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I think the title says it all. It finally came in at a respectable 107,124 words. And it only took four years. It’s a very nice feeling. Now, of course, comes the fun part–revision.
Here’s another design from BLAZONED.
Scotland
The kings of Scotland began using the red lion rampant as their symbol in the twelfth century. The Latin motto that goes with the coat of arms is “Nemo me impune lacessit,” which literally means, “Nobody challenges me with impunity,” but it has been rendered in Scots as “Wha daur meddle wi me?” or in standard English, “Who dares meddle with me?”
Musically speaking, it is often said that songs written in minor keys are sadder or more melancholy than songs written in major keys. So why, if Christmas is a time of joy and celebration, are so many Christmas carols in minor keys? Think about it. There are a lot of them. Here’s a list just off the top of my head:
- “Carol of the Bells”
- “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentleman”
- “O Little Town of Bethlehem”
- “Angels from the Realms of Glory”
- “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear”
- “The First Nowell”
- “O Holy Night”
- “The Little Drummer Boy”
- “I Wonder as I Wander”
- “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”
- “We Three Kings”
- “What Child is This?”
- “Do You Hear What I Hear?”
- “Silent Night”
- “Away in a Manger”
There are also quite a few others that are less well-known. The most probable (and most boring) explanation for this fact is that the original Christmas carols were or were based upon medieval liturgical music, which was usually written in scales most modern music theorists would classify as minor. Later songwriters simply copied the style because it sounded “Christmassy.”
My own (wildly speculative, completely uninvestigated, and definitely unsubstantiated) theory is that the slightly dark and pensive mood created by the use of minor keys in these carols is, like the Christmas tree and the yule log, a throwback to Europe’s pre-Christian, pagan past, an expression of half-remembered rituals meant to get our cultural ancestors through the long, dark, winter nights. Such rituals might not have been so festive in nature….
Happy Holidays!
Filed under: Life | Tags: Life, marine layer, Southern California, summer
I know it’s the Christmas season and all, but my thoughts today for some reason have been about summer, in particular, this summer, which I feel I have been cheated out of.
Today is overcast, cold, and rainy. It’s one of those days that the weatherpersons on the news here call “rare.” These weatherpersons have an odd definition of “rare.”
You see, all of those television shows and movies that show beautiful sunny beach scenes with clear blue skies and sparking water and Frankie and Annette frolicking and showing off their perfect tans, maybe playing some beach volleyball or rollerblading? They’re not real.
Southern California is prone to this little weather phenomenon called a marine layer. Now, while I’m not familiar with the technical aspects, I do know that most days, the beach is socked in with fog so thick you’d expect Sherlock Holmes to wander out and proclaim, “Elementary, my dear Watson. The surfer was actually killed by a shark masquerading as a dolphin.”
For the past several years, the marine layer has occurred every day during the months of May and June. It actually has special names during those months: “May Gray” and “June Gloom.” Where I grew up, May and June were summer months. Not here. Here, it’s all about the hoodies and gloves, because as you would expect, the lack of life-giving sun means that the temperature is about the same as a good day along the shores of Loch Ness.
The problem is that the marine layer is not limited to the months of May and June. It creeps into July and August as well. Generally, you need a blanket in order not to shiver while you’re watching the fireworks on the Fourth of July.
But that’s not the worst of it. When the temperature in the summer does hit 80 degrees, meaning that it’s actually pleasant to be outside, people have the audacity to complain. “It’s so hot,” they say. “I like it when it’s cooler.” String a couple of 80-degree days together, and the local weatherpersons go apoplectic and proclaim a “heat wave,” complete with dramatic music and graphics.
Pansies. Go spend a summer in the South with 105-degree days and 98% humidity, then we’ll talk, ‘kay?
Filed under: Graphics | Tags: Battle of the Trees, BLAZONED, dragon, Taliesin, Wales, Welsh
Here’s another design from BLAZONED.
Welsh Dragon
In Welsh, it is simple known as “Y Ddraig Goch,” the red dragon. In Wales, the dragon is associated with stories of both Merlin and King Arthur, and appears on the national flag of Wales.
The writing behind the dragon is from the medieval Welsh poem Cad Goddeu, or “The Battle of the Trees, ” from the Book of Taliesin. In the poem, the hero animates the trees of the forest to fight for him against the god of the underworld, but there has been a great deal of scholarly debate over the poem’s deeper meaning. The full version can be read in Welsh here, and in English here.
Incidentally, “The Battle of the Trees,” translated into Sanskrit, was sung by the chorus in “Duel of the Fates,” from Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace.
Okay, here’s something that has been weighing on my mind, as I had to explain, again, the premise behind sweet tea. Think about this the next time you feel the urge to make a dumb Southerner joke.
It’s reall based on just two very simple, undeniable facts of nature. (1) Sugar does not dissolve very well in cold tea. In fact, it ususally just sort of settles to the bottom of the glass. (2) Sugar does, however, dissolve quite easily in hot tea.
Ergo, if you’re going to sweeten your tea anyway, doesn’t it make much more sense to add the sugar to the tea while you’re brewing it and it’s hot rather than wait until you’ve dropped the ice cubes in it?
