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August 28th, 2006

I'd promise myself that I'd redouble my efforts, but after all the times I've redoubled them, I'm not sure I'm physically capable of it.

In case you're wondering what I'm blathering about, I have over the past week or so been plagued by dreams in which I'm running late for some thing or another, usually work, but no matter how hard I try or how hard I push, I just can't get there. The most common motif is that I'm trying to run or walk, but my legs feel heavy and leaden like I've already been running a marathon and I'm just plain worn out; another common motif is that when I finally get where I've been heroically pushing through to, what I was looking for has up and moved, forcing me to sigh, take a deep breath, and keep on running after it.

Last night was a good example: I was trying to get to work and I found myself mysteriously at that mall in Schaumburg, IL, across the street from MFF instead. I figured that while I was there I'd pop into the Starbucks and get some breakfast (since I was already late for work anyway and hadn't eaten), only to find that they'd moved it from the end of the mall where I thought it was, to the other end of the mall, so I headed off towards it, stiff tired legs and all, watching the time go from 9:30 to 10:30 to 11:15 in rapid succession. I woke up before I even got there, much less before I got work.

-The Gneech

Happy Happy Berfday Berfday

Happy birthday to nekomimikun and happy belated birthday to dilletante!

For your present, here's today's Forgotten English!

squantum
The name of a species of fun known to the Nantucket folks, which is thus described by the New York Mirror: "A party of ladies and gentlement go to one of the famous watering-places of resort, where they fish, dig clams, talk, laugh, sign, dance, play, bathe, sail, eat and have a general good time. ... Care is thrown to the wind, politics discarded, war ignored, pride humbled, stations levelled, wealth scorned, virtue exalted, and this is squantum."
--James Bartlett's Dictionary of Americanisms, 1877


Feast of Squantum
Held annually on the shore to the east of Neponset Bridge at a rocky point projecting into Boston Bay, about five miles from the city. ... Squantum was the name of the last Indian female who resided there, and when the feast is held with the ancient ceremonies a person comes forth dressed as Squantum herself and harangues people in the manner of the Indians. It is a feast of shells, and the refreshments are lobsters, clams, oysters, quahogs, and every fish that is covered with a shell together with the fish soup called chowder. It is common to eat these only with clam shells.
--Robert Thornton's An American Glossary, 1912

I dunno, sounds like they were making a bunch of idiots of themselves, to me ... but who can say?

-The Gneech

Fictionlet

"Why do we come to these parties, again?" Brigid asked, giving the olive-on-a-cocktail-sword in her drink a wary eye.

"Well I come to them because I spend all day sitting in the apartment at my computer and need to get out among the populi every now and again," said Greg. "Why you do, is entirely open to debate, but I have a feeling it has to do with not wanting to sit home alone listening to crickets chirp on Friday nights."

"Yo, Greg! Yo, Brigid!" said Treville, sidling up to them. "Whattya think of this music? OMGWTFBBQ's latest. I just bought this CD."

"Did you?" said Greg. "Well yes, as thumpa-thumpa music goes it's not bad, but I think you've gotten confused, old scout. This isn't OMGWTFBBQ, it's the Sexy Hazmats."

Treville stopped and listened. "What? No. Are you sure? No."

"Yup, quite sure," said Greg.

Treville's eyes shifted back and forth a few seconds, then he said, "Oh, yeah, you're right, of course it is. I didn't recognize it, 'cause I only have their first album. So much better than this one."

"They've only had the one album," said Brigid. "They split up two months after it was released."

Treville stopped again. "Oh. Uh. Are you sure? I must be thinking of their EP."

"You're thinking of OMGWTFBBQ again," said Greg. "They had an EP."

"Oh like you know!" said Treville. "Just 'cause you've never heard the Sexy Hazmats' EP, doesn't mean they didn't have one!"

"All right, all right," said Greg.

"I've got all the Sexy Hazmats' albums, I'll have you know, and OMGWTFBBQ, too! My music collection is awesome."

"Hey," said Brigid, "where's my little olive-on-a-cocktail-sword?"

Greg declined to answer; in a moment of quick thinking he'd slipped it out of her drink to keep it from ending up in Treville's eye.

-The Gneech

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