The snapping turtle.
16 February 2011
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After what was really only meant as an offhanded comment about hallucinating scents, I've been smelling all sorts of displaced things. Miso in hallways. Candy hearts in stairwells. Toast on passers-by on the street. Ten years ago, at 25, I was happily clear of the possibility of schizophrenia, but there are all sorts of other psychoses. In case my tone is lost, I'm kidding.
(I put the writing of this aside to talk with some other library school kids before class. From someone else's unrelated anecdote, the subject of sarcasm in text-based communication came up.)
Cultural Heritage class. Metadata standards for description of cultural objects. About as exciting as it sounds, but some of the discussion in class was interesting.
I walked a few extra blocks for my Wednesday night falafel. The last two weeks were disappointing at the more convenient falafel place. Then (now), as has become habit, a snapping turtle1 at Parlor.
1. The snapping turtle: Best if your local has a cheap, hipster beer and shot special; Parlor's is a PBR tallboy and well shot for $6. In any case, order your "favourite" cheap lager with a pint glass and as much citrus as the bartender will give you, and a shot of gin. Squeeze the fruit into the pint glass, pour in the gin, and fill with beer. As the night progresses, keep the same pint glass with the accumulated spent rinds, which more [and more being to resemble "pond water"].