Word of the Week
Because this site comes up when people do a Google search on this word, I've made it the Word of the Week.
hypermammiferous
adj. having extremely large breasts
A Short Tale In Which The Dulcinea and I Share a Meal
I went over to The Dulcinea's last night after making a pitstop at home to grab some ingredients for supper. I ended up making a variation on the Blazing Flat Noodle dish at Big Bowl and a berry compote for dessert. First thing I did was to throw together the sauce and then I started chopping onion and a slew of peppers from our garden. Although there was one jalapeno, the rest were mild wax peppers. As I prepped, I indulged myself in a mighty fine 60 Minute IPA from Dogfish Head Brewery and snacked on some of the yummy chocolate chip cookies The Dulcinea had made earlier. As we got dinner ready and cleaned, she did absolutely nothing especial to make me occasionally pull down her shorts and slap her ass. But I did so anyway. It would prove to be an omen...
With dinner done, we settled down at the dining room table. She was mighty hungry as she dove headlong into her first place of noodles with all the glee of Michael Jackson at an Boy Scout jamboree. And she didn't let fumbling with chop sticks stop her. When it became too difficult, she busted out forks. After cleaning her plate, she gave herself another helping. And after cleaning off her place yet again, she had a third serving of the noodles. I admit that it was pretty tasty. I think the salted black beans kind of gave it a little extra salty something. I don't as of yet have pics of the main course but have some of the berries. I took blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries and threw them in a bowl. Then I tossed them with some real maple syrup. Here they are a soakin'.
Now, I was lazy and not keen on making any more dishes that I'd have to wash so I just ate them out of the serving bowl.
The Dulcinea, being all prim and proper, ate them out of a separate bowl.
My second dessert would come later and prove no less satisfying...
I went over to The Dulcinea's last night after making a pitstop at home to grab some ingredients for supper. I ended up making a variation on the Blazing Flat Noodle dish at Big Bowl and a berry compote for dessert. First thing I did was to throw together the sauce and then I started chopping onion and a slew of peppers from our garden. Although there was one jalapeno, the rest were mild wax peppers. As I prepped, I indulged myself in a mighty fine 60 Minute IPA from Dogfish Head Brewery and snacked on some of the yummy chocolate chip cookies The Dulcinea had made earlier. As we got dinner ready and cleaned, she did absolutely nothing especial to make me occasionally pull down her shorts and slap her ass. But I did so anyway. It would prove to be an omen...
With dinner done, we settled down at the dining room table. She was mighty hungry as she dove headlong into her first place of noodles with all the glee of Michael Jackson at an Boy Scout jamboree. And she didn't let fumbling with chop sticks stop her. When it became too difficult, she busted out forks. After cleaning her plate, she gave herself another helping. And after cleaning off her place yet again, she had a third serving of the noodles. I admit that it was pretty tasty. I think the salted black beans kind of gave it a little extra salty something. I don't as of yet have pics of the main course but have some of the berries. I took blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries and threw them in a bowl. Then I tossed them with some real maple syrup. Here they are a soakin'.
Now, I was lazy and not keen on making any more dishes that I'd have to wash so I just ate them out of the serving bowl.
The Dulcinea, being all prim and proper, ate them out of a separate bowl.
My second dessert would come later and prove no less satisfying...
Get Thee to the Symphony
I've been scouting some fancy concert opportunities this morning. With the approach of autumn comes the symphony!
The Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra's webpage is having some problems this morning but I've been able to see enough of it to know that they're not fucking around this season:
Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition
Orff's Carmina Burana
Beethoven's Ninth Symphony
Sibelius' Violin Concerto
Saint-Saens' Organ Symphony
Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet Suite
Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 1
Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1
The Milwaukee Symphony Chorus is celebrating its 30th anniversary so they're busting out all the major choral works of the repertoire. I am definitely gonna see Carmina Burana and Pictures. Plus, how can I not see Beethoven's 9th? Fuck man! It's Ludwig van!! In addition, they'll be performing a couple of Shostakovich's symphonies and a whole lotta Tchaikovsky.
The Chicago Symphony Orchestra has a buttload of good stuff but I've been wanting to see The Rite of Spring for a while now and they'll be performing it on June 9th & 10th of next year! And they too will be doing Pictures. Other highlights include a bunch of Ludwig van's piano concertos and Finlandia by Sibelius.
A bit closer to home, the Madison Symphony Orchestra starts its season shortly with a program including Dvorak's "From the New World". But it's their last performance of the season that intrigues me the most as it will include Stravinsky's Firebird Suite.
I've been scouting some fancy concert opportunities this morning. With the approach of autumn comes the symphony!
The Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra's webpage is having some problems this morning but I've been able to see enough of it to know that they're not fucking around this season:
Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition
Orff's Carmina Burana
Beethoven's Ninth Symphony
Sibelius' Violin Concerto
Saint-Saens' Organ Symphony
Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet Suite
Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 1
Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1
The Milwaukee Symphony Chorus is celebrating its 30th anniversary so they're busting out all the major choral works of the repertoire. I am definitely gonna see Carmina Burana and Pictures. Plus, how can I not see Beethoven's 9th? Fuck man! It's Ludwig van!! In addition, they'll be performing a couple of Shostakovich's symphonies and a whole lotta Tchaikovsky.
The Chicago Symphony Orchestra has a buttload of good stuff but I've been wanting to see The Rite of Spring for a while now and they'll be performing it on June 9th & 10th of next year! And they too will be doing Pictures. Other highlights include a bunch of Ludwig van's piano concertos and Finlandia by Sibelius.
A bit closer to home, the Madison Symphony Orchestra starts its season shortly with a program including Dvorak's "From the New World". But it's their last performance of the season that intrigues me the most as it will include Stravinsky's Firebird Suite.
30 August, 2005
Berries, Sodomy, and the Lash
I just got back from having a smokey treat where I was regaled with tales of beekeeping by a co-worker. It must have quite a dilemma for him to suddenly find 200 pounds of honey on his hands. I brought in that can of Ass Kickin' Snack Mix and can't stop eating it! The stuff is like crack! So tasty yet habenero hot. I love the pain too much. I got this from The Dulcinea:
"I love having your vital energies poured into me. I think, sometimes when I stop to consider such things, that your ejaculate has magickal properties. There was so much of it on Saturday night! Well, you don't have to pour your energies into me tomorrow night, we can save them up. Imagine, a night without sex or orgasms... Could we do it?"
I think we're gonna have to tonight as her naughty bits are having an issue. Perhaps I can convince her to let me come in the back door.
In other news, I narrowly avoided an ass-chewing this morning. A case that has been festering since January had my name on it and managers galore have been pestering a member of my team about it. So he called me over to his desk. Neither the application nor the user sounded familiar. I asked to see my case notes but he couldn't find any. My name was mentioned in one section but it was an email. Looking at it, we found that someone had copied and pasted my out of office message from when I was at GenCon into the case. And that was my only involvement with this issue ergo I was let off the hook. Did anyone besides The Dulcinea notice that I was quoted at The Daily Page yesterday? Of course they used only the choicest quote containing the word "hoolie", my raving about how cool Gentle Giant is, and my oberservation that the gazebo at Orton Park makes me think of Zork II. (What is a grue?).
Work is going dreadfully slowly. I closed a few cases that had been lingering and managed to get one of my inboxes cleaned up nicely. I ended up deleting 800+ e-mails! Tonight I'm going over to The Dulcinea's. I am to cook some dinner but am not sure what the hell I'll be making. I'm thinking some kind of Oriental noodle dish. I've got those udon noodles, salted black beans, and a fuckload of vegetables from our garden to use up. A dash of sesame oil and a bit of fish and soy sauces and voila! Faux Japanese food! For dessert I think I'll make that berry compote. Plump, ripe blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries lightly coated in a dew of (real) maple syrup. Mmmm...I love how the berries burst when I bite into them and send streams of their juices caroming around my mouth. Invariably, some of the nectar dribbles down my chin making my lips and goatee all sticky sweet.
I was looking over the webpage of Madison Dugneon and contemplated spending $200 on the novice introduction. I think a woman in leather making me lick her boots after subjecting my tender flesh to the lash would do me a world of good.
I just got back from having a smokey treat where I was regaled with tales of beekeeping by a co-worker. It must have quite a dilemma for him to suddenly find 200 pounds of honey on his hands. I brought in that can of Ass Kickin' Snack Mix and can't stop eating it! The stuff is like crack! So tasty yet habenero hot. I love the pain too much. I got this from The Dulcinea:
"I love having your vital energies poured into me. I think, sometimes when I stop to consider such things, that your ejaculate has magickal properties. There was so much of it on Saturday night! Well, you don't have to pour your energies into me tomorrow night, we can save them up. Imagine, a night without sex or orgasms... Could we do it?"
I think we're gonna have to tonight as her naughty bits are having an issue. Perhaps I can convince her to let me come in the back door.
In other news, I narrowly avoided an ass-chewing this morning. A case that has been festering since January had my name on it and managers galore have been pestering a member of my team about it. So he called me over to his desk. Neither the application nor the user sounded familiar. I asked to see my case notes but he couldn't find any. My name was mentioned in one section but it was an email. Looking at it, we found that someone had copied and pasted my out of office message from when I was at GenCon into the case. And that was my only involvement with this issue ergo I was let off the hook. Did anyone besides The Dulcinea notice that I was quoted at The Daily Page yesterday? Of course they used only the choicest quote containing the word "hoolie", my raving about how cool Gentle Giant is, and my oberservation that the gazebo at Orton Park makes me think of Zork II. (What is a grue?).
Work is going dreadfully slowly. I closed a few cases that had been lingering and managed to get one of my inboxes cleaned up nicely. I ended up deleting 800+ e-mails! Tonight I'm going over to The Dulcinea's. I am to cook some dinner but am not sure what the hell I'll be making. I'm thinking some kind of Oriental noodle dish. I've got those udon noodles, salted black beans, and a fuckload of vegetables from our garden to use up. A dash of sesame oil and a bit of fish and soy sauces and voila! Faux Japanese food! For dessert I think I'll make that berry compote. Plump, ripe blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries lightly coated in a dew of (real) maple syrup. Mmmm...I love how the berries burst when I bite into them and send streams of their juices caroming around my mouth. Invariably, some of the nectar dribbles down my chin making my lips and goatee all sticky sweet.
I was looking over the webpage of Madison Dugneon and contemplated spending $200 on the novice introduction. I think a woman in leather making me lick her boots after subjecting my tender flesh to the lash would do me a world of good.
On the Gramophone
As a follow-up to last week's On the Gramophone, check out some sounds by Far Corner, who will be playing with Kopecky at Shank Hall next month. Samples from their debut album, Far Corner can be found here.
As a follow-up to last week's On the Gramophone, check out some sounds by Far Corner, who will be playing with Kopecky at Shank Hall next month. Samples from their debut album, Far Corner can be found here.
29 August, 2005
Sweets
Just to make y'all extremely jealous, here's a picture of what's left of the barfi and pera that me mum brought me from Chicago:
And here is a picture of the fruits (hehe) of my labors this evening. Yes, I finally brandied those peaches.
I have to wait 3 months before I can bust them open so check back in December to find out if I fall ill to botulism or not.
Just to make y'all extremely jealous, here's a picture of what's left of the barfi and pera that me mum brought me from Chicago:
And here is a picture of the fruits (hehe) of my labors this evening. Yes, I finally brandied those peaches.
I have to wait 3 months before I can bust them open so check back in December to find out if I fall ill to botulism or not.
Logogle
If your dream is to have your website's name written in Google script, well here's your chance.
If your dream is to have your website's name written in Google script, well here's your chance.
A Couple Ditties...
...via Sexoteric Blog.
Firstly we have this:
And, yes, this is exactly what you think it is. To get the recipe for this creation and others including the Ejaculating Eclair and Bukkake Cookies, head on over to Porn Bread.
Secondly, I just love this picture because I'm a geek and she's hot.
I will blow this pic up later with Genuine Fractals to see if that's really her coochie exposed there.
...via Sexoteric Blog.
Firstly we have this:
And, yes, this is exactly what you think it is. To get the recipe for this creation and others including the Ejaculating Eclair and Bukkake Cookies, head on over to Porn Bread.
Secondly, I just love this picture because I'm a geek and she's hot.
I will blow this pic up later with Genuine Fractals to see if that's really her coochie exposed there.
Return of the Prodigal Cybermen!
They may have been in absentia enjoying their fame and fortune but the Cybermen return next month! The first episode of the four-part series is called Scorpius and will be released in September. A teaser trailer can be found here. (Winders Media)
Classified transmission decoded...
TRANSMISSION TRANSCRIPT [03782/49-TZN]: This is planetary assault force Delta, Regimental Command. If you are reading us. the situation is critical.
