Myth Happens

1. What a lovely portrait of Leslie Howard this is. And proving my point that he was basically a weird-looking man, here's another—same artist, same subject, so much more off-kilter. I rather like this photo, too. Geekily taking notes is a fascinating way for anyone, but especially an actor, to represent themselves.

(sartorias is currently moderating a really interesting discussion about the literary descendants of Percy Blakeney over at Book View Café, so I'm all over that.)

2. The world's earliest known erotic graffiti has come to light on the Greek island of Astypalaia. Νικασίτιμος οἶφε Τιμίονα. And in addition to the fifth-century phalloi, there are "carvings depicting oared ships, daggers and spirals—all still discernible despite exposure to the erosive effects of wind and sea." That's pretty cool. Now I should like to read more about those cemeteries.

(It's interesting: if you tell me that a cemetery is unique for containing nothing but the pottery-buried bones of thousands of children under three years old, I assume we're looking at a pattern of sacrifice, even knowing that there are still scholars who argue stillbirths and infant mortality rather than ritual infanticide as an explanation for the Carthaginian tophets—Mary Gentle has one alt-Carthaginian character in her novel Ilario: The Lion's Eye (2006) rebuke the alternative as a blood libel. In the case of the Kylindra cemetery, it may be that there are clear archaeological markers of death by natural causes, or at least an absence of evidence for death by anything else. I don't doubt the value of sacred ground to lay a lost child in, whether it was just learning to walk or a miscarriage. I still wonder every time why it is that people have such a difficult time accepting human sacrifice in "civilized" cultures. Carthage is not an outlier in the ancient world. The Romans practiced it explicitly in times of extremity and casually in gladiatorial combat—funeral games, the lives of the gladiators dedicated to the di manes, the ancestral gods of the underworld. The Etruscans sacrificed prisoners taken in war, not unlike the Aztecs or Maya; their tomb art is full of bloodshed. Cahokia's population numbered in the tens of thousands at its height and its mounds are full of sacrificed bones. And that's without even touching the question of less direct forms of sacrifice: whom we cherish, whom we allow to die. It is not some barbaric, alien rite in which our ancestors never of course engaged (although yours totally did). I have a hard time thinking of a culture that at one time or another has not.)

3. We did not watch 1776 (1972) for our anniversary, but we did cook. We made barbecue mac and cheese. We'd encountered something similar on the late-night menu at jm Curley's a few weeks ago, umami-bombing a peppery white cheddar sauce with pulled pork. We had leftover, very rare steak tips. Spoiler: it came out great.

(We made the sauce according to my family's recipe, substituting as needed with the ingredients actually available to us—minced galangal instead of ginger, fire cider instead of cider vinegar—and completely faked the chili powder because it turned out we don't own any. derspatchel dubbed the results "Helljam" because it started with six crushed chiles pequin and came out a deep simmering syrupy red. I love my mortar and pestle so much. Cheese sauce, mostly two kinds of cheddar with a little Pecorino Romano and some American because it was in the refrigerator. White pepper and a little paprika, without which I always think noodles and cheese tastes weird. Shells, because it didn't need to look exciting, just retain the two sauces really well. We steeped the finely chopped tips in the helljam and then laid little pockets of spicy meat within the mixed shells and cheese, topped with crumbled Romano, and baked until the whole thing was bubbling. Then ate half of it between us while the cats played dinner theater in the living room.)

Today I am underslept and have deadlines! No regrets.