The glory that is my muppet socks!

If you haven’t been near a Whittard’s recently, get yourself over there and buy some of the Truffle Chocolate Espresso Beans. They are scrumptious. I am having to be very careful not to scoff the entire lot with my mug of lightly roasted Mocha (that’s a cup of coffee made with a mocha bean, not a milky chococappucino) and so kill myself with a chocolate/caffeine overdose.

But gods it would be a splendid way to go.

I’m on what could be called leave at the moment, so I’m at home with cold feet looking at the wind blowing a hooey out there and grumping because I had planned to go out on my bike. Instead I shall make flapjacks so that Frood is greeted by flapjacky goodness when he comes in this evening. I shall also tidy the flat, because if I’m stuck at home the least I can do is keep the place nice.

While I’m here, not being a daytime tellybox sort of girl, I’m listening to music I haven’t listened to in years. Today I am playing the whole of Faith No More‘s Album Of The Year. I bought this album in my second year of my PhD, when I spent the very late/early hours playing Quake. Gods I hated the noise those zombies made.

It’s funny how the shapes of the songs on this album recall so exactly the circumstances in which I used to listen to it. I can remember the colour of the carpet (tasted of the smell of slugs, I kid you not), the bookcase; the way the windchimes used to start playing Ennio Morricone whenever weird shit was going down. The smell of the essential oils I used to use in the bath when things got really tough and I needed half an hour of quiet time.

There’s a lot more from that time it recalls. I think I’d rather skip that.

I sometimes wonder if other people recall in the same way. The sense of olfaction is most strongly tied in with memory. No matter how poor a person’s recall is, a scent can provoke an entire episode of flashback, including thoughts and emotions. It surprises me that more people don’t use this in creating triggers for cantrips and altered states of consciousness, but it seems to be just me and Mr and Mrs Miller (good book, by the way). I know people use specific incenses and oils in ritual, but I’m talking a more specific, trigger-based approach.

To Chris Brosius this is old news, of course.

That aside, I sometimes ponder whether my recall is altered by the synaesthesia: as all scents and tastes have shape and texture and usually colour, as does everything else, and it all eventually binds into one great sense of form with a shape defined by all the input of all my senses, does the synaesthesia allow me to make triggered recalls that wouldn’t be possible without it? Does the smell/taste/sound/colour/shape/texture synaesthesia mean that the shape of a song will trigger something in the same way a scent might?

At the end of the day, does it really matter? It’s probably all down to my crazy mutant brain anyway.

While I’m at it, I have to share this story I found on the FNM official website.

Remember the fish flopping in the video for Epic? Do you remember the fuss that was caused by animal rights people wailing and moaning about how cruel it was? Björk — that feisty, pixie-ish mistress of techno-babble — at one point ‘fessed up that it was her fish.

Kevin <96069031@csunt2.napier.ac.uk> wrote in alt.music.bjork november 24th:
[thanks to Joe Headcrash] A.P.

Reykjavík, Iceland
Almost a decade after a once-controversial music video gained popularity and success for now-defunct rock band Faith No More, the video (for the band’s 1990 hit “Epic”) returns from MTV purgatory to reap all-new controversy, thanks to techno-pop queen Björk.

“Yes, it was my fish” the spacey, brunette Icelander told CNN on Friday.

“There was a party at Roddy (Bottum, ex-Faith No More keyboardist)’s mansion in Berkeley and I was just coming from a poetry reading in San Francisco. I had been given the fish (which she admits to having named ‘Linear Soul Child’) from a person at that poetry reading, and brought it to Roddy’s party. That’s the last time I ever saw him.”

The fish, a common 3-finned goldfish, caused a media uproar from animal-rights groups the same year for supposedly being “flopped” on the ground during the video shoot. Faith No More insisted that the fish ‘flopped only once’ despite allegations of animal mistreatment.
Björk, despite becoming emotionally upset in our interview over the loss of her would-be pet, comes to the defense of the group. “I know those guys, I know they wouldn’t do anything to harm [him]. But I know, if I had gone home with MY fish, which was given to ME, none of this would have ever happened.” The former members of Faith No More declined to comment further on the incident.

So there you go, people. Just when you thought things couldn’t get any more bizarre: they do. I think there’s a lesson in that somewhere.

It’s probably something along the lines of: “If you’re mad enough to call a goldfish Linear Soul Child, you’d better be making a living out of crazy.”

…Recommends 5 hours of training a day for 12 weeks to compete in a sprint tri?

Oh! Joe Friel, that’s who.

Screw that. 5 hours? That’s tending towards Bonzo degrees of insanity.

For reference.

I said I was going to do that ages ago. Past time caring about the same old emails in not-very different wrappers.

Seriously. I am completely uninterested in new correspondents asking about that whole malarkey unless they are particularly erudite, humorous, witty, amusing, insightful or just plain batshit weird (which comes under humorous, really).

As I wrote in the FAQ some time back: once you’ve seen one episode of the A-Team you’ve seen ’em all, so unless you’re the equivalent of Murdoch being pant-wettingly funny we’re likely to change channel. Possibly by putting a boot through the tellybox.

And that would make me quite cross. Our new tellybox is sexy and spiffing and gorgeous.

Is it possible for a lurgy that was nearly cleared to come back with a vengeance under extreme stress?

What do I DO about it? I have a triathlon in (gulp) 7 weeks.

I can’t decide.

You’ll have to help.

Oh so wrong or oh so right?

For the first thread to the past.

I have put it on my desktop. There was a picture there of me riding Shackleton down the shoulder of Largo Law but it had been there so long it was like repeating a word over and over until it is meaningless. It was just shapes and colours.

A quick run-down of the shit-hot PVC clothing I bought last week.

Firstly, there’s this. It turned up in a plastic package not much bigger than a couple of standard letter-sized envelopes and when I told my Mum it was a dress there followed a bizarre conversation in which I tried to explain what it’s like.

“It’s black PVC.”
“How short is it?”
“Oh. Shockingly short.”

I was surprised to find that even the 8-10 is a little big around the hips, and the girl in the picture has to have enhanced bosoms. Either by way of surgery or photoshop. She has to. It took Frood‘s help to get it on and we’ll have to play around with the lacing to get it to sit right. Still, with kick-ass boots and an attitude it should be just peachy.

Don’t think I’ll be wearing it to the Rotary Club family night, though…

I’m also awaiting the arrival of this and this. I suspect I won’t be wearing the collar that comes with the first item, somehow.

If I put out a good performance in the triathlon I might just treat myself to a long-coveted black latex catsuit.

Munky sent me the picture you can see below from his mobbly phone this afternoon. The marvels (heh) of modern technology.

One has to wonder what it is with Marvel‘s marketing department. Who thought: “Oh, I know what would be good! Let’s produce an Ultimate Elektra banana milkshake! That’ll get the kids to spend their cash!” ?

I’m with Bill Hicks on marketing (no offence, Ariadne!)