All battalions report heavy casualties. Enemy forces moving on all fronts.
Superior numbers. Their best weapons. We can't stop them.
[HEAVY DISTORTION IDENTIFIED AS GUNFIRE]
We are under heavy fire here. If you can hear this, Fleet-we need urgent evacuation. You've got to get us out of here. The intell was wrong. We dropped into a hell's nest of them here. They waited until our orbital
support had moved out, then they hit us from all sides.
[HEAVY DISTORTION IDENTIFIED AS GUNFIRE]
Fleet, we need you and we need you now!
[HEAVY DISTORTION IDENTIFIED AS GUNFIRE]
NO FURTHER CONTACT
They may have been in absentia enjoying their fame and fortune but the Cybermen return next month! The first episode of the four-part series is called Scorpius and will be released in September. A teaser trailer can be found here. (Winders Media)
Classified transmission decoded...
TRANSMISSION TRANSCRIPT [03782/49-TZN]: This is planetary assault force Delta, Regimental Command. If you are reading us. the situation is critical.
All battalions report heavy casualties. Enemy forces moving on all fronts.
Superior numbers. Their best weapons. We can't stop them.
[HEAVY DISTORTION IDENTIFIED AS GUNFIRE]
We are under heavy fire here. If you can hear this, Fleet-we need urgent evacuation. You've got to get us out of here. The intell was wrong. We dropped into a hell's nest of them here. They waited until our orbital
support had moved out, then they hit us from all sides.
[HEAVY DISTORTION IDENTIFIED AS GUNFIRE]
Fleet, we need you and we need you now!
[HEAVY DISTORTION IDENTIFIED AS GUNFIRE]
NO FURTHER CONTACT
Woman Cookewy
Someone should buy me this book. My 8 years of Latin may finally come in handy! I can pretend that the coop is The Forum and eat like a Roman while watching Caligula, er, I mean Ben Hur.
Someone should buy me this book. My 8 years of Latin may finally come in handy! I can pretend that the coop is The Forum and eat like a Roman while watching Caligula, er, I mean Ben Hur.
Prost Gotvins Geometri – Part 12
This is Prost Gotvins geometri by Gert Nygårdshaug. The translation was done by Roy Johansen. Nygårdshaug is a Norwegian author and the text has not yet been published in English. Roy is a friend of mine who recently moved back to his native Norway. He has translated a good part of the novel and I'm trying to convince him to finish it.
Here’s Part 11.
Father Gotvin's First Journey (continued)
An arm in the water was waving, a face, a smile, a naked body - naked! I dropped my shoes and the bag, I have since wondered how this could possibly have taken place but the facts remain: I dropped my shoes and the bad, tore off my shirt pants, socks, and briefs. My body as white as the marble tiles, I stood at the side of the pool for a second before diving in with an almost perfect dive. While underwater, I opened my mouth; it was freshwater. I let go of all caution about unwanted intestinal bacteria and drank four or five big mouthfuls of the water. Still under the water, I sawn and then let myself sink calmly to the bottom. Pressure against my eardrums, the insides of my eyelids pricking – how long could I stay under water? I had no plans of surfacing. I caught a glimpse of a tanned body above and to my left. My chest and temples were pounding while a flash of thought cut through my brain: This is freedom, Gotvin Soleng! And with no clue about what was about to happen, I swam up , broke the surface gasping, and sneezed violently four times drowning out Mozart. She was at the side of the pool four yards from me. I met her eyes and she laughed.
"I thought you would drown."
"Right. No. Oh, well," I bleated.
"You look like a swan, a white male swan the you’re huddling up."
"I really didn’t mean to shout your name!"
"But you did shout?"
"Yes, I don’t understand what came over me."
"It was good that you shouted."
Suddenly I felt calm and understood that I was nto about to be confronted with shame or embarrassment. I saw her face smile, her eyes holding no reproach nor ulterior motives. I saw this woman, her breasts, her naked body semi-concealed in the water and heard a prayer pushing its way from deep inside of me; a prayer more sincerely real and strong than I could remember having felt in a long, long time: "Lord, my dear God, how beautiful she is, never take me away from this woman!!" This utopian prayer rose toward the glass ceiling and heaven along with the certainty that I would leave the town tomorrow. I would go home, home to my parish in Vanndal but she was so enchanting. She was no whore – whores did not having around summer-closed municipal baths. She was playing with the water surface and her palm sent a splash of water at my face. I winked the water away and smiled. Was I as white as a swan? Yes, I had not sunned for at least seven years, not that I had anything against it. An occasion simply hadn’t offered itself. She was tanned, delightfully tanned. We were just looking at each other. She with her back against the side of the pool and I a few feet out in the deep end treading water as well as I could while using my arms in relaxed movements to stay afloat. I was floating! The duality of this common verb dawned on me and I smiled again encountering her smile.
”One of my students told me," she said.
"Told you?"
"That you had been up a tree shouting my name, causing the police to come and get you."
"Really?" I replied and took a few strokes out away from the side.
”Several of my students were in the park,” she continued.
"I see." I was treading water again.
”It was beautiful. A young minister from Norway sitting in a tree shouting my name all across town.”
”You have a beautiful name."
”But no one has thought it beautiful enough to shout it out from treetops before.”
"I’m sure a lot of men have shouted your name from treetops, you just haven’t heard," I protested.
"But this time it was a very handsome man who did it.”
This left me in want of an answer. I let myself sink into the water but came back up at once.
"You’re pulling my leg," I dismissed.
"I saw it on the train, I saw what you call a soul.”
"Is that why you moved?"
She nodded. "I never do things like that.”
"Soul." The word sounded inexplicably unfamiliar to me now.
"That’s why I gave you a riddle."
"Of which I understand absolutely nothing."
Then you must solve it and give me the answer."
"I don’t think I’ll be able to do that. Viking fortresses are not my forte."
"”You’re, uh, well, barking up the wrong tree!"
I blushed a deep crimson.
Suddenly she laughed out loud and threw herself headlong into the water. Immediately I let myself sink all the way to the bottom. There I turned my head and glanced upwards and saw her body above me, aimed for her foot. Slowly my hand approached it. My lungs were desperate fro air but I wanted to stay down here. Then she started coming down toward me. With weightless movements and in slow motion, she was all the way down by my side. Her face drew closer to mine. One second? One minute? Our faces were close – what did we see? We embraced then she swam to the side doing the breaststroke. She grabbed a towel, dried herself, and then put on the floral dress – and only the dress – and waved.
"Come," she said.
She ran through the open glass wall and onto the lawn in between the cypresses. What was I supposed to do? Follow her? I was gasping, trying to control my breathing after the long stay underwater. Of course, why was I hesitating? I pulled myself out of the water and shook myself off like a dog. Handsome? Did she really find me handsome? No one had ever told me anything like that before: none of the women I had studied with at the School of Theology, nor any of the unmarried female ministers I had met; nor was I particularly handsome, for that matter – that’s something every mirror I had ever encountered could confirm, but she had said so. I ran over to my clothes, pulled on my slacks and nothing more. I fumbled with important buttons as I treaded out onto the grass. Barefoot on Spanish grass, Gotvin Soleng! Again with an exultation of freedom washed over me, but where had she gone? I was standing in the low evening sun looking around. A beautiful garden with cypresses, hibiscus, bougainvillea – all foreign, sweet fragrances. The garden was enclosed within a dense perimeter of deciduous trees. On the lawn and by the bushes were beautiful sculptures. Copies of Greek sculptures? I recognized Plato, Aristotle, and Sophocles and the historians Herodotus and Diodorus? I listened but heard only Mozart from the poolside and the faint humming of cars. Should I shout for her? Had she just left? Was this it? An unfathomable disappointment had started to build in me when I heard a teasing voice:
"Aren’t you coming?"
This is Prost Gotvins geometri by Gert Nygårdshaug. The translation was done by Roy Johansen. Nygårdshaug is a Norwegian author and the text has not yet been published in English. Roy is a friend of mine who recently moved back to his native Norway. He has translated a good part of the novel and I'm trying to convince him to finish it.
Here’s Part 11.
Father Gotvin's First Journey (continued)
An arm in the water was waving, a face, a smile, a naked body - naked! I dropped my shoes and the bag, I have since wondered how this could possibly have taken place but the facts remain: I dropped my shoes and the bad, tore off my shirt pants, socks, and briefs. My body as white as the marble tiles, I stood at the side of the pool for a second before diving in with an almost perfect dive. While underwater, I opened my mouth; it was freshwater. I let go of all caution about unwanted intestinal bacteria and drank four or five big mouthfuls of the water. Still under the water, I sawn and then let myself sink calmly to the bottom. Pressure against my eardrums, the insides of my eyelids pricking – how long could I stay under water? I had no plans of surfacing. I caught a glimpse of a tanned body above and to my left. My chest and temples were pounding while a flash of thought cut through my brain: This is freedom, Gotvin Soleng! And with no clue about what was about to happen, I swam up , broke the surface gasping, and sneezed violently four times drowning out Mozart. She was at the side of the pool four yards from me. I met her eyes and she laughed.
"I thought you would drown."
"Right. No. Oh, well," I bleated.
"You look like a swan, a white male swan the you’re huddling up."
"I really didn’t mean to shout your name!"
"But you did shout?"
"Yes, I don’t understand what came over me."
"It was good that you shouted."
Suddenly I felt calm and understood that I was nto about to be confronted with shame or embarrassment. I saw her face smile, her eyes holding no reproach nor ulterior motives. I saw this woman, her breasts, her naked body semi-concealed in the water and heard a prayer pushing its way from deep inside of me; a prayer more sincerely real and strong than I could remember having felt in a long, long time: "Lord, my dear God, how beautiful she is, never take me away from this woman!!" This utopian prayer rose toward the glass ceiling and heaven along with the certainty that I would leave the town tomorrow. I would go home, home to my parish in Vanndal but she was so enchanting. She was no whore – whores did not having around summer-closed municipal baths. She was playing with the water surface and her palm sent a splash of water at my face. I winked the water away and smiled. Was I as white as a swan? Yes, I had not sunned for at least seven years, not that I had anything against it. An occasion simply hadn’t offered itself. She was tanned, delightfully tanned. We were just looking at each other. She with her back against the side of the pool and I a few feet out in the deep end treading water as well as I could while using my arms in relaxed movements to stay afloat. I was floating! The duality of this common verb dawned on me and I smiled again encountering her smile.
”One of my students told me," she said.
"Told you?"
"That you had been up a tree shouting my name, causing the police to come and get you."
"Really?" I replied and took a few strokes out away from the side.
”Several of my students were in the park,” she continued.
"I see." I was treading water again.
”It was beautiful. A young minister from Norway sitting in a tree shouting my name all across town.”
”You have a beautiful name."
”But no one has thought it beautiful enough to shout it out from treetops before.”
"I’m sure a lot of men have shouted your name from treetops, you just haven’t heard," I protested.
"But this time it was a very handsome man who did it.”
This left me in want of an answer. I let myself sink into the water but came back up at once.
"You’re pulling my leg," I dismissed.
"I saw it on the train, I saw what you call a soul.”
"Is that why you moved?"
She nodded. "I never do things like that.”
"Soul." The word sounded inexplicably unfamiliar to me now.
"That’s why I gave you a riddle."
"Of which I understand absolutely nothing."
Then you must solve it and give me the answer."
"I don’t think I’ll be able to do that. Viking fortresses are not my forte."
"”You’re, uh, well, barking up the wrong tree!"
I blushed a deep crimson.
Suddenly she laughed out loud and threw herself headlong into the water. Immediately I let myself sink all the way to the bottom. There I turned my head and glanced upwards and saw her body above me, aimed for her foot. Slowly my hand approached it. My lungs were desperate fro air but I wanted to stay down here. Then she started coming down toward me. With weightless movements and in slow motion, she was all the way down by my side. Her face drew closer to mine. One second? One minute? Our faces were close – what did we see? We embraced then she swam to the side doing the breaststroke. She grabbed a towel, dried herself, and then put on the floral dress – and only the dress – and waved.
"Come," she said.
