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Blow ‘Em Out

AS DETAILED IN A PREVIOUS post (c. 2010), every March my sister asks what I would like for my birthday (it’s on the 22d, BTW) and my answer is always the same: “I already have everything I need.” That said, and for the sake of obliging my sibling for my 58th year, I do still have a semi-whimsical list, with some items apropos an autodidactic home cook. Go wild, Susan!

– Working tricorder or lightsaber
– Warp-capable spacecamper (preferably Danube-class)
– Several plain black short-sleeved T-shirts, size L
– Hawaiian shirt (or two), size L
– Pea coat, size L

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Writ

Welcome to My World … Literally and Literarily

Prosatio Silban in his galleywagon / Illo (c) 2008 Alana Dill, http://youbecomeart.com Click to enlarge.

O Fellow Connoisseurs of Mythic Fiction (and Gastronomy), please: Lend me your eyes.

For many years now, I have been writing occasional fantasy tales about Prosatio Silban: a self-defrocked holyman turned mercenary cook in a far-off land containing a vast and disparate multitude of ancient and oft-commingled peoples, creatures, exiles, cultures, prophecies, landscapes, and cuisines. They vary in length from one-half to ten-and-a-half printed pages, with most ranging between three and five.

I enjoy writing them (“Do it for the buzz,” quoth Stephen King). I also enjoy having people read them. Thus, should the Universe so allow, I will here publish one every Thursday morning until further notice. (If you like what you read, you may also want the preface and introduction, as well as every story published up to now [plus ancillaries].) The subscription box at upper-left (or, if you’re on a tablet or phone, the box way below) will enable you to receive them via email as they become available. (Or, should you want 85 of them in one place (plus ancillaries!), may I suggest the e-book?)

Please enjoy. And if you’re so inclined — kindly spread the word.

Writ

Prosatio Silban and the Leisurely Eggs

(If you’re new to these tales, here are the preface and introduction. Enjoy.)

TO THOSE WITH LITERALIST SENSIBILITIES, the phrase “ridiculously beautiful” may suggest mere hyperbole and labored contrivance. But take dawn by the western bank of an iridescent river – black sands washed by rippling indigo sparked with silver and rose – with a golden mist muting the eerie calls of magah-birds and other early risers, and add the clean smell of a cooking fire, and words will fail utterly.

Prosatio Silban was, at least for the moment, content. His previous client had paid him well enough to obviate immediate further employment, and the beefy cook had taken the unusual opportunity (and the lesser-traveled of two roads) to bumble along with no plan other than to see if one would occur to him. So far, one hadn’t.

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Torah

365 Names: “God”

“GOD” (quotation marks deliberate) is a more concise statement of Intent than “that-which-some-call-God” or even “that-which-passes-for-God.” (Or even The Metaphorager’s own working definition.) The shorter, the sweeter.

Once upon a time, in 2011 in fact, The Metaphorager aspired each day to feature a different name for that-which-passes-for-God. Some were creative, others traditional, each unique; so we’re going to attempt that project again (though not every day) until we run out of the names we’ve collected so far. If you want to see your favorite here, but haven’t, send it along with the subject line “365 Names” and let us know whether or not you want to be credited.

Crit

Words to Bring Back: “Lacustrine”

– Definition: adj.; geological Of or pertaining to lakes.

– Used in a sentence: I prefer deep-water sailing to the lacustrine variety.

– Why: For one thing, it feels good in the mouth. However, I must admit to some self-service with this WtBB, as I am writing a series of stories some of which occur in an island-city surrounded by a lake, and I’m always on the lookout for ways to concisify. And “lacustrine Pormaris” sounds much better than “Pormaris, an island-city surrounded by a lake.” (To me, anyway.)

?, Life

The Brotherhood of Blood

SOMETHING ELSE THAT HASN’T SURVIVED into adulthood is the kid-concept of “blood brotherhood.”

It works like this: Two boys (did girls ever do this?) make an incision or a pinprick on their thumbs, then rub the wounds together. “Now we are blood brothers,” they will intone (if they intone anything at all, which they also may not). It’s an expression of intimate friendship; a ritual of bonding with what’s-today-called one’s BFF. And not to be entered into lightly.

I don’t know how old is this gesture is, or even if, in this hazardous fluids-aware world of ours, it is still practiced.

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There is no such thing as ‘too much garlic.'”
— Your author, in a culinarily inspired moment