43 replies to this topic

[louchefabrik]

Found these bottles from two different people. Would they give me a shout at: louchefabrik@gmail.com

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[jaded prol]

Sampling the last of some G&C verte -- astounding fennel and maybe a hint of Angelica seed. Good 'til the last drop.

[Kirk]

Manalici?

[TheGreenOne]

Or Mancini?

[Bognoz]

Shirley not

Magalotti?

 

[TheGreenOne]

Shirley, a great writer.

[Crosby]

I wish I still had some of those bottles. Did find some goodies when I was cleaning out my Mom's house that I forgot about.

[TheGreenOne]

I think I might still have a few....

[Bognoz]

       THE SECOND COMING

 

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

    The darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

 

William Butler Yeats

[Bognoz]

... still

[Kirk]

Holy shit

[Bognoz]

Yeah, y'gotta love Yeats, huh?

[Bognoz]

I coulda thrown it in the political cesspool

butt that woulda been a whole 'nother thing.

[Kirk]

I never realized how much some of Jim Morrison's prose sounded like Yeates.

[artemis]

The Wasp (Texas Radio and the Big Beat) - Mr. Mojo Risin

 

I wanna tell you 'bout Texas Radio and the Big Beat
Comes out of the Virginia swamps
Cool and slow with plenty of precision
With a back beat narrow and hard to master

 

Some call it heavenly in its brilliance
Others, mean and rueful of the Western dream
I love the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft
We have constructed pyramids in honor of our escaping
This is the land where the Pharaoh died

The Negroes in the forest brightly feathered
They are saying, "Forget the night -
Live with us in forests of azure
Out here on the perimeter there are no stars
Out here we is stoned - immaculate"

Listen to this, and I'll tell you 'bout the heartache
I'll tell you 'bout the heartache and the loss of God
I'll tell you 'bout the hopeless night
The meager food for souls forgot
I'll tell you 'bout the maiden with wrought iron soul

I'll tell you this
No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn
I'll tell you 'bout Texas Radio and the Big Beat
Soft drivin', slow and mad, like some new language

Now, listen to this, and I'll tell you 'bout the Texas
I'll tell you 'bout the Texas Radio
I'll tell you 'bout the hopeless night
Wandering the Western dream
Tell you 'bout the maiden with wrought iron soul

[artemis]

Some kind of synchronicity in the cabinet cleaning -\

I spent some weeks in the mountains, and peeked into a cabinet there - I look in there about twice a year.

I saw some hundred-year-old Pernod, Bazinet Jeune, and Aion (from Austria, the guy with the ouroboros avatar) HG.  Didn't touch any of it.

I went into the forest, to hunt for the Green Man - he's easier to spot this time of year.

I winged him ...

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[artemis]

A golden sickle is no match for a Remington ...

 

 

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[Kirk]

They say it grows here but I never find it

[Kirk]

Indians scattered,

On dawn's highway bleeding

Ghosts crowd the young child’s

Fragile eggshell mind

 

We have assembled inside,

This ancient and insane theater

To propagate our lust for life,

And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets.

 

The barns have stormed

The windows kept,

And only one of all the rest

To dance and save us

From the divine mockery of words,

Music inflames temperament.

 

Ooh great creator of being

Grant us one more hour,

To perform our art

And perfect our lives.

[artemis]

That cuts like a diamond, that last verse.  Some of the rest is a little Rimbaudian for me, but Morrison had some chops.  That song is supposedly about an accident on the road when Morrison was a boy and traveling in a car with his parents out west somewhere. 

 

Which plant do you not find, the mistletoe or the holly?  The first is very common in Louisiana and Arkansas; can't remember if I've seen it elsewhere or not.  I read the other day it's even cultivated now, which is strange, because it's a parasite.  It seems to favor oaks, but I've seen it on other trees.  Holly, in my experience is a rare tree in the forest.  What I knew as holly in my youth in Louisiana had red berries, but small and not numerous, and oval leaves.  The holly in the picture is obviously a different species, the "real" holly, with the spiky leaves (those trees bite, believe me).   I would say ten trees in twenty acres of timber in the wild is a plethora.  Nurseries always have them, though - I would think your area would be fine for a holly.

[artemis]

I didn't have to shoot that sprig, I have a small tree that reliably has berries every year. 

Some of the bigger ones generally don't, but this year they all did:

 

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[artemis]

All except the one, in a different part of the woods, that never does.  It's maybe 20 feet taller than the one in the photo, and it NEVER has berries.  It's the King Holly, my world tree, and I always sit under it for a while when I can, and draw a lot of comfort from it.

[Bognoz]

Aren't these the lyrics that belong here?

Here in the wonderfully colorful

assbinth whirled.

[Bognoz]

Back when I was bookslinging in the bestest

bookstore the world of English has ever seen

(debatable certainly, but it serves, believe me)

I inevitably met with some famous people,

Jimmy Carter and Rosalyn were notable

customers that came in once upon a time.

[Bognoz]

For several years that I was there

Jim Morrison would come in

and set up his big historic display.

I spent hours assisting him.

Believe me, this is no bullxit.

[Bognoz]

He was all things Xmas.

We called him Mr Mojo Christmas.

Behind his back.

Butt that's all history now.

Just like the museum he set up,

in Paradise.