She ran through the open glass wall and onto the lawn in between the cypresses. What was I supposed to do? Follow her? I was gasping, trying to control my breathing after the long stay underwater. Of course, why was I hesitating? I pulled myself out of the water and shook myself off like a dog. Handsome? Did she really find me handsome? No one had ever told me anything like that before: none of the women I had studied with at the School of Theology, nor any of the unmarried female ministers I had met; nor was I particularly handsome, for that matter – that’s something every mirror I had ever encountered could confirm, but she had said so. I ran over to my clothes, pulled on my slacks and nothing more. I fumbled with important buttons as I treaded out onto the grass. Barefoot on Spanish grass, Gotvin Soleng! Again with an exultation of freedom washed over me, but where had she gone? I was standing in the low evening sun looking around. A beautiful garden with cypresses, hibiscus, bougainvillea – all foreign, sweet fragrances. The garden was enclosed within a dense perimeter of deciduous trees. On the lawn and by the bushes were beautiful sculptures. Copies of Greek sculptures? I recognized Plato, Aristotle, and Sophocles and the historians Herodotus and Diodorus? I listened but heard only Mozart from the poolside and the faint humming of cars. Should I shout for her? Had she just left? Was this it? An unfathomable disappointment had started to build in me when I heard a teasing voice:
"Aren’t you coming?"
My Kingdom For A Cubeb!
"My name is Panurge and I have come from HELL!" They shouldn't allow me to watch Gentle Giant videos at work. Oooh! The recorder'n'bass jam is starting!
Friday night was quite mellow. Not having had much sleep, my mom and I went to Jolly Bob's Jerk Joint for dinner. Somehow she'd survived sixty some-odd years never having had Jamaican food so I aimed to rectify this. I got my standard jerk port while my mom ordered Cuban chicken and of course we sampled one another's food. It was all quite excellent, I assure you. I did notice, however, that either there's a new cook or a new owner because, while the pork was just as tasty and tender and fall-off-the-bone as I had remembered, I was given a hoolie of banana catsup along with it. You see, I remember that it used to be more along the lines of a chutney than a catsup. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, I'm just noticing a difference. We called it a fairly early night but not before cruising around downtown and showing me mum some of the new buildings that have gone up since she was last in town and just taking in the sights.
We got an early start on Saturday and headed to the Farmer's Market. My mother is very health conscious and thusly is into "natural" foods, organic produce, and the like and so she was excited to see acres of fine farm-fresh goodies. She bought some jam and a couple other things while I grabbed a bit more. Among my scores were an eggplant, some mini-loves of zucchini, pumpkin, and chocolate chip breads, a half gallon of pear cider, maple syrup, and a whole lotta berries - black, blue, and rasp. My plan is to make some a roasted eggplant compote and then to toss all the berries together and drizzle with the aforementioned maple syrup. We broke our fasts with scones. I had the super pepper jacks variety while my mom had one of those as well one full of almondy goodness. Having done the circle a couple times, we headed back to my car and over to the coop where I bought a few staples like milk and butter. We dropped the bounty off at my place where I also showed my mother our new & improved backyard (Now With 400% more flowers!) as picked some tomatoes and peppers from the garden. By the time we took off, mum had some fresh produce. Unfortunately, she wouldn't take more! The more that is given away, the less work I have to do in order to preserve the stuff. Leaving my house, we went in search of quinces and cubebs. OK, so it's not exactly the normal mother and son activity but so it goes. Our first stop was Penzey's - a world of spice. Just stepping into the store gives one an olfactory orgasm. The aroma that inhabits the place is just fantastic! Peppers blend with curries which blend with cardamon which blends with...well, you get the picture. I love the joint because there's 8 million varieties of peppercorns and even more seasoning blends. It's like a culinary apothecary and I always feel inspired to cook with a dash of this and a pinch of that. We wandered around a while admiring the fine spices and herbs. Unsurprisingly, I couldn't find cubebs anywhere. So I grabbed a much-needed phial of white pepper and a hoolie of saffron. Leaving the scented confines of Penzey's, we headed next door to a Chinese grocery store that I'd never checked out previously. It was small & cramped and just perfect! On one wall was shelf after shelf loaded with videotapes for rent. I can't read the pictograms of the Far East so I've no idea what any of the programs were. I was very pleased, however, to find some salted black beans. I've got some recipes that I'm keen on trying that call for them. And, lemme tell ya, they had a kim chee selection of extraordinary magnitude. While I like the stuff, I'm the only person I know that eats it and I couldn't find a pint of the stuff - only the super family-sized barrels. I didn't get any because A) it would take me years to eat it all and B) there's no room in our refrigerator for the container because it's full of low carb crap. I did grab some udon noodles and a can of rice punch for the road. It was then off to Brennan's.
Brennan's is a joint that sells produce, bread, and lots and lots of booze of every type and flava. Now, although they had a sign saying "Quinces 99¢ each", there were none. They did, however, have Idaho peaches! My mom and I both eyed them with lust and greedily grabbed up some baskets. As I said, Brennan's has a huge booze selection. I've been contemplating started a little wine collection. I know next to nothing about wines but would like to learn. And, while I don't drink much wine, I do enjoy a glass with a meal. And so I wanna get a small rack to fill and I already have 1 bottle - Prairie Fumé. There are a fair number of wineries here in Wisconsin and Brennan's has a nice selection from the New Glarus Primrose Winery. And so I'd like to get a few bottles of local wines and then a few from elsewhere.
As long as I'm on the topic of food, I will mention that my mom found a recipe in my Polish cookbook for Pheasant Stewed in Mead. Sounds tasty! The Dulcinea found a place here that sells pheasant and I know where to get mead so I'm thinking it might be served at my house soon.
From Brennan's we went over to visit Dogger and Mel. My mother has known Dogger nearly as long as I have and was at their wedding. Plus she hadn't seen them since Miss Regan was born so they'd get to meet each other. We walked in the back door and into the kitchen. Almost immediately Miss Regan came running in wearing only a diaper and one sock. She was all smiles! Mel came in following her and my mom gave her a great big hug. While they chatted, Dogger showed me the guest room which he was painting. It was a brilliant red called Ox Red and was chosen to go along the the costumes of a series of old Japanese dolls Mel has. They are of women all decked out in kimonos and such and they are to be displayed in there. We settled into the living room and shot the bull. And I played with Regan and her fire truck on the floor. Then she wonked me in the nose with the dalmation fireman. Naughty girl. Mel was doing well. It's hard for me to tell if she's regained more mobility in her left side or if she's just more confident with her limited abilities.
With the visit over, my mom and I headed out for a late lunch at Bunky's. It's a café that serves Mediterranean cuisine. I was surprised that my mom scarfed down her entire piece of vegetable lasagne while I could barely finish my chicken schawarma. Tasty all! With full bellies, we went down to Olbrich Park and walked along the shore for a while. We moseyed over to the botanical gardens where I called The Dulcinea who was to meet up with us a bit later and go to the Orton Park Festival. She was already there with her friend Hita and Miles & Desmond. And so mom and I strolled a bit more before heading back to my place where I took a shower and changed. We picked up The Dulcinea around 7. I think she was quite nervous but needn't have been as my mom is just a hyper-friendly person. We headed over to the fest and chatted along the way. The joint was a rockin'! Orton Park is a block square dotted with old trees and has a nice gazebo in the middle which always makes me think of Zork II when I see it. The Dulcinea grabbed some dinner and we found some seats. Robbie Fulks was rockin' the crowd. While it would have been nice to check him out, my mom isn't the type for loud alternative country even if the singer is from Chicago. Close to 8:30, we went and found a patch of grass from which we could watch Cycropia do their thing. A large tree had been outfitted with lights and two trapezes were hanging on one side while a lone trapeze hung down on the other side. It was a fun, exceptionally graceful performance. Dancers climbing up other dancers who are perched on a trapeze and hanging from them, hanging upside down from the ropes, and so on. Plus that stiltwalker guy did his schtick. He does one short hoolie per show and this time around he dressed as a lizard and had stilts on his arms as well so he could walk on all four. After the show, I dropped my mom off at her hotel and The Dulcinea and I made haste for my place...
"My name is Panurge and I have come from HELL!" They shouldn't allow me to watch Gentle Giant videos at work. Oooh! The recorder'n'bass jam is starting!
Friday night was quite mellow. Not having had much sleep, my mom and I went to Jolly Bob's Jerk Joint for dinner. Somehow she'd survived sixty some-odd years never having had Jamaican food so I aimed to rectify this. I got my standard jerk port while my mom ordered Cuban chicken and of course we sampled one another's food. It was all quite excellent, I assure you. I did notice, however, that either there's a new cook or a new owner because, while the pork was just as tasty and tender and fall-off-the-bone as I had remembered, I was given a hoolie of banana catsup along with it. You see, I remember that it used to be more along the lines of a chutney than a catsup. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, I'm just noticing a difference. We called it a fairly early night but not before cruising around downtown and showing me mum some of the new buildings that have gone up since she was last in town and just taking in the sights.
We got an early start on Saturday and headed to the Farmer's Market. My mother is very health conscious and thusly is into "natural" foods, organic produce, and the like and so she was excited to see acres of fine farm-fresh goodies. She bought some jam and a couple other things while I grabbed a bit more. Among my scores were an eggplant, some mini-loves of zucchini, pumpkin, and chocolate chip breads, a half gallon of pear cider, maple syrup, and a whole lotta berries - black, blue, and rasp. My plan is to make some a roasted eggplant compote and then to toss all the berries together and drizzle with the aforementioned maple syrup. We broke our fasts with scones. I had the super pepper jacks variety while my mom had one of those as well one full of almondy goodness. Having done the circle a couple times, we headed back to my car and over to the coop where I bought a few staples like milk and butter. We dropped the bounty off at my place where I also showed my mother our new & improved backyard (Now With 400% more flowers!) as picked some tomatoes and peppers from the garden. By the time we took off, mum had some fresh produce. Unfortunately, she wouldn't take more! The more that is given away, the less work I have to do in order to preserve the stuff. Leaving my house, we went in search of quinces and cubebs. OK, so it's not exactly the normal mother and son activity but so it goes. Our first stop was Penzey's - a world of spice. Just stepping into the store gives one an olfactory orgasm. The aroma that inhabits the place is just fantastic! Peppers blend with curries which blend with cardamon which blends with...well, you get the picture. I love the joint because there's 8 million varieties of peppercorns and even more seasoning blends. It's like a culinary apothecary and I always feel inspired to cook with a dash of this and a pinch of that. We wandered around a while admiring the fine spices and herbs. Unsurprisingly, I couldn't find cubebs anywhere. So I grabbed a much-needed phial of white pepper and a hoolie of saffron. Leaving the scented confines of Penzey's, we headed next door to a Chinese grocery store that I'd never checked out previously. It was small & cramped and just perfect! On one wall was shelf after shelf loaded with videotapes for rent. I can't read the pictograms of the Far East so I've no idea what any of the programs were. I was very pleased, however, to find some salted black beans. I've got some recipes that I'm keen on trying that call for them. And, lemme tell ya, they had a kim chee selection of extraordinary magnitude. While I like the stuff, I'm the only person I know that eats it and I couldn't find a pint of the stuff - only the super family-sized barrels. I didn't get any because A) it would take me years to eat it all and B) there's no room in our refrigerator for the container because it's full of low carb crap. I did grab some udon noodles and a can of rice punch for the road. It was then off to Brennan's.
Brennan's is a joint that sells produce, bread, and lots and lots of booze of every type and flava. Now, although they had a sign saying "Quinces 99¢ each", there were none. They did, however, have Idaho peaches! My mom and I both eyed them with lust and greedily grabbed up some baskets. As I said, Brennan's has a huge booze selection. I've been contemplating started a little wine collection. I know next to nothing about wines but would like to learn. And, while I don't drink much wine, I do enjoy a glass with a meal. And so I wanna get a small rack to fill and I already have 1 bottle - Prairie Fumé. There are a fair number of wineries here in Wisconsin and Brennan's has a nice selection from the New Glarus Primrose Winery. And so I'd like to get a few bottles of local wines and then a few from elsewhere.
As long as I'm on the topic of food, I will mention that my mom found a recipe in my Polish cookbook for Pheasant Stewed in Mead. Sounds tasty! The Dulcinea found a place here that sells pheasant and I know where to get mead so I'm thinking it might be served at my house soon.
From Brennan's we went over to visit Dogger and Mel. My mother has known Dogger nearly as long as I have and was at their wedding. Plus she hadn't seen them since Miss Regan was born so they'd get to meet each other. We walked in the back door and into the kitchen. Almost immediately Miss Regan came running in wearing only a diaper and one sock. She was all smiles! Mel came in following her and my mom gave her a great big hug. While they chatted, Dogger showed me the guest room which he was painting. It was a brilliant red called Ox Red and was chosen to go along the the costumes of a series of old Japanese dolls Mel has. They are of women all decked out in kimonos and such and they are to be displayed in there. We settled into the living room and shot the bull. And I played with Regan and her fire truck on the floor. Then she wonked me in the nose with the dalmation fireman. Naughty girl. Mel was doing well. It's hard for me to tell if she's regained more mobility in her left side or if she's just more confident with her limited abilities.
