#molder band

[wolverineblues]

Molder - Engrossed In Decay artwork by Lucas Korte / shoggothkinetics

[keepsdeathhiscourt]

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature (18+ Only)

Story Summary: It's been ten years since Lucie LeMarche last set foot in New Orleans. But when she's forced to return to bury the woman who raised her, she finds herself pulled into the midst of rising supernatural tensions in the city. Entangled in a web of intrigue and seeking answers, Lucie must learn to navigate a powder keg of warring factions, family secrets, and old wounds if she hopes to survive.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Some Language, Smoking, Death, Drinking

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

Chapter 1: City of the Dead

The streets are packed shoulder to shoulder as Lucie steps out of the cab and onto Decatur.

With the worst of hurricane season behind and the oppressive summer heat fading, the French Quarter is in full swing to prepare for Halloween. Beneath the wizened, watchful eyes of St. Louis Cathedral, Jackson Square is a veritable menagerie of excitement. Tourists pose for photos in front of the manicured gardens while artists, street performers, and fortune tellers seek to alleviate their heavy wallets by a buck or two. The honeyed notes of a corner brass band reverberate off the walls of the red, pink, and purple Spanish-style buildings, rising above the bustle to join the music coming off Royal and Bourbon, mixing into a cacophony of jazz that floats overhead like a cloud. 

Lucie hates the French Quarter. It hits her in full force as she squeezes between feverish bodies and dilapidated storefronts, the air thick with the miasma of sweat, seafood, and alcohol. The colors are too bright and the smiles too broad, both painted and polished for the out-of-town crowds. 

But Lucie knows the truth. The sugared confections, clinking plastic beads, and the curated romance of wrought-iron balconies and Spanish oaks, are a mask. Like a corpse sewn and rouged for the wake, they hide the telltale signs of decay. 

In a land below the water table, the earth spits out its dead in a final act of rejection. Above-ground burials are hot real estate, dotting the landscape like ant hills. Yet even in death, all is not equal. Towering over regular “ovens,” the grand mausoleums of Lafayette and St. Louis are monuments to the elite. 

New Orleans is more mausoleum than city. 

She weaves through a sea of people crossing the square. Her feet travel the well-worn flagstones of streets where victims of Yellow Fever were once left to molder in the heat until they could be dumped into the Mississippi. There had been too many to bury. 

It’s only one of many gruesome moments in the city’s long history. Stories of not only apparitions, but the atrocities that humans commit against each other were enough to make even the most skeptical of locals harbor a healthy fear of that which lurks in the dark. 

Even they don’t know what Lucie does, don’t know what monsters make their beds on the banks of the delta. 

A chill radiates through Lucie like long, bony fingers running down her spine. The cathedral’s shadow amplifies the ice in her veins as she slips into one of its quiet side alleys. 

The air is lighter here. She fills her lungs and finds her bearings against the faded white-washed facade. Only when she retrieves the box of cigarettes from her purse does she notice her trembling hands. 

It’s not surprising. Not when she passed through two state lines, including the entire width of Texas, in the last eighteen hours. That’s saying nothing of the half day spent on some roadside trying to find a tow company to haul her and her sedan out of the bayou. The ride here alone had cost her close to a week’s old wages. 

And Violette is dead. 

The sentence plays on an endless loop in her head. Like if she only tells it to herself enough times, it’ll make it seem real. But all she can muster is a dull acceptance and sharp edges of a distant pain. 

She’ll have to deal with it eventually, but for now, presses a cigarette to her lips and lights it. Her eyes close against the familiar harshness as the smoke slides down her throat.

“That’s a terrible habit, you know.” A voice says and Lucie jumps out of her skin. Smoke catches in her throat. She coughs and scowls at the intruder with stinging eyes. 

The first thing she notices is the tattoo on his chest. It’s eye-level, peeking out from beneath the collar of a light-colored Henley. The shirt is tucked into a pair of jeans so meticulously distressed they must have cost a fortune. She doesn’t need to look at his face to know this isn’t the average LSU frat boy. But she does anyway. 

What she finds is blue eyes beneath sandy locks of curly hair and a smug smile. She realizes he’s smirking. At her. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” she says, flicking the end of the cigarette. She watches the ash flutter to the ground before taking another drag, despite her burning chest. Irritation flickering, she adds, “So is sticking your nose in other people’s business.”

If she thought it would humble the strange man, she was wrong. His smile broadens in a way that can only be described as wolfish. 

“Then I suppose we’re both in need of a little self-improvement.” His accent is unmistakably English. That in and of itself is surprising. Usually, foreigners opt for more well-known travel hubs, the Gulf Coast or Floridian beaches. But there’s something in his tone, too. Like he’s laughing at a joke she’s not in on. 

She hums in a non-committal response, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave her alone. She’s never been particularly lucky. 

“Shouldn’t you be out with your friends, enjoying all that the French Quarter has to offer?”

She exhales, watching the smoke swirl and dance in the space between them. “Needed some air,” she shrugs. 

If he’s fishing for personal details, he has the wrong girl. And she certainly isn’t going to let on that she’s here alone. Despite her more melancholy tendencies, she doesn’t have any desire to end up at the bottom of the Mississippi. 

“Well, filling your lungs with poison seems a strange way to get it,” the man drawls. The amused sparkle in his eyes sets her teeth on edge and tests the limits of her already strained nerves. 

“Are you bad at picking up hints or just a dick?”

The man laughs.

“Easy, love,” he says, hands up. “Your point is clear enough. I’m just passing through. It’s a free city, after all.”

Lucie feels the tiniest flicker of regret. Exhaustion and stress and years away had eroded her manners. 

“I’m sorry,” she says reluctantly. “It’s been a long day and crowds make me edgy. Do you need directions?”

His lips flicker in the faintest of smiles. “Oh, I think I can find my way.”

And with that, he steps out of the alley and into the bright daylight, disappearing into the crowd beyond. 

Well, that was weird.

_____

She’s hit with a blast of cool air as Lucie steps off Chartres Street and into Rousseau’s. She blinks a few times, eyes adjusting from the abrupt transition from bright autumn sunlight to the dim ambiance of the bar. 

A handful of patrons drink at tables scattered across the room. Nobody raises their voice above a whisper. The soft sounds of conversation only seem to add to the sleepy atmosphere. It’s a far cry from the world outside its doors. 

The bell jingles as the door shuts behind Lucie and a blonde head pops up from behind the polished bar top. 

“Hi!” the breathless bartender says. “Take a seat wherever and I’ll be around to take your order in a sec.”

Lucie nods, but the woman has already returned to rummaging around behind the bar. 

Framed art and candles cover the walls. It’s an odd mismatch, but it works somehow, giving the place a quaint, hole-in-the-wall sort of charm, Lucie thinks as she slides into a seat at the bar. 

“Alright,” the bartender says after a few minutes pass. “What can I get for you?”

‘Camille ’- according to her nametag- peers at her from the other side. Dark blonde strands escape the confines of her loose ponytail, framing her angular cheekbones. She seems a little frazzled, but her lovely hazel eyes shine with curiosity, and her smile is friendly. And even though her nose wrinkles in disgust when Lucie orders the cheapest domestic on tap, she doesn’t say anything. 

She turns away to pour her beer, and it’s then that Lucie realizes that she’s not alone at the bar. 

She watches the man at the other end, with detached observation. She traces the sharp lines of his profile, from the meticulous coif of his dark hair to the strong jut of his jaw. The perfect tailoring of his suit accentuates the broad span of his shoulders and the curves of his biceps in a way that makes him seem more fit for the pages of an Armani catalog than an empty French Quarter haunt. 

What are they putting in the water here?

When his eyes, dark and arresting, lock on hers, she realizes that she’s been caught staring. His lips quirk at the edges and she turns her head to inspect the patterns in the wood grain, cheeks hot. 

It’s not until she has a beer in hand and some of the initial embarrassment has faded that she dares another glance. To her relief, he’s looking down into the amber contents of his glass. If she had to put a name to his expression, she’d call it pensive. 

“So, how long are you in town for?” Camille asks.

“Hmmm?” Lucie tears her gaze from the man in the suit to look at her. “Oh, just a week.”

Camille’s lips quirk as she rubs at the wood with a washcloth. “Is it your first time in the city? I’ve got a laundry list of recommendations if you need them.”

“Thanks, but they’d be wasted on me.” When the bartender gives her a curious look, she adds, “I grew up not too far from here.”

“I thought I smelled a local,” Camille says wryly. “Irish Channel.”

“Garden District,” Lucie replies with a soft smile. Her eyes wander about the room as she searches for a friendly topic. “Do you still have family nearby?”

It’s the wrong thing to say because the bartender’s smile slips and her eyes go blank. Then she plasters it back on, though more lackluster than before. “Just an uncle, but we don’t really talk.” 

Lucie gives a sympathetic hum. “Families are tough.”

The bartender snorts. “You can say that again. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Lucie.”

“Nice to meet you, Lucie. I’m Cami.”

