Foodie Fridays in January

Well, my four stories on Friday for the month of December are done. So I'm keeping up the idea of theme Fridays in January. I'll be doing food based posts every Friday in January. See you then.

In the mean time, Happy New Years! Be safe and have fun.

Tour of Duty

"So this is it?" Benny said to an empty table. "I don't think any of you would have thought I'd be here today would you? Ha!" Benny laughed to himself while holding a shot glass filled with some unidentified amber liquid and toasted other glasses sitting around the table in front of empty chairs. "Huff, Charlotte, Mickey, Shevels, Clover and Six, this night's for you," Benny said as he raised the glass high and brought it to his lips and slowly drained it, closing his eyes as he sipped the liquor, relishing the sensation as it flowed down his throat.
Benny slid his chair back away from the table and slowly stood, gripping the table fiercely with one hand and holding on to a highly polished black cane just as firmly with the other one. He walked around the table counter-clockwise, and coming to the next empty chair gently set himself down. He was already exhausted and he hadn't really began to commiserate his comrades yet. Benny didn't really know how his weakened body would hold up through even this little journey around the table, but he was determined to see it through to the end. He took a few deep breaths and cleared his throat before he spoke.
"Six, you were the first of us not to make it back to our little reunion. I guess when the rest of us would reminisce, sharing stories of the glory days and all the good times we had living them that it was easy for us to forget that you never really had many other days than the good old ones. What, did you make it back here four or five times after the war? It's a shame; you were a good man, the better than many of the rest of us and I've often felt it should have been me who was the first to go and you who were the last, not the other way around.
You were what, twenty-two when you enlisted? It still strikes me strangely, enlisting. The rest of us were drafted, conscripted to fight in a war that nobody wanted to fight in, the risk of becoming a casualty were so high. I have to admit that when I first heard that you had volunteered, I thought you were mad, just some violence junkie commando wannabe trying to score his adrenaline fix, but once I got to know you, you didn't fit that bill at all. I guess it reflects very poorly on me that it took so long for me to realize that you had a good reason for enlisting. You understood duty and honor and you were just the type of person who could put the cause ahead of your own desires. Like I said Six, you were my better, and when I say you earned my respect it isn't just a platitude, you did just that, you earned it.
I remember a time, fighting side by side and we were pinned down with hardly any support. I wanted to run, but we had been ordered to hold. The enemy was piling up all around us and we were in a good position to hold, but I was something of a coward and scared out of my wits. I don't know how you did it, how you managed to talk me down and at the same time keep laying down fire. The fighting that day was the fiercest and most savage I've ever seen, and you managed to keep a level head the whole time. You definitely saved my life that day and a lot of other lives too, and that wasn't the only time you did that either."

Oh, and BTW, Merry Christmas!

Incense

I actually like incense so much that I did a report on it once in college. I know that there is a lot of cultural significance and religious import, but still the best reason to burn incense is because it smells great.

By far my favorite is Nag Champa, but any incense made from the Champa flower is alright with me. I've burnt Champa Flower and a Champa with a cirtus scent added, but still, way out in front is Nag Champa.

This time of year you might think of frankincense and myrrh or perhaps other modern scents associated with Christmas, and whether it is the scent of cloves or Christmas cookies, these scents are a huge part of the Christmas experience. I've heard that scent is the sense most involved with memory. We attach scents to memories, and certain scents can invoke memories more vividly than anything else. The scent of rose does it for me.

The scent of incense is almost overpowering when I walk into my local Indian grocery. I haven't bought any there yet, but I'm bound to when I run out of what I have.

