been a number of events over the past two months that have made me a believer in the concept of media bias on a large scale. From what I can tell, they have gotten away with it for so long that they really don’t see a need to pretend about it anymore. And it’s sort of tough to convince a skeptic like me.

I would like to look at those news items over the last two months that inclined me to alter my view, explain in brief my own positions in these matters, and then look at other egregious examples over the past ten years. I believe that anyone with any degree of objectivity would come to the same conclusion.

The Rush/Fluke thing was sort of obvious. It was very much contrived. Where the Clinton administration in 1997 was encouraging churches to extend their community outreach into other areas, a policy which continued under the following Bush administration, with the incoming Obama administration we saw the articles of faith of those churches violated in extraordinary ways, and for the sake of Leftist political agendas, again and again. The first item of note was the decision in Illinois that Catholic Charities must make referrals to same-sex couples in their adoption services— a decision that led to them suspending all adoption services. Forcing penalties for not providing contraceptive coverage in their health insurance was just another step in the government takeover of the churches. And I want to say: Thank God for Senator Roy Blunt for standing up to this sort of government over-reach. As noted in his speech before the vote on the Respect for Rights of Conscience Act, there was nothing in the bill that each and every member of the Senate, except for its newest members, hadn’t already voted in favor of before.

To recap, there were three primary principles at play here. One is the separation of church and state as guaranteed in the First Amendment. Where the doors of the church stand, the United States of America ends and the Kingdom of God begins. There is no overlap between those two jurisdictions. The second is that of positive liberties vs. negative liberties. Basically stated, negative liberty is the view that people (meaning government) need to leave me alone to do what I want to do, while positive liberties refer to the view that someone needs to bend over backwards to kiss my butt because the world is so unfair. The third is the wholesale destruction of all social institutions other than government, which is part and parcel with the Leftist agenda; that government should take over the role of the church, the role of the family, et al, until no other social institution would stand other than the government. They believe that this is the only means that “fairness” may be obtained. The conservative view is to be distrustful of the government; that these other social institutions are needed to provide a counter-balance to the power structures, and that these other social institutions produce desirable benefits in and of themselves.

So, granted, there is more to it that simply the issue of religious freedom. There was never anyone in favor of preventing people from purchasing contraceptives or obtaining a policy that would cover them— it was all about requiring that someone else should make that purchase.

Now, the great over-arching theme that Democrats have been spouting, and that the MSM has picked up, is the “Republican War on Women.” What a crock! Even when Republican National Committee chairman Reince Priebus stated quite plainly that this was not the case, those words were turned against him by the typical Left-wing hacks in their contrived disregard for any element of the truth.

Before we go on here, let us look back in order to realize that, even though the contemporary “progressive” movement pretty much began with the Port Huron Statement and is not related to the progressive movement of the early 1900’s, abortion was high on the list of policy objectives for those early progressives, although in the form of eugenics (along with, as noted in the article linked, a graduated income tax, restrictions on immigration, prohibition, and women's suffrage).

But let us not forget that eugenics was always at the heart of the abortion movement in the US. It’s the very same movement as today; they’ve just changed their line of reasoning a little bit.

While former the governor of Kansas, Kathleen Sebelius, Secretary of Health and Human Services, was diligently ensuring that Kansas would elect a Republican as their next governor, Senator Barbara Mikulski (D-Md.) was quoted in the New York Times as stating that:

Republicans were attacking women’s health care as part of “a systematic war against women.”

Shortly thereafter, the ink began to fly concerning how Republicans have lost women voters, and the president played up to this by hosting a conference on women and employment.

But this didn’t occur in a vacuum. At the same time, ABC news was reporting that married women favored Republicans, while single women favored Democrats. There’s nothing unusual about that; it’s been that way for a long time. Also fairly standard is that men who identify as independent tend to vote Republican, while women that identify as independent tend to vote for the Democrat.

There’s a lot more material to cover here, but the post has run on too long. I will continue on in Part Two, which will be posted at Publius’ Forum tomorrow, and at this site a week from now.

In Part Two, we will look at some of the news items that led me to the conclusions stated here, and at their over-arching themes; including the shooting death of Trayvon Martin in Sanford, Fl., Mike Daisey’s profile of Chinese manufacturers, Climategate, the inherent dishonesty of Paul Krugman and some basic economic fundamentals, social Darwinism, opposition to science (including pesticides, BPA, breast implants, and genetically-modified foods), the “precautionary principle”, Larry Summers and Newt Gingrich.

As I said, with the abundance of evidence at hand, I believe that anyone with even a passing interest in objectivity would come to the same conclusion.

The Rise of Conservatism

Although I have no desire to have a political blog, I have no intention of shying away from such topics as would be especially prominent. Now, the very purpose of starting this new blog, as agreed between the former Elizabeth Green and myself, was to provide a forum for those things positive, enlightening, uplifting, and beneficial. I believe this meets at least a few of those criteria.

Take a look at this chart, if you would. This is from some lengthy test that provides a visual representation of one’s overall political position. I have taken similar tests over a number of years, going back at least nine years, and I always seem to have similar results.


As you can see, this places me roughly halfway to the Left and a third of the way to libertarian on positions; a gross simplification of course, but somewhat useful nevertheless.