[Bognoz]

We got plenty of mistletoe here.

But the only holly is Oregon grape.

As far as I know, anyway.

[Kirk]

You continue to surprise.

I have holly here but I never see the mistletoe , even though the old timers say they hunted it here in the past.

[artemis]

My first visit to that woods, which had just become "my" woods, was with my wife, and by divine coincidence, it was on the Winter Solstice.  We made a small fire on a stone.  Using the double-uppagus feature of a photo editing program revealed the Green Man in a sprig of holly, but I didn't expect his kitty in the firewood.  No wonder some pholks confuse him with the devil.

 

 

 

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[artemis]

Did Jimmy Carter ask where they keep the Jimmy Morrison cassette tapes?

Did Jim Morrison wear those leather pants?  I read that he wouldn't take them off, and he wore them so long they became fused to his skin, with resultant unpleasant (but maybe not for him) social consequences.  That was before Facebroke enabled imaginary social consequences, though.

 

My python boot is too tight

I couldn't get it off last night

A week went by

And now it's July

I finally got it off and my girlfriend cried, "you got Stinkfoot!"  - F. Zappa

 

Interestingly, Zappa's father moved him out west when he was a child, same as Morrison.  Is California where genius goes to bloom?  Hard to credit with so many fools out there, though.

[artemis]

You knew I was going to do it ...

 

The Solstice Wreath

 

Sandra Michaelson Brown

 

The grim news has come to my attention

That something in the world has come unfixed –

Owls no longer haunt the fir-lined alley

Appearing out of dreamtime as we pass,

Indeed, whole souls are missing, as if being

Has itself gone dim – like an old man’s seeing.

A vital light is missing from this world, by which I mean

That ephemeral gold that spins the seen

And unseen worlds together. In my life

I don’t expect to see a springtime swelling

Of the shriveled nut so many human spirits

Have become. What’s to be done?

This is the winter solstice of an age,

Although the season’s worst is yet to come.

What’s delicate and true has come undone:

Is the only fitting answer a pure and focused rage?

Today I wove a wreath of bone and fir

and filbert withes, wound in sacred holly,

incense, cedar, from an ancient tree

I wove, affixed a star, and spoke a spell:

"Let this circle stand as the gate of winter

sure passage to the days of lengthening light."

 

And then I whispered names into the fragrant bough

Lacing love like a scarlet ribbon through the fronds.

Long I wove and dreamed back friends and kin,

each great soul calling back the sun

and thought at last, "My life here is not done."

and some bright star rekindled from within

[artemis]

This recent visit to the woods, Mr. Grim was keen to go - he wanted to see my standing  stones.  Some considerations made it unpractical this time, but Grim my friend, this sun's for you:

 

 

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[Bognoz]

The dwindling days that pulped forests for the pages

of light in brilliant little bookstores of civilization's night

did not make their way by selling cassette tapes.

Those doors were closed between the boards of books.

[Bognoz]

"... the days of lengthening light"

 

It feels like they'll never be here again.

When the day retreats to be mostly night

I search for precious stones that can't be seen

[Bognoz]

... but only felt

and thank the flesh for that.

[Bognoz]

   I Know a Man

As I sd to my  
friend, because I am  
always talking,—John, I

 

sd, which was not his  
name, the darkness sur-
rounds us, what

 

can we do against
it, or else, shall we &
why not, buy a goddamn big car,

 

drive, he sd, for  
christ’s sake, look  
out where yr going.

 

-- Robert Creeley

[Absinthe_1900]

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Carrying on my own tradition, embarrassing my Boxer.

[artemis]

I don't know if they get em-bare-assed, but they know how to say "this is undoglike".
I appreciate, I think, that days of lengthening light is meant metaphorically. I've always liked the days of lengthening darkness better myself - the turnaround after the solstice, in terms of actual increased daylight, makes me queasy. The TV weathermen who equate sunshine with some sort of mindless automatic happiness, I want to slap them. So, I get what you say about searching in the darkness - I mean, that's what drives the search ...

[Kirk]

Some dogs have a sense of humor, hate being laughed at and enjoy a good joke. My shepherd would walk with me and then put a bush or a post between us and run away in a straight line very fast with the object between us, it was a true disappearing act, I would sometimes catch her peeking out to see my reaction and she was laughing at me. Often I would call her and she would hide and I would catch her peeking out from behind some natural cover

[artemis]

Reminds me of a cat I had.  I would get his attention and then go down a hallway, away from him, and hide in a doorway.  I would peek out and he would be on his way to me, but when I peeked, he would be frozen, staring at me.  I would do it again, and so on, and he would be closer and closer every time, but I would never catch him in motion.  Sometimes, he would be right at the doorway when I looked out - like he had been teleported instantly - it would startle me and I would jump, then he would jump and haul ass back to his original position and get set for another round.  He would fetch balls of aluminum foil, too.  Only cat I ever had that would fetch.

[Bognoz]

♥♥♥

 

 

[artemis]

I will forgive your wrongs

I am able

For my own I feel great shame

I would offer up a brick

to the back of your head, boy

If I were Cain

 

[Bognoz]

Happy Boxing Day

(St. Stephen's Day)

[TheGreenOne]

Yeah, y'gotta love Yeats, huh?

 

This is true.