Perchance To

Yosef stood in the courtyard as he had so many times before, but this time was very different than those other times. This house of worship had always welcomed him in the past as he made his weekly migration from his home to its hallowed halls and back again. Gone however were the warmth and comfort they had provided and in their place squalor, oppression, and ruin. The synagogue had been desecrated during the occupation and it was a reflection of the depravity of the oppressors that they had twisted so holy a place into a house of misery.
The sky had been overcast for most of the morning as Yosef stood out in the synagogue courtyard and everything had a gray pallor over it: the trees, the buildings, the grass and even the people milling about. The gates of the courtyard had been locked and armed guards had been stationed both there and at a security checkpoint a little farther away. The gates and cast iron fence that surrounded the courtyard had been augmented by large, looping coils of razor wire and an additional barrier has been constructed just outside the gates, all to keep those people in the synagogue where they were.
The large wooden doors swung open, making a clattering sound that was eerily magnified by the sullen silence of those in the yard. A few people very near the doors were startled and jumped while those further away either just turned and looked, or ignored the sound with an almost catatonic cynicism. Two guards emerged and descended the concrete steps while another man who was dressed in a long jacket stood under the awning. It began to drizzle lightly as the man in the long jacket looked over those meandering around. Yosef kept his head down while he watched the man in the long jacket as he pointed around the yard and barked orders at the guards in a language he didn't understand. The guards walked from one person to another until they found the person that their superior had indicated and roughly herded that person to the stairs of the synagogue. Three people had been selected when the man at the top of the stairs pointed at him. Yosef froze out of fear, and when the soldier spoke to him, he ignored it. He ignored the first insistent shove too as he stood there dumbfounded, but when the soldier started yelling and prodding him with the muzzle of a semi-automatic rifle, it was enough to bring Yosef out of his stupor, and he walked over too and ascended a few of the steps.
With Yosef on the steps were two other men and a woman. The woman had been a neighbor who lived a block or so away from Yosef's home and he recognized her from one of the many walks he had taken before the war started. One of the men also seemed familiar, though Yosef couldn't quite place him. The second man was a total stranger whose eyes showed he wasn't reacting well to his incarceration. He was chanting or singing or praying under his breath and rocking back and forth in a way that spoke only of fear. It wasn't very long before one more woman, and elderly one, joined them on the stairs. Five must have been the quota for this morning because the man in the long jacket turned back into the building without another word, and the two guards ushered the quintet into the darkness. Yosef had spent two days waiting in the courtyard before he had been picked. Every few hours it seemed that another prisoner was being processed through the security checkpoint to join their fellows in the yard, and twice now the number of those milling around had been culled. Seven so far had made that fateful journey up the stairs, and so far none had returned.

Dr. Who

What is there to say about this show. First of all it's British, and every day I'm more an more convinced that British television is better than American television. Second, it's SciFi, which of course I really like. Third, there's it's longevity, seeing it's been around since 1963 (with a 16 year hiatus thrown in there) and it's still going. Fourth, it's it irreverent humor. I mean really what's not to like?

Of course, I do see that there is a big distinction between the classic series and the current series, and even though I do like the current series very much, I still think that the classic series has got it beat. Classic Who was created with low budgets, campy villains and the classic running down corridors. It's just so cheesy that someone in Britain should create a new cheese named Who.

I picked up a VHS copy of the Five Doctors and I absolutely love it. It's a blast even though it does move a little slow some times. The best thing about that show was that there were only four Doctors in Five Doctors, go fig eh?

Rowan Atkinson did an absolutely great spoof of Dr. Who that is funny called the Curse of the Fatal Terror. Rowan Atkinson plays a very good Doctor until he gets killed and regenerates several times in as many minutes. Eventually a female Doctor and The Master get together, but not until the Master gets some Dalek bumps first. Don't worry if it doesn't make sense, it's not supposed to apparently.

Wilted

"Good morning Mama. What is my little Helena doing today?" an older man dressed in the simple clothes of a trader asked his wife who was busying herself at the hearth, presumably warming up stew that had been left over from the evening before a warm breakfast.
"Papa, you can look out the window and see for yourself," she replied as she stirred a wooden spoon in the pot, and added a little water. "Your little daughter has not been idle."
The older man heaved his bulky frame out of the comfortable armchair, and stumbled over to the window. Helena wasn't hard to find as she was at work in her flower garden. He watched her for just a moment before a puzzled look crossed his face. He continued to watch her a few more minutes, then asked, "What is she doing?"
"If you'd use half the sense you were born with, you'd trust your eyes. You know what she's doing," Mama replied sharply as she toiled over the food.
"I see your point wife. Though it label me a dullard, I confess I don't know why she is pulling up her roses. What meaning there could be to her actions are beyond my feeble reach." Papa just shook his head back and forth at the mystery.
Mama set the table, all three places, with a generous portion of the pottage and a bowl of fresh goat's milk. "Husband, even I can't claim to be privy to the inner workings of the girl's mind. The reasons for her actions elude me. Come and eat now, there's work yet to do." She patted the table and pulled Papa's chair up to the table.
"Oh aye, I mean to see if I can have half of Ridian's flock on the block before the end of the week. He'll be anxious to trade this late in the year, and I reckon I can make quite a deal," Papa said, already putting his daughter's bizarre behavior out of his mind.
"Of course dear," Mama said, filling in the pause in the conversation. Throughout the entire meal, her eyes kept wandering away from her husband and the meal, and invariably found their way over to the window.