Southerners are the only iced-tea-drinking people to have figured this out. Invariably, whenever I explain it to non-Southern friends, this very basic idea has never occurred to them. Even after I explain it, many people have trouble wrapping their minds around the concept. I don’t get it. You’d think I was trying to explain my proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem. In Latin. This is third-grade science, people.
To recap: hot water, tea leaves, sugar, then ice. Repeat as many times as necessary until you understand.
(By the way, you should see my proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem. It’s hilarious!)
My wife is addicted to caffeine, a fact to which she will readily admit. In the morning, she has two large latte mugs of coffee, and at various prescribed times throughout the day, she’ll have a Diet Coke. If she misses a dose, she gets…cranky, also a fact to which she will readily admit. One year during college, she declared that she would give up caffeine for Lent. By the end of the first week, people were anonymously leaving cases of Diet Coke outside the door to her dorm room. Things I cannot make up.
When we were traveling in and around London recently, we had several dicey moments because we were in a place where she couldn’t get a hit. I’m ashamed to say that we were saved several times by Starbucks. That’s when I hit upon a brilliant idea. If you’re a caffeine addict, just kick your habit before you travel. (Ha ha! I couldn’t even type that with a straight face.) No, seriously, the answer is chocolate-covered coffee beans. Much more portable than a double cappuccino. Just drop them in your purse, backpack, or other touristy carrying accessory, and when you feel the headache about to set in, pop a few in your mouth.
And if you think my wife’s dependency is bad, we have a friend who hit upon the diabolical idea of brewing coffee with caffeinated water. I seriously don’t think she’s slept since.
Filed under: Graphics, History, Language | Tags: BLAZONED, England, Middle English, t-shirts, Tudor Rose
As part of my blog revamp, I’m going to start posting some of the designs I’ve created for BLAZONED, my t-shirt company. Because almost all of my designs incorporate writing as an element, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to post them here.
Tudor Rose
You can see this design on actual products, including skateboards, by clicking here. It’s based on a Tudor Rose and a poem called “Of a rose, a lovely rose, Of a rose is al myn song,” written circa 1350 by an anonymous author. The language is Middle English.
LESTENYT, lordynges, both elde and yinge,
How this rose began to sprynge;
Swych a rose to myn lykynge
In al this word ne knowe I non.
The Aungil came fro hevene tour,
To grete Marye with gret honour,
And seyde sche xuld bere the flour
That xulde breke the fyndes bond.
The flour sprong in heye Bedlem,
That is bothe bryht and schen:
The rose is Mary hevene qwyn,
Out of here bosum the blosme sprong.
The ferste braunche is ful of myht,
That sprang on Cyrstemesse nyht,
The sterre schon over Bedlem bryht
That is bothe brod and long.
The secunde braunche sprong to helle,
The fendys power doun to felle:
Therein myht non sowle dwelle;
Blyssid be the time the rose sprong!
The thredde braunche is good and swote,
It sprang to hevene crop and rote,
Therein to dwellyn and ben our bote;
Every day it schewit in prystes hond.
Prey we to here with gret honour,
Che that bar the blyssid flowr,
Che be our helpe and our socour
And schyd us fro the fyndes bond.
I have decided that my efforts to maintain five blogs over the last several months betray in me an acute lack of common sense, so I’m not doing it anymore. Gone is my writing portfolio, which duplicated most of the content from this blog anyway. Gone is the blog I used to promote my t-shirt company, BLAZONED, which sounded like a great idea but actually wound up being kind of boring. Gone is Pack Your Fork, my travel/restaurant review blog, which also sounded like a great idea but ran out of steam when I realize I hadn’t really traveled a lot of places. Gone is The Calinferno, which I started to vent my angers and frustrations at living in Southern California but only made me angrier and more frustrated.
I have begun to integrate the salvageable content from those blogs with this one, and to signify the change, I’ve changed themes, as well. Welcome change. Change is good.
There are currently only three fruitcakes in the continental United States.
The oldest of these is known at the “Piltdown” Fruitcake for its role in the scandal that ruined the Piltdown Family of East Hampton, New York in the 1930s. In 1976, scientists from the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C. were able to take a core sample of the Piltdown Fruitcake in the hopes of learning more about its creation. Based on the percentages of carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide, ozone, and sulfur dioxide present at the deepest part of the sample, the scientists were able to determine that the Piltdown Fruitcake was baked in 1872.
Furthermore, the presence of the nut of Juglans cinerea, or white walnut tree, as well as the candied fruit of a particularly hardy strain of Prunus armeniaca, or apricot, allowed the scientists to narrow down the Piltdown Fruitcake’s place of origin to the Hudson River Valley.
Similar tests on the other two fruitcakes proved to be inconclusive, unfortunately. However, court documents from New London County, Connecticut indicate that the fruitcakes were in existence as of 1916, and the presence of certain trace elements confirm that both fruitcakes likely originated in eastern Connecticut or Rhode Island.
It only seems like there are more fruitcakes because each one is regifted, on average, an astounding 1,043 times every Holiday season.
