July 31st, 2010


Blogathon! It is on!

'Tis... -- no, I won't recite my whole Blogathon song, but you can read it right here. :-)

I'll be reading many of y'all a lot today, because a lot of y'all will be posting a lot today. The unofficial 2010 Blogathon has begun, and I'll be reading and commenting. Probably will be posting a fair amount myself, too.

Best of the good luck. This will be the good kind of crazy.
NCC-1701 Nebula 1

Forward into the past!

Blogathon participant spoothbrush opened her posting with a poll: if you could safely time travel, would you go to the future or the past? I answered the poll, then I decided to give a more detailed answer:
This is a tough one, and I'm a sucker for time travel stories so I've thought about this a lot, but I chose "Past" because the past is a partly known commodity...but not completely. There's all sorts of stuff we've forgotten. Plenty of it is fine to be forgotten, but the enormous number of details of everyday life were plenty thick in the past. Here's an example:

In the 1920s a neat movie theater/vaudeville house was built in downtown Portland. It had these brass machines in the lobby rigged up with thousands of little signals, to say which seats in the 3,000-seat theater were available so ushers could direct latecomers to seats the most quickly. Decades later, this theater (first known as the Portland, then the Paramount) fell into disrepair and became kind of a hole, where concerts were held, and almost got knocked down. It got remodeled starting in the early '80s to be a symphony hall, the Schnitzer (with the sign outside restored to say "Portland"+). The remodelers dug out these brass devices, cleaned them up, realized what they were, decided to rig them up again -- and couldn't figure out how to do it. 1980s people were flummoxed by 1920s technology. Whoever had known how they worked was long gone.

The past is FULL of little details like that.

+ Actually, that's a slight lie. The sign that had first said "Portland" and then "Paramount" was replaced by a replica. The remodelers misjudged how heavy the original sign was. While they were taking it off the front of the building, the sign tipped over the equipment removing it and the sign went crashing onto the street. It was a Sunday morning in what was then a pretty quiet chunk of downtown Portland, which is a more bustling place now, so no one was hurt, but the original sign was a total loss. Whoops. Luckily, the replacement sign was already being made. And being made lighter.
Flavored Calories.

Poetic Sausage

So I had sausage grilling up on my stove top a little while ago. Hillshire Farms Smoked Sausage, to be specific. Simple: pre-cooked sausage from a bag, grilling up in some oil. But as I like sausage, I was listening to the sizzle and wrote this on my Twitter feed:
The promise of cooking sausage.
And then
Yes, in that last message I was trying to be poetic about sausage.
But why shouldn't one be poetic about sausage?

I must ponder this. After having more sausage.
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Me 1

Poetic Sausage, continued

Let's see:

Essence of meat, injected and mixed
Accreted in tubes that can to be eaten as well
-- Cooked, packaged, sent, bought, placed in fridges, until
Re-cooking commences
(Oil, heat, skillet, skill)
With the bubbling and the warming and the blackening
And the scent from that essence of that meat.
Eat well.

You can be poetic about sausage, too!

© Christopher Walsh, 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Christopher Walsh (chris_walsh) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.