read the ocean by the cupful

It's Viking time!

Viking night was a grand succès. Well, probably more of a petit succès, as it was attended on this inaugural occasion by myself, handynavi, my mother, my little brother, and his friend who happened to be over.

We built a bonfire in the backyard. We poured out the mead, although my brother decided that it was gross and my mother didn't finish hers either and I ended up accidentally knocking over her goblet in the dark. Danny's friend, on the other hand, seemed quite pleased to have a glass pressed upon him.

My audience elected to hear the Saga of Gunnlaug Serpent-Tongue, a young Icelandic poet who travels about Northern Europe winning spoils and glory with his great poems, which frankly seem to have lost quite a bit in translation, only to find when he finally returns to Iceland that his girl Helga has been married to his rival Hrafn. Unpleasantness ensues.

I think my audience enjoyed it more than they expected. They reacted in all the right places. The Icelandic sagas are hardly boring. The mead didn't hurt, either.
  • Current Mood: accomplished
That sounds fun! How does mead taste, anyway?

I love the texture in your revised LJ style! I think somehow I didn't notice the texture the first time I looked at it.
Mead tastes rather a lot like wine. Perhaps because both of them taste of alcohol. ;) It's sweet and tastes best chilled.
Ooh, Gunnlaug Ormstunge! We had to read that in school. Although I must say I suppose a larger part of my class would have enjoyed it had the setting been more like yours. Dusty classroom vs. mead? Thought so.
*nods* A proper setting is key. For instance, a beloved professor of mine arranges a reading of Dante every year in a gorgeous church, with plenty of wine and cheese and various sweets.
It should be obvious that the *only* proper way to read anything written by Vikings is while drinking Mead, and perfenly while allready drunk off it.

For that matter, this goes for just about any litrature of any sort. Just change the drink in question.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez: Tequila. I don't care that he's Columbian. Or drunk on Love. And I am not speaking metaphorically.

War and Peace: Much improved by Vodka.

One should be drunk while reaidng most american works as well, espcially Fitzgerald, both in the name of tradition as much as anything else.
And, of course, the only proper way to drink mead is from a drinking horn...can't put it down, so you have to keep drinking...or at least that's my excuse anyway :D
Right now I'm imagining the audiobook of War and Peace as improved with vodka.

"Day after his innerview with Count Ara-, Aract-, Aract-, Arakchev, aw, fuckit, Prince Andrey was at a soirée at Count Krotchchubby's. I mean, Kotchubby. Kotchubey. Gimme another bottle of that."
I love this journal. So much work seems to have gone in to it. I'd invite you back to MY journal but I just bought it, and haven't had the time to furnish the place. There's not even a single beer in the fridge.