Ink Pen by Phil Dunlap for January 12, 2011

Points for name-checking Ginnungagap.

Soils. Their gardeners have soils.

Ask me Norse questions, I’ll tell you Norse lies…

She doesn’t kill the people does she? I thought she only collected the soul. Hey a girls gotta work.

This city desert makes you feel so cold, It’s got so many people but it’s got no soul.

What, Aretha left town?

Their gardeners have accents. Their feet have soles.

SueB: “She seems pretty affable for a goddess of death…”

Why not? As Guildenstern said (quoting Aristotle), “Since we don’t know what death IS, we have no reason to be afraid of it. It might be…very nice.”

To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, ‘tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish’d.

Seasons don’t fear the Reaper, nor do the wind, the sun or the rain. The thought of being dead doesn’t bother me at all (although I’m in no hurry). It’s just that there are so many painful, prolonged, and/or undignified ways of getting there that has me worried.

Here you go (Wikipedia):

In Norse mythology, Ginnungagap (“yawning abyss”) was the vast, primordial void that existed prior to the creation of the manifest universe corresponding (both in etymology and in meaning) to the Greek notion of Chaos. An alternative etymology, linking the ginn- prefix in Ginnungagap with that found in terms with a sacral meaning, such as ginn-heilagr, ginn-regin (both referring to the gods) and ginn-runa (referring to the runes), interprets Ginnungagap as signifying a “magical (and creative) power-filled space”.

Eldo, I had an embarrassment of riches of Hamlet quotes to choose from, but there IS one there. I didn’t attribute it, because I didn’t think I needed to…

(The Guildenstern quote which precedes it, however, is NOT from Hamlet, but from Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, which is the next best thing.)

I can’t find the specific cite, but I think it was Roberto Calasso (in The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony?) who wrote an extended metaphor of Death being like a beautiful barmaid: At the end of a hard day/life, you want a place where you can sit down and unwind, and have an understanding ear listen to your troubles. She brings you drink (nepenthe, perhaps) to help you relax and forget, and she doesn’t mind if you flirt a bit, but don’t expect to go home with her.

Airboy: “This city desert makes you feel so cold, It’s got so many people but it’s got no soul.”

You’ve heard that Hela paid a visit to Gerry Rafferty last week, haven’t you?