Which is to say, this graph has charted me squarely as a conservative. I am but a mere halfway to the Left on positions, and with notable libertarian tendencies (that’s the Westerner in me showing). In fact, there is no other option for me other than to be a conservative, as I am more to the Right than the last three squares to the Left.

Here’s how I match up against the 2008 primary candidates:


This shows that I am right about where Ralph Nader stands, although he is a bit to the Right of me and a bit less libertarian. I know practically nothing of Nader’s political views; only that he has outlived his usefulness.

I liked Kucinich and Dodd to a far lesser extent. I voted for McCain. I felt he would be the better president, and that the Republican Party would do well under his leadership. I felt that Obama would be a better administrator, and particularly in the area of cabinet assignments. I like Obama as President. I felt that Richardson had the best energy policy.

To be fair, I know practically nothing about Tancredo, Hunter, or Gravel. I know little of Keyes, but I consider him to be a wacko. I would vote for Giuliani’s opponent, regardless of who it might be.

Now, the old-style principled liberals I can deal with; but I consider the new wave of ‘progressives’ to be the most amoral and corrupt of persons — and for good reason. I say ‘amoral’ rather than ‘immoral,’ due to the fact that one is required to possess some form of morality in order to be properly immoral.

I have no use for supply-side economics, and hearken back to the elders of the Reagan and Nixon administrations —David Stockman, Peter G. Peterson, and Bruce Bartlett. I consider the Chicago School to be aberrated as well.

At one time, I considered myself to be quite to the Left. My first great falling out with them had to do with their insistence that the denial of equitable representation for racial minorities was not only acceptable, but preferable in staking out their policy positions. I call that horrific.

I no longer refer to myself as an “environmentalist” because I abhor what that word has become. Instead, I prefer to call myself a “naturalist” or a “preservationist.” As far as I can tell, environmentalists are nothing more than a group of morons incapable of anything other than asinine opinions and opposed to practical action, all the while berating others, supposedly in the name of their God, “Science,” of which they know little.

So, briefly, it would be fair to expect that, from time to time, a short essay might appear explaining my position on various matters to the end of providing an explanation as to why it is quite impossible for me to be anything other than a conservative. I was going to do that here, but the preamble became a bit lengthy. Fancy that.

But to be clear, when someone that far to the Left can be nothing other than a conservative, then the Left has already met their doom. The rise of conservatism is inevitable.

Merc’s Somewhat Definitive Guide to Styx (abbreviated version), and Then Some

With mention being made of Styx in the comments recently, I thought it would be wise to direct the thoughts of those so inclined away from their more crappy albums before that became something of an issue.

And definitely, Styx released a lot of crap; though they tended to do so as a full album's worth of crap, instead of The Who syndrome, which entails releasing one or two good songs per album, with the rest of it being total crap (Who Are You being completely non-ordinary for that band).

At any rate, Styx was my favorite band at one time, back when I was 18 or 19. This is some of the good Styx that I remember:



Here are how the Styx albums break down according to Merc:

The Curulewski years:
Styx - B, about 2/3 good
Styx II - C
The Serpent Is Rising - A
Man of Miracles - F-, for use as a coaster only
Equinox - A

The Tommy Shaw years:
Crystal Ball - F
The Grand Illusion - A
Pieces of Eight - A
Cornerstone - B-

Crap you would never want to listen to:
The rest of Styx, as far as I know, is a lot of crap; the sole exception being Big Bang Theory. I haven't listened to all of these, and how could I possibly be expected to after Paradise Theater and Kilroy Was Here? Anyway, here's the rest of it.
Paradise Theater - F-, for use as a clay pigeon only - being a coaster is too good for it
Kilroy Was Here - F-, total crap
Edge of the Century - ?
Brave New World - ?
Cyclorama - ?
Big Bang Theory - A

Now, I don't sit around and listen to a lot of Styx these days. No, these days, it's Wishbone Ash. Before that, I was listening to a lot of Jon Spencer and Eric Gales, and before that UK and Gentle Giant.

But here's some really good Wishbone Ash for you. They sound a lot like Buffalo Springfield would have if they would have been more of a progressive rock band and less of a folk band. It would probably sound better if Rush were playing it along about the Caress of Steel days, but it's pretty good as it is without the crunch.



Hope you've enjoyed it.

Poet Laureate

Almost everyone with even a passing familiarity with Lindsay has come to know his verse. His poetry appears intermittently at his blog, Lindsay's Lobes, as well in the comment sections of various sites he visits. Always pleasant to see a bit of verse in the comments, you know.

So, we here are Shakespeare's Cousin, which in this case means myself acting unilaterally, have determined to recognize the poet Lindsay Byrnes as our poet laureate.

And to Lindsay, I present to you this wreath of laurel:



Well done.

BONUS:

And here you can see our poet laureate at a few of his more colorful moments.

Christmas

I would like to show you a bit of what I did over the holidays.

This is a kitten that ended up in the wrong place. She ended up in someone’s barn, and they were ready to blast her with a shotgun. I spent two hours chasing that cat through the barn trying to catch her. Saved at last, and not for the last time.


Because once they had her she could easily be dumped out in the snow somewhere. And that just didn’t sound like the proper thing to be doing. So, I took her up, tucked her into my jacket, and took her off to the clinic. I had to find a place for her, but first things first.

