Eccentric Flower:199905/three beers three pancakes
From Eccentric Flower
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may first three beers, three pancakes So is everyone having hot sex for Beltane? I certainly hope so. That's the whole point of the holiday, you know, unless you're celebrating Labor Day today instead (as is its proper place - but, ah, that's a story for Clio to tell). It seems to be a good time for old gods. Whilst staggering home last night, I passed a bumper sticker that read Isis! Isis! Ra! Ra! Ra! This is the third time I have seen a joke based on "Ra" as a cheer - the first was in Asterix and Cleopatra, long ago - and it makes me giggle each time. I don't know why. I was staggering home because I had consumed three pints of ale, and two is generally enough to get me mildly swozzled if I don't pause between them. But, since I have the world's fastest metabolism, I was sober by the time I finished eating pancakes on the way home at Johnny's Luncheonette, and well into the hangover portion of the evening by the time I was taking out my contact lenses. The occasion for the fermented grain was my meeting the esteemed Molly Zero, who was charming and personable and whom I hope didn't suffer too much from the fact that I get verbal diarrhoea when tipsy - we talked about anything and everything, and I fervently hope her eardrums are still intact. Speaking of Molly, I note with amusement that she has tripped over the dreaded Allegory of the Cave! Regular readers will recall the fuss said allegory caused in these pages. If not, well, that's why I keep a search engine around. - - - I'm about halfway through the new Robin McKinley book, but I had to stop reading it today because I was consumed by the urge to write something, anything, immediately. Books that act upon me this way - like a drink from the Hippocrene, and my sincere admiration to whoever can place the book I got that from - I consider a Good Thing. The two writers who are most likely to inspire me that way are McKinley and Connie Willis. So expect reports this weekend of a new twenty-six item, or, more likely, renewed work on the Aedie novel, which I'm dying to finish but which is having what screenwriters would call Act II problems. Tonight, however, I am obligated to take Marc to dinner and then see The Matrix - partly because sitting in front of the computer does not relieve me of my obligations to entertain Nonelvis, and partly because we want to reward Marc for catsitting while we were gone. (I'm teasing, mostly. I want dinner and a movie too, but these days I feel guilty whenever I'm not working or writing. Writing is apparently the only acceptable form of entertainment to my conscience. If that sounds extreme, do bear in mind that by rights Novel I should have been fully edited and looking for an agent a year ago, and Novel II should be just about complete in first draft. When I'm forty and still haven't published a novel, I will have no one to blame but myself.) Speaking of twenty-six, I drew a pencil illustration for each of the A and B items. I'm not sure if I'm going to show them to anyone, though. Remember I swore off drawing, in frustration and disgust. I also drew an interesting Columbine (capital C), and a stylized columbine (small c) which I'm thinking of using for a border. Against my own better judgment. And this seems like as good a time as any - since this postcard is stir-fried random - to note that when I do spring cleaning in the Bayou in a few days, the self-portraits are getting the axe. I'm tired of them. So look at them while you can! © columbine |