With the visit over, my mom and I headed out for a late lunch at Bunky's. It's a café that serves Mediterranean cuisine. I was surprised that my mom scarfed down her entire piece of vegetable lasagne while I could barely finish my chicken schawarma. Tasty all! With full bellies, we went down to Olbrich Park and walked along the shore for a while. We moseyed over to the botanical gardens where I called The Dulcinea who was to meet up with us a bit later and go to the Orton Park Festival. She was already there with her friend Hita and Miles & Desmond. And so mom and I strolled a bit more before heading back to my place where I took a shower and changed. We picked up The Dulcinea around 7. I think she was quite nervous but needn't have been as my mom is just a hyper-friendly person. We headed over to the fest and chatted along the way. The joint was a rockin'! Orton Park is a block square dotted with old trees and has a nice gazebo in the middle which always makes me think of Zork II when I see it. The Dulcinea grabbed some dinner and we found some seats. Robbie Fulks was rockin' the crowd. While it would have been nice to check him out, my mom isn't the type for loud alternative country even if the singer is from Chicago. Close to 8:30, we went and found a patch of grass from which we could watch Cycropia do their thing. A large tree had been outfitted with lights and two trapezes were hanging on one side while a lone trapeze hung down on the other side. It was a fun, exceptionally graceful performance. Dancers climbing up other dancers who are perched on a trapeze and hanging from them, hanging upside down from the ropes, and so on. Plus that stiltwalker guy did his schtick. He does one short hoolie per show and this time around he dressed as a lizard and had stilts on his arms as well so he could walk on all four. After the show, I dropped my mom off at her hotel and The Dulcinea and I made haste for my place...
28 August, 2005
Pumpes
Mmm...pumpes...My order for cubebs has been placed.
Pumpes are a medieval meatball and cubebs are one of the ingredients. They're a Jawanese peppercorn. (You should have seen me at Penzey's, a spice store, yesterday. I got some weird looks when I told the folks what I was after: "Um, yeah, I'm trying to recreate a 15th century recipe...") The sauce requires almond milk so I'm going to make that myself which means that I need to go buy some cheesecloth. Hopefully the cubebs shall get here sometime this week and I can make me some pumpes next weekend! In the meantime, I'm going to try to brandy some peaches and perhaps try a recipe from my new Polish cookbook - pheasant stewed in mead.
Mmm...pumpes...My order for cubebs has been placed.
Pumpes are a medieval meatball and cubebs are one of the ingredients. They're a Jawanese peppercorn. (You should have seen me at Penzey's, a spice store, yesterday. I got some weird looks when I told the folks what I was after: "Um, yeah, I'm trying to recreate a 15th century recipe...") The sauce requires almond milk so I'm going to make that myself which means that I need to go buy some cheesecloth. Hopefully the cubebs shall get here sometime this week and I can make me some pumpes next weekend! In the meantime, I'm going to try to brandy some peaches and perhaps try a recipe from my new Polish cookbook - pheasant stewed in mead.
On Trolls, Mustard, and Grimm
My mom and I headed to Mt. Horeb this afternoon. For those not in the know, Mt. Horeb is a small town of about 5,000 people and is known for trolls and The Mustard Museum. Here's selection of trolls from Main Street, a.k.a. - The Trollway.
I've read about why the town's relationship with trolls but can't for the life of me remember the story. Harumph. Anyway, we headed to The Mustard Museum.
After giving the mustard displays a once over, we headed to the shop. I got me some Chocolate Fudge Mustard, Ass Kickin' Hot Snack Mix, a little hoolie of bourbon mustard for Miss Rosie, and a couple tubes of German mustard - one for myself and one for The Dulcinea. There was a bottle of spray-on BBQ sauce which I found humorous as well as a sign saying "Danger: Men Cooking".
Although I've lived here for 15 years and Mt. Horeb is about 10 miles from town, I've only ever been through there and have never actually been to The Mustard Museum until today. Afterwards we ate some breakfast at a local diner which featured Ancora coffee, a Madison roaster, as well as Chocolate Shoppe ice cream, another Madison business. I had me the Hungry Norwegian Breakfast which consisted of pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and toast. Needless to say, I made a complete pig of myself. It was a neat diner which had retained much of its 1940s look and appeal. With bellies full, we headed back to my house whereupon I changed shirts and called The Dulcinea. Her movie date for the afternoon had bailed so she was free. Hence I invited her to go see The Brothers Grimm with us and she took me up on the offer. Since they had met last night, it would be a mellow encounter.
The Brothers Grimm was very good. By this I mean that it was a very fun and funny flick but lacked much Gilliam weirdness. I would probably be raving about it had it been directed by anyone else but, when I see a Gilliam film, I expect it to be really odd and Grimm wasn't. But, by all means, if you haven't seen it, do so. The cinematography was excellent and it had a wonderfully creepy atmosphere. I thought Matt Damon & Heath Ledger did very well and Jonathan Pryce is always a treat onscreen. Plus Lena Headey is a hottie! It was fun seeing all the references to various fairy tales as well, such as Little Red Riding Hood and Hansel & Gretel. I expected the motif about childhood to have been stronger but this was eschewed in favor of more action, I suppose. Gilliam has made films with this theme before: Time Bandits and The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. I expected more about childhood because it's about the bloody Brothers Grimm! The film opens with a scene from their childhood and there are flashbacks later on from Angelika's youth. And the film centers around uncovering the disappearances of young girls from a town. Plus the villain relates to youth as well. Childhood was everywhere in the film but I couldn't discern a well-developed statement about it as the aforementioned films have. Perhaps this isn't surprising as Gilliam wrote these two screenplays but gets no writing credit on Grimm. Well, his Tideland comes out soon which concerns childhood and he had a hand in the screenplay. Again, do go see it!
My mom and I headed to Mt. Horeb this afternoon. For those not in the know, Mt. Horeb is a small town of about 5,000 people and is known for trolls and The Mustard Museum. Here's selection of trolls from Main Street, a.k.a. - The Trollway.
I've read about why the town's relationship with trolls but can't for the life of me remember the story. Harumph. Anyway, we headed to The Mustard Museum.
After giving the mustard displays a once over, we headed to the shop. I got me some Chocolate Fudge Mustard, Ass Kickin' Hot Snack Mix, a little hoolie of bourbon mustard for Miss Rosie, and a couple tubes of German mustard - one for myself and one for The Dulcinea. There was a bottle of spray-on BBQ sauce which I found humorous as well as a sign saying "Danger: Men Cooking".
Although I've lived here for 15 years and Mt. Horeb is about 10 miles from town, I've only ever been through there and have never actually been to The Mustard Museum until today. Afterwards we ate some breakfast at a local diner which featured Ancora coffee, a Madison roaster, as well as Chocolate Shoppe ice cream, another Madison business. I had me the Hungry Norwegian Breakfast which consisted of pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and toast. Needless to say, I made a complete pig of myself. It was a neat diner which had retained much of its 1940s look and appeal. With bellies full, we headed back to my house whereupon I changed shirts and called The Dulcinea. Her movie date for the afternoon had bailed so she was free. Hence I invited her to go see The Brothers Grimm with us and she took me up on the offer. Since they had met last night, it would be a mellow encounter.
The Brothers Grimm was very good. By this I mean that it was a very fun and funny flick but lacked much Gilliam weirdness. I would probably be raving about it had it been directed by anyone else but, when I see a Gilliam film, I expect it to be really odd and Grimm wasn't. But, by all means, if you haven't seen it, do so. The cinematography was excellent and it had a wonderfully creepy atmosphere. I thought Matt Damon & Heath Ledger did very well and Jonathan Pryce is always a treat onscreen. Plus Lena Headey is a hottie! It was fun seeing all the references to various fairy tales as well, such as Little Red Riding Hood and Hansel & Gretel. I expected the motif about childhood to have been stronger but this was eschewed in favor of more action, I suppose. Gilliam has made films with this theme before: Time Bandits and The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. I expected more about childhood because it's about the bloody Brothers Grimm! The film opens with a scene from their childhood and there are flashbacks later on from Angelika's youth. And the film centers around uncovering the disappearances of young girls from a town. Plus the villain relates to youth as well. Childhood was everywhere in the film but I couldn't discern a well-developed statement about it as the aforementioned films have. Perhaps this isn't surprising as Gilliam wrote these two screenplays but gets no writing credit on Grimm. Well, his Tideland comes out soon which concerns childhood and he had a hand in the screenplay. Again, do go see it!
26 August, 2005
For Your Entertainment
Anyone going to see Jethro Tull on their US tour this fall will also be seeing Lucia Micarelli perform with the band.
From the pen of Ian Anderson:
Lucia will join Tull on stage during our show and we will play some of her stuff as well as hear her play some of ours. She is NOT the opening act per se. I will walk on stage at the appointed time stated on your ticket, so don’t even think of showing up 30 minutes late as you will miss 30 minutes of Jethro Tull. Unless, of course, you are already a big Lucia fan in which case this might be the right idea.
Let's see...progressive rock + 21 year-old hottie on violin...oh, I can't miss that!
Anyone going to see Jethro Tull on their US tour this fall will also be seeing Lucia Micarelli perform with the band.
From the pen of Ian Anderson:
Lucia will join Tull on stage during our show and we will play some of her stuff as well as hear her play some of ours. She is NOT the opening act per se. I will walk on stage at the appointed time stated on your ticket, so don’t even think of showing up 30 minutes late as you will miss 30 minutes of Jethro Tull. Unless, of course, you are already a big Lucia fan in which case this might be the right idea.
Let's see...progressive rock + 21 year-old hottie on violin...oh, I can't miss that!
The Tables Turned
From The Dulcinea's sex blog:
Last night I gave Palmer an awful spanking.
It was strange. A few minutes into it I had to stop.
I got really angry. I wanted to *really* punish him.
I imagined putting every ounce of force behind my hand and saying, after each slap,
"THAT is for ignoring my birthday"
"THAT is for not communicating with me"
"THAT is for breaking my heart"
And I had to stop. Because that is not what the game is. It's not about revenge. It could be, I suppose, but that isn't what I want. So I stopped, and I told Palmer why.
We were listening to a CD I'd made for him, and I began to relax and readied myself to continue.
When I did I got back into the swing of it. I didn't feel like talking, so I just kept my concentration on the spanking. I used the school marm slapper we have, and then my hand. Then, "Firesuite" by The Doves came on. It's an atmospheric instrumental piece. I started timing my strikes on his now firey red ass to the song, and it was so very relaxing. When the song ended I stopped and lay over him and kissed his face, back and shoulders.
From The Dulcinea's sex blog:
Last night I gave Palmer an awful spanking.
It was strange. A few minutes into it I had to stop.
I got really angry. I wanted to *really* punish him.
I imagined putting every ounce of force behind my hand and saying, after each slap,
"THAT is for ignoring my birthday"
"THAT is for not communicating with me"
"THAT is for breaking my heart"
And I had to stop. Because that is not what the game is. It's not about revenge. It could be, I suppose, but that isn't what I want. So I stopped, and I told Palmer why.
We were listening to a CD I'd made for him, and I began to relax and readied myself to continue.
When I did I got back into the swing of it. I didn't feel like talking, so I just kept my concentration on the spanking. I used the school marm slapper we have, and then my hand. Then, "Firesuite" by The Doves came on. It's an atmospheric instrumental piece. I started timing my strikes on his now firey red ass to the song, and it was so very relaxing. When the song ended I stopped and lay over him and kissed his face, back and shoulders.
25 August, 2005
Autumnal Quaffing Pleasure
With the weather growing cooler, we are reminded that autumn draws nearer. And as the seasons change so do the offerings of your local brewer. Here in Southern Wisconsin, we have a never-ending parade of brewers and a host of tasty brews to quaff for their flava as well as their palliative effects. I mean, how can one get through a harsh winter without beer? Here are some suds to bid summer goodbye and bid autumn a fair arrival.
New Glarus Brewing gives us one of my favorite beers, Staghorn Octoberfest, starting next month which is but a week hence!
September also brings us Capital Brewery's Autumnal Fire. (I also want to mention that this week's Core weekly mentions that Capital has launched a new beer, Washington Island Wheat Ale. Alas, there is no mention of it on their website.)
Sprecher's Oktoberfest is already available for your quaffing pleasure!
At this time the Gray's website has no info on their seasonal offering.
Tangentially, Lake Louie Brewery has stopped offering their suds in growlers and now pushes 6-packs.
Lakefront will soon be pushing their autumn brew, Pumpkin Lager.
The folks at Tyranena Brewery offer their Gemuetlichkeit Oktoberfest.
And don't forget White Winter Winery who make fine meads including melomels.
And because Chicago will always be in my heart: Goose Island will soon be offering their Oktoberfest.