I had to keep her in my car overnight before the clinic would take her. By then, I had already found a no-kill shelter to take her in. I could have boarded her at the clinic, but I felt she would benefit from being touched by human hands a bit before going out to be adopted.

She had been living in a barn for about two or three months. She kept to herself, and hid from people. When I was trying to catch her, she never clawed or bit at me even once. I knew that this was no wild cat, but someone’s pet who had gotten lost somehow.

She was evasive for the first day and a half after I caught her, and would curl up to hide whenever someone would come around. I would stuff her inside my coat and unzip it to where she could look out. She liked that. After I got a bit of food in her, she warmed right up.

The girls at the clinic were all excited about her. She was such a friendly little kitty, even right after her surgery. She would rub up against the bars of her cage whenever they got anywhere close to her. The name on the chart said, “Barn Cat,” and it said she was wild; but everyone could see that this was no wild cat.

I had her spayed and treated for ear mites, and she was good to go.

I took her to the shelter the next day, and she seemed to settle in well. The next day, she was throwing up a bit, but there was no inflammation around the stitches, and she was in good spirits. The poor thing was starving, and wasn’t used to having food around to eat. I thought she might eat herself sick, and I had metered the food out a bit to help her keep it down. But when she could have all she wanted, she couldn’t get enough.

I would go up once or twice a day to spend some time with her; out of the cage and stuffed into the coat, where I would walk her around a bit and pet her. I had to keep moving every so often, or she would get a bit jumpy. When the starter went out on my car, I walked up to see her.

I got to know a few of the other kitties up there, and stop to say ‘hello’ to them. There are two kittens that are a pair. The one has visions problems, is blind in one eye, and his sister doesn’t want to let him out of her sight. Her brother had to go to the clinic this weekend because he had a cold, so she needed a bit of extra attention. There is another one, a mama kitty whose kittens had all been adopted out, and she’s sort of going through an empty-nester phase. Friendly little thing.

At any rate, when I went up yesterday to visit her, she wasn’t in her cage. I was concerned maybe that she was throwing up again or something. But when I asked about her, a call was made, and I was told that she had been adopted out that day.

A young couple was walking through there looking at the kitties, and this one came up and started rubbing up against her cage. When they opened it up, she meowed at them and stepped right into her hands, and it was a done deal. “It was a good mesh,” I was told.

I’m happy for them. I’m happy for the little calico that found a family to love her, and I’m happy for the family that just expanded. But I can’t help but think about the little boy or girl that lost their kitten before I found her. I wish I could go back to tell them that she is going to be ok.

Now, I was thinking about this anyway, due to a post that Lindsay had up, or the comments there that came up; but although you hear people complaining about the commercialization of Christmas every year, it’s really this aspect of it that removes it from being solely in the hands of the Puritans set apart from everyone else. As the saying goes, it’s not a bug, but a feature. This is what gives non-Christians the toe in the door to come in and enjoy the celebration as well.

And this year, it gave that little calico a chance to share in the celebration of redemption.

And the family that she went to, and the little boy or girl that lost their kitten a few months back.

Happy holidays!

Mead in the Bottle

It's about time for some news you can use.

Today's topic is mead-making.

To make a bit of mead, you need: some honey, some water, a bit of yeast, & lots of time.

My own method is a bit more lengthy, but this works well for a single bottle.

First of all, avoid sulfides. If the bottle you have states on it, "Contains sulfides," this is unacceptable.

These sulfides are the product of metabisulfites of potassium or sodium. If you've never been around it, this stuff can lay you out cold if you catch a good whiff of it. It's used as a preservative and a sanitizer, and it's particularly caustic.

It also gives you headaches in the morning.

So, if the bottle says, "Contains sulfides," you need to get rid of them. Rinse the bottle out really good, and look through the top into the bottom to make sure there's no residue. You can cook the bottle in an oven on a low heat for a bit to sanitize it.

Here's a verified procedure for a 750 ml bottle.

Take about 2 cups of water and boil it for 20 minutes (with a lid over low heat, so you end up with near the same volume). In this operation, you're sanitizing the water and releasing chlorides. You don't want any chlorine in your final product (although certain chlorides are desirable-- long story, and I'm not going into it here).

When that water has gone its time, dump 1 cup of honey into the water. Stir it up, and let it cool. Filling a sink with cold water and setting the pan into it works well. You need a thermometer to make sure that it's below 80F (26C) before proceeding to the next step. (I like mine to be a bit below 70F)

Now, get all that into your 750 ml bottle, and put a bit of yeast on it. You want the bottle to be about 2/3 full at this point.

For yeast, it's better to bake with brewer's yeast than to brew with baker's yeast. Liquid yeast runs about $8 a pack, and it's enough to give you 5 gallons (19L). Dry yeast costs around 47¢ a packet, and about enough to give half that amount. The liquid has more variety, but the dry does just fine. Use half a packet if you go for the dry.

After you get your yeast into the bottle, wrap the top with a bit of foil. Put a balloon over it, or a plastic bag. Anything to keep things from falling into the stuff; and we're talking about a microbiology level here.

Store it in a place with a stable temperature, and the colder the better, at least down to 64F (17C) or so. (Mine is kept at 68F)

It will foam up quite a bit for a few days, and then the foam will fall in. That foam is your 'krausen,' and that's why you fill the bottle only halfway full to begin with.

