That is all.
2009-11-07
2009-11-01
2009-10-14
Baguala Torrontes 2007
A light white wine. Floral notes on the nose. Tastes of stone fruit, possibly apricot. A bit of musk on the finish.
2009-10-07
Wine Blogging - Kung Fu Girl Riesling 2008 Washington
A halb-trocken white wine, very fruity. Think somewhere between peaches and lychees.
2009-10-04
Playing D&D was being Goth in the '80s
Something I found while digging through mu old papers.
To speak of old gods and ancient time, of both joy and sorrow, is in itself a mystery.
One hears of Poseidon and Atlantis, of Yahweh and the Twelve Tribes. One listens to tales of Lucifer and the drowned city of Ys, of Solomon and this mines.
History is half deaf and half blind. For history is written by the winners and the voices of the losers are still.
Who sings of the the Sidhe that fair Avalon had forgotten? Who can speak to me of the little people who laid gifts to lost gods, of the folk of bronze and flint?
Having won so often, when have we lost so much? Having enjoyed victory, where did we lose?
Who can show me the first forests of the dryads, of beasts unseen, of spirits unknown? Who can show me the arts of people the vanquished had conquered?
Where can I find the temples and palaces of gods who came before the gods? the toys and games of forgotten children?
Having won so often, when have we lost so much? Having enjoyed victory, where did we lose?
Where can I hear the old songs of life or paens of praise, the cries pf the buried city, or the silence of the forgotten groves? Where can I learn the old rituals of life and darkness, the rites of spring or a dying sun?
History is half deaf and half blind. For history is written by the winners and the voices of the losers are still.
To speak of old gods and ancient time, of both joy and sorrow, is in itself a mystery.
One hears of Poseidon and Atlantis, of Yahweh and the Twelve Tribes. One listens to tales of Lucifer and the drowned city of Ys, of Solomon and this mines.
History is half deaf and half blind. For history is written by the winners and the voices of the losers are still.
Who sings of the the Sidhe that fair Avalon had forgotten? Who can speak to me of the little people who laid gifts to lost gods, of the folk of bronze and flint?
Having won so often, when have we lost so much? Having enjoyed victory, where did we lose?
Who can show me the first forests of the dryads, of beasts unseen, of spirits unknown? Who can show me the arts of people the vanquished had conquered?
Where can I find the temples and palaces of gods who came before the gods? the toys and games of forgotten children?
Having won so often, when have we lost so much? Having enjoyed victory, where did we lose?
Where can I hear the old songs of life or paens of praise, the cries pf the buried city, or the silence of the forgotten groves? Where can I learn the old rituals of life and darkness, the rites of spring or a dying sun?
History is half deaf and half blind. For history is written by the winners and the voices of the losers are still.
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