Regardless of our sex or sexual preferences, obviously.
Just like we all get [insert African state here] scams regardless of the state of our bank account.
But it so happens hot dates are good.
Just mind that you don't burn your tongue on them.
[insert salacious emoji here]
Use un-pitted dates, preferably medjool.
In a pan or skillet heat up some olive oil.
Crumble some dried chili in it (to taste).
Add the dates and let them plump a bit and get warm (about 5 minutes). Mind that they don't burn.
Drain them in a bowl, sprinkle with salt flakes (smoked salt flakes are great if you have them)
Sprinkle them with a little grated zest of orange and lemon.
Wait until just warmish
Enjoy with a glass of wine (or your favourite aperitif drink)
Beth Ayer dared us to head into darkness, using a text that is inexplicable to us.
I have a negotiation meeting later on and the company we are interviewing for a contract sent us some answers to clarifications requests we had mailed them earlier this month.
My Fibonacci poem is parsed from their reply.
using truth and sets
in reflectance images
or precision photogrammetric anomalies
in selected biomass estimated sketches
masking gaps in satellite
It was a fun idea but the actual making of the score is too complex fro me to wrap my mind around (also I have actual work to do and plenty)
So I followed all the steps until step 3, starting from a slice of "THE LOST ATLANTIS AND OTHER ETHNOGRAPHIC STUDIES" by one Sir DANIEL WILSON, pilfered from the Gutenberg Project.
This is my slice:
"It is to be noted that even in the time of Socrates, and indeed of the elder Critias, this Atlantis was referred to as the vague and inconsistent tradition of a remote past; though not more inconsistent than much else which the cultured Greeks were accustomed to receive. Mr. Hyde Clarke, in an “Examination of the Legend,” printed in the Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, arrives at the conclusion that Atlantis was the name of the king rather than of the dominion. But king and kingdom have ever been liable to be referred to under a common designation. According to the account in the Timæus, Atlantis was a continent lying over against the Pillars of Hercules, greater in extent than Libya and Asia combined; the highway to other islands and to a great ocean, of which the Mediterranean Sea was a mere harbour. But in the vagueness of all geographical knowledge in the days of Socrates and of Plato, this Atlantic domain is confused with some Iberian or western African power, which is stated to have been arrayed against Egypt, Hellas, and all the countries bordering on the Mediterranean Sea. The knowledge even of the western Mediterranean was then very imperfect; and, to the ancient Greek, the West was a region of vague mystery which sufficed for the localisation of all his fondest imaginings. There, on the far horizon, Homer pictured the Elysian plain, where, under a serene sky, the favourites of Zeus enjoyed eternal felicity; Hesiod assigned the abode of departed heroes to the Happy Isles beyond the western waters that engirdled Europe; and Seneca foretold that that mysterious ocean would yet disclose an unknown world which it then kept concealed. To the ancients, Elysium ever lay beyond the setting sun; and the Hesperia of the Greeks, as their geographical knowledge increased, continued to recede before them into the unexplored west.
And these are the crumbs:
and Atlantis as and a accustomed an arrives at Atlantis and a According account Atlantis a against and Asia and a a all and Atlantic African arrayed against and all and ancient a all a assigned abode and an ancients and as
be But been be But been bordering beyond beyond before
Critias cultured Clarke conclusion common continent combined confused countries concealed continued
dominion designation days domain departed disclose
even elder else Examination ever extent Egypt even Elysian enjoyed eternal engirdled Europe Elysium ever
for fondest far favourites felicity foretold
Greeks greater great geographical Greek Greeks geographical
So this is my path:
And and and
All ancient as an all A
Even ever engirdled elder
But been beyond
For fondest felicity
Against again against
Be but be
Great! Greater! Greek!
I don't believe it would be even remotely interesting as music (except, maybe, as words sung when drunk), so I'll leave it at that.
Nancy Chen Long challenged us to make an homophonic-interpretation of a poem written in a language we do not understand. I had to go to Pablo Neruda, of course. The interpretation/translation rendered even more challenging because , although I have never studied Spanish, it is a Latin language and my knowledge of Italian gets in the way of true homophonia. Yet sometimes, it does not.
I shall let you guess which Neruda’s poem is thus rewritten:
If nothing exists ready-made
If nothing is ever quite ready to live
I will secretly live
Do not attract me
Do not push me into this description
If you ever turn into a wall
I will secretly live
Because waves cannot hold a shadow,
Wings, or a voice (mine)
Though waves are calling for darkness
My feet cannot walk through walls
Yet when I enter the cell of my soul
I'll enter standing on both of them.
Not my victory
But the long victory of sins
Ties my hands
Yet to whomever is deaf I must talk:
To see you also ties heaven.
Do not forsake me
If you do not live
If you, so sought after, my soul
Has turned into a wall
All of your skin and our kisses
Will burn through my nights and days
No snow will cool my armour
And so with laughter, fever, walls, or snow
My quest will have a house in your skin
For a faithful dog
To secretly live in
Because you are the question of all questions
And my armour, in your sand, becomes one with shadows
Every shadow a sin.
