2013-11-16

sovay: (Lord Peter Wimsey: passion)
Things that arrived in the mail today:

1. My contributor's copy of Mythic Delirium #29—the next-to-last print issue—containing my poem "Hypnos and Thanatos." I wrote it the night [livejournal.com profile] derspatchel ended up in the ER for a tooth infection, which is not what the poem is about. (We were pretty hard up for sleep, though.) The rest of the lineup is splendid: it's a bare black-and-white presentation as far as the pages go, but the words more than make up for it.

2. My birthday present from my brother: Schmekel's second album, The Whale That Ate Jonah (2013). Still 100% trans Jews, still stupidly catchy, and their musicianship is sharper and more extensive this time around. Current favorites are "Hold My Yod" and "FTM at the DMV," but "The Binding of Isaac" is really good.

3. A postcard from [livejournal.com profile] beowabbit. Hello!

Things that did not arrive in the mail:

1. Foolish Ida's Book II (2012), because I bought it at T.T. the Bear's. It's a side project of Sarah Rabdau's, a five-song EP inspired by Maurice Sendak's Outside Over There (1981); I don't know if she played any songs from it tonight because I left after Bent Knee and Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling. Two sets of amplified bass is about all I can take. (I got to see the new videos by DNFMOMD, however, and Bent Knee closed with a shrieking deconstructed banshee cover of "You Are My Sunshine," so it was totally worth it.) One of the song titles on the back of the CD sleeve was "the Scientist." Another was "these arms are mermaids." I got it on the spot. It was the correct decision.

2. [personal profile] phi, because they met me at the show. That was also pretty cool.

3. A pamphlet of Songs from the American Revolution, collected in 1779 by one Captain George Bush (no relation) of the Continental Army, who had the wondrous decency not to leave out the bawdy songs as well as the patriotic, romantic, and bored. My parents brought it back for me from Pennsylvania last weekend and my mother remembered to give it to me this evening. I feel bad about trying to peel the price sticker off the back because it's a chapbook and the cardstock fuzzed. This is why bookstores shouldn't put stickers on chapbooks. I don't think I recognize any of the tunes in it.

There's new music all over my life all of a sudden. I like it.
sovay: (Claude Rains)
Armed with a carton of goat's milk, some discs of Taza chocolate left over from the Halloween party, and the fact that Dave's Fresh Pasta sells Fat Toad Farm goat's milk caramel, I have made myself goat's milk salt caramel hot chocolate.

Dinner was an experiment from Amsterdam Falafelshop on Elm Street. I'd bought salad items from them, but never actually their falafel. It's delicious. Crunchy on the outside without being tooth-breaking, fragrant chickpea goodness inside. I got three in a bowl (I wasn't sure how a pita pocket would travel) and piled baba ghanoush, hummus, pickled turnips, and garlic-fried eggplant around them; the cost came to less than most sandwiches and it was an entire dinner as far as I'm concerned. Their garlic cream sauce is indispensable. I forgot to try the tahini. Next time. There'll be a next time. Possibly very soon.

I am going to drink my hot chocolate and rewatch Stephen Frears' The Hit (1984), which has John Hurt being morally ambiguous. Of such things are evenings made.
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