Ode to the Pig

And so a happy night of quaffing Guinness passes. A number of friends were present of whom only romney is cursed by the thing that is Live Journal.

And, as happens frequently in these sessions a topic suggested itself. Suggested late on, to be sure, but there nonetheless.

There is clearly no finer food package on the planet than the humble pig. Especially the bacon and ham sections thereof. Yes, my friend, there are food stuffs out there that smell better in the cooking. There are foodstuffs out there that arguably taste better, but there are none, not one that has benefitted from the deft combination of osmic advertising and gourmand delivery.

The method of delivery is, of course, a matter of personal preference. I myself favour the simple, standard bacon butty with but a hint of HP sauce. This is, however largely irrelevant.

For bacon (and indeed ham), be it boiled, steamed, baked, fried or grilled provides the precise and exact olfactory outpouring comensurate with the taste of the cooked morsel.

No other food does this. Not one.

Not even on holiday.

No, my friend, the pig - from snuffly snout to twirly tail is the complete package.

Ode to the Pig

And so a happy night of quaffing Guinness passes. A number of friends were present of whom only romney is cursed by the thing that is Live Journal.

And, as happens frequently in these sessions a topic suggested itself. Suggested late on, to be sure, but there nonetheless.

There is clearly no finer food package on the planet than the humble pig. Especially the bacon and ham sections thereof. Yes, my friend, there are food stuffs out there that smell better in the cooking. There are foodstuffs out there that arguably taste better, but there are none, not one that has benefitted from the deft combination of osmic advertising and gourmand delivery.

The method of delivery is, of course, a matter of personal preference. I myself favour the simple, standard bacon butty with but a hint of HP sauce. This is, however largely irrelevant.

For bacon (and indeed ham), be it boiled, steamed, baked, fried or grilled provides the precise and exact olfactory outpouring comensurate with the taste of the cooked morsel.

No other food does this. Not one.

Not even on holiday.

No, my friend, the pig - from snuffly snout to twirly tail is the complete package.

I was hoping for level three....

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Very High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Moderate
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

I was hoping for level three....

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Very High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Moderate
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

For no reason....

... it occurs to me that Dante San Fernaud is a good name for a character.

But in what genre? Novel, novella, short story, table-top game or LARP?

Decisions, decisions....

For no reason....

... it occurs to me that Dante San Fernaud is a good name for a character.

But in what genre? Novel, novella, short story, table-top game or LARP?

Decisions, decisions....

Ho hum...

I should be gruntled but I'm not.

It's taken me a while to fathom out why, too.

It's because I have nothing to write. My free time really is, for the first time in months, free. I can (and am) slothing about watching TV or listening to music etc etc. There is nothing else demanding my time unless I decide otherwise. This should be great, but oddly...

Now I'm not a prolific writer. I wish I was, but I'm not. But having a project is more than just the writing. It's the guilty pleasure of not writing when really you should. The age old art of the lazy skive has much to recommend it, but like garlic in a good soup, skiving is best when it is laced with just a little anxiety about a deadline. It just ain't quite the same when there is no deadline - no project.

So the NWO stuff is written and we're ready to go: strangely, it is often more of a chore than a pleasure - but it's worth ploughing through the tedious bits because when the words flow and you hit the zone - well. There's nothing quite like it.

Unless you write stuff - especially collaborative stuff - this probably means very little to you.

It's all comparatively new to me. I've contributed - usefully, I hope - to two full freeforms and about eight paragraphs to a third. (Anyone remember Prior Benedict?).

And as I finish this up, I receive an email from pax_draconis confirming that the players now have all their stuff ready for that mad, mad weekend early in June where all that work - the product of six writers and half as many again months - mutates beyond recognition in the hands of a crew of cheerfully imaginative extroverts.

Yes, I should be gruntled.

But I'm not.

Ho hum.

Ho hum...

I should be gruntled but I'm not.

It's taken me a while to fathom out why, too.

It's because I have nothing to write. My free time really is, for the first time in months, free. I can (and am) slothing about watching TV or listening to music etc etc. There is nothing else demanding my time unless I decide otherwise. This should be great, but oddly...

Now I'm not a prolific writer. I wish I was, but I'm not. But having a project is more than just the writing. It's the guilty pleasure of not writing when really you should. The age old art of the lazy skive has much to recommend it, but like garlic in a good soup, skiving is best when it is laced with just a little anxiety about a deadline. It just ain't quite the same when there is no deadline - no project.

So the NWO stuff is written and we're ready to go: strangely, it is often more of a chore than a pleasure - but it's worth ploughing through the tedious bits because when the words flow and you hit the zone - well. There's nothing quite like it.

Unless you write stuff - especially collaborative stuff - this probably means very little to you.

It's all comparatively new to me. I've contributed - usefully, I hope - to two full freeforms and about eight paragraphs to a third. (Anyone remember Prior Benedict?).

And as I finish this up, I receive an email from pax_draconis confirming that the players now have all their stuff ready for that mad, mad weekend early in June where all that work - the product of six writers and half as many again months - mutates beyond recognition in the hands of a crew of cheerfully imaginative extroverts.

Yes, I should be gruntled.

But I'm not.

Ho hum.