Crossdressing at the Gates of Hel or I'm Not One to Bragi

See, they used to be friends, but then the little dude went and insulted everybody and their mums and arranged Balder's death and unleashed Ragnarok and generally forgot to put the seat down.  Norse mythology is loaded with so much gender bending, species-swapping, and giant-hating/mating that half the time I have no idea what's going on. 

Jamming with Headgirds

Parag Nog has posted a weird, weird chance recording of four of us jamming out strangeness... it's just a clip of the wider, perplexing head-shaker we thumped out:

Plug Your IPod.mp3



Also, experienced Medeski, Martin and Wood last night at the Grand Opera House. Haven't cursed and laughed at such extremes for an unquantifiable block of time. Savory contrast between the drugged and drunk Caucasian twentysomefins and the austere and isolated grandmothers selling tickets and merchandise.

This is how their encore went.



Some Brief Pondering Produced by Tip-Typing in the Not-House:

Surprised by the difficulty of reading a laptop screen in the sun. Yet, direct sunlight heightens detail in the natural world. Thus, a breen (yes, both green and brown) computer with solar-powered skin and a facial display mimicking a reflective paper surface would be ideal. Make it, won't you?

I sneeze most offen when experiencing light shifts from gloomy catacombs to vibrant sunlight. Must be allergic. Should stray outside only when of dire import (eg., dungeon fever) or if someone 'deals' with 'Sol.' forever.

A bug crawled across the screen right now. These screens are terribly specialized: hypnotic light parallelogram by night, filthy lawn carpet by day. I actually like the multi-layered aspect of accumulated gunk. Adds character. Decreases productivity. Another bug, slightly bluer and with wings.