After the krausen has fallen, boil up a bit more water, cool it down, and fill your fermentation vessel up to about a thumb's breadth from the top.

When it's done, the yeast will drop out (flocculate), and the liquid will be bright and clear. That tells you it's time to do away with the foil and cap the stuff, chill it, and imbibe.

But don't get too excited. It's going to take a month-and-a-half to two months to do it.

Now, there's a lot more to it that what I've told you, but I've told you right.

The honey is better not boiled, and it helps to cool the boiling water. It needs to stay above 170F for 10 minutes to sanitize it.

More attention should be paid to following the instructions than questioning them.

For yeast, there's Lalvin and Red Star which are readily available at any brew shop or online distributor. A white wine yeast works best.

I was going to publish this recipe for the gruit which flavored Queen Elizabeth's mead, but now I've taken a mood. Maybe in the comments somewhere.

EDIT: And I had forgotten this earlier, but honey is deficient in magnesium, which the yeast needs in trace amounts to ensure proper growth. If you have tap water or well water, then you have plenty of magnesium already. If you're using filtered or distilled water, two to three grains of epsom salts is essential to ensure proper attenuation.

The Zippo Deity

“My God is a super-badass. He can shoot fire out of his fingertips.”

“Oh, yeah! Well, my God is even more badass than that. He wouldn’t go for that cheap Vegas crap. My God created matches.”

“Oh, yeah! Well, my God is even more badass than that. My God has wooden matches, and He can make fire even in the rain!”

“Oh, yeah! Well, my God makes yours look weak. My God has a Bic, and it always lights on the first strike.”

“Oh, yeah! Well, my God makes yours look stupid and backwards. My God has a Zippo, and he can just refill it even after your god’s silly Bic has run out.”

That’s really cool.

So, maybe if, say, one day, you’re waiting around in Heaven somewhere, hanging out in the smoking section, you can say, “Hey, God! Let me see that Zippo over here a minute.”

The Consul at Sunset

This is a piece which has been particularly influential. I don't care to elaborate at present.



It does have an interesting backstory, mind you. But I don't care to go into all that either. (too early)

Just for your enjoyment, presented as it is.

The artist is Jack Bruce. It's from the Harmony Row album (last song, side two). Pete Brown lyrics. Chris Spedding guitars.

Though the fireflies laugh in the dusk light
It's the Festival of Death
Crowd is all laughter, it's hollow
Sadly...
They may kill death tonight
But they still live beneath the volcano
Won't be so many more days
Isn't much time and
It's gathering darkness, my friend.

Vienna

European lagers are generally divided into three classes— pale (pilsner, Dortmunder, & helles), amber (Vienna, Märzen, & Oktoberfest), and dark (dunkel & schwartz).

It is common to see the abbreviation “VMO” in brewing literature when referring to the German amber lagers.

The helles, Märzen, Oktoberfest, and dunkel are all associated with the city of Munich, but Vienna plays an integral role in the development of the VMO.

Ray Daniels explains:

From its beginnings as a Roman outpost, Vienna struggled along for many centuries before becoming a city in its own right during the thirteenth century. The first brewery— associated with a hospital— was noted not long after, in 1296. For several centuries after this, beer was the underdog in a running battle with wine. Grapes grow well in the Vienna area, and the landed parties who produced wine demanded protection of their product from the competition posed by beer. It was not until the sixteenth century that brewing was widely licensed to convents, castles, towns, and marketplaces.

By 1732, fourteen breweries operated near Vienna. They produced one or two types of oat beer, three varieties of wheat beer, and five varieties of barley beer.

Gabriel Sedlmayr was a brewer from Munich that toured England in the early 19th century. At that time, the English brewers had developed more technologically advanced methods than were in use on the continent. Sedlmayr is credited with bring the use of the thermometer and hydrometer to German brewers as a result of this trip.

It was the professional relationship between Sedlmayr and Vienna’s Anton Dreher that gave rise to the Vienna lager style.

Dreher came from a brewing family and studied with Sedlmayr in Munich as a young man before taking over the family brewery in Vienna. Early along, Dreher combined the Munich bottom-fermentation yeast with Vienna malts and brewing procedures to create the Vienna style of lager. The Märzen style produced in the same breweries was nothing more than a stronger version of the Vienna brew.

It appears that the Munich Oktoberfest style was an imitation of the Viennese Märzen beer. Interestingly enough, it was Gabriel Sadlmayr’s son who is credited with brewing the first Vienna-style Oktoberfest beer. [This was in 1872-- M.]

Dreher introduced Vienna lager in 1841. By the 1870’s, Vienna beers had won great acclaim. There were three distinctive styles of Vienna lager at this time— Abzug, a low-gravity variety roughly 3/4 the strength of the standard; Lager, which refers to Vienna lager roughly as we know it today; and Märzen, a slightly stronger version of the lager. There is one brewery that also produced a Doppelmärzen, which was stronger still. The primary difference between these styles was the gravity.

The Viennese brewers used a decoction mash, after the German tradition. This is a step-mash, where the temperatures are raised to engage enzyme activity through a succession of temperature ranges. In a decoction mash, the grist is drawn off of the mash, boiled, then returned to the mash. It’s a bit tricky, and there are certain formulae to follow as to raise the temperature of such-and-such volume at such-and-such density by so-many degrees by such-and-such volume of a boil; the boil being the constant (212F).

