Required Reading
Cap'n Flynn (deviantART)
Cap'n Flynn's Salty Sea Chest

The Unveiled Clepsydra

The Voyage to Ruin
Catholic Works
Aliens in This World
Apologize and Don't Be Sorry!
Catholic Ragemonkey
De Fidei Oboedientia
Doubleshot Thoughts
E-Pression (Zorak)
Flos Carmeli
For Keats' Sake!
Happy Catholic
John C. Wright's Journal
Old Oligarch's Painted Stoa
Scuffulans hirsutus
Shrine of the Holy Whapping
Summa Mamas, The
Troglodyte, The
The Stacks
Basia me, Catholica Sum
Corner, The
Fiat Lux!
I Am the Lizard Queen!
The Kawaii Menace
James Lileks
Wasted Words
Weirdsville, USA
8-Bit Theater
Get Fuzzy
Sluggy Freelance
xkcd: A webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language
One Guy's Opinion
Dark Echo
Reference Materials
Catholic Culture: Liturgical Year
The Holy See
Invisible Children
New Advent
The Rosary Confraternity
Anglican Use Society
Book of Divine Worship
Pastoral Provision
Saint Mary The Virgin Catholic Church
Chambers' Book of Days
King's American Dispensatory
The Writer's Den
Jim Butcher
Bruce Campbell
Susanna Clarke
Harlan Ellison
Stephen King
Lit Gothic
The Studio
Jeff Matsuda
Moby Dick, the Movie
The Conservatory
David Bowie
Dougie MacLean
Gaming FM
Great Big Sea
Kate Rusby
The Myriad
Nickel Creek
The Recliners
Back Issues
Wishful Thinking
Buy Me a Book?
Site design by kashi
This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?
29 April 2004
I Want One!
Several blogs have already linked to
this on the Shrine of the Holy Whapping, but I feel no shame in following their lead. Some of these are just wonderful.

In particular, I like:

"My altar boy excommunicated your honor student."

"Warning: Occasions of sin are more proximate than they appear."

And from the comments:

"Have a nice Dei."

"I gave at the Daily Office."

Jelly Pinched Wolf   11:43 AM
Email the Wolf
28 April 2004
Vernal Invasion
I used to like Spring. Sure, it wasn't as nifty as Autumn, or even Winter, but it was still rather nice--just on the verge of warmth and everything growing lush and green. And then I moved to Texas.

You see, the Jelly-Pinched Wolf hails from a nigh-bucolic little village in upstate New York (well, it used to be--the times they are a-changin'), filled with all manner of evergreen and Spanish onion and dandelion and other natural and foresty goodness. And until he moved to Texas, he did not suffer from allergies when Spring came calling. Now, while I can't claim to suffer as badly as some I know, I must say that the sinus invasion of these pesky allergens is really obnoxious. In fact, I nearly look forward to the wretched heat of Summer, for at least then I can breathe a bit better (always assuming the smoke from the yearly burning of Mexico doesn't waft this way).

Admittedly, today's not too bad--either for heat or allergies. Relatively balmy day, and strong winds (though I suspect my wife the Mid-westerner will ask, "What wind?"). Still, we definitely need to consider a future separate home for Springtime. How are the Rockies this time of year? There are always the mountains of Japan. And of course, there's my dream of a home and pub in Wales. Wonder how the Welsh seasons run? Hmmmmm.

For now, though, tissue in hand, I shall suffer with the rest of you. Fie on you, accursed Spring!
Jelly Pinched Wolf   1:29 PM
Email the Wolf
27 April 2004
Someone reached my blog by doing a Hotbot search for "gregory peck yummy."

This is wrong in so many ways.
Jelly Pinched Wolf   8:37 AM
Email the Wolf
25 April 2004
A while back, I had promised myself that once I'd finished the novel, I'd allow myself to indulge in other projects that'd been gambolling about my brain. Now, with twenty-six chapters edited, re-edited, and polished to a spit-shine, one of those projects has rushed to the fore crying, "Me first! Me first!" (There's also a screenplay begun with a former roommate crying to be heard, but I shall discuss that at a later date.) And though I've a few chapters yet to polish, I cannot say no.

You see, a couple years back, I'd embarked on something of challenge. Finally pretty comfortable in writing poetry, I decided to start something big, which eventually decided it would be a poem in nine parts. I managed to get eight done before needing to give up all else for the novel. Now, I've decided it's time for Part Nine. Alas, I've also discovered the earlier bits need tweaking--not only because I've improved vastly as a writer (even in the couple years since I began this poem), but also because the theme's a bit less focused than I'd previously thought. Also, the title's really pretentious (even for me), so that's right out.