While I'm on this autumnal kick, here's a couple more fall festivities. Firstly, here's a list of maize mazes in Wisconsin. Go get lost in a maze or pick a pumpkin and take a ride in the hay wagon. Lastly go visit an apple orchard and pick some apples and enjoy some fresh cider. Here's a list of apple orchards in Wisconsin.
If anyone in the Madison area knows where I can go to wassail some apple trees this winter, please let me know.
With the weather growing cooler, we are reminded that autumn draws nearer. And as the seasons change so do the offerings of your local brewer. Here in Southern Wisconsin, we have a never-ending parade of brewers and a host of tasty brews to quaff for their flava as well as their palliative effects. I mean, how can one get through a harsh winter without beer? Here are some suds to bid summer goodbye and bid autumn a fair arrival.
New Glarus Brewing gives us one of my favorite beers, Staghorn Octoberfest, starting next month which is but a week hence!
September also brings us Capital Brewery's Autumnal Fire. (I also want to mention that this week's Core weekly mentions that Capital has launched a new beer, Washington Island Wheat Ale. Alas, there is no mention of it on their website.)
Sprecher's Oktoberfest is already available for your quaffing pleasure!
At this time the Gray's website has no info on their seasonal offering.
Tangentially, Lake Louie Brewery has stopped offering their suds in growlers and now pushes 6-packs.
Lakefront will soon be pushing their autumn brew, Pumpkin Lager.
The folks at Tyranena Brewery offer their Gemuetlichkeit Oktoberfest.
And don't forget White Winter Winery who make fine meads including melomels.
And because Chicago will always be in my heart: Goose Island will soon be offering their Oktoberfest.
While I'm on this autumnal kick, here's a couple more fall festivities. Firstly, here's a list of maize mazes in Wisconsin. Go get lost in a maze or pick a pumpkin and take a ride in the hay wagon. Lastly go visit an apple orchard and pick some apples and enjoy some fresh cider. Here's a list of apple orchards in Wisconsin.
If anyone in the Madison area knows where I can go to wassail some apple trees this winter, please let me know.
Random Bits
I was sitting in the den last night writing while Ridley's Black Rain played on the television. It's not a great movie, by any means, but I wanted some background noise and a bad Ridley Scott movie is better than most of the crap Hollywood proffers. Then the motherfucking TiVo changes the channel on me to record that stupid fucking Rock Star INXS crapshow. Not wanting to piss off Becca, I let 'er rip and suffer through about 20 minutes of the show before Stevie and Becca come in from the patio. They proceed to rewind the goddamn thing so I am forced to experience the whole first half a second time!
It occurred to me that Dave Navarro is a punk-ass bitch. Sitting there with his feet up on the chair like he's a fucking college student pretending to lord over his domain of a fucking TV set. Then there's the fat, bloated corpse that was INXS. While I've never been a huge fan of the band, I have enjoyed various songs of theirs and always thought of them as being good writers of catchy pop songs. And now they sit there on network television watching a parade of nubile female courtiers flashing cleavage attempting to gain favor. What happened to these guys? I'll readily admit that I've never been in a band so the process of auditioning for a new singer is not something with which I have experience. But I've read enough to figure that perhaps putting an ad in the paper or having your manager solicit demo tapes was the proper path. And then you can actually get in a room with a prospect and jam as well as get to know the individual on a personal level instead of just watching them shake their booties on American television.
R.I.P. INXS
I found out that one of my readers is a nerd. Well, truth be told, more than one of my readers is a nerd but this nerd is a freelance game editor which I think is pretty hoopy. Perhaps I'll get to meet her at GenCon next year. Another reader told me that she used to run game cons at the University of Kentucky. Funny how my GenCon reports brought all the gamer chicks out from the woodwork.
A couple good flicks open here tomorrow: The Brothers Grimm and Grizzly Man. Plus Broken Flowers is still around. Help support 3 great directors (Terry Gilliam, Werner Herzog, and Jim Jarmusch) and go see these films! Oh, and 9 Songs opens in Chicago tomorrow - at the Music Box.
I was sitting in the den last night writing while Ridley's Black Rain played on the television. It's not a great movie, by any means, but I wanted some background noise and a bad Ridley Scott movie is better than most of the crap Hollywood proffers. Then the motherfucking TiVo changes the channel on me to record that stupid fucking Rock Star INXS crapshow. Not wanting to piss off Becca, I let 'er rip and suffer through about 20 minutes of the show before Stevie and Becca come in from the patio. They proceed to rewind the goddamn thing so I am forced to experience the whole first half a second time!
It occurred to me that Dave Navarro is a punk-ass bitch. Sitting there with his feet up on the chair like he's a fucking college student pretending to lord over his domain of a fucking TV set. Then there's the fat, bloated corpse that was INXS. While I've never been a huge fan of the band, I have enjoyed various songs of theirs and always thought of them as being good writers of catchy pop songs. And now they sit there on network television watching a parade of nubile female courtiers flashing cleavage attempting to gain favor. What happened to these guys? I'll readily admit that I've never been in a band so the process of auditioning for a new singer is not something with which I have experience. But I've read enough to figure that perhaps putting an ad in the paper or having your manager solicit demo tapes was the proper path. And then you can actually get in a room with a prospect and jam as well as get to know the individual on a personal level instead of just watching them shake their booties on American television.
R.I.P. INXS
I found out that one of my readers is a nerd. Well, truth be told, more than one of my readers is a nerd but this nerd is a freelance game editor which I think is pretty hoopy. Perhaps I'll get to meet her at GenCon next year. Another reader told me that she used to run game cons at the University of Kentucky. Funny how my GenCon reports brought all the gamer chicks out from the woodwork.
A couple good flicks open here tomorrow: The Brothers Grimm and Grizzly Man. Plus Broken Flowers is still around. Help support 3 great directors (Terry Gilliam, Werner Herzog, and Jim Jarmusch) and go see these films! Oh, and 9 Songs opens in Chicago tomorrow - at the Music Box.
Travels With Charley
I've been good about listening to the 8th Doctor adventures. I'm listening to them in order and not throwing in a story featuring another Doctor. I finished Invaders From Mars yesterday and started The Chimes of Midnight. I really do like Paul McGann as the Doctor and his companion, Charley, is quite a good foil. Invaders From Mars involves aliens coming to New York on Halloween 1938. It's really neat how Orson Welles and the infamous War of the Worlds broadcast got thrown into the mix. Plus there was a line that we films geeks can really appreciate. As The Doctor and Charley are saying their goodbyes and readying to get into the TARDIS to take off, Welles leaves the room and the Doctor yells after him, "DON'T let them cut Ambersons! Oh no! I musn't interfere."
The Chimes of Midnight is one of the best 8th Doctor episodes as well as one of the best of all the Doctor Who audio dramas. It begins with The Doctor and Charley landing in the larder of an Edwardian mansion. Stepping out of the TARDIS, it is completely black and completely silent. The Doctor goes back into the TARDIS to find a light and, while digging around, he encourages Charley to use her other senses. She remarks that it is totally silent and that the scent of fruit pervades the air. The Doctor says, ""Silent and fruity - sounds enchanting!" What a wonderful line! Chimes is truly a great episode. While not strictly necessary, it helps to have heard the preceeding episodes with the 8th Doctor and Charley as some of the dialogue and situations relate to past events. But what really distinguishes this story is the claustrophobic atmosphere. The action takes place solely in the mansion. Eldritch events unfold, spectral voices mysteriously break the silence, and the Doctor is often times rendered helpless. The creepy mood of the story is established right away with a ticking clock that is joined by a sprightly melody that sounds as if it were from a music box. The melody ends and a menacing wash of darkness takes its place while the ticking gives way to a heartbeat. Finally one of those ghostly voices moans as if in agony. Not only does the action take place in the mansion but, because of a time anomaly, events are repeated. It's kind of like watching A Man Escaped by Robert Bresson. Actions and dialogue are repeated, sometimes with only minor variations.
A couple stories after Chimes is Embrace the Darkness which is another incredibly creepy one. It is followed by The Time of the Daleks which involves The Bard! Then the whole epic drama of being in that alternate universe begins with the Doctor feeling the repercussions of having saved Charley. Then BAM! I can listen to August's release, Terror Firma, the first story to feature the 8th Doctor since December of last year.
Did I mention that I met one of the writers of Hayward Sanitarium at GenCon? Hayward Sanitarium is a Lovecraftian/X-Filesy audio play. I went out for a smoke one day and saw a guy with a t-shirt that I swore said "Hayward Sanitarium". I stopped him and asked. Sure as shit, it was and he turned out to be one of the writers! He was really cool and related how, on one night, they did some taping at a real graveyard only to have the police come to find out what the hell was going on.
Ye gods, do I feel dorky!
I've been good about listening to the 8th Doctor adventures. I'm listening to them in order and not throwing in a story featuring another Doctor. I finished Invaders From Mars yesterday and started The Chimes of Midnight. I really do like Paul McGann as the Doctor and his companion, Charley, is quite a good foil. Invaders From Mars involves aliens coming to New York on Halloween 1938. It's really neat how Orson Welles and the infamous War of the Worlds broadcast got thrown into the mix. Plus there was a line that we films geeks can really appreciate. As The Doctor and Charley are saying their goodbyes and readying to get into the TARDIS to take off, Welles leaves the room and the Doctor yells after him, "DON'T let them cut Ambersons! Oh no! I musn't interfere."
The Chimes of Midnight is one of the best 8th Doctor episodes as well as one of the best of all the Doctor Who audio dramas. It begins with The Doctor and Charley landing in the larder of an Edwardian mansion. Stepping out of the TARDIS, it is completely black and completely silent. The Doctor goes back into the TARDIS to find a light and, while digging around, he encourages Charley to use her other senses. She remarks that it is totally silent and that the scent of fruit pervades the air. The Doctor says, ""Silent and fruity - sounds enchanting!" What a wonderful line! Chimes is truly a great episode. While not strictly necessary, it helps to have heard the preceeding episodes with the 8th Doctor and Charley as some of the dialogue and situations relate to past events. But what really distinguishes this story is the claustrophobic atmosphere. The action takes place solely in the mansion. Eldritch events unfold, spectral voices mysteriously break the silence, and the Doctor is often times rendered helpless. The creepy mood of the story is established right away with a ticking clock that is joined by a sprightly melody that sounds as if it were from a music box. The melody ends and a menacing wash of darkness takes its place while the ticking gives way to a heartbeat. Finally one of those ghostly voices moans as if in agony. Not only does the action take place in the mansion but, because of a time anomaly, events are repeated. It's kind of like watching A Man Escaped by Robert Bresson. Actions and dialogue are repeated, sometimes with only minor variations.
A couple stories after Chimes is Embrace the Darkness which is another incredibly creepy one. It is followed by The Time of the Daleks which involves The Bard! Then the whole epic drama of being in that alternate universe begins with the Doctor feeling the repercussions of having saved Charley. Then BAM! I can listen to August's release, Terror Firma, the first story to feature the 8th Doctor since December of last year.
Did I mention that I met one of the writers of Hayward Sanitarium at GenCon? Hayward Sanitarium is a Lovecraftian/X-Filesy audio play. I went out for a smoke one day and saw a guy with a t-shirt that I swore said "Hayward Sanitarium". I stopped him and asked. Sure as shit, it was and he turned out to be one of the writers! He was really cool and related how, on one night, they did some taping at a real graveyard only to have the police come to find out what the hell was going on.
Ye gods, do I feel dorky!
On the Gramophone
My next concert experience will be a double bill featuring Milwaukee progsters, Kopecky, out at Shank Hall. So this week's selection is the title track of their latest album, Sunset Gun.
"Sunset Gun"
My next concert experience will be a double bill featuring Milwaukee progsters, Kopecky, out at Shank Hall. So this week's selection is the title track of their latest album, Sunset Gun.
"Sunset Gun"
Prost Gotvins Geometri – Part 11
This is Prost Gotvins geometri by Gert Nygårdshaug. The translation was done by Roy Johansen. Nygårdshaug is a Norwegian author and the text has not yet been published in English. Roy is a friend of mine who recently moved back to his native Norway. He has translated a good part of the novel and I'm trying to convince him to finish it.
Here’s Part 10.