Wahl & Henius reported in 1908 that the Vienna beers are hopped at a rate of

30 percent less than those for Bohemian beers, about 30 percent more than those for Bavarian beers.

The hops were mainly Czech Saaz and Styrian Golding.

Now, the truly distinctive part of the Vienna lager is in the malt. This is a pale malt that is kilned a bit higher than other pale malts, which gives it a bit of toasty, nutty flavor. A good Vienna lager is a malt-forward type of beer.

A Viennese brewer by the name of Santigo Graf brought the style to Mexico in the 1880’s. It is from the Mexican brewers that the style is most evident today. Negro Modelo is considered the standard of the style, although the Dos Equis amber is a much better beer, IMHO. The Schell Firebrick, from New Ulm, Minnesota, is a step above the Dos Equis.

These are the tasting notes from the GABF:

Beers in this category are reddish brown or copper colored. They are medium in body. The beer is characterized by malty aroma and slight malt sweetness. The malt aroma and flavor should have a notable degree of toasted and/or slightly roasted malt character. Hop bitterness is clean and crisp. Noble-type hop aromas and flavors should be low or mild. Fruity esters, diacetyl, and chill haze should not be perceived.

The BJCP has more detailed notes:

Aroma: Moderately rich German malt aroma (of Vienna and/or Munich malt). A light toasted malt aroma may be present. Similar, though less intense than Oktoberfest. Clean lager character, with no fruity esters or diacetyl. Noble hop aroma may be low to none. Caramel aroma is inappropriate.
Appearance: Light reddish amber to copper color. Bright clarity. Large, off-white, persistent head.
Flavor: Moderately rich German malt aroma (of Vienna and/or Munich malt). A light toasted malt aroma may be present. Similar, though less intense than Oktoberfest. Clean lager character, with no fruity esters or diacetyl. Noble hop aroma may be low to none. Caramel aroma is inappropriate.
Mouthfeel: Medium-light to medium body, with a gentle creaminess. Moderate carbonation. Smooth. Moderately crisp finish. May have a bit of alcohol warming.
Overall Impression: Moderately rich German malt aroma (of Vienna and/or Munich malt). A light toasted malt aroma may be present. Similar, though less intense than Oktoberfest. Clean lager character, with no fruity esters or diacetyl. Noble hop aroma may be low to none. Caramel aroma is inappropriate.
Comments: American versions can be a bit stronger, drier and more bitter, while European versions tend to be sweeter. Many Mexican amber and dark lagers used to be more authentic, but unfortunately are now more like sweet, adjunct-laden American Dark Lagers.

It should be noted that the modern Märzenbiers are derived from the Munich interpretation of the style. The shift occurred at some time between 1955 and 1970.

Now, there is a forum that I frequent which focuses on brewing, and that’s sort of what this is about, really. (Never let it be said that I failed to provide sufficient background information.) There was a fellow there looking for a recipe for a Vienna lager, something along the lines of Brooklyn lager or Short’s Noble Chaos. I happened to have made a Vienna lager that received very good reviews, and so I posted the recipe there.

Now, the fellow that lives upstairs from me is a chef that writes a column on food and beer pairings. We sometimes trade beer and food back and forth. He said that this was my best one yet. He said that it should be sold commercially, but I am content with a small production. (I have other things I do for business.)


This was a step-mash (122, 144, 152, 162) with a kölsch yeast. It came out a bit stronger than I had intended due to the mash efficiency.

The backbone is the Vienna malt, with a bit of two-row for the increased enzyme activity for the mash. Victory is the American version of the Belgian biscuit malt. It is included here to provide a bit more toasty, nut-like complexity. The caramel malt, crystal 120, has a warm, pleasant toastiness to it. So, the malt bill is all about toastiness.

Perle is a German hop that has a bright evergreen flavor. Spalt is a noble hop, the one used in Budweiser, and it has a strong flavor for a noble hop. Mount Hood is also a noble hop, but is much softer than Spalt. Perle for bittering, Spalt for flavor, and Mt. Hood for aroma. That's the hop schedule.

Exactly as George Fix phrased it:

elegance and softness as well as a measure of complexity.

A fine beer, indeed.

Another fellow at the forum saw the recipe there, and decided to try his hand at it. He modified the original a bit, including some muscovado sugar and some malt extract, adding more bittering hops, and used a Trappist yeast. He aged it in an oaken barrel. This appears more like the historical Märzen to me than a Vienna lager, though the Belgian yeasts are known for high ester production (It’s the esters that’s the real difference between an ale and a lager.)


He was so pleased with it that he sent me a couple of bottles to thank me for the recipe. These are my trophies.

This the first time that anyone else has ever used one of my recipes, that I know of. I keep trying to push my extract recipe for a Southern English brown ale (SEBA), but most people that brew tend to like enormous amounts of hops rather than something heavily malty with low hops.

Here are some photos with my crappy cell phone cam:


My own Vienna lager alongside the trophies from an admirer.


I will enjoy this beer while I watch Mr. Deeds Goes to Town this evening.

I do wish you could enjoy one of these beers with me. I hope you have enjoyed the history, and that it made you thirsty for something darkly malty.

