Three books to give away, three winners! Congratulations to:

• Sue R.! As the first winner, Sue gets her first choice of the three: Grundish and Askew by Lance Carbuncle.
• Kat Bryan! Kat’s first choice was The Long Sleep by Stephen Mellor, so she gets her first choice too.
• Stephen! Stephen gets his second choice, Shapeshifter, The Demo Tapes: Year Two by Susan Helen Gottfried.

Congratulations, winners! If you’ll send your shipping information to katrina (at) stonoff (dot) com, I’ll get your books in the mail.

For next week, you can choose any book I’ve mentioned. It can be a book I’ve referred to casually on the blog (like that really big book you’ve all heard of that you cannot mention by name), a book I have given away (like Something Missing or Big Numbers), a book I’ve reviewed (like Mark of the Demon or the books listed here and here), or any book that appeared on one of my giveaway shelves.

Comment below with the name of the book you want, and come back next week to see if you’ve won. Contest open to anyone on the planet who has access to reliable mail service.

Now, the hat:

As promised, I went to Portland to get pictures of the fascinators. A fascinator is sort of like a hat except much smaller, more like an ornament than a head covering. They are usually very showy, with feathers or beads that stick up and out of the hair, and are worn at dressy occasions. They can be on a headband, a comb, a barrette, or bobby-pinned into place. My favorite fascinator designer is Taissa Lada (who I discovered through her Live Journal).

Sadly, the fascinators I loved at Nordstrom were gone. However, there were fun head ornaments, similar to fascinators, and I took pictures of some of them.

This one is a rose made from a strip of black and pinkish-gray knitting, set on a thin black headband. I like the width of this headband, but chose not to buy it for two really good reasons.

1. It brings out the salt-and-pepper in my hair (EEK!).
2. Kim, my favorite sales clerk ever, said, “That looks like a bird’s nest in your hair!” I’d hate to give a passing bird any ideas.

Note to self: when you fall in love with something at Nordstrom, buy it. I should also have bought the miniature top-hat set at a jaunty angle on a headband that I saw in a quirky little store in Portland a couple of months ago.

I actually wrote this entry on Monday, but I wanted to sit on it for a day or two before posting. Warning: treacly emotion, earnest religious views, and liberal politics follow. Please skip this entry if you find any of these offensive!

Anybody left?

Oh, well. It’s not the first time I talked to myself.

Yesterday was All Saints Day. I’ve never attended a church before that followed a liturgical calendar. I was raised in a fundamentalist Protestant church and have attended many others, but other than a Sunday here and there, I’ve never attended a “High Church.”

At least, not before now. We’ve been going to a branch of the Lutheran Church: ECLA Lutherans, to be specific. And yes, if you’re wondering, that IS the branch that recently voted to approve gay and lesbian clergy-people, and that’s one of the primary reasons we attend there.

Major disclaimer here: I have only a rudimentary understanding of the specific doctrines of the ECLA church. I know two things: 1) they generally believe what I believe, at least regarding the doctrines I consider most important, and 2) they don’t seem to mind if individuals vary widely in the specifics. Enough for me. But don’t take what I say next as anybody’s doctrine. This is just what *I* received from the service, through the filter of my own personal beliefs and experiences.

In the service yesterday, “saints” appeared to refer to everyone who has died. And indeed, the sermon seemed to imply that Christ died for all people and that all people will be saved (whether they like it or not — with liberal paraphrasing, the pastor compared the Holy Spirit to a donkey that will drag you back to the barn if you’re tied to him, no matter how big or stubborn you might be). Mars often accuses me of being a closet universalist because I just don’t buy the idea that a loving Father would condemn any one of his children to eternal torment, no matter how much they deserved it. So I appreciated the thought that my departed loved ones are with God (whatever he/she looks like), and intercede for me (whatever that means).

As part of the All Saints service, a bell was tolled for members of the congregation who died during the year, and everyone was invited to light a candle in memory of loved ones who have died.

