pomegranate's New Writeups

Red Mullet: A Gastronome in Marseille (fiction)

2012-08-20T23:36:48Z

Red Mullet: A Gastronome in Marseille

Just a few words of introduction: this scene, from my current novel "Quantom Void" (sic), is one of several in which I have used a slow, more introspective voice, to inject texture and add some syncopation to an otherwise fast-paced and taut thriller.

The action here takes place in Marseille, in the south of France—a city which surely needs very little introduction to the movie buff, who will remember the inimitable Gene Hackman as "Pop" Doyle in the "French Connection". In some ways Marseille has changed some, but essentially it remains itself, it has after all been there for…

Inspiration Behind an Alter Ego (essay)

2012-06-11T00:02:49Z

Inspiration Behind an Alter Ego

Τίποτα δεν είναι όπως έμπνευση για μένα, όπως τα φρούτα του ροδιού της. — Erastis Frootas

I have always been fascinated to observe and speculate on the virtual identities that are chosen by people on the Web. Noms de plume, aliases, avatars and nicknames certainly throw some light on a person's gestalt—they reflect the essence or shape of an individuals's complete perception. They often encapsulate succinctly their take on the world around them and their relationship with it. Even the clearly trivial and silly names, far from being random silliness, probably belie much of the…

Hot, Fragrant Java: The Brew that Changed the World (essay)

2012-06-07T01:02:54Z

Hot, Fragrant Java: the brew that changed the world.

Comprising a rambling ode to the beverage, a nod to its part in history, and the answer to all your questions.

The perfect cup of steaming Java cannot be born from some dubious can of ready-ground coffee over which you have exercised very little influence. No—if you are really after the best, and enjoy tinkering as a relaxing activity while your mind is pursuing it's own machiavellian lucubrations on some arcane field of endeavor known to few... then read on friend: I will accompany you on a leisurely voyage of…

Java Jingle (idea)

2012-06-02T19:01:24Z

Java Jingle

Planter cafÃ© *
C'est pas pour les gens fragiles
Y a qu'Ã se baisser
Mais c'est Ã§a qui est difficile

Fait chaud l'Ã©tÃ©
Le soleil pÃ¨se des tonnes
Y se fait porter
Et c'est trop pour un seul homme

Le patron dira ce qu'il voudra
Mon sommeil est Ã moi

__________________________________________

Some love coffee, some love tea
It'…

Grilled Cheese Savories (essay)

2012-05-29T17:43:12Z

Grilled Cheese Savories

Α ωησε μαν ωίλλ γρίλλ ής οων χεεσε σαvορίες αnδ βε ωαρύ οφ οθερ'ς λεαβινγς. — Peripos Bromicostomas

In any land where milk is milked from an animal for the purpose of human nutrition, some form of milk-based products have been developed in the culinary tradition. It is common to ascribe the creation of such preserved products as cheeses, yougurts, junkets and the like to the need for some means of prolonging the viability of a substance so prone to spoiling as raw milk. There is a certain amount of truth in this, but I suspect that it is by no means the entire story.

S…

The Fall of the Towers (essay)

2012-05-28T14:54:01Z

The Fall of the Towers
A short statement of the absurd.

A sultry wind dejectedly lifted the torn corner of a poster. Then let it fall again—repeatedly, in syncopated flapping. A gritty dust swirled and fell out to the ground: its convoluted eddies a transient mark. All was silent or nearly so. A lemon-hued sun balefully surfaced through milky air. It was hot.

Serendipity converged in alternate morsels of vapid wisdom. There was little to learn from all that emanated from the day. Silent stilettos rode incessant rallies in lawns and greens. The stately stateless columns of capitol bore silent witness to the fall. Smoke drifted in uneasy whisps of softly buffeted idleness.

A dog of matted and yellow hue, slunk past sundry piles of mortar snow. The jaded screech of some wild gate, rent the air with jagged pain. An upturned palm lay on dusty ground, its lines revealed for none to see.…