(And a big ‘Hello!’ to Lindsay along the Danube. I hope you have time to find something a bit more authentic than my humble brew on your journey.)

Notes on Equity of Judgment

“Equity is the most fundamental among human virtues. The evaluation of all things must needs depend upon it....
“Observe equity in your judgment, ye men of understanding heart! He that is unjust in his judgment is destitute of the characteristics that distinguish man’s station.”

——Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh

I am reminded of a time not too long ago.

There was an occasion when there was a fellow from some Tea Party protest at some strip mall. The owner of the place was by-and-large unconcerned with the political views expressed, but was mindful of the disposition of his patrons. The Tea Party gathering was allowed to continue, provided they not become too disruptive, and the security kept an eye on them there.

Then one fellow got the idea that he’d like to have a burger, so he went over to a sidewalk café there-- just one lone fellow, no milling about. The problem is that he was wearing a t-shirt that said, “Give me Liberty-- Not Obama.” The security people came over to talk to him about it, and asked if he would turn his t-shirt inside out while he remained at the establishment, so as not to offend the other diners. He refused, and was subsequently arrested.

The big to-do was all about some peaceful citizen exercising his right to assemblage, when all of a sudden some jack-booted Nazi rent-a-cop comes over and waylays the guy.

But from my view, I can see that the owner of this shopping center has rights. The patrons are there as guests. When you get right down to it, each of the businesses there are as well.

But most of the people didn’t see it that way.

I took a lot of heat over that.

Because it wasn’t a Tea Party gathering at all, you see. This was a protest against the war in Iraq. It was a mall in Long Island, and the fellow was Don Zirkel. He was 80 years old and in a wheelchair, so (as the argument goes) he is free to do whatever he wants and any action from the authorities to modify the unabated expression of his freewill is particularly egregious.

The t-shirt had two words on it-- “Dead” and “Enough,” and there were the death tolls for the American soldiers there as well as the Iraqi civilians. There were three large red splotches made to look like blood on this shirt. The thing was intended to be shocking and provocative.

But because this is all about the Iraq War, then anyone that didn’t take exception to this action by the security officers was supposedly all sorts of morally corrupt, as well as mentally incompetent, etc.

Back then, everyone believed that as soon as a Democrat would come into office, someone would walk over to him and hand him a magic wand, which he would wave around a few times, and then all of a sudden all of the servicemen in the Middle East would magically reappear state-side, just fine and dandy. They knew it so much, it didn’t do much good to tell them otherwise. Anyone (like me) that might have the audacity to say, “You know, you’re probably going to be needing a bit of a position on something, other than just being against the Iraq War, in order to govern,” was just laughed off. (This was well before the big health care debate, btw.)

And wouldn’t you know it, now these same people find it particularly amusing to go around referring to the Tea Party activists as “tea baggers.” I just find it sad that so many would take such great pleasure in being so blatantly juvenile (my feelings toward both sides).

It reminds me of the saying that a communist’s greatest fear is that other communists who are his enemies will come into power.

Those people didn’t hate Geo. W. Bush, no matter how much they may say so. They may disagree with his policies, but really, in their hearts, they want to be just like him.

Now, in this particular instance that I refer to, there was some fellow, well-known for being a half-cocked loudmouth, that made some outrageous statement that Armani’s had pulled out of a deal to open a store at that mall because of the treatment of this poor, poor Iraq war protester.

It sounded like a bunch of crap to me. A lie well-received is a lie nevertheless.

So, I called the mall, and spoke to the people in the office there (the leasing office is located elsewhere, and yes, I did speak to them too). No one knew anything about an Armani’s.

So I called an Armani’s out on Long Island. They told me that there were only two Armani’s on all of Long Island, and there weren’t any plans to open another one. I suppose there’s only so many $400 pairs of slacks that can be sold to one population group (that's a sale price from the outlet mall, btw).

So, I call the guy on it. “Look, you’re lying.”

Of course, this makes me the bad guy.

I happened to tell the truth in a place where the truth was unwelcome. I have a way of doing that. It’s a curse that has followed me all of my life.

To be fair, Georgio Armani is very active in relief efforts for refugees. He also has a really big hotel in Dubai. But I don’t think the man got where he is by making business decisions flying off the cuff, or on something as inconsequential as the arrest of some war protester. It takes a lot of money and a lot of planning to open a store of any kind. There’s a lot of research that goes into it. And although I may be incorrect in my assessment, I feel inclined to give Mr. Armani a bit of credit here-- I don’t think the man’s a dumb-ass.

But some people feel inclined to believe that I’m a dumb-ass that they can tell any wild tale to, and I have an obligation to buy into it, or I’m a bad guy.

Sometimes I would rather be the bad guy.

I can live with myself a lot better that way.

And now, I would like to call your attention to that little scrap of scripture at the top of the post; to two phrases in particular. Take a few moments and consider, if you will, what exactly is “man’s station,” and what manner of things might “distinguish” that? And what do you suppose it means to be “destitute of [those] characteristics?”

Extraction

I just came back from pulling a raccoon out of a dumpster. Still kind of shaken by it.

I don't know how it was that I came to specialize in raccoon extraction, but I'm pretty good at it.

That one was a fighter though. She almost got me.