“Likewise,” Lucie says, sipping at her beer. “You can’t be that much younger than me, but I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Cami says, tensing to a stack of empty glasses. “Catholic school until I left for college. I’ve only been back for a couple of months. I didn’t plan on being here this long.” 

Lucie swallows the foamy liquid, only wincing a little as it goes down. “This place has a way of dragging us back, kicking and screaming.”

Cami huffs in agreement, leaning against the bar top. “Good to know it’s a universal experience. What brought you back? -No wait, let me guess, a wedding?”

“Funeral, actually.”

She expects the stilted silence that follows, but it doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she asks gently. “Can I ask who it was?”

“My great-aunt.”

“I take it you were close?” She pauses at the stunned look on Lucie’s face. “Actually, you know what? It's none of my business. I’m going to shut up now.” Cami’s cheeks flush and she returns to wiping at the counter with renewed vigor. “Grad degree in psych. I need to learn to shut it off.”

“Impressive,” Lucie laughs. “Maybe you should lean into it. I bet a drink-slinging therapist could make some pretty amazing tips.”

“You know, I think you might be onto something there.” Cami smiles at her, cheeks still pink, but seemingly relieved she’d been let off the hook. “Maybe we can be business partners.”

She reaches under the counter to the distinct sound of clinking glass.

Then a bottle of bourbon lands on the bar, followed by two shot glasses. Cami pours both and slides one to Lucie. “Here, on the house.”

Lucie gives her a questioning look.

Cami shrugs. “Let’s say I know what it’s like to come back to say goodbye.”

The expression she gives her is so sincere that Lucie finds herself at a loss for words. 

She lifts the glass, locking eyes with the beautiful bartender. “To goodbyes.”

“To goodbyes,” Cami echoes, clinking their glasses together before knocking the whiskey back. 

Lucie does the same. The amber liquid burns her nostrils and sears down her throat, but settles like a warm blanket in her belly. It almost feels like home. 

When she steals a glance to her side, the man in the suit is gone. 

____

A light breeze tugs playfully at her hair, but her body is liquor-warm as she steps out of Rousseau’s. A reluctant smile forms on her lips. It’s late. She had stayed at the bar far longer than she’d meant to. But Cami was easy to talk to, and it had been a long time since she’d been in the company of women her own age. They’d swapped stories and numbers, sharing more than a few drinks. 

A couple of squandered hours and a long walk on a nice night seemed a small price to pay to find a kindred spirit here of all places. 

Nearly a mile of clubs and bars stand between her and her hotel. She knows the streets like the back of her hand. The walk should take her twenty minutes except she opts to detour down to St. Peter. It’ll add another ten minutes to the trip, but at least it’ll keep her a safe distance from the east side of Dauphine. 

The last thing she wants is a run-in at the Jardin Gris. So she commits to enjoying the extra long walk that allows her to bask in the peaceful balmy night and ignores her aching feet.

The streets are mostly empty, though a few individuals are out enjoying the evening. She sidesteps them as she passes, deftly avoiding uneven slabs in the sidewalk. 

The trees rustle as another gust picks up, carrying the rich scent of gumbo and soft brass.

When she was a girl, she used to wile away autumn evenings like this at Violette’s. She and the other girls would park themselves on the front stoop with glasses of lemonade and listen to the music. Inside, the older women chatted in the kitchen, peeling vegetables and taking turns stirring the pot. 

Now and then, one of them would step out of the hot kitchen to catch the cool air. Bastiana would chide them for their laziness and, more often than not, Violette would shoo them away to do some chore or another. But she always liked it when Agnes came to join them. She was quick with a smile or a gentle pat, and she always had the best stories.

Her chest constricts. It’s a past that’s no longer hers. No one lives in the old house in the Garden District and Agnes would be more likely to drive a knife through her heart than tell her story if they were to cross paths now.

She shakes off the pain like a chill. It’ll still be there in the morning, but for now, the night is too lovely to let old ghosts ruin it. The sun has long since dipped beyond buildings and the French Quarter comes to life. Neon signs and gas lamps glitter like stars from every corner, casting Chartres in an ethereal glow. 

She watches a group of girls stumble out of a bar, leaning on each other for support as they amble along in their heels like drunken gazelle. Their laughter jingles like bells as they pass her in a gaggle of hooked elbows and hairspray. 

Cool air wafts off the river, bathing the neighborhood in a crisp shroud. The street lamps glow and fairy lights twinkle from balconies overhead.

Bewitched, she follows rows of picturesque balconies block by block. Laughter and music trail behind her. 

The Ursuline Convent looms a few blocks ahead, but even it can’t dampen her spirits. For a moment, she wonders if she ever truly thought she could hate this place.

Then, she turns the corner and finds Jane-Anne Deveraux dead on the pavement.

[fetznerdeathrecords]

Molder - Catastrophic Reconfiguration

Death/Thrash Metal from Joliet, Illinois, U.S.

After their 2022 album Engrossed in Decay, the guys in the US death thrash metal band Molder are taking their brutality and forcefulness to the next level. On Catastrophic Reconfiguration, this IL death metal outfit coughs up spores from mycetozoic muck, Molder exhume ten tracks from very recent, very shallow burials in a graveyard that’s been filled to the brim for thirty years. It’s not slick but slicked, damn near dripping with plasmodial ooze that obliviously recycles its carbon with a charmingly contented stupidity.

1. Catastrophic Reconfiguration 2. Pulped 3. Overdue Burial 4. Frothing 5. Masked in Mold 6. Bursted Innards 7. Rapidly Exsanguinated 8. Corpse Copulation 9. Brain Boil 10. Nothing Left to Ooze

Release date: November 8th, 2024 via LP/CD by @prostheticrecords Cassette by @headsplitrecords

@molder_official

[skybrushus]

Note. To the best of my knowledge this is not based on  any existing Fallout Equestria storyline, nor does it follow any  particular plot in Fallout 4. This is just the narrative that popped  into my head as I worked on this piece.

   Moondancer cursed under her breath as she tossed aside water-stained, torn, burnt, and bullet riddled book. Once it  probably had been a treasure trove of knowledge, but now it was beyond rescue. Still her expedition had not been a total waste of time. She had found a dictionary in very usable condition. An introductory volume to organic chemistry, and a manual on cabinetry that looked very instructive.

   This was her 3rd trip to this locale. She was unsure how these and many, many more books had ended up hidden in the attic of this abandoned warehouse. What had been the local library had long been reduced to charred, demolished carcass over a century ago. All she knew is that these books were helping nopony moldering away in this ruin. Books were only valuable when their information could be accessed and used. Like in the Ponyville Library; in fact the Mayor was paying top caps for the books 

    Unfortunately this building was within the territory of a band of Raiders. So every journey here was a dangerous infiltration operation. It was why she could only take a handful books each trip. Stealth, speed, mobility were critical to success.

    In fact as she slipped the last book into a former canvas shopping bag she heard the sound of voices and hoofsteps on the floors below her. Even though she couldn't make out their exact words the amount of cursing and swearing and tone of voice told her they were Raiders. Carefully she withdrew her PDW from its holster and slowly extended its shoulder stock.

    Cautiously the mare crawled out from under the collapsed water tank. This was tedious and troublesome but the tank also hid the access ladder that led up to the attic. Moondancer was positive it was this fact had hidden this cache of books from the violent, uncaring outside world.  

    The mare stopped at the end of hallway and listened to the sounds of the recent arrivals. They didn't appear to be aware of her presence at the moment, but that could change in an instant. From the numerous voices Moondancer knew that direct confrontation would be suicidal. Instead stealth and her knowledge of local terrain was going to be more important. Slowly she retreated back beneath the water tank and waited.

    FYI. The weapon in her hand is a Polish PM-63 Rak PDW from the Cold War. Our friend Ian over at Forgotten Weapons has done a couple of videos on it. Link, Link  

[optiwashere]

oooh could you recommend me some death metal or black metal, same anon here who recommended you the bands earlier

Hmm. For that kinda extreme music, it really depends on whether I'm suggesting "first bands" or just more bands. Here's some of my favorite albums from the past couple of years, at least!

Black metal

Stormkeep - Tales of Othertime

Spectral Wound - A Diabolic Thirst

Liturgy - Origin of the Alimonies

Dawn Ray'd - To Know the Light

Moonlight Sorcery - Horned Lord of the Thorned Castle

Death metal

Triumvir Foul - Onslaught to Seraphim

Molder - Engrossed in Decay

Horrendous - Ontological Mysterium

Xoth - Exogalactic (hybrid of a lot of things)

Sulphur Aeon - Seven Crowns and Seven Seals (also kind of a hybrid band, but eh whatever)

[cavedwellermusic]

Late To The Party: Molder - Engrossed In Decay (2022)

A filthy, riff and groove laden offering of OSDM/thrash death

THE RIFFS... THE RIFFS... DEAR GOD WON'T SOMEONE THINK OF THE RIFFS?! A question that no longer needs to be asked, because Molder have thought of them, and they've brought enough for the whole class to enjoy. The band perfectly blend filthy OSDM with the groove and energy of thrash death and the result is an album that's not be missed. From unrelenting headbangable riffage and thick bouncing bass to wild vocals that sound like Chris Reifert meets Martin van Drunen, its all there and it all kills.

