The Alchemist

'slowly stumbling toward projection'

The Sailor: Return to the Blogosphere

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The Sailor

In evening attire, the sailor pours his wine—
Of counted, crimson ounces,
Of measured, cardinal ounces—
Into a wooden goblet,
As the night of the moonless night
Fools him into believing
(By bleary-ing his seeing),
The circling charybdis benign.
Raising his arm twice out of custom,
He whispers engraved words worn:
“Los mares mansos…” Starboard jolted, and
The sangreal is spilled,
And countless scarlet tears
Stain this farer’s trembling palm.
As the sea translates “no hacen un buen marinero”
Into a tempest-roaring psalm,
A svelte, golden disc swells above the mast.
The wracked ship, in day’s plain view,
Strewn with lilac-dappled, lifeless matter;
For amid the speechless sea,
The ritual of being is disabused.

This Is Why I Love You

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*From Wiki*

Lightstruck, or "skunked," beer has been exposed to ultraviolet and visible light. The light causes riboflavin to react with and break down isohumulones, a molecule that contributes to the bitterness of the beer and is derived from the hops. The resulting molecule, 3-methylbut-2-ene-1-thiol, is very similar to a skunk's natural defenses.

In some cases, such as Miller High Life, a hop extract that does not have isohumulones is used to bitter the beer so it cannot be "lightstruck."

 

Shit-Damn.

A Collapse of "The Good," "The Mis-recognized," and "All That Is Spiteful" on an Idaho Prairie

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    For the young, aspiring Adam, real, nay, supreme, delight lay in the prospect of breaching class barriers at all costs, in attaining wealth by means likely deemed unsavory to those capable of experiencing even the slightest touch of moral sensibility. The truth is, Adam was not economically savvy. Scarcely did he ever exhibit any signs of a superior intellect, and, in order to procure enough assets for a sustainable existence in Belgrad, he was forced to prostitute himself several nights a week, much to the dismay of his sister, Margaret, who would weep inconsolably whenever her brother would come home smelling of the putrid odors of that rank cloister on the southeast side of the city known to all Belgradians as "The Tea-Room." Adam, nicknamed the "Juggler" by his personal attendants, viewed his employment as a temporary deviation from a more proprietous course--what he often referred to as the "drab and sober lifestyle" to which so many of his companions had now relinquished themselves. Suffering from chronic scrotal hematoma, Adam took refuge in what he found to be "the good in the disease," juggling his inflamed parts for mistresses that lay, intently watching, on second-rate, lice-infested furniture.
    On occasions when he would tend to prey on the vulnerabilities of those persons intimate enough to receive ridicule without taking too much offense, when his friends would pathetically divulge their lustful, and unrequited, desires, Adam would mock and sneer at his peers, appealing to what he called everyone's "inner greed" by telling them of the wealth that awaited them only if they would be willing to part with those scruples which so often are thought to be congenital, but are, in fact, founded upon constructed, and specious, foundations. He was a refined dandy, renowned for his corpulent visage, and he used his grossly pronounced features to his advantage, often intimidating those who dared contest his immoderate perspectives. He is now buried in a Westminster cemetery, and his fleshly paunch, it is presumed, is gradually sinking into his skeletal cavity.

Man On Tightrope Drops Watch Into Void

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At an unlikely elevation of 124 ft. above Seattle's terra firma, this "trickster," a man called "Poundcake" by a growing Pacific-West fanbase, was seen nimbly treading a 1 in. cord-rope outside Google headquarters Sunday afternoon. Inspiring thousands of reckless children, jobless adults, and city vagrants, this stuntman, according to Seattle County Controller Gary Stevens, "is the current bane of the Seattle police force." In what has become known as the infamous "Jesus Christ Pose," Poundcake bedazzled viewers in a tightrope performance of the Imitatio Christi, exciting some into hysterical applause and others, much less approving, into frenzied uproar. Furthermone, in mid-routine, Poundcake was heard screaming the unsettling epigram "Jesus was Elvis" that has caused some to speculate that this wildman is not only a heretical jokester but a crazed Elvis fanatic. Poundcake, says Alice Rodriguez, a Starbucks employee in the Seattle district of Wallingford, "redefines our modern conceptions of anachronism." Poundcake's stunts, continued Rodriguez, "reshape diachronic structures through seemingly banal spectacles that challenge visual interpretation." When asked to clarify, Rodriguez commented, "What the motherfu**ing shit? What I mean's is what I mean's. A mob of drunken boys, getting up all hot and fussy over a bride's garter ain't seem like nothing special, but when the wedding's over, and all is said and done, the real shit comes out, who in the past has slept with the bride." Poundcake, walking--what is now figured to be unprecedented distance of a mile--on the taut cord, was said to have become increasingly blurry to the estimated crowd of 50,000. Before becoming indiscernible to eyewitnesses, he was last seen dropping his waterproof Rolex watch on the rooftop of a Target retail store, the last building before a vast stretch of inlet. He then plummeted into the Puget Sound and swam to the nearest boat, disrupting a cocktail party hosted by Pierre L'Enfante, cofounder of "The Nothing Important," a Bremen-based clothing line celebrating its inauguration in the states.