Mad Scientist, of course was all for it (“You want me to play with fire? OK!!”), but Girly Girl is hesitant to do new things. We emphasized that we were lighting the candle to remember Grandpa Lou (the only person she remembers loving who has died), to tell him we love him and to help us remember that he still loves us too. And we made her participate. She had a very special smile as she added her flame to the others, so I felt good about us participating.

Back in our pew, I watched the little tray collect candles, and it was astonishing how bright the glow became. Each flame so small, but collectively they cast a light bright enough to read by (yeah, you know what’s important to me).

I found myself thinking especially of Mars’s sister, Mary. Mary committed suicide in 2001, leaving behind two young daughters (ages 2 and 4). As you can imagine, it tore the family apart, shredded our hearts. Mary was fascinating and beautiful and loving beyond measure, but she also had a mental illness, and in the end, it was fatal.

Mars comes from a devout Catholic family, and you probably know that for hundreds of years, the Catholic church taught that people who killed themselves were condemned to hell with no hope for release. They were not even allowed to be buried in consecrated cemeteries. So as you can imagine, Mary’s parents were not only dealing with shock and grief, but also with fear over how their daughter’s death would be handled.

No worries there though. The priest who visited us in the hospital — before we pulled the plug, before she was even technically dead — told us, “It is true that no one in their right mind who commits suicide can be saved, but by definition, no one who commits suicide is in their right mind.” It was, and remains, one of the most deeply comforting statements I have ever heard.

Still, I was raised in a church that pretty much condemned Mary to hell forever because she didn’t give her heart to Jesus before she died. And those early teachings are really hard to throw off even when you long ago left them behind.

In the years since Mary died (followed fairly shortly by both parents), I’ve felt comfortable that her mother is finally safe, pain-free, and happy. I have had no doubt about her father, whom I adored. Heck, I’ve dreamed about him twice, and I feel certain the second dream was a visit specifically from him. But I never quite came to terms with Mary’s death, and I’ve carried a deep ache for her all this time.

As I sat in the pew thinking these things, the organist began to play “It Is Well With My Soul.” I have always loved this hymn, at least partly because I know the sentiment is expressed from an honest place of unimaginable grief. Horatio Spafford, the lyricist, had lost a son to scarlet fever and most of his wealth to the 1871 Chicago Fire when he sent his wife and four daughters to Europe, planning to join them later. The ship sank, and his wife sent a telegram home that said, “Saved alone.” He took the next ship over to be with her, and the captain woke him as they were passing over the approximate spot in the ocean where all his remaining children had drowned. He stood at the rails and composed this exquisite statement of choosing to have faith when there appears to be no good reason.

Gabe Dixon’s song, “All Will Be Well” expresses the same thing if you prefer a secular message (And hey! I’ve giving away a Gabe Dixon CD).

As organ music and warm candlelight washed over me, I became overwhelmed by a profound sense of peace. For the first time ever, I felt certain that Mary was OK, that she is in a good place, finally free of the demons that made her life so difficult and brought on her early, tragic death. I began to cry. Tears washed down my face for the rest of the service. I was unable to sing the closing hymn through the lump in my throat.

In fact, when the service ended, I sat in the pew through the postlude, trying to wipe away tears and clean up smudged mascara. Girly Girl kept nagging me, “Come on, Mom! It’s over! Let’s go get snacks” (the church has a lovely tradition of serving home-baked goodies after the service).