[gbhbl]

Album Review: Molder - Catastrophic Reconfiguration (Prosthetic Records)

This is an absolute masterclass in death metal, especially when you note just how well balanced the approach to combining old school ferocity with modern intensity is.

Death metal band, Molder are set to reanimate the dead with their forthcoming third album, ‘Catastrophic Reconfiguration’, due for release via Prosthetic Records on November 8th, 2024. Photo Credit: Alex Ford Taking heavy inspiration from the old-school side of death metal, while sprinkling in some thrash and speed. Molder keeps this really simple, and in doing so, deliver a really effective…

[metalshockfinland]

MOLDER Share New Single 'Frothing' from Upcoming Album

Photographer credit: Stephanie Pejskar Joliet, IL death metal quartet MOLDER has shared a new song, titled Frothing, from their upcoming third album, Catastrophic Reconfiguration, due out on Prosthetic Records on November 8. Frothing boasts a guest vocal feature from long-running Chicago, IL death metal band Cianide’s Scott Carroll, making MOLDER‘s latest single a distinctly Illinois…

[dustedmagazine]

Wharflurch — Shittier/Slimier (Gurgling Gore)

Writer and theorist Maggie Nelson has indexed the mysteries of affinity and attraction among subjectivities in this way: “Our diagnosis is similar, but our perversities are not compatible.” This reviewer suspects those terms are reversed with respect to his relations with the music of Wharflurch: our perversities are compatible, but our diagnoses are different. The array of unpleasant textures and weirdo sonic flourishes characterizing the band’s viscid death metal are appealing, but the causal factors contributing to the music’s creation are likely anathema. One suspects that the humidity, heat and socio-cultural rot that inform existence in Gainesville, FL, have a good deal to do with Wharflurch’s moldering, malodorous variety of doomy death metal. The tunes are great, but living in Florida? Nope, can’t do it.

So, for any number of reasons, Shittier/Slimier seems an apt title for this new release from Wharflurch. The LP collects a number of tunes recorded as demos in 2022, cobbled together and sequenced by chief band member Myk Colby. Chatter on the web indicates that the other players who participated in the creation of Psychedelic Realms ov Hell (2021), a strong and satisfying slab of death metal grotesquerie, have left the band. Colby seems to have released Shittier/Slimier as a sort of placeholder, keeping Wharflurch’s name and gooey, gristly sound alive (is that the right word?) as he reconstitutes a body around the music.

Shittier/Slimier is engaging and entertaining, even when some of its ideas get a bit oblique in their orbital patterns. Psychedelics are even more assertively present on this record than they have been on previous Wharflurch releases. Tracks like “Enochian Curse” and “Headless God” undulate with the velocity and vibrations of hallucinogens’ peak rush. Some of us don’t roam those psychic territories anymore—and some of us preferred the distinct chemical fry of synthetics when we did. But the vibe of Shittier/Slimier is decidedly fungal, and that works very well. Hot. Humid. Rotten. Shrooms thrive in those conditions. The pace of decomposition also increases. Yuck.

The music’s atmosphere is overripe, pungent, fluids bubbling up through discorporating membranes. Wharflurch tunes into that awfully sweet spot, at which the horror of death and decay inverts, opening spaces in which annihilation becomes pleasurable. Like Lautréamont, or the best of Stuart Gordon’s images, when Wharflurch is at its most effectively demented, the band makes death metal that is repugnant and full of relish.

Jonathan Shaw

[myriad-ofmuses]

She was very glad that she'd decided to change up her streaming schedule to give herself a few extra off-line days that week, with the nausea that had been plaguing her, she was in no mood to pretend she wasn't so low-energy and antisocial.

She was a little grouchy that she'd been asked to take off work so early, but it had been her turn to field the emergency calls, and the true emergencies couldn't be delayed to give her time to rush off to the bathroom every hour, or two.

She'd managed to convince the other girls that she was just suffering from a flu, but that had only made them more inclined to get her sent home to recover, and to prevent the supposed illness from spreading.

If she actually were just sick, she'd appreciate the concern for what it was, but this wasn't something that was catching. At least, not from her, though it was a condition that could be fairly easily shared.

After changing out of her work clothes and taking a quick shower, she raided the fridge and cabinets for some of the comfort snacks that Cal had so thoughtfully supplied her with, deciding on salty over sweet, and getting one of her more casual games set up to rot in front of.

It would still be several hours before Cal got off patrol - normally, she'd only have to hang around for an hour or so before they met up and went home together, if it wasn't one of his cooking class days, but since she was home halfway through her shift, she had a lot of time to kill, alone.

It would have been the perfect time to do some research and make calls concerning her condition - if she hadn't already done so. Her appointment window was already set up, she just had to wait for it.

And waiting.. was already proving to be quite the challenge.

She sighed and flopped lazily on the couch, propped back on a cushion and munching on chips, one hand idly directing her little avatar's actions via the controller.

She was stuck feeling like moldering trash for another month or so. She could have undergone the procedure the same day she'd made the call, but all her research had told her that it was equally intrusive no matter how long she waited, and the nurse she'd spoken to said the starling was more likely to survive if she waited until the halfway point to extract and preserve.

She could do that. She wanted to give them the best possible chance, and if it meant dealing with some ickiness, and fatigue for a little while, then she'd manage.

A fabric ear twitched when the band on her wrist buzzed, pressing to pause the game, and glance at the message flashing on the screen, with a fond smile.

Besides, it did have its perks. Both her partners were more attentive, checking in on her despite busy schedules, and she couldn't deny that she was enjoying the extra attention, even if it was mainly centered around the little temporary light in her chest.

She brushed off some powdery chip crumbs and sank more into the pillow behind her, stifling a fatigued yawn and texting out a response to Lucy's "vibe check", and also send a message to give Cal's a head's up that she'd been sent home early, eyes beginning to close once both had been sent off.

She'd intended to make some progress in her comfort game, buuuut.. maybe a cat-nap was the more appropriate use of her free time.

She curled up on the pillow and was soon dozing peacefully, ear occasionally flittering from the tinny sounds of the pause menu from her halted game.

[chanoyu-to-wa]

The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part I:  Poem 16.

〽 Hanaire no ore-kugi utsu ha ji-shiki yori           san-shaku san-sun go-bu-yo mo ari

     [花入の折釘打つは地敷居より、           三尺三寸五分餘も有り].

    “With respect to the place where the hook for the hanaire is nailed, it should be [a little] over 3-shaku 3-sun 5-bu above the ji-shiki.”

    An ore-kugi [折釘]¹ is a metal hook, originally made by bending a straight headless iron nail into an L shape (with the point at the tip of the long axis).  Since the Edo period, a more elaborate retractable hook² came into use; but during Jōō’s and Rikyū’s lifetimes this hook was simply nailed into the wooden stud that was carefully centered within the back wall of the toko for precisely this purpose.

    Ji-shiki seems to be a spoken contraction of ji-shikii [地敷居].  The shikii [敷居] are the tracks that extend between the pillars into which the fusuma and shōji are inserted.  The ji-shikii [地敷居], then, refers to the lower track.  This word is used (rather than saying something like the surface of the mats) because the upper surface of the ji-shikii remains constant, while the tatami mats (which are essentially the same height as the ji-shikii when newly installed) tend to compact over time (so the height of their surface falls).  The word has also been used to refer to the base board at the bottom of a sode-kabe³.  Irrespective of which, the ji-shikii, then, is the more constant representative of the baseline from which the height of the hook for the hanaire could be fixed than the surface of the mats that cover the room.

    Some scholars argue that this poem is referring to the height of the hook above the mat that covers the floor of the tokonoma (while most, it is important to note, simply avoid the question entirely), but there was no ji-shikii associated with the toko during Jōō’s and Rikyū’s lifetime.  The 5-bu-wide strips of wood that can be seen on the three sides of the toko where the mat abuts plastered walls (the side that opens into the room is fronted by the toko-kamachi [床框]), like the similar band of wood that skirts the sides of the room itself, are not ji-shikii.  These boards are called haba-ki [幅木]; they are small boards that are inserted between the mats and the walls to help keep the mats from coming into contact with the mud-plaster (since, if they do so, the mats can easily begin to molder, especially during the damp seasons of the year).  These boards can never be interpreted as ji-shikii.

    Furthermore, the height of the hook was based on the proper height for the flowers relative to the guests’ eyes when inspecting the toko.  The guests sit 3-shaku away from the chabana, lower their hands to the mat, and from that attitude lift their face toward the flower arrangement.  If the height of the hook was based on the floor of the toko, then the height would differ depending on the height of the floor -- which ranges from being equal to the mats (this is called a fumi-komi toko [踏み込み床]), to one where the floor is approximately 2-sun higher than the mats that cover the room (this is most commonly seen variety of the kamachi-toko [框床] in sukiya, but it is hardly universal), and between 4- and 5-sun (or even higher) in some of the daimyō-inspired rooms; yet, regardless of the height of the floor of the toko, the guests always inspect it from the same seat on the mat in front of it (and there is a natural limit on how far the neck will allow the person to lift their face upward when the person is seated in the proper way).  The height of the hook determines the height of the flowers, and the purpose of all of this is so that the flowers will be displayed above eye-level, in accordance with Rikyū’s well-known teaching⁴.

