Did you make a valentine’s day scrapbook? Well you should have, and it should have gone something like this:
There are rabbits there. If you squint. Look, I can’t do all the work. Use your imagination, romantic parasite-infested beasts of fluffy destruction – small enough and cute enough to make you regress to infantile exclamations of joy. Imagine it. Get involved.
That, dear friends, is how you have a glorious Valentine’s Day.
Today’s Table-Talk Tuesday is brought to you by the French. Specifically 13-16th Century french poetry forms. I know what you’re thinking, “that bastard’s tricked me into clicking her link again. This has nothing to do with boning old men”. “Roundels & Rondeaus“. Ohmahgawd you’re right. You cultured little hipster you.
The Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms & Literary Theory describes a Rondeau as french, and totally cool before Swinburne liked it ironically¹. He is credited as ‘experimenting’ with the form in the 1880s, making it popular again¹, and by experimenting I mean mixed it up a bit and re-naming it a Roundel². Kinda like a 1883 version of The Black Eyed Peas.
Having said that, I like both versions (as well as another, similar form called the Rondel which is also worth checking out) and in 2008 I wrote a bunch of my own back when I thought end rhymes were better than sex.
I really love the sing-song nature of this type of lyric poetry. They’re short, like me which really suits my attention span makes them easy to remember and once you get the pattern right, they’re easy like your mum.
So if you’re interested in learning some new poetry forms, you should check out ShadowPoetry. They have a long list of different forms, from the popular Sonnet to not-so-popular Terzanelle.
Let’s make an innocent little gin get dirty. It’s Friday morning and we’ve got the whole day to suffer through before we can get our dranks on. So lets get masochistic and relieve our ennui – by daydreaming cocktail hour because I’m just fucking neurotic like that. So pull up a wobbly wooden stool in some pompous bar surrounded by eclectic hipster knickknacks, overpriced finger food, & that one staff member who always looks like they just hate the living shit out of humanity missed the bus in the rain. Cross your ankles and thoughtfully stroke your facial hair and let’s have one innocent little drink, one might even say that we deserve onebecause life is cruel and makes us work for a living. So suck this for an ennui remedy – The Dirty Ginger Gimlet.
Dirty Ginger Gimlet – you will need:
A highball glass packed with ice.
10-20ml Bickford’s Lime Juice Cordial (depending on how sweet you want it)
10ml Lime Juice
30ml of Dry Ginger Ale
A dash of White Wine (whatever you have on hand – in my case Sauvignon Blanc)
Optional no it’s not – stay classy motherfuckers: A slice of lime to serve.
Grab your highball, fill it with ice and let’s build some adultery.
First the Cordial.
Then the lime juice. Traditionally a Gin gimlet ingredient.
Then your gin. I use Tanqueray because I’m a gin snob it’s magnificent.
Then the dry ginger ale. Traditionally the main ingredient in a Gin Buck.
Then the White Wine (that’s what makes it all so dirty because wine tastes like shit)
Give it a stir and you’ve got yourself alcohol’s answer to a love child – a Dirty Ginger Gimlet.
Now that you’ve taken a bunch of pictures of liquids imagined yourself awkwardly drinking at home alone on a Thursday night while you blog about affairs between alcoholic beverages sipping the bastard,
you can put shit away/get back to work marvel at its makers.
and imagine yourself hypothetically maybe not having any wine stoppers, causing you to do something impractical classy like make your own out of aluminum foil an appropriate medium.
Or alternatively you could snap out of your psychosis just in time to learn a bunch of real traditional cocktail recipes (including the traditional Gin Buck and Gin Gimlet) from Monotone Josh and the amazing peeps at About.com
To the interior corridors of my neurosis. To the land where the sweet little frogs of geometric fixation play nice with the rabid crocodiles of a hyperbolic aversion to rain. Or something.
This week I’m fixated with little things, and no, I’m not referring to your dad’s anatomy. Terrariums. Oh dear god. A fucking tiny garden encased in glass. It marries several of my favorite things.
1. Transparent things – (like glass, water, gin, and your father’s intentions).
2. Things so tiny that they’re hardly functional (except that – let’s be reasonable here).
4. Playing god.
So like some perverted cult leader, I’m going to show you how to make your own tiny world to lord over terrarium.
You will need:
Locate a jar or little-world-receptacle of some kind. You should probably clean it out or something. Fill the bottom with some hell-pebbles.
Crumble the horse shit into a thin layer over the pebbles, this is because I was too cheap to get any charcoal to stop it all looking like mud. Then throw delicately place in some dirt you stole from another pot plant potting mix.
Marvel at your creation. Let there be a lamp, look at it and feel confident that you nailed it. Ignore the gaps where you need to rely heavily on the suspension of disbelief in order to make sense of it all.
This post is brought to you by ‘book dipping’. Which unfortunately doesn’t involve wading naked through piles of loose leaf paper.
Though I’m sure there is a blog post somewhere that covers that niche if you’re into it. ‘Book dipping’ is like ‘Bible dipping‘ but less creepy; flip to a random page, scan it and pick a word that stands out. BAM subject acquired.
No, it’s not a disease commonly found in domestic cats. It refers to the idea that a person’s given name reflects aspects of their personality rather than being an arbitrary word (but the theory extends beyond proper names to encompass all language)¹. According to the Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory the word is native to Plato, appearing in his dialogue Cratylus.
¹Cuddon, J, 1999, Cratylic in Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory, Penguin Books, London, England,p191.