Anyway, I'm tweaking, and preparing to write the final part, and adding on section titles (each part was previously just numbered, and so I'm thinking some titles for each are in order). And now, so you don't think I'm just babbling on for no reason, I am, for the first time, releasing a segment for public perusal. This is a selection (the whole would be far, far too long) of the seventh part, which so far is my favourite--and the least in need of revision. Hope you enjoy, and at the very least, gentle readers, you are the first to read it with the section title--that's gotta count for something, right?*

*Note: I tend to write my poems with the intent of being read aloud, by me, in my reading voice. I'm not sure if this changes the way they read on page, or if you yourselves read them aloud, but there you have it.

Requiem of Orpheus

We hold the guns of the gods in our lame fingers
Craving to defend the clouds their thunder,
Ceaselessly writing the same innocuous moment,
Uttering the threnody of fate
Upon ruby lips of shame,
Digging our pockets for one grain of Future.
Nature backwashes on tiny deaths
Shivering the shackles of Passion
To pasture in her nourishing mead.
But we are static bound to habit,
Half swallowing the false pill of reason
Til it chokes us in meaning.

Rain down the stars in the oddest fashion!
Twitch the chafed cord hanging us.
Bathe in the crystal-drunk fires of life.
We forever curse the skies blind
And love the Earth as our women,
Growing, devouring, peddling our days
With fingers of gold and lips of wine.
Turn down the sun, it smells too loud!
O how I long for Night’s sweet face
As the river’s green eyes lament
These withering embers by sparkling tears
Whispering to such a sad sight,
And the last spices of blood follow her motions.
Slide that murderous light into Tomorrow
And feed the babbling roil of Truth!
Eat it in the turnstile frenzy of desire
And waltz us through an otherness
Bothe spongy and deranged.
Smoke my love on a misty morn
To learn of the sacred trance and hellbound danse.
In Heaven’s parlor, my name will be hushed.
Jelly Pinched Wolf   12:16 AM
Email the Wolf
23 April 2004
Concurrence of Events
Certain dates seem to attract important events. Sometimes it's as vague as a certain year (1963 was notable for several big events in the world, some political, some cultural--from JFK's assassination to the premier of both Doctor Who and X-Men). And sometimes, like today, things seem to flock to a single day.

Lizard Queen's already mentioned, today is both the birthday and death day of William Shakespeare. In addition, it's St. George's Day, which is a big one in our household (so big that we also celebrate its May 5th occurrence--which I believe is due to the funky disparity between our calendar and that of the Eastern Church--confirmations of this are welcome). And finally, though only history will tell if it proves to be of quite the same import as these former events (though I'm certain it's pretty darned important to him), today is Cob's birthday. He's in really good company, I'd say--he may not have had much control over it, but it's a heck of a day to be born on.
Jelly Pinched Wolf   10:53 AM
Email the Wolf
21 April 2004
Pathetic Addictions
Linked to this site off a post on
Summa Mamas:

Guess the Dictator or Sit-Com Character*

Now, alas, I seem to be hopelessly hooked. Is it really as fun as it seems? Or am I just entirely too full of useless information gathered during my youthful years of television addiction? (Thankfully, I have since weaned myself from the Glass Teat, and when Angel ends this season I will be completely TV-free--unless that wanker Joss Whedon develops another well-written show, or I manage to get access to the new Doctor Who).

I assume this thing's linked to a database of some sort--and it must be immense. It's been near spot-on with my choices of TV characters (only getting stumped a few times on things like Brisco County, Jr. and Danny Dallas of Soap!). Haven't really tried the dictator approach much yet (though it did get Castro), as my history's a bit too dusty to confidently answer all the questions. Anyway, it's a fun diversion, at least. In the same class as a six degrees of separation game (which, if I'm allowed a brief moment devoid of modesty, I'm pretty good at--once managed to link Harry Belafonte, Jr. to Star Wars with no prep time--and thank you Kiki for that little challenge).

*The site seems to take the term "sit-com" pretty liberally, by the way. It managed to come up with both Buffy and The Greatest American Hero, so don't limit yourselves too much if you try it out.
Jelly Pinched Wolf   3:54 PM
Email the Wolf
19 April 2004
Now This is Entertainment
Check out
this post and the ensuing comments on Mark Shea's blog. Finally, a zombie project I can get behind! Good luck to ye, Luke!