    3-shaku 3-sun 5-bu is a hair over 101.5 cm.

    The Matsu-ya manuscript, Rikyū‘s 1580 manuscript, and the collection that was discovered by Katagiri Sadamasa, all feature a version of this poem that differs from the Edo period versions by lowering the height of the hook to various extents:

〽 hanaire no orekugi ha mata ji-shiki yori san-shaku san-sun ni-sun go-bu ni mo

[花入の折釘はまた地敷より 三尺三寸二寸五分にも].

    “With respect to the orekugi for the hanaire, again, from the ji-shiki, three-shaku three-sun, or else [three-shaku] two-sun five-bu.”

    The height was clearly not fixed so exactly in the beginning⁵.  3-shaku 3-sun is essentially 100 cm; 3-shaku 2-sun 5-bu is approximately 98.5 cm.

    However, in one of his densho, Rikyū states that the height should be 3-shaku 7-sun 5-bu (113.6 cm)⁶, indicating that a certain amount of flexibility in the height of the hook was always appropriate -- so that the host could accommodate the specifics of his particular hanaire⁷.

    Line 7 in the first scroll of the Chanoyu san-byak’ka jō [茶湯三百箇條]⁸ reads:  hanaire kake-sōrō-kugi ōgata sunpō aru-hanaire ni yoru-beshi [花入懸候釘大形寸法有花入によるへし], which means “the hook from which a hanaire can be suspended should be ample, based on the measurements of the hanaire,” and this specific reliance on the size of the hanaire (and the location of the kan, or other means by which it is suspended from the hook) is probably the reason for the flexibility voiced in the original version of the poem.

    Some scholars suggest that the 101.5 cm height (which is what is stated in the more modern version of the poem) refers to the height of the ore-kugi in a kyōma room (such as the various small rooms that were popular in the period)⁹; while the earlier version of this poem is referring to its height in an inakama room¹⁰ of the sort that was preferred for chanoyu at the time when these poems were composed.  This theory seems reasonable.

_________________________

◎ I have added an annotated translation of the Rikyū shichi-soku [利休七則] (Rikyū’s Seven Rules) to the end of this post, as an appendix.

¹Today ori-kugi [折��釘] seems to be the more widely accepted pronunciation.  However, ore-kugi [折釘 = 折れ釘] was clearly preferred in Jōō’s and Rikyū’s day.

²Called a mu-sō-kugi [無雙釘, 無双釘], the purpose of this hook was to remove any possible danger (that the hook would damage the kakemono) by allowing the hook to be slid back into the wall when not needed.

    The location of the hana-kugi marks the focal point of the toko, so when a scroll is being custom-made for the host, the center of the hon-shi [本紙] should be at the place where the hook has been nailed into the wall.  Because of this, chajin of old were fearful that a gust of wind might blow the scroll (which is suspended so that it is several bu away from the wall) forcefully against the hook, so that it might be punctured through.  Thus this more elaborate form of hook was created to help avoid this kind of situation.  (In chanoyu, people should be as concerned about the possibility that something could pose a danger, as much as for something that is actually dangerous.)

³While the “sode-kabe” that immediately comes to mind is the one that encloses the kamae at the head of the daime, another type of sode-kabe is found as the wall that separates the toko from the utensil mat in a large room in which the two are oriented side-by-side (as seen below).

    The room shown is Kobori Masakazu’s Bōsen no seki [忘筌席], in the Kohō-an [孤篷庵] sub-temple of the Daitoku-ji in Kyōto.  However, while some scholars use this ji-shikii to justify the conclusion that this poem is describing the height of the hana-kugi as being based on the floor of the toko, it is important to note that this kind of room did not exist until the middle of the first century of the Edo period.

    The aesthetic governing this kind of room, which represents a deliberate “wabification” of the shoin setting, is referred to as kirei-sabi [綺麗寂び] -- elegant rusticity (or refined mellowness).  This concept was closely identified with Kobori Enshū,-- just as wabi [侘び] (meaning impoverished, desolate) was with Sen no Sōtan.

⁴Hana ha no no hana no yō ni [花ハ野ノ花ノヤウニ], which means “the flowers should be [displayed] as they are in the field.”  Which means, in essence, that flowers which bloom low to the ground should be arranged in an oki-hanaire, while flowers that were cut from trees should be arranged in a hanaire that is suspended from the hook that is nailed into the back wall of the toko (and so are above eye-level when the toko is inspected by the guests).

    In practice, Rikyū appears to have taken the actual height of the flower when he cut it as his guide (so even though the camellia can grow into a medium-sized tree, the one in his garden was a low shrub, thus he could arrange its flowers in a hanaire that was resting on the floor of his toko).

    Note that during the Edo period, various arguments were made in an effort to circumvent this rule -- by saying, for example, that grassy flowers can grow up the side of an embankment (and so would first be perceived as being above eye-level), while trees can also grow in a glen (so that, when approached from above, the flowers would be below eye-level).  But Rikyū’s interpretation seems to have been that it refers to the height at which the flower was actually cut -- so that, in the toko, it would appear to the eye just as it did when it was taken from nature.

    For the reader’s reference, I have included a complete translation of the text known as Rikyū’s Seven Rules (from which the aphorism hana ha no no hana no yō ni [花ハ野ノ花ノヤウニ] was taken) as an appendix to this post.

⁵These absolute rules were a product of the Edo period, when the different schools began to fix the (usually secret) details in this way -- at least in part in an effort to ferret out the uninitiated.

⁶This latter measurement was intended to represent a hook nailed so as to accommodate the added height of the hole carved for the hook in the back side of a take ichi-jū-giri [竹一重切] -- while keeping the flowers at the same height as previously*.

    Rikyū’s less-well-known ichi-jū-giri known as Odawara [小田原] (he made it quickly, during an intermission in Hideyoshi’s all-night flower arranging competition during the siege of Odawara -- to replace the more famous Onjōji [圓城寺] ichi-jū-giri, when the latter began to leak).

    On that occasion, the ichi-jū-giri was hung on the back wall of the toko (for use when arranging flowers that were best viewed above eye-level); the oki-tsutsu [置き筒] called Shaku-hachi [尺八] was placed on a board on the floor of the toko, for arrangements using flowers that were to be viewed below eye-level; and the ni-jū-giri [二重切] Yo-naga [よなか = 夜長] was hung on the pillar at the side of the toko -- to hold a continually replenished supply of fresh flowers (flowers from trees in the upper level, and grassy flowers in the lower), from which the contestants would make their selections. ___________ *When arranged in an ordinary ceramic kake-hanaire [掛け花入], the lower edge of its mouth (against which the stems of the flowers would rest) was usually at, or slightly below, the height of the hook.

⁷During Jōō’s and Rikyū’s period, most chajin typically owned only two hanaire -- one that was suitable for being displayed on the floor of the toko, while the other was intended to be hung up on the hook that was nailed into the back wall of the toko.  These were used all year round, when each was appropriate to the flowers available to the host.

     The photo shows Uesugi Kenshin’s [上杉謙信; 1530 ~ 1578] collection of tea utensils (except for the kama, mizusashi, koboshi, and futaoki*), all of which fit into the Chinese carrying box that is included in this photo.  Kenshin was one of Jōō’s principal disciples, and an important daimyō and renowned military commander in his own right.

    The objects shown in the photo are, from left to right, his small (Seto) chawan†, an ivory chashaku, a chasen, his Seto kake-hanaire, a large kobiki-chawan, a karamono yu-teki temmoku [唐物油滴天目], (a copy of) Shukō’s kiri-ai-guchi shin-nakatsugi [切合口眞中次]‡, a bronze oki-hanaire, a (Japanese-made) maki-e temmoku-dai, and the shifuku for the nakatsugi.

    Kenshin’s modest collection was typical of serious chajin of his day.  Changing the utensils for each gathering, based on selections taken from a large collection of things, was a practice that began during the Edo period -- when the focus of chanoyu (even in the wabi small room setting) had shifted away from the tea, toward the utensils**. ___________ *It is said that his mizusashi was a mage-mono mizusashi [曲げ物水指], and his koboshi was a mentsū [面桶], while Kenshin’s futaoki was bamboo, all in Jōō’s manner (Kenshin was just 25 or 26 years of age when Jōō died, so the master’s influence on his approach to chanoyu was great).  These things were replaced every time he made tea so they were always fresh and pure.

    The Uesugi family, meanwhile, previously owned a hiragumo-kama [平蜘蛛釜], shown above, which was said to have been in the family since the time of Kenshin.  This was probably the kama that he used when serving tea.