Catch the Phrase, Eat the Rat, Earmark Funds.

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AT&T, according to the latest financial polls, is hemorrhaging 10,000 employees from its corporate body due to a distended 2009 budget. In response to the company's recent restructuring, Andy Mann, spokesperson for the Dallas, Texas branch, has implied that thousands of digital subscribers are now severing their cable lines with sharp objects to protest AT&T's profligacy, in what has been called a "mass-spending spree" by the international communications giant. Cereal eaters, reacting in a similarly baffling manner, have been found stockpiling misshapen granola nuggets outside their local AT&T and SPCA centers as part of a global demonstration rally that has caused AT&T executives severe discomfiture. SPCA volunteers, on the other hand, welcome donations of all "whole-grain products" that can better the quality of their own lives and the lives of sheltered animals everywhere.

A Dramedy: Game of Tic-Tac-Toe with the Magus at the Marketplace

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Magus: I'd like nothing more than to be somebody else, in an entirely different context, in a completely altered setting.

Greta the Local Grocer: The market is not what it once used to be, that's for sure.

Magus: Rather, we are not who we once were. That's for certain.

Local Grocer: Speak for yourself. My services are still in demand around here. The market has changed, but I've adapted.

Magus: Sexpot!

Local Grocer: Take your insults elsewhere.

Magus: Sharpen your wit and contend.

Local Grocer: [aside] The egoist waxes all day but still lives in penury.

Magus: What was that? You say I'm hard up?

Local Grocer: [aside] He'd be lucky even if I could make him hard up.

Magus: This fruitseller! Speak openly or desist!

Local Grocer: I was just counting my pears. If you bring with you no important news, leave off.

Magus: I do, in fact, come with intelligence from a certain unintelligent man, a friend of yours if I am not mistaken.

Local Grocer: Who are you speaking of?

Magus: The magistrate.

Local Grocer: He still keeps your company?

Magus: None of that, my peach-peddler. I overheard him talking to a few soldiers. The topic of conversation, an unpleasant one. One that might be of especial concern to you.

Local Grocer: I'm sure it's nothing I don't already know.

Magus: Oh, how's that? [aside] She's a bedfellow to all circulating gossips.

Local Grocer: I know the magistrate well. He's a good friend of mine and keeps my acquaintance often.

Magus: [aside] Ha! I should have known! How can I make money if I bear yesterday's news? This requires scheming.

Local Grocer: I can't hear you. It's almost midday and the noise of the street crowd is at its loudest. These unemployed vagrants!

Magus: The banter is unbearable!

Local Grocer: Go on with what you had to say, or I must be going to husk those ears of corn.

Magus: For a considerable sum.

Local Grocer: You ribald old man!

Magus: [aside] Though, not too old to spend myself.

Local Grocer: I'm growing quite impatient.

Magus: [aside] She'd be growing in no time.

Local Grocer: [aside] He thinks I don't hear his bawdy quips. [To the Magus] What, man? You have trouble growing?

Magus: [aside] This one sees and hears everything. [To the Local Grocer] The magistrate was informing those patriots that all is not well at home with you.

Local Grocer: All not well at home? What do you mean? Here's an apple for your trouble.

Magus: I eat by rhetoric.

Local Grocer: If I didn't feed you, who would?

Magus: Now, listen closely. The magistrate is spreading the worst kind of gossip.

Local Grocer: [aside] This might very well be worth hearing.

Magus: Let me continue. There's talk that you've been hosting three non-nationals in your home. He said a man came up to him while he was visiting, confused him for one of his own. This incensed him to a frenzy, but because it was politically sensitive intelligence, he would keep silent until an appropriate occasion to have you arrested. I'm sure, of course, he told the soldiers his visit with you was, in the first place, for a much different reason than for your meeting's real intentions.

Local Grocer: Ha! The most foolhardy news I've heard in ages.

Magus: Maybe foolhardy, but I wouldn't take it lightly. There's bound to be a general inquisition, if not a search of your premises within the next few hours. [aside] Look how she cowers now. Strange, I've must be touching on something I've heard years ago. Old news is still worth its weight in gold.

Local Grocer: [aside] This man speaks most brazenly.

Magus: Does my news warrant any compensation?

Local Grocer: Away! You false parasite!

Magus: Look. One of the soldiers is approaching. Act as though you've heard nothing. Don't entangle me in this treasonous mess.

[Enter soldier]