* * * * *

Helena sat cross-legged on the ground in front of one of her prized rose bushes. She didn't move for quite a while, just staring at the flowers in front of her. After waiting a while like this, she reached out and grabbed several of the stems with her bare hands. She felt the thorns bite into the skin on her palm and fingers, ripping into the delicate flesh. She closed her eyes, and her face took on a set look. An angry look crossed her face and she ripped the plant out of the ground. Blood trickled through her fingers, dripping on the ground, but she neither let go or reacted in any way to the pain. So this is what it feels like to be numb to everything she thought to herself. She tossed the plant to the side and clenched her fist, willing herself to feel the pain.

Anime Samurai Girl Type

I don't know what to say about this entry and I hope it doesn't come off creepy. I like to watch Anime as I've said before and there is normally a lot of consistency between different Animes. There seem to be types of characters that are repeated over and over in different stories. In one way it's repetitive, and another, it's funny.

There's always the clueless guy, the hopeless romantic girl, the crazy girl, the jock, the younger sister thrown in over her head, the crazy military obsessed guy and of course there is the Samurai girl.
I'm guessing that these distinct personas are enjoyable to Japanese people, who of course are all completely identical. Of course I'm being sarcastic, but still when conformity to the norm is taught, I'm thinking that a little non-conformity goes a long way.

What I like about some of these stereotypical characterizations is just how crazy they are. Sure, there are plenty of otaku in Japan, and I can see that in a lot of the characters, but there are just some really unique ones. The Samurai girl type happens to be my favorite.

As far as I can tell, this type is the most screwed up of them all. It is normally so over the top that it's hilarious. If you do anything, including look at her, you are challenging her or insulting her honor. She's always demanding vengeance or challenging someone to a fight. If she's not doing that she's training or learning a new technique. On top of this, she's also a super student though she sees socializing as a distraction to obtaining more power and glory. If she does have a feminine side, she views it as weakness to express it. Really, she's crazy, but in a uniquely Japanese way that doesn't seem so out of place.

Conscious

Matt woke from a sound sleep, and looked over at the glowing red segments of his alarm clock which read 2:37, and realized that it was the middle of the morning. He swung his legs off to the side of the bed and just sat there for a few seconds in nothing but his boxers and the t-shirt he had wore to bed before he put his face down in his hands and just said, "aw, crap."

*****

Matt had never experienced anything like the strange thoughts that had woken him out of a dead sleep, yet he knew they were all inexorably true. As he walked into the bathroom to splash a little cold water on his face, Matt realized that the last one had died, and the burden, because that's what it was, had been passed on to him. What bugged Matt most wasn't the randomness of how he had been chosen, it was the seeming pointlessness of it all. Matt had woken up and had been startled to find out that absolutely nothing in life had really meant what he had thought it did.
There were a lot of things that Matt just knew now. For example, one of the things that he knew now was the exact population of the Earth at any given time, but if he ever took the time to say it, it would have changed by the time he voiced the number and wouldn't be right. That amused him somewhat. He also knew a lot of stuff that just didn't make much sense for him to know. He knew that he could tap into information at a whim, knowing anything about anyone he wanted to, he barely had to concentrate on any person to be filled with knowledge, and though it was a bit overwhelming, it wasn't all that oppressive, so it was something he would grow to get used to.
Incidentally, it was just about this time that Matt realized that he had a perfect understanding of women, and that of all the men in the world, he was the only one who truly understood the fairer sex. Ironically with this perfect understanding came the realization that it didn't matter in the least. No woman on Earth was prepared to deal with a man who totally understood everything about her, and even if he would ply his knowledge perfectly in a relationship, most women were intuitive enough to know something was wrong, even though what was wrong was actually right. Matt felt both a little disgusted with this fact as well as humored by the irony. Oh well, he could still have a relationship if he just acted like he always had, and at least he would know exactly how to do that. It took Matt about a minute to come to grips with all of this new-found knowledge, but as soon as he had the thought, how am I going to deal with this, he just knew how and it didn't bother him anymore.