Father Gotvin's First Journey (continued)
There was nothing more for me to do in this town, in Spain. I had asked myself a question and it had been answered but the answer had asked ten new questions, ten new abysses devoid of God’s, my Lord Father’s presence and help; chasms where all signs from God to us, His people, would be reduced to physical or psychological phenomena – to airplanes flying over the jungle. No, I wanted to keep my anima ecclesiastica, my pious soul the way Jesus Christ had taught me; the catholicity of my hope, which held far more than dubious Mary-manifestations, for dubious they were, undeniably. But why had Pedro Urz been so panic-stricken? Two scared people on the cathedral square. I was hungry but all my plastic bag held was a pair of orange swimming trunks with blue vertical stripes. I glanced at my watch – five-thirty. The municipal baths – how could I get there? Again I had to resort to asking people who happened to be around. I picked two nuns who looked like locals. They were carrying a basket of eggs and two tote bags full of…leeks? Pilgrims or tourists probably would not have bought that much leek. The nuns nodded and listed to my question. The baths, the municipal baths were on the outskirts of town to the southwest. Fairly far to walk – outside the area covered by my map – but weren’t the baths closed during the summer, wondered the nuns? I peeked down at my bag – the trunks. I had no other option; I had to take a taxi even if it bankrupted me. I had to see Lucienne Lopez again. This courage, this resolution surprised me. So I thanked the nuns, ran along the street, hailed an unoccupied taxi, and asked to be taken to the municipal baths. Quizically, the driver looked at me but started driving very fast - driving like a friggin' maniac, to be honest! As the time approached six, the cab veered into a picturesque park and stopped in front of a whitewashed Moorish-looking building and it struck me that I was no longer in the holy town built in the honor of St. James, but rather in a very secularized area where the pilgrims had little, if any, business.
"The baths are closed," said the driver.
"I know," I replied and gave him money.
"You're still bringing swimming trunks?" He was speaking in English and glanced into my bag.
"Yes," I replied.
"You aren't going to break in, are you?"
"I don't think so," I said and got out of the cab.
I must say I was pretty surprised. Municipal baths in more beautiful settings must be very hard to find, but Santiago was a wealthy town. I stood there for a while admiring the building and the surroundings. Weren't there any people here? Not a trace of people anywhere. But there, half-hidden behind a stone wall was a red car, a relatively new Fiesta. Could it be her car? I could feel the ants of nervousness under my skin. I was still sweating and my mouth was dry. Was there drinking water anywhere around here? Had she deliberately arranged to meet me somewhere deserted, without anyone else around? The dizzying possibility made me no less uneasy. I remained glued to the red gravel in front of the entrance which was guarded by two lion scuplptures. "This is dangerous, Gotvin!", I told myself. Where could I seek support now? "If I be offered upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy." This verse from the Philippians occurred to me. Completely absurd, as absurd as my own person and presence here but it was the only thing I could think of as a quote of support there and then. I was glued. The time was after six but one of the doors behind the lion figures was ajar and all I had to do was enter. I heard the clamor of children playing further into the park. A gray, scruffy dog with running eyes cae up to me, sniffed myshoes, and started to wag his tail tentatively, but I signaled zero mutuality so he skulked off. My thoughts were a great, big vacuum. I noticed that I started walking up the stairs and past the lions. I felt my mouth, my lips assume a whistling shape but no notes emerged. No "seemann, komm bald wieder", my favorite song when I was out in the river fishing. I didnot stop at the door but pushed it gently open. The room was dim and I smelled the acrid odor of chlorine. I saw the vestibule, clerk-less ticket counters, and the tiled floor which was still Moorish and beautifully adorned. I took off my shoes and shuffled noiselessly across the room toward the next door. Was there music?
I stopped.
There was music.
Soft gentle notes.
Mozart.
The music came from somewhere inside, from somewhere behind the door in front of me. With my shoes in one hand and my bag in the other, I tiptoed up to the door where I stopped and listened again. It was Opus 21. I closed my eyes. Was that a splashing sound? I grabbed the door handle and pushed the heavy door open and was bathed in a beam of light which blinded me for a moment. The room had a pool of azure water ringed with white marble tiles. The ceiling and one of the walls were of glass. Part of this wall was pushed aside so one could walk directly out onto the green lawn. I stood there, breathless; my tongue swelling in my mouth. In front of me, at the poolside, lay a floral dress impossible not to recognize, a pair of red shoes, and a pair of light blue panties. The Mozart melody came from a tape player next to the clothes, and the splashing...
This is Prost Gotvins geometri by Gert Nygårdshaug. The translation was done by Roy Johansen. Nygårdshaug is a Norwegian author and the text has not yet been published in English. Roy is a friend of mine who recently moved back to his native Norway. He has translated a good part of the novel and I'm trying to convince him to finish it.
Here’s Part 10.
Father Gotvin's First Journey (continued)
There was nothing more for me to do in this town, in Spain. I had asked myself a question and it had been answered but the answer had asked ten new questions, ten new abysses devoid of God’s, my Lord Father’s presence and help; chasms where all signs from God to us, His people, would be reduced to physical or psychological phenomena – to airplanes flying over the jungle. No, I wanted to keep my anima ecclesiastica, my pious soul the way Jesus Christ had taught me; the catholicity of my hope, which held far more than dubious Mary-manifestations, for dubious they were, undeniably. But why had Pedro Urz been so panic-stricken? Two scared people on the cathedral square. I was hungry but all my plastic bag held was a pair of orange swimming trunks with blue vertical stripes. I glanced at my watch – five-thirty. The municipal baths – how could I get there? Again I had to resort to asking people who happened to be around. I picked two nuns who looked like locals. They were carrying a basket of eggs and two tote bags full of…leeks? Pilgrims or tourists probably would not have bought that much leek. The nuns nodded and listed to my question. The baths, the municipal baths were on the outskirts of town to the southwest. Fairly far to walk – outside the area covered by my map – but weren’t the baths closed during the summer, wondered the nuns? I peeked down at my bag – the trunks. I had no other option; I had to take a taxi even if it bankrupted me. I had to see Lucienne Lopez again. This courage, this resolution surprised me. So I thanked the nuns, ran along the street, hailed an unoccupied taxi, and asked to be taken to the municipal baths. Quizically, the driver looked at me but started driving very fast - driving like a friggin' maniac, to be honest! As the time approached six, the cab veered into a picturesque park and stopped in front of a whitewashed Moorish-looking building and it struck me that I was no longer in the holy town built in the honor of St. James, but rather in a very secularized area where the pilgrims had little, if any, business.
"The baths are closed," said the driver.
"I know," I replied and gave him money.
"You're still bringing swimming trunks?" He was speaking in English and glanced into my bag.
"Yes," I replied.
"You aren't going to break in, are you?"
"I don't think so," I said and got out of the cab.
I must say I was pretty surprised. Municipal baths in more beautiful settings must be very hard to find, but Santiago was a wealthy town. I stood there for a while admiring the building and the surroundings. Weren't there any people here? Not a trace of people anywhere. But there, half-hidden behind a stone wall was a red car, a relatively new Fiesta. Could it be her car? I could feel the ants of nervousness under my skin. I was still sweating and my mouth was dry. Was there drinking water anywhere around here? Had she deliberately arranged to meet me somewhere deserted, without anyone else around? The dizzying possibility made me no less uneasy. I remained glued to the red gravel in front of the entrance which was guarded by two lion scuplptures. "This is dangerous, Gotvin!", I told myself. Where could I seek support now? "If I be offered upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy." This verse from the Philippians occurred to me. Completely absurd, as absurd as my own person and presence here but it was the only thing I could think of as a quote of support there and then. I was glued. The time was after six but one of the doors behind the lion figures was ajar and all I had to do was enter. I heard the clamor of children playing further into the park. A gray, scruffy dog with running eyes cae up to me, sniffed myshoes, and started to wag his tail tentatively, but I signaled zero mutuality so he skulked off. My thoughts were a great, big vacuum. I noticed that I started walking up the stairs and past the lions. I felt my mouth, my lips assume a whistling shape but no notes emerged. No "seemann, komm bald wieder", my favorite song when I was out in the river fishing. I didnot stop at the door but pushed it gently open. The room was dim and I smelled the acrid odor of chlorine. I saw the vestibule, clerk-less ticket counters, and the tiled floor which was still Moorish and beautifully adorned. I took off my shoes and shuffled noiselessly across the room toward the next door. Was there music?
I stopped.
There was music.
Soft gentle notes.
Mozart.
The music came from somewhere inside, from somewhere behind the door in front of me. With my shoes in one hand and my bag in the other, I tiptoed up to the door where I stopped and listened again. It was Opus 21. I closed my eyes. Was that a splashing sound? I grabbed the door handle and pushed the heavy door open and was bathed in a beam of light which blinded me for a moment. The room had a pool of azure water ringed with white marble tiles. The ceiling and one of the walls were of glass. Part of this wall was pushed aside so one could walk directly out onto the green lawn. I stood there, breathless; my tongue swelling in my mouth. In front of me, at the poolside, lay a floral dress impossible not to recognize, a pair of red shoes, and a pair of light blue panties. The Mozart melody came from a tape player next to the clothes, and the splashing...
24 August, 2005
Her Final Punishment
I forgot to mention in my last entry that The Dulcinea was given one final punishment that night.
After she had calmed down and regained herself, I inflicted one last bit of retribution for her insolence.
"Get me the lube!" I barked. She reached down beneath the bed and pulled out the box containing toys, rubbers, and the precious Liquid Silk. As she handed the bottle to me, I instructed her once more, "Now, sit at the edge of the bed."
"With my legs hanging off the edge?" she asked sheepishly.
I answered her in the affirmative. Mopishly she scooted her rosie ass to the edge of the bed until she was facing the wall. She sat there sulking as I squirted a generous amount of lube onto my cock and began rubbing. My erection grew quickly until I was rock hard at which point I pumped even more Liquid Silk onto my raging hardon. As the slippery sounds of my stroking hand echoed about the room, I looked anxiously at The Dulcinea. "Don't you dare turn around!" I told her firmly.
"Please?" she bleated.
"No!" I then heard her sniffle and her head slumped down. Turning my attention towards my cock, I saw it glisten in the moonlight and teased her, "I'm SO hard right now" before applying extra pressure to the head which caused moans of pleasure to carom about and into her ears. Wanting to punish further, I grabbed the bottle of lube and squirted a rather large amount on my cock. I took my free hand and ensured that its fingers were dripping wet. I proceeded to daub the lube on my asshole and inserted a finger which prompted me to moan once more. "I've got my finger in my asshole - it's so tight..."
"Oh," she whimpered longingly. I stroked my cock more furiously as I gently pushed my finger in and pulled it out of my hole. Glancing at her, she looked like a child pouting, having been forced to sit in the corner. She pleaded to look at me but I denied her. I denied her until I felt my come and knew that there was no holding back. Just before I came, I told her, nearly yelling, "Turn around!" She hastily did a 180 in time to see me squirt my first load all over my belly. With eyes and mouth agape, she watched as I continued stroking, rubbing my come all over my cock until it dripped off my hand and soaked my pubic hair.
She had been only moderately insolent so I took pity on her. I did, however, make her clean me up.
I forgot to mention in my last entry that The Dulcinea was given one final punishment that night.
After she had calmed down and regained herself, I inflicted one last bit of retribution for her insolence.
"Get me the lube!" I barked. She reached down beneath the bed and pulled out the box containing toys, rubbers, and the precious Liquid Silk. As she handed the bottle to me, I instructed her once more, "Now, sit at the edge of the bed."
"With my legs hanging off the edge?" she asked sheepishly.
I answered her in the affirmative. Mopishly she scooted her rosie ass to the edge of the bed until she was facing the wall. She sat there sulking as I squirted a generous amount of lube onto my cock and began rubbing. My erection grew quickly until I was rock hard at which point I pumped even more Liquid Silk onto my raging hardon. As the slippery sounds of my stroking hand echoed about the room, I looked anxiously at The Dulcinea. "Don't you dare turn around!" I told her firmly.
"Please?" she bleated.
"No!" I then heard her sniffle and her head slumped down. Turning my attention towards my cock, I saw it glisten in the moonlight and teased her, "I'm SO hard right now" before applying extra pressure to the head which caused moans of pleasure to carom about and into her ears. Wanting to punish further, I grabbed the bottle of lube and squirted a rather large amount on my cock. I took my free hand and ensured that its fingers were dripping wet. I proceeded to daub the lube on my asshole and inserted a finger which prompted me to moan once more. "I've got my finger in my asshole - it's so tight..."
"Oh," she whimpered longingly. I stroked my cock more furiously as I gently pushed my finger in and pulled it out of my hole. Glancing at her, she looked like a child pouting, having been forced to sit in the corner. She pleaded to look at me but I denied her. I denied her until I felt my come and knew that there was no holding back. Just before I came, I told her, nearly yelling, "Turn around!" She hastily did a 180 in time to see me squirt my first load all over my belly. With eyes and mouth agape, she watched as I continued stroking, rubbing my come all over my cock until it dripped off my hand and soaked my pubic hair.
She had been only moderately insolent so I took pity on her. I did, however, make her clean me up.