Thanks to Flambeaux of Fiat Lux for referring me to the post in the first place.
Jelly Pinched Wolf   10:34 AM
Email the Wolf
Musical Weekend
Despite a few directional misadventures in Austin (maybe I'm just used to the wacky Dallas road system, but Austin's is truly terrible for navigation), our weekend was filled with good, and--most importantly--joyous music. You can find all you need to know about Dougie (think in Scottish--it's pronounced "Doogie") MacLean over at kashi's site
here. That was the point of Austin, and we were not disappointed by the show.

This evening upon our return, we took a trip up to the University of Dallas (our alma mater) to see Celtic Spring. Their website is here, and I highly recommend checking them out. Composed of the son and five grandchildren of Dr. Robert Wood, longtime philosophy professor at UD, the band performs traditional Celtic (along with some American and French-Canadian) fiddle music, as well as traditional Celtic dance (and they're not annoying like Michael Flatley!). To put it simply, they rock. The music is both gorgeous and joyous.

And this is what the weekend was really about: joy. Going back to a familiar theme here on Jelly-Pinched Theatre, we've been noticing a lack in our favoured forms of cultural entertainment--most notably literature and film, but also in other artistic endeavours. It's not that it's all rubbish, but certainly you've gotta look deep out at the fringe to find the things that sing. Celtic Spring is one of them (as, I would also say, are artists like Dougie, and Nickel Creek). Because they're not just making beautiful music (though it is that). Or happy music (though it is also that). Or well-crafted music (though it is most certainly that). Rather they are doing something they love, and it shines through as pure joy. As a writer of horror, death's pretty important to me, but that does not mean I approve of the turn our culture is taking--steeped in death, but numb to it. And one can certainly not explore the things of the dark without pointing to the purity of the Good. And that's where joy comes in, and why I fear its presence in our lives is becoming too scarce. But I am hopeful for the future. And it's artists like this who really keep that hope alive, and make me committed all the more to adding my own voice to the chorus (well, not literally--the Wolf doth howl more than sing--but you get the point). It's where our hero, Mister Reynard, comes in, 'cause on all his crazy adventures he does not lose his joy and passion for life (even if he might lose his heart on occasion).

Back to Celtic Spring--I was very much reminded of Nickel Creek while watching them perform. Not in the style of music, of course, but in what has inspired the creation of the music. These kids are working in an older, traditional form--and remaining true to that tradition--while not feeling constrained in any way by it. Their approach to it is through their youth, working an almost punk attitude into the more traditional music. Hence the exuberance. It's not the typical youthful refutation of anything old, anything before their time. It's a complete embracing of it--and not at the cost of their more modern sensibilities. Joyous in every moment. Very anti-postmodern, and very welcome indeed. Whether they're conscious of it or not, they're part of the renaissance of which I and some others are trying to stoke the fires. It's good and comforting to know there are bright spots out there already on which we can build in our own particular areas.
Jelly Pinched Wolf   8:09 AM
Email the Wolf
15 April 2004
A Goode Olde Tyme at the Faire
Now that the
Scarborough Faire Rennaissance Festival (just outside Waxahachie, TX) is up and running, we should be trekking down there in a few weeks. It'll be hot, crowded, tiring, and we'll have no money for all the trinkets and doo-dads that we really don't need but are very shiny, nonetheless. But ya know what? It'll be worth it for one reason.

Steak on a Stake!

For those of you not in the know, this is a wonderful little invention. A strip of skewered, seasoned meat which is grilled (or not grilled very much, if you're like me) to your desire. Simple and delicious. If the steakhouses of the world would cook their meat (or not cook it) the way these guys do, I could eschew the whole Faire and just go out for steak. But alas, this is a rare (pun intended) commodity. So we will trek down, and slough about the people-infested grounds, and see many things we've seen before, and many things we cannot buy, and it'll all be worth it for that one little piece of nearly raw beef. Mmmmmmm.
Jelly Pinched Wolf   1:49 PM
Email the Wolf
06 April 2004
On Kidney-Stealing Lunatics, Death, and Easter
Aren't weekends supposed to be relaxing? Sigh. Well, at least we saw family, shared stories, and had a fun adventure on Friday (which was my first official, paid vacation day in nearly three years!), even if some evil cultists did try to steal our souls and our kidneys. But perhaps I should start at the beginning....

