Past Tense.

So as it turns out, the ceilidhs are a regular thing in town, and are a delightful place for conversation until I learn enough of the canon to maybe someday join in. With that in mind, a new friend recently loaned me a couple tunebooks... along with a couple DVDs. We've a shared heritage in the Appalachians, and knowing of my fondness of Old Time he brought along "O Brother, Where Art Thou" and "Cold Mountain." I'd seen them both of course, but perhaps unforgivably haven't added them to the library at home.

But tonight, as I puttered about the house I put on the Cold Mountain "extras" disc to play a sort of "song and story" show that was apparently put on about the time of the opening. It starts with the lonesomest version of "Wayfaring Stranger" I ever did hear by a gentleman I've just been too uncool enough to know was famous in the rock world:



That wasn't what caught my heart though. It was the interview. An Englishman interviewing the Italian filmmaker - discussing the events that tore my homeland apart. There was empathy, certainly - and yet you could it was still - how can I say this? A setting to them. A place and time in which to make a story.

The soul of those mountains - the tears and the blood and the long decades of privation and pride all intermingled in those hills .. all of that history - my people's history - my history - was just something out of books and film to them.

For a moment, I felt like a Roman standing in the modern day, or the too-patient Cherokee standing by their tin tipis in feathered bonnets for tourist photo ops in my grandfather's time.

It was the oddest mix of regional pride, the prick to that pride that comes with commoditization, and most of all, the melancholy of Sic Transit Gloria Mundi.

I know my little branch of the human family is... but a branch. One rich in lore and music and heroes and villains and stories that go on forever. Stubborn pride, regional identity, and cussed tenacity. .. the "highlanders" of the American sphere.

And see, that's just the thing. These days more than ever it's easy to see it's not just one little corner of the world getting some of its stories filmed in Eastern Europe for a global audience - it's not just smiling as a Britisher tries to read Southern dialect in some semblance of the real thing.

.. it's knowing that sometime in the future, and perhaps in the not too distant future, our own nation will go the way of all worldly powers. It will continue its crumble within, and recede. Perhaps it will go on in name, a shell of its former self. I'm sure as that day comes, when it becomes obvious the world over that it's happening, a great many people will celebrate.

At first.
Until the cost comes due, and the world learns yet again that there is no "end of history."

One day, being an Appalachian.. being an American... will be to be yet another colorful character from history, cast adrift from all context of time and place. Bits of pieces of our culture will infuse those to come, melodies and aphorisms and snippets of hard-won folk wisdom will hop from one language to another.

...But these days will be gone. Our America will be gone.
And these days now will be the romantic days of old.

I pray we make a good story.

God bless. Happy Thanksgiving.

Fascinating archeological development

It's recently been discovered that the headwaters for the River Lethe are not in Greece as once supposed. In a fascinating twist worthy of Thor Heyerdahl himself, they've actually been found in North America.

'Strue! For many long ages, the wellspring of that fabled river quietly burbled into a fetid little swamp on the Potomac. Time and progress have long since had their way though, and the once legendary draught now humbly leeches into the municipal water supply.

Prolonged human exposure to the waters have recently revealed a previously unknown aspect to their powers though. Not only do those who drink the waters of Lethe forget who they are and where they came from, they apparently also forget basic arithmetic.

Isn't history fun?

When the moon hits your eye...

So thanks to the scads of baking flour Miss D left behind, I've been doing more baking than in ages. And courtesy of Miss Brigid comes the most wonderful pizza dough recipie.

Now... I don't have a big kitchen. I've moved so much over the years it's just plain counterproductive to have a tool for everything. So... from the much beloved cast iron skillet of home comes pizza pie:


Now honestly, I kind of prefer it this way. Not so much in the diameter sure, but there's something to be said for an inch-plus mass of sausage, pepperoni, onion, peppers, olives, and anchovies* all held together with tomato paste and gooey cheese.

And that something would be... "Yum."

I think the next attempt is going to have another "piecrust" layer of dough on top, with just a thin coating of sauce and cheese. Yes, that is the sound of my arteries crying out in pain, thank you very much.

It ain't high art, but it's just the thing for a cold winter night. Noms.






========================================
* Thanks Dad.
'cause of you and your durned acquired tastes, I've made made more than a couple dates totally squick over ...

.... waitaminnit.

Step we gaily, on we go...

So the Alaska Celts have been stepping up their activities of late it seems - they just put on a "heading into the Holidays" ceilidh* that was just all kinds of fun. The neat thing about a small community inside a small community is how rapidly all the faces start to become familiar.

"Oh hi, how's the such-and-such you were working on? ... Hey you, lookin' sharp - when's your next gig?"

Oh, and if you're not careful, you'll find yourself dragged into the dancing, two left feet or no. Gentlemen, if you're looking to rub shoulders with the ladies.. the odds are *definitely* in your favor there.

Wait... what are we doing now?..eek! No! left! left! criminy....

It's amazing how much emphasis there is on keeping the tradition alive as well.. the highlight of the night was the first annual award of a scholarship to one of the up-and-coming young artists in the community, in honor a beloved local bodhrani who recently perished mountain climbing.

... fittingly, included in the award was a bodhran.

The Gaelic Diaspora is still alive and well. Neat folk.









-----
Mozilla spellcheck knows "ceilidh" - how cool is that? :)

moose!

Ain't Bing's image of the day cute today?




I have to admit - I'm sold on Bing. For ages I kept using Google 'cause it worked. I was sick to death of being preached to - especially during the election with their "why Barak Obama is awesome" trailers under the search bar seemingly every other day. At that point I resoved to switch as soon as I found another engine that did as well and wouldn't preach politics at me.

For ages, I couldn't find anything that came close.

Bing does - at least as relevant results, every time.
With a better feature set.

And the image of the day is just cute as all getout.
(You can tell they're geeks to.. past "lookie here" searches have included Galactica and Firefly)

Moose and Squirrel!!

Hollywood and Vine

Just so y'all know - we got a local version to, up past Wasilla. Now I grant the real estate ain't so much to speak of, but I hear the nightlife is just wild. :)

Reasons to have a digital camera, #432...

... they make it easy to remember how the heck things are supposed to back together, so you don't have to give the nice man at the dealership two days pay to basically rethread a giant bobbin. :)

Samhuinn, hope and pray...

Well that was just all kinds of fun.

Started out the day getting both literally and metaphorically blood-sucked, ponying up half a week's pay for a spate of "you haven't been to a doctor in well over two years, naughty girl" blood tests. Kind of appropriate, in a disturbed sort of way. Then going to get some breakfast in ran an into an old friend I've not seen in over a year, and ended up playing chauffeur while catching up. Seriously fun dude to hang out with.

Then hurried on to the Samhain party the local Celt group was having. It was really just about the perfect mix.... not enough ritual to make anyone ansty, but enough of a reminder of the old ways to stir the blood. Lots of "remember your ancestors, remember your cultural heritage, treasure your family and kin ties" kind of stuff.

And of course... harp and fiddle, dancing and games, and delightful company.

Prolly about the best Halloween I've had in ages.

So happy new year, y'all. :)