There’s little I know about religious topics. I do believe we have souls that exist after our bodies die, but I’m not sure how or in what form. I believe in a force larger than Homo Sapiens, a force that put the universe into motion, but I don’t know what it looks like or how it was done. I’m most comfortable with the Native American Idea of The Great Spirit or the Hindu Brahmin (which I consider pretty much the same, and which I translate into “The Force That Moves Within Us All”, with “us all” defined as everything in nature right down to rocks and atoms). I think even if The Great Spirit is a specific being, he/she may well have “created the earth” by understanding natural forces such as the Big Bang and evolution and allowing them to work. Eternal damnation goes against my beliefs, as I said, but I am comfortable with the idea that some of us might need more time to learn whatever we’re here to learn (hence I can accept purgatory or reincarnation, or something similar). And I believe in Jesus Christ as my personal Savior, one who made an enormous sacrifice to rescue me from my own stupid choices (kinda like my mother replaced Girly Girl’s stolen iPod), but I suspect he has counterparts in other cultures who did the same thing. As you see, I am certain of almost nothing, and much of what I do believe is anathema (or even blasphemy) to organized religions.

In the end, I choose to have faith, even though I’m uncertain exactly what I have faith in, and I have good company in this place of faithful uncertainty. In fact, I suspect I’m simply a creature of my times, as our literature will show in the long run (read my discussion of literary movements of the 20th and 21st centuries).

What I believe — what I choose to have faith in — boils down to this maxim penned by Julian of Norwich (head-nod to Trudy J. Morgan-Cole for introducing me to Sister Julian):

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

P.S. Note to self: on All Saints’ Day, don’t forget to bring Kleenex.

Wondering if you’re the type of person who might enjoy Grundish and Askew, the latest novel by Dr. Rev. Lance Carbuncle?

Let me help. Just follow my handy Dichotomous Key to Movie Watchers. You remember how to use a dichotomous key, right? You read the question, determine which of the two answers applies to your specific specimen (you, in this particular case), and either correctly identify the Latin name of your particular specimen (you, again) or  jump down to the next question.

Katrina Stonoff’s Dichotomous Key to Movie Watchers

1. Do enjoy watching movies?

Yes ………. Go to Question 2.

No ………. Non-Movius Watcherus. (Whassa matter with you? I just hope you’re reading lots of books instead.)

2. Did you think the movie Pulp Fiction was extremely violent?

Yes ……….. Go to Question 3.

No ………… Movie Watcherus Who-Obviously-Didn’t-See-This-Filmus

3. Did you think the violence in Pulp Fiction was shocking?

Yes ……….. Go to Question 4.

No ………… Sickus Basterdus.

4. Did you think the violence in Pulp Fiction was just too explicit to be ever be justified?

Yes ……….. Compassionate Sensitivitus (probably of the variety really niceus guyus).

No ………… Go to Question 5.

5. Did you think Pulp Fiction was also funny?

Yes ……….. Go to Question 6.

No ………… Well-Adjusted Humanus with Healthy Sense of Humorus

6. Do you read novels?

Yes ……….. Twisted-Humorus Humanus.

No ……….. Illiterus Bozous (probably of the variety Americanus)

If you correctly identified yourself, using this key, as a member of the species Twisted-Humorus Humanus, then congratulations! You’re the perfect candidate to read Dr. Rev. Carbuncle’s latest offering (Carbuncle’s first novel was the hilarious but disgusting Smashed, Squashed, Splattered, Chewed, Chunked and Spewed).

Grundish and Askew is some of the most original writing I’ve ever read. I suspect this is what John Kennedy Toole would be writing if he were still alive.

The story follows the madcap crime spree of fiction’s most repulsive lovable characters: Leroy Askew and Grundish (who presumably also has a first name, but for the life of me, I cannot find it, and I’ve looked through the book three times). Askew delivers pizza and collects the names of sub-human humans who deserve to be taken down — yanno, like the guy who tips you a quarter for delivering three pizzas and expects you to be grateful. Grundish is a human billboard who spends his days taking abuse from the local youth, arguing with his boss that he’s only paid to hold the sign not be happy about it, and thinking up ways to trick his parole officer out of an honest urine sample.*

G&A is over-the-top uproarious and puke-in-the-bushes repulsive, but it also thoughtful and extremely well constructed.** It follows a fairly standard Writer’s Journey that would make even Joseph Campbell proud (if he could stomach the story). At the same time, it’s one of the most original stories I’ve ever read, especially in terms of character development and motivation.

