Shallot compare thee to a summer's day

 Since you haven't asked, let me tell you anyway. Let me tell you all about what I've been thinking. I've been thinking about shallots, that's what. You might think that's a lot to take in, but it's not: it's shallot. A crucial difference, that. 

Besides, that's the thing about shallots, that's the important point: they're not a lot, they're a little. They're a little tasty, a little sweet, and, most importantly, a little onion. Which they're not. (In other words, they are not what they are. (That's why they're called 'shallots', not 'onions': do you follow me?)) 

Okay. So, shallots have a rich and storied history, none of which I will go into today. Instead, let us quote from Wikipedia: 

The shallot is a cultivar group of the onion. Until 2010, the (French red) shallot was classified as a separate species, Allium ascalonicum.

Great! 

The taxon was synonymized with Allium cepa (the common onion) in 2010, as the difference was too small to justify a separate species.

So it seems that shallots are not only too small to be an onion, but they are too small to be not. 

(Pedants might object that it is not the shallot that is small in the last case, it is the difference. But what is the difference between a difference, anyway? It's very small, that's what it is.)

Here is a poem I wrote about shallots: 

There's a lot to shallots,
There's a lot but there's not - 
There's a lot to a little, you see: 
No, you mustn't belittle 
The littlest little - 
To be little is something to be. 

Readers will notice with what care and restraint I have avoided ending the poem with 'fiddle diddle diddle diddle dee'. It is important to finely tune one's poetic craft that way. Just as there is a lot to the little that is shallots, so there is a lot to the little that is poetry, in that you start with a lot, and you take out a little, and you take out a little more, and a little more, and a little more, and you end up taking out a lot with with a little left over, in order to say a lot with a little. Or sometimes, you try to say a little with a little, or sometimes, to those with a purer artistic temperament, you end up using a little and saying even less. Presumably the purest poem of all is one in which all meaning and words are taken out, with nothing left over, but that has already been written by someone or other so to write it out again would be plagiarism. I certainly had a lot to say about shallots in this poem, and avoided saying it altogether, so this is what you got. 

But I suppose there are some things a lot about shallots. You can grow a lot of them. You can like them a lot. And you can grow shallots in a lot, and an allotted lot withal, so you could, if you chose, grow a lot of shallots in a lot of allotted lots. That's not a lot, but it's something. That's not a lot, even if it literally is. It's a little lot, which is just about as much as anyone could ask for. 

In addition, here is a shallot that I found the other day. 

I cooked it and turned it into a tiny onion tart, and here is the recipe: 

Ingredients: 

1 teaspoon of olive oil 
1 shallot 
A splash of white wine 
Puff pastry 

Method: 
Cut the puff pastry to the side of a small pan. Turn the oven on to 180 degrees celsius. Cut the shallot into pieces and fry it over medium heat for a few minutes until it browns nicely on all sides. 
Add the white wine to the pan and let it reduce a bit. 
Pop the puff pastry over the top of the shallot, and fold it in under the edges. Put the whole pan in the oven and leave it in there until the puff pastry rises and turns golden brown, about 20 minutes. 
Invert the shallot tart over a board or plate and serve.

But enough talking about poetry and recipes and what not, we were talking about shallots. This is the end of my talk about shallots. 

Preconstructed recipe post

 Now I don't want to make you all jealous, but today I made some bread. Or, to put it in a more technically accurate way, today I measured out the ingredients that will have by tomorrow become bread definitely. 

Here is the bread which I will have certainly by tomorrow made without a shadow of a doubt. 

Drooling yet? 

Now admittedly I suppose it is possible that someone else will put the bread together tonight and tomorrow, but it really matters not. Please to admire the bread which will obviously by tomorrow absolutely have been definitely made by someone or other clearly. 

The Future really is Perfect, isn't it. 

That’s very romance

 A poem that is very romance

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Chocolate is brown

And also poo

I think we had better

Not mix up the two

Roses are red 

Violets are blue.

Culture corner

 Have some drama, you uncultured swine! 

THE INTROVERTS: a riveting one second drama 

 SCENE: INTROVERT 1 bumps into INTROVERT 2 on the street corner 

 INTROVERT 1: Hello! Well, it was lovely to have parted after all this time. 

 INTROVERT 2: Yes, we really must do it again sometime. 

 (Both walk very fast in opposite directions) 

END

THE INTROVERTS 2: the gripping epic five second sequel 

SCENE: INTROVERT 2 bumps into INTROVERT 1 at the next street corner. 

 INTROVERT 2: Back so soon? Well, can't be helped. 

 INTROVERT 1: Yes, I'm so terribly sorry. 

