|Darrin, Stalker of Head (Traineraz)
Post Number: 840
|Posted on Saturday, February 8, 2003 - 7:16 pm: |
See, nowadays I use a motorized vampire bat which hangs from the ceiling and flaps its wings, flying in a circle and dripping ice water from its fangs. Drops fall into one of five glasses (of Serpis, of course), each placed at one point of a brass pentagram, inlaid in the concrete floor. I burn black candles and listen to Dead Can Dance as the bat takes flight. Naturally, I have four friends on hand; after we take our first sips from our filled glasses, we sacrifice a virgin or, barring that, an obnoxious neighborhood cat.
It's Serpis, of course I don't use sugar. That would be silly!
Post Number: 514
|Posted on Friday, February 7, 2003 - 3:40 pm: |
Is the syringe fancifully ornamentated, with a business end like the head of an Ibis, or even a platypus?
"Clysters", wrote Robert Burton, "are in good request. Trincavellius esteems of them in the first place, and Hercules of Saxonia is a greater approver of them. I have found (saith he) by experience that many hypochondriacal melancholy men have been cured by the sole use of clysters."
Confusion of one ancienne French mode for another often results in a scary misappropriation of hardware.
|Posted on Friday, February 7, 2003 - 12:36 pm: |
Lunch in a Spanish restaurant this afternoon. A carafe of sangria made by our waiter is sweet and complements our meal of mariscada in green sauce with chicken villaroy. I asked whether they knew of Deva or Segarra; they did and, no, they had none. Now listening to Philip Glass' Metamorphosis and sipping my La Bleue. A word on today's preparation: following the instructions on pp. 30 et seq. of Delachaux in "Letters to an Absinthe Drinker," from a three foot height, using a plastic syringe, I dripped ice water into the glass ever so slowly; the louche is white and grows like a fog overtaking the traveller. I am reminded in fact, of walking on a city street as the fog drifted in. And so, I just at this moment, go forward.