    This kind of kama rests on the ro-dan [爐壇], on top of a pair of small blocks of wood (that are placed on the right and left -- they assist with ventilating the interior of the ro while also lifting the mouth of the kama so it is 7-bu above the ro-buchi [爐緣]), again in conformity with Jōō‘s way of doing things.

†Chajin of the time generally used a pair of chawan, in addition to a temmoku (though this was reserved for the service of tea to noble guests only).  At that time, the convention was to serve every guest an individual portion of koicha (the practice of passing around a single bowl of koicha -- called sui-cha [吸い茶] -- does not seem to have appeared until after Jōō’s death), as well as up to two bowls of usucha.  Using two chawan helped to facilitate this kind of service.

    The larger chawan -- which, in the wabi setting, was always used to serve the shōkyaku (and so known as the omo-chawan [主茶碗]) -- was around 4-sun 9-bu in diameter (according to Jōō’s preferred measurements); and the smaller one (which was called the kae-chawan [替茶碗]) measured ~4-sun in diameter.

‡These copies were highly treasured, even though new, because the kiri-ai-guchi (which was extremely difficult to make, since the lid was separated from the body only after the piece had been lacquered fully) meant that the tea would be protected from the air -- this was the best technology of the day available for this purpose.

    Rikyū likewise treasured the copy of Shukō’s shin-nakatsugi, shown above, which Hideyoshi’s personal lacquer artist Tenka-ichi Seiami [天下一盛阿彌] had made for him.

**Based, perhaps, on the precedent of Rikyū’s several kai-ki [會記] (which were widely disseminated, after they were published, during the first century of the Edo period).

    However, what apparently was not understood was that the kai-ki describe the arrangements for chakai that Rikyū hosted on Hideyoshi’s behalf; and the selection of utensils used during each of the gatherings was deliberately calculated to produce a specific effect (for example, when the tori-awase included pieces that had belonged to Nobunaga, the purpose was to reinforce the legitimacy of Hideyoshi’s rule in the eyes of that particular group of guests, by showing that he was the legitimate successor to Nobunaga -- since his low birth precluded him from being granted titles such as shōgun).

⁸The Chanoyu san-byak’ka jō [茶湯三百箇條] was a more advanced collection of teachings that Jōō disseminated among his special students.  While the earliest surviving version is the one written out in Uesugi Kenshin’s hand (he returned to chanoyu during the last decade of his life, when he was in retirement; and in addition to copying out the original text, he also appended a brief commentary to each of the lines), reflecting the text as he received it from Jōō.  Jōō himself always asserted that this text ultimately derived from Shukō, and so was a foundational text for the practice of wabi no chanoyu.  Kenshin’s manuscript also contains additional comments and clarifications provided by Sen no Dōan [千道安; 1546 ~ 1607], Rikyū’s only son, and Dōan’s disciple Kuwayama Sōsen [桑山宗仙; 1560 ~ 1632].

⁹A kyōma [京間] is a room spread with “capital sized” mats (tatami measuring 6-shaku 3-sun by 3-shaku 1-sun 5-bu; the space between the heri is 2-shaku 9-sun 5-bu wide).  While 4.5-mat rooms of this size had been favored by the nobility (Yoshimasa’s Dōjin-sai shoin [同仁齋書院], the prototypical 4.5-mat room was covered with kyōma tatami), the townsmen of Jōō’s day seem to have preferred rooms of a somewhat smaller size -- spread with inakama tatami (see the next footnote).

    While the kyōma tatami is the only kind of mat that can be used in the small room (regardless of the number of mats, or the ways in which they are cut), the small room (as the 2-mat daime room) only made its first appearance in the spring or early summer of 1555, which was several decades after Jōō wrote these poems.

¹⁰An inakama [田舎間] is a room whose floor is covered with “village sized” mats (tatami that measured 5-shaku 9-sun by 2-shaku 9-sun 5-bu; with a space of 2-shaku 7-sun 5-bu wide being found between the heri).

    At the time when Jōō composed these poems (during his middle period), the inakama 4.5-mat room was the preferred room for chanoyu among the machi-shū.  Thus, a height of 3-shaku 3-sun or 3-shaku 2-sun 5-bu, was better in keeping with this reduced setting*. ___________ *Jōō was also of smaller than average stature, so lowering the hook may have been intended to accommodate his inability to raise his head higher when seated in front of the toko.

    Since the 4.5-mat room was considered the appropriate living space for one person, some have speculated that his preference for the inakama may have been due to his small size.

    Rikyū, in contrast, always used rooms covered with kyōma tatami (including his 4.5-mat rooms).

——————————————–———-————————————————

❖ Appendix:  Rikyū shichi-soku [利休七則].

〽 Hana ha no no hana no yō ni [花ハ野ノ花ノヤウニ]:  concerning the flowers, they should be like natural flowers.

    According to Nishibori Ichizō [西堀一三, 1903~1970], this line refers primarily to the orientation of the flowers in the tokonoma – that is to say, flowers that we see in nature at or above eye level should be arranged in a kake-hanaire [掛花入] suspended on the back wall (or on the bokuseki-mado) of the toko, while those that occur naturally below eye level should be arranged in an oki-hanaire [置花入] placed on an usuita on the floor of the toko¹¹.  

    But while, as Furuta Sōshitsu pointed out, ground-dwelling plants can be found growing on the sides of embankments, and as we walk on higher ground trees growing at a lower altitude can be seen blooming below us, so we should not simplify things by saying that tree-flowers should be hung and herbaceous flowers should be arranged on the floor of the toko, when Rikyū arranged his chabana, he oriented the flowers at the height at which he had cut them¹².  Perhaps it would be better to follow Rikyū‘s lead here, rather than Oribe’s.

〽 Sumi ha yu no waku yō ni [炭ハ湯ノ沸クヤウニ]:  with respect to the charcoal, it should be [arranged] so that it boils the hot water.

    As it is written in the Hundred Poems, an arrangement of charcoal that heats the kama efficiently and keeps it boiling to the end of the service of tea is  what is meant by the idea of sumi for the tearoom.  This -- that it keep the hot water boiling -- and nothing more.

〽 Natsu ha suzushiku [夏ハ涼シク]:  in summer, coolness.

    This does not mean splashing water all over the place, dumping a tray of ice-cubes in the tsukubai, or using crystal vessels as the mizusashi and chawan to imitate ice (or any of the other tricks that people have come up with in recent years).

    It does mean doing things like:

◦ soaking the sudare in water so that the air blowing through them is cooled;

◦ doing things like growing morning-glory vines on cords suspended from the eves on the sunny side of the tea room (and making sure that they are well watered during the hottest part of the day¹³);

◦ refraining from putting the fire into the furo¹⁴ until just before the guests are expected to arrive (so the air in the room will not become too warm)¹⁵;

◦ and doing whatever else the host can think of to keep the guests from noticing the heat.

    And if the ro has to be used during the summer months, the host should try his best to keep the fire out of sight -- either by using an uba-guchi kama [姥口釜] (a kama with a sunken mouth, which is placed deep in the ro, so that the fire will seem farther away); or a ha-gama [羽釜], a kama with a projecting flange (a photo of this kind of kama is included under footnote 7, above) that rests on top of two small blocks of wood that are placed on the ro-dan (today many people call this a suki-gi kama [透木釜] -- suki-gi [透木] being the names for the two little blocks of wood), since the flange not only hides the fire, but also tends to keep the heat in the ro, so it has less impact on the ambient temperature than an ordinary ro-gama.

    The best way to really understand this line is to study the old kaiki and see what the masters did to effect a feeling of coolness even during the hottest time of the year.

〽 Fuyu wo atataka ni [冬ヲ暖カニ]:  it should be warm in winter.

    During the season of the ro, the fire should be laid at dawn (even when the gathering will not begin for several hours -- the idea being to warm the room before the guests arrive).  Then, when the guests do enter, the fire will be seen to have burned down to the point where the kama is no longer boiling audibly (but the water will still be quite hot, and this stored heat helps to keep the room warm¹⁶).

    During the shoza the windows should be closed with shōji to keep the lingering heat in the room until the kama returns to a boil again.  Then, during the nakadachi, the covers over the shitaji-mado should be removed, so that the room will not overheat¹⁷.

    Also the chawan should be deep, so the tea will not cool; and the host should not open the mizusashi (to cool the kama) until after koicha has been served.

    These things not only keep the room warm, but they will help the guests feel warm just by their noticing them.

    And if the furo has to be used in winter, a large iron furo is preferred; and the host should try, as far as possible, to follow the procedures usual to the ro (and, importantly, not open the mizusashi or add cold water to the kama until after the koicha has been served, and the cha-no-ato [茶の跡] drunk by the host).

〽 Kokugen ha hayame ni [刻限ハ早メニ]:  to arrive earlier than the appointed time.

    It is better for the guests to arrive early and then take a short walk around the neighborhood if the gate is not yet open to receive them, rather than come late and possibly ruin the host’s plans¹⁸.  As Rikyū said, a masterful host is one who carries things through to the end without wasting charcoal, so that the boiling of the kama begins to decline (but not fail) as the guests are leaving the room at the end of the go-za.  If they are late, they may throw off the timing of even the most experienced host.