 INTROVERT 2: Anyway, cheer up! I'm sure you'll be off soon! 

 INTROVERT 1: You know me. 

 INTROVERT 2: I'm afraid so. 

 (Both walk quickly away from one another into oncoming traffic) 

 END

A magical mysterium tour

 Russian composer Alexander Scriabin was something else. Look at this description of his planned work, 'Mysterium':

"Mysterium is an unfinished musical work by composer Alexander Scriabin. He started working on the composition in 1903, but left it incomplete when he died in 1915. Scriabin planned that the work would be synesthetic, exploiting the senses of smell and touch as well as hearing. He wrote that

"There will not be a single spectator. All will be participants. The work requires special people, special artists and a completely new culture. The cast of performers includes an orchestra, a large mixed choir, an instrument with visual effects, dancers, a procession, incense, and rhythmic textural articulation. The cathedral in which it will take place will not be of one single type of stone but will continually change with the atmosphere and motion of the Mysterium. This will be done with the aid of mists and lights, which will modify the architectural contours."

Scriabin intended the performance to be in the foothills of the Himalayas in India, a week-long event that would be followed by the end of the world and the replacement of the human race with "nobler beings"."

And the more descriptions you read about Scriabin's plan, the crazier/better it sounds:

"Bells suspended from clouds would summon spectators. Sunrises would be preludes and sunsets codas. Flames would erupt in shafts of light and sheets of fire. Perfumes appropriate to the music would change and pervade the air. "

(Certain small-minded pedants might ask: just how do you suspend a bell from a cloud? These intellectual tardigrades should be treated with the contempt they deserve.)

And: "Thousands of participants, clad in white robes, would intone his melismatic mantras with the fervor of the dervishes, expending every bit of their available energy in the service of his artistic idealism."

And: "Scriabin thought... that he would die of ecstasy when it finished playing."

According to the books, Scriabin actually died of blood poisoning. But clearly that's nonsense. He obviously died from nothing more than the modesty of his ambitions, and the 'Mysterium', in all its glory, is waiting for a purer vessel to bring its terrifying awesomeness to earth.

You can hear Scriabin's 'Prefaratory Action' for the 'Mysterium' on YouTube, over 40 minutes long, in its full bonkers glory.

PS Please to admire Scriabin's majestic curled 19th century moustache. It's so admirable that, like, I admire it. 

Delightful gurgling

In case you haven't been paying attention (and I certainly haven't), did you read about stand-up comedian Arj Barker kicking out a mother and her newborn baby from one of his shows the other day? Finally, it seems, someone is doing something about the grave peril posed to stand-up comedians by babies. For, in their career, a stand-up comedian may have to deal with drunken audiences, bottles being thrown at them, fist fights, you name it: but babies? Come on! 

I'm not quite sure what those babies are up to, but there's certainly something shifty about them. Engaging, for the moment, in a brief scientific study, we find, on the one hand, we have: 

- Stand-up comedians

Pure beings, light workers, who are always right about everything; 

While on the other hand, we find: 

- Babies 

Basically Satan. 

That, ladies and gentlemen, is science. But life is not all science: there are many nuances to lived experience that crude scientific theorems and hypotheses cannot capture. Let us look at some of them now. What are the basic modes of the baby? 

1) Crying

2) Feeding

3) Pooing/weeing 

4) Delightful gurgling 

5) Sleeping peacefully. 

It seems Barker kicked the baby out in stages 1/2. Can you imagine what would have happened if the baby had got to stage 4? Or (worse) stage 5? That's right, neither can I. But it would have been dreadful, let me assure you. 

This post is now at an end. 

Unsound poetry

Found sound poem 

This is a found poem, 

It's very profound. 

This is a sound poem: 

It's very pro-sound. 

If you've found a sound

To go with my found poem, 

Please send me that sound, 

And I'll give it a sound home, 

For, I'll admit it, 

I haven't quite yet 

Found one for my found sound, 

And it makes me upset. 

Sign up to my marriage counselling service, everyone!

Get in early: sign a prenuptial disagreement before marriage so you don't have to worry about it after. 

Arrange for a divorce to be held before you get married. It is a far neater way of doing things. Hold a touching ceremony for the whole family you will be breaking up: nobody will be able to stop themselves from crying at the traditional ceremony of the Taking Back of the Engagement Rings - but who will be able to wake for the excitement that is the Cutting of the Financial Cake? 

(Oh yeah, and hold a wedding and stuff after too, I guess.)

If you prepare and do things right, it will only strengthen your marriage bonds. Although you might end up having make-up sex without having anything to make-up about, which is a bit too S and M for some... I guess.