We travelled out to East Texas on Friday with StitchWitch and Flambeaux along as bemused (or frightened) observers, in an attempt to avoid being rooked by the timeshare resort that for some reason thought we'd be interested. They had, however, dangled an astronomically slim chance of winning $40,000 in front of our noses, and so we bit. We nearly gave up, as it proved to be farther from Dallas and much closer to Tyler, TX than we'd thought. But we finally found the place, and thus began the scary part of the adventure. For, you see, we were given the grand tour of the resort by an automaton. He was ... well, very creepy. We discussed this at great length on the way back, and decided that the man had no soul. There was just something missing in him, and it was really rather disturbing. Anyway, the place was rather pretty, and the lake (I think it was Lake Palestine) was really nice. But paying close to $20,000 to use a cabin for one week a year is just terribly unappealing. And impractical, when you think about it. Drive an hour and half into the (rather depressing) wilds of East Texas to do what amounts to camping for a week. At $20,000. Hmmmmm. The sales pitch was intense, but we resisted. And then later, we were able to see the abundance of holes in it--like their angle of: "Well, how much do you spend each month in random entertainment? See, for less than that, you could have a guaranteed vacation spot each year for the rest of your life!" Except that, who's going to give up movies, and coffees, and other such things? No one! So then you'd have random entertainment expenditures plus a crappy vacation once a year.

It really did feel like a cult--they even tried to offer Flambeaux a job (though they cooled to that idea once it was obvious they could not rook kashi and me). But we escaped, souls, kidneys, and wallets intact.

Saturday was our Spring Polidori (see
here for info). I think my story went over well, though of course I always doubt myself. Still, I'm pretty pleased with "Mr. Reynard in Love." And Cob, whose attendance at Polidori has proved spotty at best (though always memorable) made it there with a wonderfully whimsical tale which he described as a cross between C.S. Lewis and Kafka. The scary thing is that not only was he right, but it worked--and well. Unfortunately, due to overheating and both allergy and asthma attacks, several of us needed to leave early. Sorry to all those whose stories we did not get to hear! But we were not well, and had Sunday quickly bearing down on us.

You see, Sunday we had to hit Mass in the morning, then dash off to Borger, TX (via a Love Field to Amarillo flight) for a funeral. I don't feel this the proper forum for such things, but I shall just say that we bade farewell to a beloved family member, one who I did not get to know well, but who I am very glad to have known, no matter how short the time. He will be missed.

And then back last night, and back to work this morning. I am beat. Bushed. Tired. Worn out. Tsukareta. And yet, I'm glad there is a lot going on this week for Holy Week. It won't make me any less tired, but this'll be my first year experiencing the period leading up to and including Easter as it was meant to be. After all, no longer can I scoff at those poor meatless, fasting folk on Good Friday, for I am now one of them. And boy howdy, do I regret my past impertinence. But I can't be too upset that this week will be no less crazy than the past weekend (though at least there'll be no timeshare cultists involved), because I feel like it's a good kind of craziness. A right kind, if that makes sense. And it'll make me appreciate all the more the breathing I can once more enjoy next week.
Jelly Pinched Wolf   11:35 AM
Email the Wolf
02 April 2004
Pretty Nifty

Linked to this quiz off Old Oligarch, and I must say I'm pleased with my results:

Saint Barbara
Saint Barbara is praying for you! To learn more
about the legend of Saint Barbara go to the
Patron Saint Index at

Which Saint Would You Be?
brought to you by Quizilla

Nifty story, too (courtesy of

"Beautiful maiden imprisoned in a high tower by her father Dioscorus for disobedience. While there, she was tutored by philosphers, orators and poets. From them she learned to think, and decided that polytheism was nonsense. With the help of Origen and Valentinian, she converted to Christianity.

Her father denounced her to the local authorities for her faith, and they ordered him to kill her. She escaped, but he caught her, drug her home by her hair, tortured her, and killed her. He was immediately struck by lightning, or according to some sources, fire from heaven."

What's more, amongst other things, she's the patron saint of gravediggers.

Jelly Pinched Wolf   10:38 PM
Email the Wolf
01 April 2004
Mercy Buckets!

Must take a moment to extend many, many thanks to my lovely wife, kashi, for the redesign that she's slaved over for the better part of today. Isn't it wonderful? Ah, the Wolf doth have a new home at last. Comfort abounds here in the Theatre.

Must still find an appropriate new template for the comments, but that's mere window dressing, really. (And that pun was completely unintended, by the way). I would like to humbly request any who have been gracious enough to link to me to update your links. To be honest, I had not intended to retain the "I Have No Wisdom" title for as long as I did, but then, on occasion, we Wolves are consumed by the Slack.

Anyway, hope you like. I know I do.
Jelly Pinched Wolf   2:57 PM
Email the Wolf
Welcome... Jelly-Pinched Theatre. Pull up a chair. Have a glass of scotch, or a nice cognac. And get ready to sample the cheese.

The curtain's coming up....
Jelly Pinched Wolf   1:03 PM
Email the Wolf