Minor amusements and wordcount.

I posted lengthily to the temple board comparing practical approaches to Constitutional law to building a fence around the Torah.

teinedreugan has been occasionally putting an icepack on his foot and affixing it there with an ace bandage. This evening, the tail end of said bandage was right in my peripheral vision, in a sort of dangly manner. Dangerous. (Pull. Sproink. Pull. Sproink. Pull. Sproink. . . .)

We watched "Desperado" on the telly in preparation for seeing "Once Upon a Time In Mexico". Now, if you search the IMDB for "Desperado", you get OUATIM listed as "aka Desperado 2". If you search the IMDB for "El Mariachi", you get "Desperado" listed as "aka El Mariachi 2" and OUATIM listed as "aka El Mariachi 3". For some reason, this pleases me immensely, perhaps because it's incredibly perverse.

Other notes -- I can follow dialogue and music in Spanish, at least in flicks like that, but I couldn't translate it without having to actually think about it. The meaning's there, but it's not language-enabled. I'm not sure if that means I've lost the ability to think in Spanish, or if I've still got it. Mostly it probably means that my processing of Spanish isn't laced around with the superstructure of having-processed-English that clutters up my brain when I'm trying to output in that language, plus not having the translator fluidez that means that what I hear automatically comes out in the other language like Roman has. (Footnote available.)

I have a desperate need to do things with my hands. teinedreugan said we might be able to buy fabric tomorrow. We'll see if that works, and if this particular urge to sew lasts long enough to finish this project (which is, essentially, all hemming, but it's a lot of all hemming).

Bah. erispope just disconnected, about fifteen seconds before I realised I wanted to talk with her about something the next time I saw her. Bugger. Flip windows, and there's that 'has disconnected' message. Yay timing.

Section 27: 316 words (1215 total; done)
Section 28: 372 words (done)
Section 29: pondering . . . .

Argh, yes, Arthur, there's a snake in there. I know there's a snake in there. I put the snake in there. Stop freaking out, okay?

Hey SF Bay Area People

(I'm thinking of you particularly, rmjwell.)

You seen the replicant-check for the mayoral candidates yet?

[ Stolen from solipsistnation. ]

Storytelling and the Breath of Life (also posted to KOL)

Today I had reason to tell one of the myths as an explanation of something. I don't tell them the same way twice when I tell them; the rhythm of the language when I'm storytelling is something that has its own demands, its own life, its own soul, and constraining it to pinned-down language seems wrong to me.

I can tell stories in different registers, in different levels of detail; storytelling is one component of my calling as a writer.

As I was talking to teinedreugan while we were out doing some errands (getting fabric for the thing my hands want to do, kibble for the cats, and a feeesheeee for the lily tank), I realised that this is something that matters to me: that the stories, the storytelling, the rhythm of the language and the tales, this is one of the things that gives me a resonance of having a living faith, a living religious system.

There are only a couple of myths I can do this with easily, just drop into storytelling mode and tell the story as it flows out of me, making the rhythm of the language sing. I need to learn more stories, more stories so that I can tell them, make my breath the breath of the living Kemetic faith.

Kheperu!

Addendum: And since I told the world, I also told the Real Live Preacher. (preachermanfeed, I believe.)