Yes, Grundish and Askew go on a inexcusably violent crime spree, but Carbuncle manages to write it so that even a nice person like me can both understand why they do it and even hope (against all logic and morality) that they’ll get away with it.

The story has stuck with me too. Every morning, for instance, as I’m … ahem … doing my dooty, I think about Grundish. I have even used the word “dooty” a couple of times lately — to my chagrin. But the image of Grundish’s calling card was just that strong.

I have two minor quibbles, and ironically they are both about specific story elements that delighted me, and they are the same quibble: I want more subtlety.

Quibble #1: More subtlety, please

I love love LOVE the way Askew talks. He uses fairly sophisticated language, but he doesn’t quite get it right. For instance, he talks about the “di-electric process,” something he has “upmost respect” for, at least “for all intensive purposes.” He takes things “for granite,” considers other things “blessings in the skies” (that’s my personal favorite), has “reoccuring” nightmares, and once accuses Grundish of being “voicesterous” about the young man who shouts “despairishing” remarks at him. This little idiosyncrasy in Askew’s language is brilliant — it’s funny, great characterization, and it tells us a lot about how smart Askew is (or isn’t) and what kind of an background he comes from (fairly well educated).

I know what you’re thinking — so, what’s the quibble, Katrina? Well, Carbuncle italicized every one of these mis-takes (like “out-takes,” get it?). Normally in a book review, I wouldn’t mention typography because the author often had no say in the decision. But when an author self-pubs, he makes every decision, hence he gets the blame too.

Italics might seem like a small thing except using them shows me the author behind the curtain pulling strings. See how clever I am, he seems to say, and I am reminded that Grundish and Askew don’t really exist, that none of this is really happening, and that all events have been manipulated by The Author to make me respond.

Also, since other words are italicized correctly (i.e. for empasis, and words in another language), I would sometimes reread one of those correctly formatted sentences several times, trying to figure out how Askew had mis-used the language.

Plus, I got the joke. Maybe I would have missed one or two without the italics, but I would have enjoyed them all more.

Quibble #2: More subtlety please. Redux.

One of the most intelligent and exquisite*** aspects of G&A is its homage to John Steinbeck’s incredible book Of Mice and Men. I can’t talk too much about it without spoilers, but if you’re familiar with Steinbeck’s story, you’ll see it. I didn’t know anything about the connection before I started G&A, so I learned it the way a reader should: by recognizing it. Once I realized what Carbuncle was doing though, I watched for it, and it gave this vulgar romp a depth and texture I was not prepared for. I would love to teach a college course that compared the two texts.

Again … the quibble, Katrina? Same thing. Don’t clunk me on the head, Lance. I got it. I’m a smart girl. Trust me to get it.

There’s a conversation that takes place in Steinbeck’s book several times, and it’s critical to understanding the theme. In the emotional climax of Carbuncle’s book, his allusion to Steinbeck’s conversation is pitch-perfect. Just stunning, and it makes the scene spark with electricity, meaning, and importance.

My gripe is that a similar, earlier conversation is too obvious. Carbuncle followed Steinbeck’s language almost word-for-word, and I would have preferred the first conversation to be a hint, an echo, without the all-caps DON’T MISS THIS! clunk of the verbatim language.

Still, these are very minor gripes, especially when you consider I’m griping about how my favorite elements were handled, and I have no criticism at all about the elements themselves.

I’m a little hesitant to recommend this book across the board because … did I mention? … it’s vulgar, nauseating, explicit, and offensive to virtually everyone with any sensibility whatsoever. But given those caveats, if you’re the right kind of reader, it’s a brilliant and riotiously funny piece of fiction, well worth reading and even studying.

Edited to Add: I got an email from Lance Carbuncle, and he said he struggled over whether or not to italicize Askew’s mis-used language. He said he finally chose to do so because self-published books have such a bad name for being poorly edited that he was afraid people would assume they were all mistakes by the author, rather than intentional mis-takes the character made. And yanno? I had forgotten for a second that Grundish and Askew was self-published, and he’s right. I take it back. I think his reason for using them far outweighs my minor objection to them. I stand corrected.

