Thompson Girl

(the Hip song, not the Munich tragedy)

Would have sent this from the Gate, but wireless problems ...

The point is/be the same:

"I was the deer. She was the forest. On fire. I was running."

Outstanding. Remember a few photo opportunities and smile. Whatever anyone says, it is a season of fairytales, and so deserving of smiles. You know it.

(PS> reference 07/06 and the Siren. Moved to p. 250 on Carter's urging. A chapter's end. You'll have to revisit to read that final line again)

The Rare Old Mountain Dew

FERDINAND
Biron is like an envious sneaping frost,
That bites the first-born infants of the spring.

BIRON
Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast
Before the birds have any cause to sing?
Why should I joy in any abortive birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a rose
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth;
But like of each thing that in season grows.
So you, to study now it is too late,
Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate.

Love that word, sneaping. Merry Fuckin' Christmas, say I. 2007 holds one more TFI after this. Pray we make these two good ones. Laughter, cheer, merriment, etc. And tuxedos to the levees on the first. It is, how you say, inevitable? Indeed. Put on some Shane McGowan. I got a feeling, this year's for me and you.

Perchance to Dream

So said the words upon waking this morning following the end of the extravaganza - simply too funny. And extravanganza is the word alright. Who would have thought you'd ever again meet up with Johnson, that he would remember about the wedding after all these months, and that he would be the one dressed in the shag carpet jacket. Oh the world and its random madness. Ah, to be. In a word from Uncle Tom's Little Havana menu, superlative.

HAMLET
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

Second Annual Second Last Thursday Before Christmas Douglas Adams Oyster and Champagne Extravaganza

Crazy how a year passes by - some moments as memorable as "yesterday night" (as Laura would say) and others as faint as if they occurred in another age absolutely. Yet here we are again, the second last Thursday before Christmas, and marvelously we have a chance to elevate a passing idea of late 2006 into a truly "annual" event.

For what is more enjoyable, truly, than an oyster? And why not send it gloriously down the hatch with a bit of bubbly, at that? It seemed a good idea on a random Thursday last year, and seems so again tonight. Or as AI emailed earlier:

Do you have… a photo of us with Sue U? Please send it, if you do.
And now see I that this mail dost rhyme, I must continue and not lose time.
For the day has come, and tonight we’ll swallow,
Oysters, yes oysters, in our tummies they’ll wallow.

Indeed. Last year I perused the Internet for other events happening this night, those that could not be attended. On this fair December 13 of our year 2007 , people shall be doing as follows:

Earlier today, the College of Agriculture and Natural Resources at the University of Maryland hosted "Winning the Game Post-Harvest Workshop" - The newest edition of this grain marketing series will help take the challenges out of your post harvest marketing questions, from 9:00 am - 1:00 pm in the Princess Anne Extension Office. At UCBerkely, you could attend "To Tree or Not to Tree: Phylogeny and Microbial Community Comparisons Seminar from 4-5 p.m. in Evans Hall. Tonight at the University of Texas at Austin you can hear Danny Schmidt at the Cactus Cafe (which description notes "Times approximate - this is live music.") The SCC Democratic Club in Silicon Valley is hosting an event featuring Jerry McNerney at Marianai's in Santa Clara. And perhaps most excellently, beeradvocate.com has a list of the following Beer Events & Festivals" for December 13, 2007 - (1) A night with CBC brewmaster Eric Bean - Columbus, Ohio; (2) Belgian Beer Tasting - Westlake Village, California; (3) Blue Point Brewery Tasting - Providence, Rhode Island; (4) Brewery Night & Release Party with Lakefront Brewery - Franklin, Wisconsin; (5) Cask Tapping - Spinnerstown, Pennsylvania; (6) December Monthly Taste Beering! O’Fallons, Kansas City, Missouri; (7) He'Brew Tasting w/ Jeremy Cowan - Newton, Massachusetts; (8) Pisgah Tasting @ Bruisin' Ales, Asheville - Asheville, North Carolina; (9) Seven Deadly Sins Beers: LUST Release - Anchorage, Alaska; (10) The Twelve Days of Barleywine - Anchorage, Alaska; (11) Troegs Mad Elf Night - Allentown, Pennsylvania.

So many paths, so many choices, so many lives, isn't there?

I have also just noted the release of a decision in which the "Loquacious Compendium Society" has been granted a liquor license in Tatamagouche for "Fables - A Literary Pub". Sounds like a road trip waiting to happen. And something to spur the dabbling would-be Oyster Schmoyster board into action? As Ozan the Turk so bluntly and poetically said once, "Time will show." Can't wait. In the mean time, it's off to see about some oysters!

Adventures in Courage

Scottish man, trapped in toilet for nearly four days, survives the cold by "dipping his feet in hot water". Seriously. With typical Scottish charm, he notes: “At least there was a toilet to use... The only thing I regret is not getting trapped behind the bar.”

Ah yes. The previous post last TFI got aborted based on a malfunctioning blackberry. That night ended as might be imagined, of course, although with ominous (if ultimately unexpected) overtones emerging afterward. Amazing, isn't it, the patterns of action-consequence that flow inevitably from one careless provocation to its conclusion and lingering impact? Such is life. If one were to do *this*, as an experiment, who can say beforehand what will happen next? Though there is that sadness of never being able to exactly align the same circumstances twice, and so never truly having the opportunity to examine the infinite possibilities of an evening, of a series of choices.

And that's if you even can be sure of the action/decision to be taken, or a desired end result. Most of the time it is simply a haphazard jumping between moments, constantly unsure of what is to be done, one eye gazing back over the shoulder.

All of which is no excuse for side-stepping what needs to be thought through in the coming while. Plus, what makes grand thoughts about the paths a life might take so... fun (for that is the word) is precisely the accompanying large unpredictable, potentially terrifying consequences that hinge on the outcomes of speculation based on intuition and scant information.

As G'n'R asks so succinctly, "Where do we go now?" It is beautiful, sometimes, to look at the horizon and respond "I know not." But at some point, it does come down to the Big Yes. Maybe I'm just in need of 100 hours locked in a toilet somewhere to figure some of it all out...

o, but I am fortune's fool; xmas party tonight, mind in cavernous cappadocia, pondering the infinite unpredictability/beauty o' the world. what else?