Python 2.7.2 (default, Jul 20 2011, 02:32:18) [GCC 4.2.1 (LLVM, Emscripten 1.5, Empythoned)] on linux2 Traceback (most recent call last): File "python", line 2 print “Hello, world” ^ IndentationError: expected an indented block
Not all is well with Slytherin
“In a way, all poetry is translation—whether transcribing messages from the muse or following a predetermined procedure.”
- For this I took a slice of an article
Cassini has been flying around the Saturnian system for 12 years, studying the giant planet and its rings and satellites. It has also found millions of ice-rich dust grains with its Cosmic Dust Analyser, the vast majority of which are from icy satellite Enceladus and which make up one of Saturn’s outer rings.
Amongst the grains detected, 36 stick out from the crowd – and scientists conclude they came from beyond our Solar System.
Alien dust in the Solar System is not entirely unexpected. The dust was traced back to the local interstellar cloud: an almost empty bubble of gas and dust we are travelling through with a distinct direction and speed.
- Put it through a N+ generator and cranked it all the way to N+8 - (11 wasn’t as much fun)
detected, 36 stifle out from the cruise – and scorchers conclude they came from beyond our Solar Tablet.
Alleyway duty in the Solar Tablet is not entirely unexpected. The duty was traced backround to the lockout interstellar clump: an almost empty buddy of gate and duty we are travelling through with a distinct dirt and spending.
- Then plucked and pillaged, plugged and played:
We are travelling through Saturn’s outer icy saucers
through vast malformations
outer gill planters,
rips and cruises,
minces of identikit,
12 unexpected yetis,
distinct dirt and spending,
36 stifled out grandchildren,
almost riffle duties
36 empty gate buddies
traced lockout backgrounds
and its Cosmic Duty Analyser
of which scorchers conclude they came from beyond.
I have used the gadget Deletionist on a BBC food page and a strange comedy of embarrassment came up…
I have used “The Discovery of a World in the Moone Or, A Discovrse Tending To Prove That 'Tis Probable There May Be Another Habitable World In That Planet” by John Wilkins (Release Date: August 23, 2006 [EBook #19103]) from the Gutenberg Project
I love the poetic process idea but I had doubt that the result, not being made of words, could ever be considered as a poem (in a world where emoticons enter the dictionary, I am resolutely old fashioned).
So I made my stellar map with words.
Jeff Griffin asked us to get lost in translation with a favourite poet
So I have collected a bunch phrases and sentences from Pablo Neruda and google-translated it into:
And then finally in English again. Oh boy.
It looked very weird (and had very little to do with the original) and somehow had collected punctuation along the way (go figure). I had to discard most of it but some images still rose from the poor mangled thing (zombie poem?)
There is no time for terror
but it is clear my heart is love
and no other country to look at.
The soul does not want to be
but you will not blindly look
at me and say today: understand
Love is growing shadows of mystery,
all the glass in your mouth
rivers, crystal clear turtle blood.
I have used the following sites for this:
And my wanderlust brought me this:
It's amazing some people still think you need to fly before moving on and gaining acclaim with 2 balls that should be there but aren't, sailings in winter that take their name from a brothel, a smattering of lime green, either standard with washbasin or drawing inspiration from around the world. There you can relax, basking in the apparent contradiction that are small shareable plates or at a barbershop that’s so old-timey that they ban women but sometimes has an allocation of berths - the really tall and nice ones with a few wrinkles to iron out - which must be the least fêted war memorials in the world.
You thought virtual reality was a 21st century discovery? You might simply prefer a relaxing journey at a taxidermized haven assaulting the senses with aromatic spices. Bring your own bottle of wine if you like - and a pipe led from the ear - or stay for the all-Burgundy wine list but note that passengers are not carried
Robert Fitterman asked us to collect found language from individuals who articulate how they feel, specifically, in their bodies…physical symptoms in the body (neck, head, stomach, feet, etc).
I thought it was going to be more difficult to collect this but luckily enough, there were plenty of colleagues with pains and dramas, to whom I have added one Instagram complaint and one Twitter rant.
In an eye opening moment
I can’t see for the cold
You’ve been there for sure?
The burn beneath the skin.
That stupid foot hurts, chemically,
Some type of low fever behind the eyes
toxin load-wise out of the fucking blue ways
Stomach not happy last night
It could be…
This getting stuck moment
A turn and this cannot age, I know
One hell of an emotional heart
Like it has been sand blasted from the inside.
You still get…
And there is this huge void
The fear that there is blood everywhere
The left side of you refuses to talk to the other one
But the cramps keep on coming
I get up and…
I'm not doing too badly
Everything spins of this freaking pain flare
The ball of my right foot is aflame
Feeling nauseous mostly.