    On the other hand, if the guests arrive before the host is ready to receive them, they should not impose on him, make any demands, or do anything that will distract him from his preparations.  They should sit quietly, and refrain from making their presence known until the time that was appointed for the gathering to begin.  They should wait patiently and serenely, and respond to the host’s invitation to enter the room as if they had only just walked in off of the street moments before, without having waited at all.

    These are the deeper meanings of this admonition, because it is this attitude that will help to insure the success of the gathering.

〽 Furazu-domo ame no yō-i [降ラズトモ雨ノ用意]:  even when it is not falling, one should think about rain.

    Preparing to receive ones guests should be done fully, without stinting or cutting corners.  As Rikyū said time and time again, it is never wrong to be careful.  Preparing for rain when it shows no sign of raining is an example of what is meant by “being careful.”

〽 Ai-kyaku ni kokoro wo tsuke yo [相客ニ心ヲツケヨ]:  be considerate to ones fellow guests.]

    Even though the gathering is planned for and around the shōkyaku, and even though he is effectively the guest of honor (with the understanding that the other guests are there just to keep him from becoming lonely; and assist him if that becomes necessary) neither he, nor anyone else, should ever forget that they are all guests equally.

    At this gathering there is the host and there are the guests; at this gathering there are neither host nor guest:

sei-zan saku shu mei-getsu ko hin gu-en soku-ō ryō-mu sosshin

[青山作主明月來賓 愚緣卽應了無疎親]¹⁹.

    “The pine-covered mountain acts as host, the bright moon comes as guest – because this is the result of karma, there is no thought of holding fast or letting go [of attraction or rejection]….”

_________________________

¹¹What it does not say (again, according to Nishibori Sensei – who was the great scholar of the co-evolution of chabana and ikebana, as well as on the student-teacher relationship between the first Ike-no-bō Sōkō and Sen no Rikyū) is that only wild flowers – meaning flowers collected in the wilds (as opposed to even the same species that has been cultivated in the garden) – may be used in the chaseki.  In the days of Jōō and Rikyū most (if not all) of the flowers used in the tearoom were in fact grown in the chajin’s garden (or the garden of a friend), even if they were technically wild flowers (both Sakai and Hakata were walled city-states during this period, with no wild-lands incorporated into the very limited space available for residences inside, and sometimes the inhabitants had only limited access to the land outside the walls:  so, transporting flowers from outside the walls would have been difficult (or, depending on the political situation of the day, potentially even dangerous), and likely result in a handful of wilting or dead weeds – and, as we have read in the poem discussed in this post, the practice of sending flowers from the mountains was actually discouraged by Jōō and Rikyū).

    Wild camellias, in particular, come in red (the single-flowering yabu-tsubaki [藪椿]).  White, and the even more highly-prized usu-iro [薄色], or pale pink, cultivars, were found only in gardens (new varieties often arising from hybridization occurring between the plants grown in shrubberies along the paths that lead up to the temples, from seeds that fell between the plants and germinated in situ:*). __________ *When Sōtan recorded that he received a camellia from one of the monks at the Daitoku-ji, what he is saying is that the monk sent him a cutting of the plant -- with the flower attached to show what it was -– with the intent that Sōtan plant it in his garden and grow the flower himself.  That Sōtan displayed the flower first in his tokonoma was to do honor to the monk and the beauty of the flower before subsequently putting it out in his garden.  Sōtan’s garden, even in the days before he rose to prominence, was much more extensive than just the path that lead from the street to to the tearoom, or the vegetable garden out back.

¹²And when there were no flowers blooming in his garden, Rikyū eschewed having them brought from somewhere else -- because the rule was that only flowers that are in bloom in the place where the chakai is being held are acceptable.

¹³The morning-glory vines should be well watered so that they will not wilt during the heat of the day.  But more, as with soaking the sudare in water, breezes blowing through the wet morning-glory leaves will be cooled noticeably, and impart this coolness to the room.

¹⁴In summer, Rikyū sometimes received the guests in a room in which the full set of washed charcoal was already arranged in the furo, with the hibashi resting on the shiki-ita, but without any fire.  After the exchange of greetings, he brought out a haiki filled with shimeshi-bai, in which the sa-gitchō [三毬杖] (three burning pieces of charcoal that served as the shita-bi) was arranged.  And, before the eyes of the guests, these were lifted out and put into the space left for them in the furo.  Taking the haiki back to the katte, he returned with the dripping-wet small unryū-gama, which he placed above the now kindling fire….

    On another occasion, just after the end of the rainy season when it was simply too hot to sit indoors, Rikyū hosted a gathering in a boat beached on the bank of a fast-flowing mountain river.  After the guests took their seats, Rikyū “loaded the hull” by adding the fire to the pre-arranged charcoal, and then “lifted the anchor” to begin the voyage that was this gathering –- the “anchor” being his small unryū-gama (with the lid sealed by gluing a paper tape dipped in rice paste around the edge, so the kama would not overfill with water), which had been submerged in the stream with kan and tsuru all attached to the chain.       Putting the kama on a ro-like sunken hearth in the middle of the boat, Rikyū made tea using the stream itself as both his mizusashi and his koboshi….  

    Ultimately, the best way to learn what this line means is by studying the relevant entries in documents like Rikyū’s kaiki -- the records of gatherings that were hosted during the hot days that follow the rainy season.

¹⁵This is especially important in the small room, since it is easier to overheat (even in the winter).

    During the shoza, the shitaji-mado [下地窓] should be covered with their little shōji* -- to prevent ashes from blowing up when the host lifts up the kama at the beginning of the sumi-temae.  But they also help to keep the room warm by preventing strong drafts. ___________ *This teaching was misinterpreted by the machi-shū to mean that the tea room should be dark during the shoza.  The coverings for the shitaji-mado are little wood-and-paper shōji, and putting them in front of these openings does not markedly decrease the amount of ambient light entering the room.  The shitaji-mado are there primarily for ventillation.  Illumination is the job of the other windows.

    Originally there were only two shitaji-mado:  one located in the wall at the head of the utensil mat (called the furosaki-mado [風爐先窓]), and one beside (and later, within) the tokonoma (called the bokuseki-mado [墨跡窓]).  Their principal purpose was to control the flow of air moving through the room (which is why they were originally always suspended from two hooks nailed into the wall above the window-opening -- so that, even when closed, they would be far enough away from the latticed innards of the wall to allow them to sway slightly, so that the atmosphere in the room would not be stifling).

    The reason why these windows were closed during the shoza was so that the charcoal fire would begin to burn slowly during the meal -- because if it started to kindle too strongly, the charcoal would quickly become exhausted, and the fire would not last until the end of the gathering.  (While the modern schools cheat by adding one, or even two, more sumi-temae during the goza, in Rikyū’s chanoyu charcoal was added to the fire only once, at the beginning of the shoza; and this was expected to last until the service of usucha was finished.)

¹⁶Kama decorated with hailstone patterns are especially good at exchanging heat with the air in the room, and this is why arare-gama were always popular during the winter months.

¹⁷This is a side of the matter that is often overlooked by many modern people (since they are not familiar with the use of charcoal for heat).  The room should be comfortable, but not overly hot – so that the host and guests begin to perspire -- and the guests begin to feel lethargic, or even drop off into sleep.

¹⁸As mentioned above, in Rikyū’s chanoyu, for the fire to last until the gathering was ending was one very critical thing.  And even though the fire is not laid until the beginning of the shoza, its success depends on the shita-bi [下火].

    During the winter, the shita-bi is the remains of the fire that was laid at dawn*.  But if the guests are late, this fire might burn down too much, and the kama might begin to cool (meaning it will take too long to return to a boil, consuming too much charcoal in the process, and thus having a negative impact on the host’s timing).

    During the summer season, if the furo is being used, a full set of charcoal is not laid until after the guests have entered the tea room†.  Some minutes before they are expected to arrive‡, the host brings out three burning gitchō [毬杖] (small round pieces of charcoal around 2-sun long, and 1-sun 5-bu in diameter; this initial set of three was, as mentioned above, referred to as the sa-gitchō).  These were deliberately kept as small as possible to avoid heating the room.  However, because of that, if the guests are late, the gitchō will begin to burn out, and may not be strong enough to kindle the charcoal that will be added during the sumi-temae [炭手前] at the beginning of the shoza.  Which is even more serious than when the ro was being used**.   __________ *The first fire was laid in the ro at dawn, with the charcoal arranged on top of a layer of embers that the host had saved from the previous day’s fire.  This fire would bring the kama to a boil, and then begin to die down around the time when the guests would be arriving for a morning gathering, during which it would be rebuilt.

    But if there was no morning gathering, the host would go into the tea room around noon and add more charcoal to the fire (even though no guests were present).  This would return the kama to a boil, and keep it hot until dusk.  (Traditionally, gatherings were not held between the forenoon and dusk.  The so-called shogō-chaji [正午茶事] is a relatively recent innovation; originally gatherings were typically held either in the morning, asa-cha [朝茶], or at night, the yo-banashi [夜咄]:  this is why the old tea writings only discuss these two varieties of chakai.  Business men and government officials are busy during the daytime.)

