Greetings and welcome to another installment of fluff from the bellybutton of your fuzzy host, Marko the Werelynx.
Well, it's Good Friday... or perhaps Great Friday? The Czechs have a Great Friday. I'm just sayin' that not everything is better in the USA. And we get Monday off from work... don't you have Easter Monday?
Y'know, I was tellin' Mrs. the Werelynx the other day that I wasn't sure if I'd be able to braid the traditional willow switch to beat her with Monday morning because I'd cut down half of our willow tree and the remaining section didn't seem to have enough long, flexible branches. A good, whippy switch has to be fresh, and green to really zing that fertility and youthful energy into any females within reach. You should have seen how Grandma would jump...
And you know, Mrs. the Werelynx has been telling me of other places that I could scrounge the necessary branches for the switch. I'll tell you though, it's not a matter of sado-masochist, happy, fun time. It's just tradition, and cultural traditions are important even if they are laughably misogynistic. Whether or not it helps create an environment that abuse can thrive in is not for me to judge. Mrs. the Werelynx would be disappointed if I didn't spend some time making an Easter switch this year.
It's a tradition that would be dying out; I'm the only member of the family that knows how to braid a proper switch. I had to learn it from an old neighbor. I say, the tradition would be dying out, except that the stores and street markets are filled with these switches. I suspect that somewhere in Malaysia there's a factory where they're braided by hand from tropical vines. It's not willow, that's for sure. What once was fresh, green and full of life has become replaced by thin, dry and available at a store near you.
That's right, I'm pouting about the commercialization of the Czech tradition of whipping the females in the spring.
But, if you think about it, something integral in a culture has died when even their phallic fertility symbols are imported.
There's some strange stuff out there. And I wonder why these things are still a part of society. I think it stems from our very human need to be connected to a group. Finding and maintaining connections to our ancestors is instinctual. I think we all do it to some degree. I even have friends who were adopted, who have no idea of their ancestry, adopting their own cultural heritage by finding some old culture out there in the wide world and studying it, learning bits of the language and history. We all want to fit into the cultural puzzle somewhere, don't we?
Oh well, never mind me. I'm just glad to duck in here to avoid the temptation to comment on other diaries around here. This weekend I'll be off in the country hunting for willow branches so I'll be too busy to get into too much trouble.
A random collection of fluff from my week can be found below.
I'll just hide here awhile until the outrage blows over...
Strange weather over here this week. High winds, snow, sleet, hail, rain and bright cheery sunshine... all in a matter of minutes and a taste of that elemental chaos almost every day.
I've decided to start reporting a running total of my contributions to Doctors Without Borders-- not that I have money to donate to charity, but I learned from a fellow Prophet some time ago about a search engine that gives one cent to a charity of your choice for each search you make using their service. It's called Goodsearch. As a search engine it could be better. I'm mostly just glad to be avoiding Google which seems to be focused on taking over every aspect of my webby life. I think I'll call my total collected pennies for charity my "Curiosity Level."
This week, as of this writing, my Curiosity Level is at 11.51-- dollars that is. Not a huge amount, but it's better than nothing-- which is what I can actually afford to give to charity.
Perhaps things will be better in my financial future. I spent some time this week designing a CD cover. I'll be getting a bit of money for that and it is part of a long term project.
I started another oil painting this week. Here's a look at the underpainting and the photo I'm working from:
That's a picture of the jumpy grandma I mentioned in the Intro. She would have been 100 years old last month. She was also eager to get a bit of that youthful whipping every year; claimed she needed it. My mother-in-law though-- not a fan of that particular tradition.
I stopped by my mother-in-law's apartment this week and went out to do some shopping for her. She wasn't up to facing the strong winds and slush and-- oh, it's just been crazy. On the way back home I stopped and took a quick photo of some flowers poking up through the slush:
I managed to make my annual circuit of offices to turn in my tax forms. Horrible weather to be searching for the new location of the "Social Department"... walked two blocks with rain and pea-sized hail pelting me in the face. It was a charming sort of day despite the weather. The woman behind the counter recognized me from my yearly visits to the old office on the other side of town. I had to laugh and apologize for not recognizing her. On the way home I did my good deed for the day and helped another lost soul find their way. A woman asked me if I knew where a certain street was... I got to laugh again and asked if she was looking for the "Social Department" and then led her to the street and pointed out the right building in the distance. There were a lot of lost souls on the street that day.