Letting Go
Checking out Lola’s blog, I am reminded that Marv does a pretty mean Willie Nelson imitation. Throughout our time in Indy, he’d occasionally bust out and start singing “On the Road Again”. Also throughout our time there, The Dulcinea was quite naughty. Before I left town, I sent her an e-mail containing explicit instructions for her to not have sex “with others, yourself, or toys” and I signed it “Master”. Being the insolent, though honest, little harlot that she is, she replied to me that she’d pleasured herself not once, not twice, but THRICE on Friday. Her reply also included four pictures that were captioned:
Pic 1
Me? Insolent? Uh-oh.
Pic 2
You're not going to *hurt* me, are you?
Pic 3
My poor bottom!
Pic 4
You'll have to catch me first, nyah-nyah!
Hey, I’m a nice guy. I realize that compromise is a necessary part of any relationship. Hence I sent her a missive granting her permission to touch herself if AND ONLY IF she took pictures and/or video. A while later she replied with her thanks which prompted me to send a text message to her cell phone containing a lone word: Kermit. The Dulcinea picks up the story in her blog:
Kermit is our green non-representational dildo.
I smiled, shivered a bit, and went to work.
Took a shower, shaved and scrubbed.
Slathered on my new cocoa butter lotion (the great old standby, Palmer's. give it a try, it smells amazing).
Told the household I needed 15 minutes alone.
Grabbed the creamy white lube he favours (Liquid Silk by bodywise, also rec'd), my little butt plug Petunia, and headed for the bedroom...
Oh. My. God.
I can't believe how much fun I just had.
The piper must be always be paid. On Monday night, The Dulcinea and I found each other online and we chatted for a while. She was extremely frisky and so we cybered. One of the great things about this whole online rigmarole is that it goes well with digital camera which means that in-action photos can be readily traded. Afterwards I found a reader online and chatted her up a bit. We made an agreement: When I get to the Twin Cities, we will engage in a little barter. I’ll cook her a sensuous meal and, in exchange, she’ll be my dom for a night. And so with this on my mind, the piper got paid last night.
The Dulcinea came over and we ordered a pizza. After dinner we headed up to my room where she received her punishment. I rolled her onto her belly and kneeled above her legs. This left her ass to me. I rubbed and kneaded it, lovingly watching as her ass cheeks yielded to my hands. And I loved looking at her asshole as her cheeks spread apart. I love fingering her there, fucking her there. I then raised my hand and…WHAP!!
Moan.
Then again. And again. Please believe me that time flies when you’re exacting punishment on your lover. I just remember smacking her hiney and watching it grow rosier and rosier as she moaned and whimpered and sniffled. After perhaps half an hour, I laid down next to her and barked, “Look at me!” She turned her head and I could see that the area around her eyes were wet and glistening. While keeping eye contact, I felt around her ass to find a suitable spot for contact and I quickly gave it a slap. It was followed hastily by another and another. It was a fantastic feeling to, not only be able to exact punishment for insolence, but to also see the exquisite agony on her face as I did so. I’m not sure why I get off on spanking but I do. I think it’s partly the physical act, the frenzy of erotic violence and partly that it’s just such an intense rush of being in control and they go hand-in-hand. I don’t want to let my perfervid slapping go beyond giving pain for pleasure into the realm of just pain yet I desire to get to the periphery of the former.
When I was finished, I took her in my arms and held her. The most intense look was on her face and she was shivering. It was as if she were a little girl who had just undergone a very traumatic event. I held her and ran my fingers through her hair while she sniffed and wallowed in the intensity of the moment. And it was very intense. Outside of the spanking, it was a moment in which she truly let her guard down, when she opened up and placed her trust in someone else – not an easy thing to do for her. It is difficult for her to let go but I think she did it.
Checking out Lola’s blog, I am reminded that Marv does a pretty mean Willie Nelson imitation. Throughout our time in Indy, he’d occasionally bust out and start singing “On the Road Again”. Also throughout our time there, The Dulcinea was quite naughty. Before I left town, I sent her an e-mail containing explicit instructions for her to not have sex “with others, yourself, or toys” and I signed it “Master”. Being the insolent, though honest, little harlot that she is, she replied to me that she’d pleasured herself not once, not twice, but THRICE on Friday. Her reply also included four pictures that were captioned:
Pic 1
Me? Insolent? Uh-oh.
Pic 2
You're not going to *hurt* me, are you?
Pic 3
My poor bottom!
Pic 4
You'll have to catch me first, nyah-nyah!
Hey, I’m a nice guy. I realize that compromise is a necessary part of any relationship. Hence I sent her a missive granting her permission to touch herself if AND ONLY IF she took pictures and/or video. A while later she replied with her thanks which prompted me to send a text message to her cell phone containing a lone word: Kermit. The Dulcinea picks up the story in her blog:
Kermit is our green non-representational dildo.
I smiled, shivered a bit, and went to work.
Took a shower, shaved and scrubbed.
Slathered on my new cocoa butter lotion (the great old standby, Palmer's. give it a try, it smells amazing).
Told the household I needed 15 minutes alone.
Grabbed the creamy white lube he favours (Liquid Silk by bodywise, also rec'd), my little butt plug Petunia, and headed for the bedroom...
Oh. My. God.
I can't believe how much fun I just had.
The piper must be always be paid. On Monday night, The Dulcinea and I found each other online and we chatted for a while. She was extremely frisky and so we cybered. One of the great things about this whole online rigmarole is that it goes well with digital camera which means that in-action photos can be readily traded. Afterwards I found a reader online and chatted her up a bit. We made an agreement: When I get to the Twin Cities, we will engage in a little barter. I’ll cook her a sensuous meal and, in exchange, she’ll be my dom for a night. And so with this on my mind, the piper got paid last night.
The Dulcinea came over and we ordered a pizza. After dinner we headed up to my room where she received her punishment. I rolled her onto her belly and kneeled above her legs. This left her ass to me. I rubbed and kneaded it, lovingly watching as her ass cheeks yielded to my hands. And I loved looking at her asshole as her cheeks spread apart. I love fingering her there, fucking her there. I then raised my hand and…WHAP!!
Moan.
Then again. And again. Please believe me that time flies when you’re exacting punishment on your lover. I just remember smacking her hiney and watching it grow rosier and rosier as she moaned and whimpered and sniffled. After perhaps half an hour, I laid down next to her and barked, “Look at me!” She turned her head and I could see that the area around her eyes were wet and glistening. While keeping eye contact, I felt around her ass to find a suitable spot for contact and I quickly gave it a slap. It was followed hastily by another and another. It was a fantastic feeling to, not only be able to exact punishment for insolence, but to also see the exquisite agony on her face as I did so. I’m not sure why I get off on spanking but I do. I think it’s partly the physical act, the frenzy of erotic violence and partly that it’s just such an intense rush of being in control and they go hand-in-hand. I don’t want to let my perfervid slapping go beyond giving pain for pleasure into the realm of just pain yet I desire to get to the periphery of the former.
When I was finished, I took her in my arms and held her. The most intense look was on her face and she was shivering. It was as if she were a little girl who had just undergone a very traumatic event. I held her and ran my fingers through her hair while she sniffed and wallowed in the intensity of the moment. And it was very intense. Outside of the spanking, it was a moment in which she truly let her guard down, when she opened up and placed her trust in someone else – not an easy thing to do for her. It is difficult for her to let go but I think she did it.
Final Days at The Con
Since none of us had an event until late morning, we slept in. If memory serves, Charles had more Titan playing, Jon miniature playing, and Marv more seminars. For my part, I had time to blow until 12:30 or so when I was to start heading northeast to see a play and perhaps stop at the Easley Winery to pick up some local vino. The play I was to see was called "girls" and was part of the Indy Fringe Fest which was a 10-day event at a trio of theaters featuring avant garde/independent performance arts. Many of the performers were natives while the rest were brought in from around the country and the world. The playwright was a woman named Margaret Murray and it involved the lives of 3 young women struggling with questions such as "now that school is over, what do I do?", "how the hell did I get here?", and "where am I going?". So I grabbed a free shuttle bus and took it as far northeast as it would take me. I walked a few more blocks and found myself in a rather nice neighborhood with lots of old buildings including this church thingy or whatever it is:
The theater, The Aethenaeum, was built in 1894 and was absolutely fucking gorgeous! My pictures of the place suck for the most part, but I managed to salvage a couple. Here's the foyer:
I went to the restaurant downstairs to grab a bottle of water and found this scene:
The play was held in a fairly small room that maybe held 100 people and had the stage at the back of the center of the room. It was divided into 3 areas - one for each character. One area had a chair and lots of clocks. Another was adorned with a couple stools and lots of those hoolies you display cakes on the name of which I cannot recall right now. The final spot had a desk. At the back of the state were 3 easels each with a large drawing of a woman's face and some cue cards.
The performance began with Clockwoman running onto stage from behind us. She sat on the chair on kept on seriously pensive look on her face while some narration played about a relationship gone awry. After a short time, the other two women came out in succession. They each spouted lines in turn but occasionally they had dialogues with one another. ClockLady pondered her life and what to do with it. The CakeLady reminisced about a baker who influenced her life as well as about the distant relationship she has with her father. The woman in back toyed with a wedding dress for much of the time while complaining aloud about men and questioning love.
Although the play dragged a couple times, it never did so for very long. And I really liked it on the whole. The themes were universal even if I couldn't relate very well to the predicaments of women in their early to mid-20s. Plus the BakerLady's meandering thoughts about her relationship with her father (and food too!) hit home. After it was done, I headed back to one of the hotels because there was going to be some pre-costume contest belly dancing and I sure as shit wasn't going to miss that!
The dancers were a troup from Bloomington, Indiana called Different Drummer Belly Dancers. They mixed traditional belly dancing with all kinds of stuff like gypsy dancing and dressed all funky. Unfortunately, my pics didn't turn out too well but here's one that is OK:
The costume contest started around 4. The MC for the evening was Mon Motha from The Empire Strikes Back. There were some killer fucking costumes!
This woman is dressed, I believe, as a character from a video game.
Here we have 2 girls, aged 10 and 14, respectively, who did a killer routine. The had the black Sith robes with the red witch's cape w/hood plus Sith Lord face paint. Their routine was Sith Lord of the Dance. Star Wars + witches + Riverdance = AWESOME! The crowd ate it up! Just hilarious!
Here's Death from the Edgar Allen Poe story, Masque of the Red Death. It had to be over 7' tall! The eyes glowed an eerie red!
Here's the wizard Randolph promoting his upcoming film, The Dork of the Rings.
OK, this guy's girlfriend made him this costume so she'd have someone to go to a Ren Faire with in costume. Sweet!
I wanna say this harlequin chick is somehow Batman related but I can't recall. Mmmm...camel toe...
No comment needed.
I believe this hottie's costume was homemade.
I don't remember what this one was all about but I just had to have a picture.
Here's the evil Alice in Wonderland duo. Mmmm...Alice...:
Now, I've shown the crowd winner already but I'll post it again. This costume was entirely homemade and took 5 years. The wings are made of some 3000 feathers and they move! Add to this a hottie elf chick and you've got a real crowd pleaser.
Afterwards, I met up with my friends and we eventually went to Andrew & Glen's hotel room where we drank the mead and beer (New Glarus IPA) that I'd brought. After a while, Don came in and joined us. He had been GMing Call of Cthulhu sessions for much of the weekend and had earned a break. He related some funny tales of one campaing in which the players were all politicos: Bush, Cheney, Rice, Goss, Hastert, et al. During one game, Rice meets Goss and turns on Al Jazeera as the Syrian president had been assassinated and Damascus was falling into turmoil. After a few minutes, Goss says, "We don't need to watch this" and changes the channel to Charles in Charge! hehe Don had handed out copies of the 25th Amendment, which deals with Presidental succession, so, when the shooting started, they'd know who was leading the United States. In one session, everyone died in the bunker underneath the White House.
Ooh! I almost forgot! At the costume contest while the judges were voting, a local boy, Luke Ski sang for us. He was onstage with a woman dressed as Princess Leia and they did this Grease parody which covered all of Star Wars. For the encore, he did a rap song which had the phrase "cold LARPing" which I found to be hilarious. Also, when they handed out the awards, the MC was helped out by a guy who had a 2nd pair of arms attached ala Zaphod Beeblebrox. When he hugged some of the female winners, one of his spare arms would goose the contestant.
Anyway, we spent the late hours drinking in the hotel room and shooting the shit.
