Chasing the pangs and the shades

[sovay]

This was good. I arrived home from the doctor's this afternoon to find, unexpectedly arrived on my doorstep, a package from yuki_onna. Among its manifold contents were discovered a tin of pomegranate tea, a small paperback of Christopher Logue's Cold Calls, which is the latest (and damn near impossible to find on this continent) installment of his poetic revision of the Iliad, and what looks like a small collection of BPAL imps: Arachne, Hecate, Yggdrasil, The Unicorn, Bluebeard. It's sort of like Wiscon in a box. Or katabasis. Hey, corn-queen: thank you.

Then there's lesser_celery's announcement of the upcoming publication of The Best of Not One of Us, a twenty-year retrospective of the magazine's fiction in which my short story "Another Coming" appears. Only a few of the other shady characters involved are Patricia Russo, Gary Braunbeck, Katherine Harbour, Seth Matthew Lindberg, Jeffrey Thomas . . . It's going to be an awesome collection. And with all luck, it will be out in time for Readercon.

This was not so good—extracting a bottle of apple cider vinegar from its cupboard only to discover that it had developed an inhabitant reminiscent of a teratological specimen, three pale overlapping discs floating there in the clear amber liquid like some tree-grown fungus. I haven't the faintest idea what it is. I'm scientifically curious, but culinarily wary: one should not find in one's kitchen items that are more often seen in museum cabinets. I'm buying new vinegar tomorrow.

Comments

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

Oh, and welcome to the wonderful world of things that smell funny! If some of the ones you've got turn out not to work on you, I have plenty I could swap.

Come to the dark side. We have good marketing writing.

The household also owns Princess Tutu. When I'm over this damn bronchitis, you and I and possibly others should arrange to be in the same place sometime.

[sovay]

If some of the ones you've got turn out not to work on you, I have plenty I could swap.

I am experimenting even as we speak . . .

When I'm over this damn bronchitis, you and I and possibly others should arrange to be in the same place sometime.

I should like that very much. How's your bronchitis?

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

Finally starting to convalesce after a week of sitting there being icky. I should be well enough to socialize by the end of this week/beginning of next-- this may be a conservative estimate, but I'm not going to push my luck with this particular illness because it has fangs and already got drastically worse on me once after I overextended.

[sovay]

but I'm not going to push my luck with this particular illness because it has fangs and already got drastically worse on me once after I overextended.

No, that's completely understood. I am also currently in a don't-push-yourself phase, so I can respect other people's conservative estimates. May I look forward to you sometime next week, then?

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

Sometime next week sounds good.

[sovay]

Come to the dark side. We have good marketing writing.

I do agree that the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has the best copy since J. Peterman.

Elegant Fustian

Fustian. What is that?

An honorable fabric made of linen and cotton; fustian goes back quite a ways.

("Of fustyan he wered a gypoun [i.e., a shirt]." —G. Chaucer, 1386.)

Over the centuries, unfortunately, fustian became synonymous with thick, heavy stuff in dark, stodgy colors, often used in blankets. Through no fault of its own, fustian became fusty.

It’s time fustian had a chance to show its true potential.

[schreibergasse.livejournal.com]

I seem to recall that a Gypon was actually a PADDED shirt, but I could be completely off.
(Goes back to researching 15th c. fustian production)
They do indeed have cool copy.

Mother of vinegar and father of gym socks!

I wonder...could the CHILDREN of gym socks become mothers of vinegar?

[sovay]

I wonder...could the CHILDREN of gym socks become mothers of vinegar?

You know, I might believe that . . .