So, the usual sort of routine. I'm wearing a red sweater. Chocolate is much more easy to attain than usual. I don't have a date, but I do have shinily polished toenails. And, happy birthday, Eric! Keep on rockin' out. There'll be a delightful phone call later.
During Lupercalia, priests called Luperci -- described by Cicero as 'a certain wild association of Lupercalian brothers, both plainly pastoral and savage, whose rustic alliance was formed before civilization and laws' -- would sacrifice goats and a dog, then smear the blood across the foreheads of two noble young men and wipe it off again. After that, the men were required to laugh. Then the Luperci would run around in loincloths, lashing everyone with the skins of the goats they'd sacrificed, in order to promote fertility and easy childbirth in those who were lashed. Cue heavy drinking.
Tonight I'm reading at a spoken word thing at Karma Coffeehouse -- an anti-Valentine's Day celebration of delights. Come by, if you're not doing anything. Should be a goat-whacking good time.