I had a bit of trouble getting a good handle on her, and she kept snapping at my stick. I got my foot on top of her head; not stepping on her, but touching her, making contact. It was over pretty quick after that.

She wasn't too happy when I dropped her on the ground. They never are.

She took off, but kind of slow. I'm wondering if she was injured in some way.

Not starving, by any means. She went off through a hole in the fence, barely big enough to slip through.

That one was too close though. It took longer than I expected. I must be getting slow as I grow older.

No photos though. I didn't think about that until after.

“Be ye the trustees of God amongst His creatures, and the emblems of His generosity amidst His people.”

The Enchanted Garden of Barganax

This scene finds the Duke painting in the enchanted garden. It introduces Dr. Vandermast, a member of the Duke's court, a philosopher, sophist, and magician, who is gifted in returning unintelligible reply on any manner of subject (although he does not appear in this passage).

————————§——§————————

That third morning after that coming of the galloping horseman to Mornagay, Duke Barganax was painting in his privy garden in Zayana in the southland: that garden where it is everlasting afternoon. There the low sun, swinging a level course at about that pitch which Antares reaches at his highest southing in an English May-night, filled the soft air with atomies of sublimated gold, wherein all seen things became, where the beams touched them, golden: a golden sheen on the lake’s unruffled waters beyond the parapet, gold burning in the young foliage of the oak-woods that clothed the circling hills; and, in the garden, fruits of red and yellow gold hanging in the gold-spun leafy darkness of the strawberry-trees, a gilding shimmer of it in the stone of the carven bench, a gilding of every tiny blade on the shaven lawn, a glow to deepen all colours and to ripen every sweetness: gold faintly warming the proud pallour of Fiorinda’s brow and cheek, and thrown back in sudden gleams from the jet-black smoothness of her hair.
‘Would you be ageless and deathless for ever, madam, were you given that choice?’ said the Duke, scraping away for the third time the colour with which he had striven to match, for the third time unsuccessfully, the unearthly green of that lady’s eyes.
‘I am this already’ answered she with unconcern....

She had not stirred; yet, to his eye now, all was altered. As some tyrannous and triumphant phrase in a symphony returns, against all expectation, hushed to starved minor harmonies or borne on the magic welling moon-notes of the horn, a shuddering tenderness, a dying flame; such-like, and so moving, was the transfiguration that seemed to have come upon that lady: her beauty grown suddenly to a thing to choke the breath, piteous like a dead child’s toys: the bloom on her cheek more precious than kingdoms, and less perdurable than the bloom on a butterfly’s wing. She was turned side-face towards him; and now, scarce to be perceived, her head moved with the faintest dim recalling of that imperial mockery of soft laughter that he knew so well; but he well saw that it was no motion of laughter now, but the gallant holding back of tears....

‘Come’ said the Duke. ‘What shall it be then? Inspire my invention. Entertain ’em all to a light collation and, by cue taken at the last kissing-cup, let split their weasands, stab ’em all in a moment? Your noble brother amongst them, ’tis to be feared, madam; since him, with a bunch of others, I am to thank for these beggar-my-neighbour sleights and cozenage beyond example. Or shall’t be a grand night-piece of double fratricide? yours and mine, spitted on one spit like a brace of woodcock? We can proceed with the first to-day: for the other, well, I’ll think on’t.’
‘Are you indeed that prince whom reputation told me of,’ said she, ‘that he which did offend you might tremble with only thinking of it? And now, as hares pull dead lions by the beard—’...

As if spell-bound under the troublous sweet hesitation of the choriambics, she listened very still. Very still, and dreamily, and with so soft an intonation that the words seemed but to take voiceless shape on her ambrosial breath, she answered, like an echo:

Once more, Love, the limb-loosener, shaketh me:
Bitter-sweet, the dread Worm ineluctable.

——E.R. Eddison

Moreno Torroba

This is one of my favorite pieces, and I’m fairly particular about it. This is the second movement, Andante, of the Sonatina in A by Frederico Moreno Torroba. It was first performed in Paris in 1925 by Andres Segovia to a private audience, which included Maurice Ravel; who, it is said, was very impressed by this work. I like the second and third movements best (the Andante and Allegro), although the first movement is definitely worthwhile.

My main complaint with this piece is that most people try to play it too fast. It doesn’t work so well like that. It’s much better played a bit behind the beat, shuffle-style, as one very long cadenza passage. If you try to play it in time, it comes out too dry. It needs to be felt from the heart, expressed tentatively.

The dynamics of the piece are very important, and this is where I have a bit of trouble with it. It’s never quite perfect, and requires a great deal of work.

Here is a video of a fellow from Eastern Michigan University playing it at a recital. It’s one of the best that I’ve heard, and I have heard quite a few. He hurries the first chord a bit (the first D in the D C D), and in a few other places. The dynamics are not observed consistently throughout. But other than that, I would call this an excellent performance; one of the best around.

The performer is Jonathan Edwards, and I’ve never heard of him before. Nevertheless, he shows great promise, and I look forward to hearing more from him in the future.

I hope that you enjoy this as much as I do. It would be a rare thing to see any better performance of this wonderful piece (unless, of course, you happen to come to visit).

UPDATE:
I had to put this here, because the comments section would not accept it.

Here's another piece that I find I'm getting a bit particular about, and for the same reasons. I find that noteworthy because it's so ridiculously simple, it seems like it would be difficult to mess it up. But I see a lot of people butchering it. Terrible.