    At dusk the host would again enter the tea room.  First he would take the kama back to the mizuya, where it would be emptied, cleaned, and refilled with fresh water that had been stored in the mizuya since dawn.  Then he would remove all of the fire, clean the interior of the ro, and sprinkle shimeshi-bai [湿し灰] (damp ash), and then return several pieces of burning charcoal, to serve as the shita-bi for the new fire.

    After arranging a full set of charcoal, he would bring the kama back from the mizuya, and place it in the ro.  The fire would heat the kama to boiling, and then begin to decline by the time guests arrived for the evening chakai.  The fire that was repaired during the shoza would keep the kama boiling until the end of the night gathering.

    After the guests left (or, if there were no guests, around 10:00 PM), the host would empty the ro, and close up the tea room for the night.

    This practice of adding charcoal at dawn, mid-day, and dusk (at times when guests were almost never present), was called san-tan [三炭], and it was fundamental to the success of the day’s chanoyu.

    Sometimes guests would ask to come at dawn or dusk, since at both of those times, the host would be starting with a fresh fire, but these were special occasions (and bear little resemblance to the dawn and dusk gatherings that have been formalized by the modern schools).

†There used to be an exception to this practice during the rainy season (since it can become quite chilly).  At that time, a large iron Dōan-buro [道安風爐] was used, with a narrow kama suspended over it on jizai or chain (this is why this particular kind of furo has an especially wide U-shaped opening in front -- in case the kama sways when it is being lifted down).  In this case, this large furo was handled as if it were a ro, with the fire laid at dawn, and then periodically replenished throughout the day.  Just like the ro, the hibashi, albeit shorter, were made with wooden handles, and shimeshi-bai was sprinkled in this furo. 

    Also, some people even used neri-kō [練り香] (of the seasonal blend known as jijū [侍従], which is strongly based on jin-kō, aloes wood, and cloves) or just jin-kō [沈香], rather than byakudan [白檀] (because of the moldy smell that can develop in the tatami after many days of rain).

    However, though the general procedures that were followed at this time were similar to what was done with the ro, during the koicha temae, the mizusashi must still be opened at the proper time, and cold water added to the kama (to cool the water prior to the blending of the koicha) -- since this is done not on account of the heat, but because the tea that was picked the previous year will now be becoming weak, so excessively hot water will destroy its flavor.

‡Today some people say that the host should wait until the guests actually enter the koshi-kake before putting the shita-bi into the furo, but this is really too late -- since, shortly after they enter, the host should go out to refresh the water in the tsukubai, after which he invites them to enter the room.  For them to sit in the koshi-kake, waiting for the host to appear for a long time, is unseemly.

**For this reason, Jōō held that the ro should be used all year round in the small room.  Rikyū observed the same rule until the summer of 1586, when he used the small unryū-gama (arranged in the large Temmyō kimen-buro that had belonged to Yoshimasa, and then Nobunaga) when serving tea in the two mat room that he erected near the Hakozaki-gū (at that time, outside of the Korean city-state of Hakata).

¹⁹This gāthā [गाथा] was composed by the nineteenth century monk Shiseki oshō [紫石和尚; 1842 ~ 1914].

==============================================

◎ If these translations are valuable to you, please consider donating to support this work.  Donations from the readers are the only source of income for the translator.  Please use the following link:

https://PayPal.Me/chanoyutowa

[mouldinginjectionsblog]

Unravelling the Secrets of Injection Molding Press: Exploring Its Essential Elements

Injection molding machines enable manufacturers to create a diverse selection of custom parts using high-quality resins. These advanced machines come in various sizes and types, offering a range of performance options and capabilities. To guarantee optimal quality and value, it is crucial to collaborate with a manufacturer who can provide a plastic injection mold design press of the appropriate size for your specific requirements. In the following discussion, we will explore the essential elements of an injection molding press that should be considered when selecting the right machinery size for your project.

What Is a Press In Injection Molding?

During plastic injection molding, the molten plastic resin undergoes heating and is then injected into a mold under extremely high pressures. Subsequently, the molten plastic cools and solidifies, taking on the shape of the mold. The mold then opens, allowing the finished part to be ejected for inspection, secondary processes, or delivery.

The injection frisbee press is specifically designed to keep the mold closed throughout the molding operation. The force and tonnage required vary depending on the size of the parts, with larger components necessitating more force, while smaller ones require less. The press comprises several components that collaborate to produce the final product. These components include:

Hopper: Responsible for introducing plastic resin shavings, flakes, or pellets into the machine.

Barrel: Comprising heater bands and an injection molding screw, the barrel melts the resin within its chamber using the heater bands. The screw then injects the molten plastic into the mold.

Platens: Typically made of steel, the platens hold both halves of the mold in place.

Clamp: The clamp is used to open and close the mold as needed.

To guarantee the highest level of quality and value, it is crucial to collaborate with plastic moulding manufacturers capable of supplying an injection molding press that aligns precisely with your specific requirements.

How Are Plastic Injection Molding Presses Rated?

Machines used for injection molding are classified or rated based on their tonnage, which indicates the amount of clamping pressure they can generate. Press tonnage can range from less than 5 tons to over 4,000 tons. A machine with a higher tonnage rating corresponds to a larger size.

Many plastic injection molders offer a comprehensive list of the molding equipment they utilise in their facilities on their websites, including the tonnage capabilities of each machine.

Determining The Press Tonnage for Injection Molding

Accurate determination of press tonnage starts with obtaining the estimated area of the molded part(s) and any runners. The area can be calculated by multiplying the length and width using the formula A = πr2 or A = L x W.

Once you have the estimated area in square inches, it is essential to consider the material being used for the molded part. Materials such as polypropylene (PP), polyethylene (PE), and polystyrene (PS) with excellent flow properties necessitate lower tonnage to maintain mold closure, typically around 2-3 tons per square inch. Typically, your material supplier can provide the specific tonnage requirements for molding a particular material.

Using this information, you can calculate the total required tonnage by multiplying the projected area by your material's clamp factor: T = A x CF. For example, if the projected area of your molded part is 150 square inches and the clamp factor is 3 tons, the total required tonnage would be 450 (150 x 3 = 450).

How Much Clamping Force Do I Need?

The appropriate pressure level is crucial for maintaining the closure of a mold during the injection process. Insufficient or excessive pressure can compromise the quality of the molded part and lead to flashing, which is the presence of excess material on the part's edge. When determining the suitable press size for your application, it is essential to consider the following significant factors:

Press rating: The clamping pressure or force a machine can deliver is indicated by its rating. For example, a machine with a rating of 68 tons can provide 68 tons of clamping pressure.

Material choice and MFI: The melt flow index (MFI) or melt flow rate (MFR) of the plastic material signifies the ease of flow when it is in a molten state. High MFI materials require more pressure compared to low MFI materials.

Size: The size of the part directly impacts the size of the machine required. Calculations often incorporate the platen size in addition to the mold and part size.

Safety factor: To prevent defects in the final part, a safety factor is incorporated into the size calculations. This numerical percentage acts as a buffer, and some experts recommend adding 10% to the overall press size estimate.

Conclusion

Understanding the key components of an injection molding press is crucial for achieving optimal results in plastic manufacturing. From the injection unit to the mold clamping system, each component plays a vital role in the process. Whether it's producing chocolate packaging Belgium or any other plastic products, a thorough understanding of the injection molding press is essential for successful production.

[thegreatwarhq]

**character name & any aliases**: sirius antares black III, padfoot.

**character dob & age**: november 3rd 1985 || theoretically 37 but he rejects that, he’s sticking to 33 since he wasn’t actually alive for those years in between and being so close to 40 is horrifying to him.

**canon or oc**: canon.

**character pronouns/gender identity/romantic & sexual identity**: he/him, if he thought about it at all he’d realize he was agender and liked the sound of he/they, but look at him. he hasn’t thought more than five seconds before acting on an impulse a day in his life. it’s only gotten slightly better since dying and then not being dead anymore. bisexual.

**character faceclaim**: michael huisman

**character house/past house if relevant**: gryffindor

**which school they attended**: hogwarts

**character alignment in the war/explain if and why it’s changed since the battle**: order of the phoenix, and he was aha Not Present for the battle except for a brief and strange glimmer of a dream-like feeling he had when harry used the resurrection stone.

**where have they been living for the past year**: in his words “your guess is as good as mine” until the last twenty-four to thirty-six hours happened, though now he’s at hogwarts.

