September 5th, 2006

bear by san

A snarky academic on Odin's theft of the Mead of Poetry from the giant Suttung:

 "The pursuit is so close that Odin cannot get all the mead back into the possession of the aesir, and he urinates a bit out; this portion makes bad poets. Thus we have Suttung to blame for the lyrics of most pop songs."

--John Lindow, Norse Mythology

And that's not even the racy bit of the myth. Nuh uh.
bear by san

I was 16, he was twenty-one... and Papa would have shot him if he'd knew what he'd done.

Hey, I guess it's official now.

I will be the Author GoH at Penguicon next year, April 20-22 in Troy, Michigan. truepenny will be coming with me, for those of you who enjoy the Mole And Bear Show. (not to be confused with the Bear Lake Show. Which is different, and involves more cross-dressing and hoisting of rather large unaerodynamic people into the air.)

Speaking of crossdressing, I finished

Book # 58, John Lindow, Norse Myth: The Long Subtitle last night.

I liked it. Lindow has a snarky sense of humor that emerges more and more as the book wears on (he appears to have suffered some sort of an emotional break around the esses and gone "whatever. I'm just going to be funny"), and he's good on obscure bits of things and people, shored up with judicious use of primary sources. This is not a narrative folklore book, but a dictionary of gods and goddesses.

Also speaking of crossdressing, I accidentally stumbled across this cover version this morning after being earwormed on "Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves" by NPR, of all the places you don't expect to be afflicted by an evil song. And I am endlessly entertained by a yes, hard-rock power-ballad version of a song I've always had a guilty fondness for. As performed by three guys from Chicago.

Yanno, that's a totally different song when a man sings it.

And no, they didn't change the lyrics.

I think I like these boys.
bear by san

...and nothing worse will happen to you all day

[18:44] matociquala: Okay, you know the swallow a live frog thing?
[18:44] matociquala: Apparently, this is a Swedish technique for getting rid of the evil eye....
[18:44] leahbobet: Classy.
[18:45] matociquala: My relatives are weird.
[18:45] leahbobet: ...ew, I did not know this thing.
[18:45] tanaise: thankfully no.
[18:45] stillsostrange: You'll get rid of something, for sure
[18:45] matociquala: I did not know it until just now.
[18:45] tanaise: you know, the Turks, they just have a little glass eye you pin to your clothing.
[18:45] matociquala: I hope it's a spring peeper
bear by san

this is yendi's fault:

His link, to a deep-fried bacon double cheeseburger, inspired a chatroom conversation that lead to a news article on deep-fried Coca Cola. And a Dallas Morning News article that offers the immortal sentence:

"Give a person a good wiener, and you've got them."




Oh, and in other news, I sold a story to a new market, "Coyote Wild," today. It was my oldest story still in circulation, "Abjure the Realm," a sort of weird little apologia for Odd-Eyed Wicked Witches and Clubfooted Apolitical Bards the folklore over. It's an unabashed straight swords-and-sorcery riff.

Also, it has made up ballad bits.

And an undead army.

And it's totally unrepentant. *g*
bear by san

(no subject)

I saw a tree frog stuck to the glass of the storm door in my grandmother's kitchen once.

For those of you in other parts of the world, we have some local adaptations to the weather here in New England. For example, the front door of most houses--if there isn't a covered porch or patio-- is up a short flight of steps ending in a square stoop, and there's a little awning over it. This is so you can get out of the house when  blizzard hits.

(I once described my ideal climate to my friend ladegard as "The sort of place where you don't have to tie a rope to get to the barn more than a couple of times a winter... but people understand what you mean when you say, "I had to tie a rope to get to the barn.")

Also, we usualy have double doors--a metal storm door on the outside, which will have screen for summer and plates of glass for winter, and then a stout interior door, usually of wood. Other places in the world have pretty front doors, or security doors. Here, it's the winter we worry about.

Anyway, it must have been spring, because the glass was still in the storm door in the kitchen, but the inner door was open to let the light in. And I heard a *plop* and looked over from whatever I had been doing--and there was a frog as big as my hand with its wet belly sticking to the glass and its wet suctiony toes holding it spread-eagled on the surface.

I must have stared at it for thirty seconds before the dogs scared it. And then it JUMPED! Foom! and was gone.

It was a green treefrog, I think. Although this site says they only come as far north as Delaware.

Neat critter. It must be cool to be able to stick to things.


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