Sunday was mellow. Marv attended a couple seminars and I made some last minute purchases before watching some more anime. I watched a fair amount of anime throughout the 4 days (though not nearly as much as Charles). Honestly, I don't know squat about the genre and thought this would be a good time to check it out. I remember seeing a couple episode of Bastard! as well as a few of Bleach. Lots of guys with badass swords hackin'n'slashin' with helpless damsels. I enjoyed what I watched, for the most part, and plan to check out more at my local video store. I also bought a buncha stuff such as a Gandalf hat, a scroll (anyone do calligraphy?), a pin that says "Kiss me, I'm Eldritch", a book to host a murder mystery LARP, a funky mask, some miniatures for Pete's Oriental Adventures campaign, some Order of the Stick books as gifts, and more. For The Dulcinea I got a plush Killer Rabbit from Monty Python's Holy Grail, a Cthulhu coloring book, a graphic novel hoolie of some of Lovecraft's stories, and much bric-a-brac.
We started down I65 Sunday afternoon having had a fantastic time and we all plan to return next year. But we're gonna pre-register!
Since none of us had an event until late morning, we slept in. If memory serves, Charles had more Titan playing, Jon miniature playing, and Marv more seminars. For my part, I had time to blow until 12:30 or so when I was to start heading northeast to see a play and perhaps stop at the Easley Winery to pick up some local vino. The play I was to see was called "girls" and was part of the Indy Fringe Fest which was a 10-day event at a trio of theaters featuring avant garde/independent performance arts. Many of the performers were natives while the rest were brought in from around the country and the world. The playwright was a woman named Margaret Murray and it involved the lives of 3 young women struggling with questions such as "now that school is over, what do I do?", "how the hell did I get here?", and "where am I going?". So I grabbed a free shuttle bus and took it as far northeast as it would take me. I walked a few more blocks and found myself in a rather nice neighborhood with lots of old buildings including this church thingy or whatever it is:
The theater, The Aethenaeum, was built in 1894 and was absolutely fucking gorgeous! My pictures of the place suck for the most part, but I managed to salvage a couple. Here's the foyer:
I went to the restaurant downstairs to grab a bottle of water and found this scene:
The play was held in a fairly small room that maybe held 100 people and had the stage at the back of the center of the room. It was divided into 3 areas - one for each character. One area had a chair and lots of clocks. Another was adorned with a couple stools and lots of those hoolies you display cakes on the name of which I cannot recall right now. The final spot had a desk. At the back of the state were 3 easels each with a large drawing of a woman's face and some cue cards.
The performance began with Clockwoman running onto stage from behind us. She sat on the chair on kept on seriously pensive look on her face while some narration played about a relationship gone awry. After a short time, the other two women came out in succession. They each spouted lines in turn but occasionally they had dialogues with one another. ClockLady pondered her life and what to do with it. The CakeLady reminisced about a baker who influenced her life as well as about the distant relationship she has with her father. The woman in back toyed with a wedding dress for much of the time while complaining aloud about men and questioning love.
Although the play dragged a couple times, it never did so for very long. And I really liked it on the whole. The themes were universal even if I couldn't relate very well to the predicaments of women in their early to mid-20s. Plus the BakerLady's meandering thoughts about her relationship with her father (and food too!) hit home. After it was done, I headed back to one of the hotels because there was going to be some pre-costume contest belly dancing and I sure as shit wasn't going to miss that!
The dancers were a troup from Bloomington, Indiana called Different Drummer Belly Dancers. They mixed traditional belly dancing with all kinds of stuff like gypsy dancing and dressed all funky. Unfortunately, my pics didn't turn out too well but here's one that is OK:
The costume contest started around 4. The MC for the evening was Mon Motha from The Empire Strikes Back. There were some killer fucking costumes!
Here we have 2 girls, aged 10 and 14, respectively, who did a killer routine. The had the black Sith robes with the red witch's cape w/hood plus Sith Lord face paint. Their routine was Sith Lord of the Dance. Star Wars + witches + Riverdance = AWESOME! The crowd ate it up! Just hilarious!
Here's Death from the Edgar Allen Poe story, Masque of the Red Death. It had to be over 7' tall! The eyes glowed an eerie red!
Here's the wizard Randolph promoting his upcoming film, The Dork of the Rings.
OK, this guy's girlfriend made him this costume so she'd have someone to go to a Ren Faire with in costume. Sweet!
I wanna say this harlequin chick is somehow Batman related but I can't recall. Mmmm...camel toe...
No comment needed.
I believe this hottie's costume was homemade.
I don't remember what this one was all about but I just had to have a picture.
Here's the evil Alice in Wonderland duo. Mmmm...Alice...:
Now, I've shown the crowd winner already but I'll post it again. This costume was entirely homemade and took 5 years. The wings are made of some 3000 feathers and they move! Add to this a hottie elf chick and you've got a real crowd pleaser.
Ooh! I almost forgot! At the costume contest while the judges were voting, a local boy, Luke Ski sang for us. He was onstage with a woman dressed as Princess Leia and they did this Grease parody which covered all of Star Wars. For the encore, he did a rap song which had the phrase "cold LARPing" which I found to be hilarious. Also, when they handed out the awards, the MC was helped out by a guy who had a 2nd pair of arms attached ala Zaphod Beeblebrox. When he hugged some of the female winners, one of his spare arms would goose the contestant.
Anyway, we spent the late hours drinking in the hotel room and shooting the shit.
Sunday was mellow. Marv attended a couple seminars and I made some last minute purchases before watching some more anime. I watched a fair amount of anime throughout the 4 days (though not nearly as much as Charles). Honestly, I don't know squat about the genre and thought this would be a good time to check it out. I remember seeing a couple episode of Bastard! as well as a few of Bleach. Lots of guys with badass swords hackin'n'slashin' with helpless damsels. I enjoyed what I watched, for the most part, and plan to check out more at my local video store. I also bought a buncha stuff such as a Gandalf hat, a scroll (anyone do calligraphy?), a pin that says "Kiss me, I'm Eldritch", a book to host a murder mystery LARP, a funky mask, some miniatures for Pete's Oriental Adventures campaign, some Order of the Stick books as gifts, and more. For The Dulcinea I got a plush Killer Rabbit from Monty Python's Holy Grail, a Cthulhu coloring book, a graphic novel hoolie of some of Lovecraft's stories, and much bric-a-brac.
We started down I65 Sunday afternoon having had a fantastic time and we all plan to return next year. But we're gonna pre-register!
23 August, 2005
Another Day at The Con
I woke up from another night of sleeping on the floor. We showered and got ready. This time, however, Jon drove down to The Con. We ran into my brother, Andrew, and Glen right away. I ended up accompanying Andy & Glen on a little trip in search of good booze and smokes. We walked by the memorial obelisk and through the Circle on our venture.
We found a cigar shop with a nice walk-in humidor where they got smokey treats. If I knew my ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to cigars, I probably would have bought a good stogie. Then we went to a liquor store which had a scotch selection of extraordinary magnitude. Andy bought a $50-$60 bottle of the stuff while Glen bought Basil Hayden. We stopped in the nearby mall where Andy bought a hip flask and had it engraved with his initials. Then it was back to Andrew's room for a fill.
With a full flask, we hit the vendors again with Andrew and I both sporting cameras. We saw some great costumes and a lot of hotties. Here's some highlights,
First we have this chickie in the schoolgirl outfit. She was like 6'4". Oh, I sported wood. How could one not with that skirt and those stockings?:
We just saw this hottie waving a sword around so we had to take snaps.
I thoughts of a triple-stacker Palmer sandwich with these 3:
There was a Batman statue too:
Here's some of the folks from the video production company that did the DVD I bought called "The Gamers". It is supposed to be a nice piece of gaming fan video. I haven't watched it yet, however. The 2 guys acted in it but I'm not sure what the hottie, Frankie, in the middle did. She was a cutie!
This gal was really friendly:
And so was this one...
until Andrew made the mistake of saying, "Nice costume!" to which she replied with a scowl, "It's NOT a costume!" I thought she was gonna kick his ass. Let's see...there was a fuckload of anime for sale.
Plus there was some really creepy porn.
Leaving the vendors area, we came to Cardhalla where people take all the free game cards they get and build stuff:
We went upstairs to look for a Cthulhu game I could join and encountered a life-sized chess game, of sorts.
Seven o'clock soon neared and Marv and I head over to one of the hotels to hear a lecture called "Principle of Medieval Cooking". You can get an mp3 of it here. it was really fucking cool! Many myths that we held were shattered. For instance, in Marv's campaigns, our characters step into a tavern and have mutton with our mead. Uh uh. They ate mostly chicken. And they used saffron all the bloody time! I have to pay a year's salary for a microounce of the stuff and those jokers in medieval England and France put it in everything. I believe it was the most common seasoning behind salt. And then there was the chicken brittle story. The lecturer talked a bit about how cookbooks were transcribed and that various errors became introduced as the books were copied. So one day, he decided to try a recipe for pine nut brittle that included, of all things, chicken. Not knowing whether it was a mistake or some exotic recipe lost to we modern folk, he tried it and found that the former was indeed the case. The recipe was annotated, "If you want candy, then omit the chicken." At the end, we got to sample some quince jam which was excellent! The instructor was Daniel Myers and his website is Medieval Cookery. Methinks I am going to have to try out some of the recipes there!
I can't recall what we did that night. I know we missed the Cthulhu rally which, I heard, really scared a couple cops last year. We probably met up with Charles and Jon and found Glen & Andrew at a local brew pub owned by a gaming nerd called The Ram. Good beer, mediocre atmosphere. At least they had Spaceballs playing on the big screens. Much better than the Alcatraz brew pub. Their beer was OK but it had a lame high-end chain store atmosphere to it. Truth be told, most of us had an early gaming session to attend so we didn't stay out too late.
I woke up from another night of sleeping on the floor. We showered and got ready. This time, however, Jon drove down to The Con. We ran into my brother, Andrew, and Glen right away. I ended up accompanying Andy & Glen on a little trip in search of good booze and smokes. We walked by the memorial obelisk and through the Circle on our venture.
We found a cigar shop with a nice walk-in humidor where they got smokey treats. If I knew my ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to cigars, I probably would have bought a good stogie. Then we went to a liquor store which had a scotch selection of extraordinary magnitude. Andy bought a $50-$60 bottle of the stuff while Glen bought Basil Hayden. We stopped in the nearby mall where Andy bought a hip flask and had it engraved with his initials. Then it was back to Andrew's room for a fill.
With a full flask, we hit the vendors again with Andrew and I both sporting cameras. We saw some great costumes and a lot of hotties. Here's some highlights,
First we have this chickie in the schoolgirl outfit. She was like 6'4". Oh, I sported wood. How could one not with that skirt and those stockings?:
We just saw this hottie waving a sword around so we had to take snaps.
I thoughts of a triple-stacker Palmer sandwich with these 3:
There was a Batman statue too:
Here's some of the folks from the video production company that did the DVD I bought called "The Gamers". It is supposed to be a nice piece of gaming fan video. I haven't watched it yet, however. The 2 guys acted in it but I'm not sure what the hottie, Frankie, in the middle did. She was a cutie!
This gal was really friendly:
And so was this one...
until Andrew made the mistake of saying, "Nice costume!" to which she replied with a scowl, "It's NOT a costume!" I thought she was gonna kick his ass. Let's see...there was a fuckload of anime for sale.
Plus there was some really creepy porn.
Leaving the vendors area, we came to Cardhalla where people take all the free game cards they get and build stuff:
We went upstairs to look for a Cthulhu game I could join and encountered a life-sized chess game, of sorts.
Seven o'clock soon neared and Marv and I head over to one of the hotels to hear a lecture called "Principle of Medieval Cooking". You can get an mp3 of it here. it was really fucking cool! Many myths that we held were shattered. For instance, in Marv's campaigns, our characters step into a tavern and have mutton with our mead. Uh uh. They ate mostly chicken. And they used saffron all the bloody time! I have to pay a year's salary for a microounce of the stuff and those jokers in medieval England and France put it in everything. I believe it was the most common seasoning behind salt. And then there was the chicken brittle story. The lecturer talked a bit about how cookbooks were transcribed and that various errors became introduced as the books were copied. So one day, he decided to try a recipe for pine nut brittle that included, of all things, chicken. Not knowing whether it was a mistake or some exotic recipe lost to we modern folk, he tried it and found that the former was indeed the case. The recipe was annotated, "If you want candy, then omit the chicken." At the end, we got to sample some quince jam which was excellent! The instructor was Daniel Myers and his website is Medieval Cookery. Methinks I am going to have to try out some of the recipes there!
I can't recall what we did that night. I know we missed the Cthulhu rally which, I heard, really scared a couple cops last year. We probably met up with Charles and Jon and found Glen & Andrew at a local brew pub owned by a gaming nerd called The Ram. Good beer, mediocre atmosphere. At least they had Spaceballs playing on the big screens. Much better than the Alcatraz brew pub. Their beer was OK but it had a lame high-end chain store atmosphere to it. Truth be told, most of us had an early gaming session to attend so we didn't stay out too late.