**important character information/bio**: there was a short period of sirius’ childhood that perhaps couldn’t be called strictly normal so much as when he looks back it could politely be considered the most “normal” family events he can remember. birthdays, opulent family gatherings with cousins, watching his brother learn to walk… all comparable touchstones in his life to others. things he could point to and say, “look, we knew we were a family once. it felt like we could love each other, once.”

something that felt harder to say as he grew older, even inside his own head. how could he still believe they had ever been a family, rather than just a pack of adherents to a cult, when any dissent or opinion that differed from their family’s tightly held beliefs was met at first with disdain and a smugly knowing look between his parents over the top of his head; and later swift and painful retribution when he refused to buy into their words?

rebellion at first was just a way to get under his parents’ skin, not precisely a means to an end, but something that would allow him to continue proving to himself that his parents weren’t capable of change. it helped as well, knowing there were other options out there; that even other members of the black family might think differently than the party line. even as his parents did their level best to keep him from interacting much with andromeda, they couldn’t keep them from banding together at school.

hogwarts, a place he didn’t realize would hold so much freedom until the train was carrying him away from london, away from the moldering black family residence full of pureblood purist artifacts and decaying principles. the revelation that was being with other wizards and witches that didn’t buy into the precious blood purity bullshit was incredible, and creating an entirely different family with the strength of spite and desire to have people he could genuinely trust.

the rest of the marauders mattered so much more immediately to him than his parents ever could. the relief of having the four of them bound together spurred on how reckless he could be, and it wasn’t so much that he enjoyed breaking rules and running roughshod over gryffindor house and the rest of their year, so much as he enjoyed being able to shape his own life, and feel in control along with the boys he’d happily cut his own heart out to save now.

his brother— his brother held more pain, and perhaps holds pain still, though it’s easy for him to put that behind a quip and a shrug. he knew regulus was smart, could see beyond the purist trash their parents spouted and yet… sirius wished he could make him see, but would never be the type of person to express that out loud. it was easier, always easier with the things that hurt sirius, to pretend it didn’t matter much to him.

that was his dichotomy; that things didn’t much matter until they immediately, painfully did. sometimes he wished he didn’t have the explosive temper that was a written in ink trait of the black family, but sometimes it felt like the most useful part of his inheritance. it was something he could use, a weapon in service of better things.

grimmauld place became, as he grew more and more ironclad with remus, james, and peter, just a place he had to return to during the summer. a dusty jail cell to sleep in, with gaolers to antagonize with muggle music at top volume and muggle posters on the damasked walls. it was a relief; being thrown out and his name being blasted from the family tree at sixteen. finally, his name meant nothing, it was officially just a surname that couldn’t really hurt him any longer. the reminder of his existence would only hurt his parents now, and the thought gave him a ragged sense of satisfaction.

his final years of school drained away quickly, his mind always looking ahead, to the tension that was building and taking shape beyond hogwarts walls. hogwarts was his home, but nothing that was happening now really mattered. his marks didn’t matter, OWLS and NEWTS didn’t really matter, it was what he could use those things for in the conflict ahead.

everything was so deadly serious, life and death, and yet it didn’t truly feel like anything could touch them. he was well aware of the risks he, and the rest of the marauders were taking, hell the rest of the order was taking. but he never genuinely believed anything bad would happen to any of them. dying was for people that weren’t them. james, and remus, and peter; they were so alive, all of them connected like veins to his bloody beating heart.

the crux of the matter was— people just kept dying. benjy, dorcas, caradoc, marlene… they felt like dominos falling; people he had known as alive, living and breathing suddenly with that vital rhythm of their lives snapped. the weight of it started to drown him, and the sensation of drowning made sirius paranoid and panicky.

swapping the secret keeper status felt like giving james and lily extra security at the time, sirius’ fears of everyone double crossing them ruling him and making him turn to peter. peter felt safe like a pair of warm socks, or that just cozy enough chair. harmless. without any willpower of his own. the crucial underestimation was something that still haunted him; past hunting peter down in the street with blood roaring the sea in his ears, and well into azkaban when he wasn’t slumbering and sank deep into that canine brain that offered a reprieve from the worst memories his own life had to offer him.

upon escaping, sirius didn’t have a plan; beyond dragging every little bit of pain and anger he had out on peter. if he wasn’t sorry, if he didn’t feel guilt over what he had done, then sirius would find a way to make him sorry. there was an unspoken thought in the back of his mind that said he didn’t much care what happened to himself after that, whether that was receiving the kiss or death. at least either would mean it was over.

what he didn’t expect was how much meeting harry would feel like perhaps it was possible to try again. he could see so much of both james and lily in him, their spirit so clear and present in his face as well as his choices in spite of what he’d gone through even as a child of thirteen… he thought perhaps this was fate’s ultimate plan. sirius had never particularly desired fatherhood, or carrying on the black family line but. being the guardian to james and lily’s child felt like something he could be good at.

returning to life has been a bit of a shock, to put it mildly. he doesn’t have much in terms of ‘experiences and knowledge of the beyond’, he thinks that perhaps there was something or somewhere that he was after he went beyond the veil, but it feels very put in a box on a shelf in the back of his mind. and to put it truthfully, he’s not exactly ready to just open that and let whatever’s inside of it, back out again.

so to hear him tell it, he was going through the veil, and then he was abruptly shivering in the large arena room in the department of mysteries once more, staring at his godson who most certainly did not look fifteen any longer. right now, sirius doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, he just wants to enjoy the pleasure of being alive, and being alive now. there’s still plenty of pain and self-blame waiting for him though, once things begin to settle down, and he’s self aware to want to keep putting it off a little while longer.

[product-promotion4brand]

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[theam-cjsw]

The AM: December 5, 2022

On the (roughly) 449th episode of The AM, we enter into December with a mix of ambient sounds and icy-cool dream pop. Opening with Richard Norris' ambient mix of Mark Peters' latest single, and closing with a track from Canada's Fresh Snow (in honour of the fact there's plenty of that in Calgary this morning), the episode's highlights include new sounds from Calgary (and ex-pat Calgarian) artists like Postnamers, Bristol Manor and LT Leif, psych-tinged grooves from Adrian Quesada and Beak>, and a throwback to "the most famous utterly obscure rock band in America."

Listen on Soundcloud

Stream from CJSW

Spotify playlist

Other streaming links

Track list is after the break.

Hour One:

Sundowning (Richard Norris Ambient Mix) Mark Peters, featuring Dot Allison • Sundowning Single

Little Baby Flutter (Birdy, Bye Bye) Postnamers • Sissies & Sluts

Impressions Asta Hiroki, Tristan de Liège • Impressions

Black Moon Bristol Manor • A Distant Urban Forest

Chaos Energy Daniel Avery, featuring HAAi, Kelly Lee Owens • Ultra Truth

The Subliminal Man The Overload • The Overload

The Ocean Will Take It Away Proxima Psychoacoustics • Time, Space, And The Future

Tearjerker Nyx Nótt • Themes From

Sparkle Yuutsu • Lost

Tish Nign Black Ox Orkestar • Everything Returns

Heaven Come Crashing Rachika Nayar, featuring Maria BC • Heaven Come Crashing

Hour Two:

Fountain, Growth Khotin, featuring Tess Roby • Release Spirit

Pass Back Through L.T. Leif • Come Back to Me, but Lightly

December Forever Living Hour • Someday Is Today

I Do Wonder Rahill • Sun Songs EP

Hotline Lael Neale • Single

Figure and I Kristine Leschper • The Opening, Or Closing Of A Door

A Message to Pretty The Rising Storm • The Calm Before

She Loved Me The Rising Storm • The Calm Before

I'm the Sky Norma Tanega • Walkin' My Cat Named Dog

Moldering Fragments Sleep Party People, featuring Sound of Ceres • Heap of Ashes

Help Rozi Plain • PRIZE

Problem Child Shirley Hurt • Shirley Hurt

Good Morning (Red) caroline • caroline

Hour Three:

Flower Nightshift • Made Of The Earth

Like a Movie Various Artists • Ear Worms: Live Sessions From CJSW 90.9 FM

Mosquito Dance Routine Japanese Television • Space Fruit Vineyard

Rise of the Have-Nots Adrian Quesada • Jaguar Sound

Sapanta Blue Shirley & The Pyramids • Maid of Time

The Longest Sleep Ssaliva • I'm the One with No Soul

Kosmik Musik (Part 7) BEAK> • Kosmik Musik

III Christopher Sleightholm • Intermission Musics EP

You Were the Only Light in the Room Harmonische-23 • Kiosk

Light Conductor Light Conductor • Sequence One

Three-Way Mirror

[gbhbl]

Single Slam: Jinjer, Prompts, Tayne, Dawnwalker, 1349, NTH RD, Call to the Void, Nightwish, Doomcrusher, Our Nameless Boy, Molder, Grand Magus, Those Who Dream, and Black Label Society!

Today’s single slam features Jinjer, Prompts, Tayne, Dawnwalker, 1349, NTH RD, Call to the Void, Nightwish, Doomcrusher, Our Nameless Boy, Molder, Grand Magus, Those Who Dream, and Black Label Society.

Today’s single slam features Jinjer, Prompts, Tayne, Dawnwalker, 1349, NTH RD, Call to the Void, Nightwish, Doomcrusher, Our Nameless Boy, Molder, Grand Magus, Those Who Dream, and Black Label Society. You can read our thoughts about the latest singles from these bands below. Jinjer – Rogue Ukrainian metal juggernauts Jinjer unleash their brand new single ‘Rogue’, showing once more their refusal…