What should the collective noun be for a bevy, a flock, a fleet of links? This is a great question for the ages. I will have to ponder it. Suggestions welcome. Is there already a collective noun in use? (Or rather, is there already a sufficiently delightful collective noun in use?)

At any rate, I have a chatter of linkage to share with you today:

A blog that never fails to delight: Geoffrey Chaucer hath a blog, in which the poet of the Canterbury Tales broods on current and medieval cultural events, like the Twilight phenomenon and the Seth Rogan bromance outbreak:

Ich did reede of the book, the which is yclept, The Bromance of the Rose. It ys writen by Judd Da Poitou, and featureth a Dreamer (Seth Rojean) that enterteth the fayre garden of the lord of pleasure. Yn this garden, the Dreamer looketh depe ynto the fountain of Narcissus, and in yts cristal watirs he seeth a fayre and delicaat Rose. The Rose ys also a woman bycause this ys an allegorie and allegories are lyk that. He falleth in love. So the Dreamer loveth the Rose, but a numbir of evil allegorical figures appeare to nip the relaciounship in the bud. Daungier, Ful Schedule, Incompatible Musique Tastes, Office Gossip, and Uninformed Gender-Based Assumpciouns al rear their allegoricallye ugly heades. The Rose rejecteth the Dreamer and thus he ys in the dogge-house (yt is an allegorie so he actuallie ys in ther wyth the dogg).

An earlier post occurs after the throne is usurped by Henry Bolingbroke, who stages a hostile takeover that makes television into a state apparatus, and uses a website entitled "Television without Mercy" to proclaim the new world order:

GOSSIP GIRL: Spotted: at the Tower of London ys Gossip Girl herself, who hath been ycaught by the diligence of Henry Bolingbroke. She ys taken to Tyburn and hanged. Ye who heare the recap of thys episode, think on what a thyng it is to be a gossip and a teller of tales. Beholdeth the rewardes of telling the pryvytees of othirs upon a blogge! Be ware, lest in yower owene blogges ye bicom jangleres and telleres of tales! Thinketh on yt and in yower myndes rekeneth how deedes haue their endes. Thus endeth the episode.

SO YE THINKE YE KAN DAUNCEN?: Thys episode openeth wyth all of the contestants in front of special guest judge Henry Bolingbroke. Oon by oon, he asketh each if he or she kan daunce. Yf he or she kan nat, ther ys a hanging. Ye who heare the recap of thys epsiode, think on whether ye kan dauncen, and what ye wolde saye yn front of nat only an earthli judge, but eek the high Judge himself upon hys throne at the final daunce. KAN YE DAUNCE? KAN YE? ANSWIR WEL OR THOU SHALT DAUNCE IN FLAYMES. Thus endeth the episode.

It is all brilliant, really. And of course there is merchandise. I am very strongly considering buying a "Whan Adam delf and Eve span, who had to publish two books to get tenure?" tee-shirt.

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Postmodern piano! The new and delightfully named "fluid piano"

allows players to alter the tuning of notes either before or during a performance. Instead of a pianist having a fixed sound, 88 notes from 88 keys, Smith's piano has sliders allowing them access to the different scales that you get in, for example, Indian and Iranian music. For good measure, Smith has included a horizontal harp.

I am not a musician, by any means (when I was in high school, I tried the cello, but the sounds I made were more closely related to those that emerge from a veterinary hospital for farm animals than from a concert hall), but I have always wondered about how the relative stability of technology (instruments) and language (musical notation) over centuries has affected western music. So I await the fluid piano experiments with interest.

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It had been some time since I had last read Go Fug Yourself, and when I finally did return to it, it was calamitous: I had pulled a muscle in my back at the gym and every time I guffawed, I followed it with a wail of pain. Particularly delightful and thus pain-inducing was this series of posts on the subject of the wee Twilight heartthrobs and their struggles with desire and hygiene.

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An out of print Edward Gorey book? And could it be more delightfully named: The Recently Deflowered Girl: The Right Thing to Say on Every Dubious Occasion ?

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There is something of a scuffle afoot in Paris surrounding where Albert Camus's remains should rest. The oddity of this story is only enhanced by the fact that it added a new word to my vocabulary: Panthéonization.

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P.S. I did get the "Whan Adam delf and Eve span" t-shirt. But I also couldn't resist one that threatened others in an Anglo-Saxon idiom: "Don't make me unlock my word-hoard on you." Ah well....