This one is one of this things that's sort of obligatory to the repertoire. Just about everybody does it.

I have two recordings of this one; one by Parkening (which is incredibly fast), and another by Eduardo Fernandez (who does it much better). The fellow in the video does it better than either one of them. As far as recordings, I prefer the Richard Cobo.

I really don't know as much about Brouwer as I would like. There's only a few of his pieces that I'm familiar with.

I've gotten to where I browse through these things because of all of the commercials on Pandora anymore.

Sundog

Zimiamvia

‘Now I’ve angered you,’ said Amaury. ‘And yet, I said but true.’

As a wren twinkles in and out in a hedge-row, the demurest soft shadow of laughter came and went in Lessingham’s swift grey eyes. ‘What, were you reading me good counsel? Forgive me, dear Amaury: I lost the thread on’t. You were talking of my cousin, and the great King, and might-a-beens; but I was fallen a-dreaming, and marked you not.’

——Mistress of Mistresses

Much like the wanderer Lessingham, the prose of E.R. Eddison takes me fallen a-dreaming. With much of his works, I read each paragraph through at least twice; once to enjoy the beauty of the prose, and again to take in the meaning before moving on. Eddison is, by far, my favorite author, but most of his works have been out of print for some time.

I recently acquired the Ballantine edition of the Zimiamvian trilogy (1967 — 1969). I will be sharing short excerpts on occasion as the mood strikes.

A Vision of Zimiamvia

I will have gold and silver for my delight:
      Hangings of red silk, purfled and work’d in gold
With mantichores and what worse shapes of fright
      Terror Antiquus spawn’d in the days of old.

I will have columns of Parian vein’d with gems,
      Their capitals by Pheidias’ self design’d,
By his hand carv’d, for flowers with strong smooth stems,
      Nepenthe, Elysian Amaranth, and their kind.

I will have night: and the taste of a field well fought,
      And a golden bed made wide for luxury;
And there,— since else were all things else prov’d naught,—
      Bestower and hallower of all things: I will have Thee.

—Thee, and hawthorn time. For in that new birth though all
      Change, you I will have unchang’d: even that dress,
So fall’n to your hips as lapping waves should fall:
      You, cloth’d upon with your beauty’s nakedness.

The line of your flank: so lily-pure and warm:
      The globéd wonder of splendid breasts laid bare:
The gleam, like cymbals a-clash, when you lift your arm;
      And the faun leaps out with the sweetness of red-gold hair.

My dear,— my tongue is broken: I cannot see:
      A sudden subtle fire beneath my skin
Runs, and an inward thunder deafens me,
      Drowning mine ears: I tremble. — O unpin

Those pins of anachite diamond, and unbraid
      Those strings of margery-pearls, and so let fall
Your python tresses in their deep cascade
      To be your misty robe imperial. —

The beating of wings, the gallop, the wild spate,
      Die down. A hush resumes all Being, which you
Do with your starry presence consecrate,
      And peace of moon-trod gardens and falling dew.

Two are our bodies: two are our minds, but wed.
      On your dear shoulder, like a child asleep,
I let my shut lids press, while round my head
      Your gracious hands their benediction keep.

Mistress of my delights; and Mistress of Peace:
      O ever changing, never changing, You:
Dear pledge of our true love’s unending lease,
      Since true to you means to mine own self true.—

I will have gold and jewels for my delight:
      Hyacinth, ruby, and smaragd, and curtains work’d in gold
With mantichores and what worse shapes of fright
      Terror Antiquus spawn’d in the days of old.

Earth I will have, and the deep sky’s ornament:
      Lordship, and hardship, and peril by land and sea.—
And still, about cock-shut time, to pay for my banishment,
      Safe in the lowe of the firelight I will have Thee.

——E.R. Eddison

Obstructed by Obscurity

I've been looking for a magazine. So far, I've been unable to find it.

I don't want to read it. I just want to verify some information.

The magazine is 20 - 25 years old. Even when it was new, it wasn't in wide circulation.

I want to record with my new guitar. I determined that the first piece I would record would be the second air of Turlough O'Carolan's "Planxty George Brabazon." This is one piece that I happen to play better than anyone else.


The arrangement that I am familiar with is in an alternate tuning; an open G, I believe.

I need to verify that. It makes a lot of difference.

And it's in that magazine.

While searching for the verification of the alternate tuning to the second air of Turlough O'Carolan's "Planxty George Brabazon," I have trouble recalling the tune.

I have a piece by Carlo Calvi running through my head. It won't stop. [Note: The piece linked to here is played a bit fast.]

O'Carolan was a harpist from Ireland in the late 17th century.

Calvi was an Italian guitarist from the early 17th century.

No relation.

Just the tune is somewhat similar.

And so, my quest for a little-used tuning to play an obscure piece by a little-known composer to be found in some old and little-circulated magazine (in excellent condition!) is hampered now by another obscure composer with an even more obscure piece.

Darn the luck!

Maybe I'll just play "Blackbird" (another piece that I play better than anyone else)....

EDIT: Mystery solved! This is actually an open G tuning that's been down-tuned by a major-minor interval: B E B E G# B.
It took a lot to get to that point.
The old down-tuned open G.
I should have known....