Wow, Heather King went all Ferguson on the notion of branding in a recent post. Anti-branding is her brand! Anti-anti-branding is mine. Or perhaps anti-anti-anti-branding.
It's sad when a beer has to come to an end. I don't like it. Even growlers end and that's not right.
Oh how like a dream it feels now, that Labor Day week camping trip in the mountains of southern West Virginia. The electric sensation of lacking electricity, the walks down the calm and peaceful road, the kitschy but childhood-evoking Smoky the Bear sign. The pluperfect privacy, woodsmoke, the chill nights, crackling stream, the adventure of it.
Stymied this morning by a sty on the eye. (This non-interesting tidbit offered for purposes of alliteration.) I know almost for sure how I got it - I was doing pushups yesterday and got dust/bacteria in my eye.
Rung low, sweet daddy-o!
The sloop beneath the clouds
Western winds be-fresh the tide
Where mansions froth and play.
The call of Brandy
You're a fine girl…
Sea-breast of brine-wind
dosing 'cean-addicts with
Ship talismans to lead the way.
Read a necessary dollop of An Unnecessary Woman last night. Also some of Joseph Pearce's argument on what Shakespeare intended by Romeo and Juliet (i.e. not “romantic love hampered by families' paternal”, not “fate uber alles”, but the far-reaching effects of everyone's individual action).