Footnotes:

*As Carbuncle helpfully informs the reader, the Whizzinator is a real life, honest-to-goodness product. Sadly, the owners were charged with conspiracy to defraud the government, but fortunately for budding Grundishes, you can still buy a whizzinator on the internet. Residents of Virginia, Pennsylvania, Arkansas, North Carolina, and South Carolina must provide their own clean urine samples, however, since those states apparently do not allow the shipment of urine. Even more shocking, residents of New Jersey, Kentucky, West Virginia, Maryland, and Illinois cannot recieve the whizzinator at all, so the website helpfully suggests they have the product sent to a friend or relative in a neighboring state.

**Carbuncle does break a lot of the “rules” for writing compelling fiction. There’s a traditional prologue, for instance, which most editors hate. Chapter 1 opens with Askew’s family history, starting with his great-great (times some unnamed number) grandfather Cotton Askew (I have to giggle every time I read that name). Chapter 2 begins with Grundish’s background, and G&A’s primary story doesn’t begin until Chapter 3. And Carbuncle head hops too. According to teachers of fiction writing, this book should not work. And it wouldn’t if it weren’t so fascinating and hilarious, and if the dreaded prologue hadn’t set up such a intriguing premise.

***Did I really just use the word “exquisite” in reference to the most repulsive book I’ve ever read?

****Did I mention the footnotes? Carbuncle includes footnotes on all sorts of unrelated topics sparked by an idle word in the text. Apparently some readers hate the footnotes, but for me, they were a huge part of the humor. Even the idea of arbitrary footnotes in a novel makes me laugh. My personal favorite was sparked by the phrase “striking fear into the hearts of the slugs that inhabit his community” and details the peculiar mating habits of the The Great Gray Slug, limax maximus.

(Oops! Close call! I almost forgot to add my required-by-FTC disclaimer: this book was provided as a review copy by the author — as indeed review copies have always been provided to reviewers, duh! I intend to keep it because I liked it. But since I’d hate to go to jail over a $12.50 self-published paperback, I’m announcing to the world that Carbuncle gave it to me. He did not, however, purchase a review with it, much less a good review. I gave that to him all on my own, in exchange for a rollicking good read.)

First things first: our new winner is … (insert virtual drum roll here) … Sheila! Sheila wins the book of her choice, and she picked Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins. Congrats, Sheila! If you’ll send your shipping information to katrina (at) stonoff (dot) com, I’ll get your book on its way to you.

For this week, I’m giving away three of my favorite self-published books. Self-publishing is quickly turning into an important alternative to traditional publishing. It’s hard to get a truly original book published through brick-and-mortar houses nowadays — in times of recession, the publishers want books they know will sell. So you can find some very interesting books if you’re willing to sift through the self-pubbed titles.

You may not have heard of these three books, but they are definitely worth reading. Each will go to a different winner. To enter, comment below with the names of the books you’re interested in (in order of priority please) before I close comments. Then come back next week to see if you’ve won. Contest is open to anyone, anywhere, who has access to reliable mail service.

Your choices are:

• The Long Sleep by Stephen Mellor. This novel is a suspenseful cross between science-fiction and a noir detective story. It’s a fascinating attempt to solve a crime committed thirty years before it was discovered, which actually occurred five years before and thousands of light years away. I blogged about this one.
• Shapeshifter, The Demo Tapes: Year Two by Susan Helen Gottfried. Shapeshifter follows the youth and early years of a fictional rock band. The stories originally appeared on the author’s blog as backstory to her novel Trevor’s Song (as yet unreleased), and provide a fascinating glimpse into the private lives of rock musicians, written by someone who knows. You won’t find better writing or more interesting, fully developed characters. Be aware though: this is not a novel, just a episodic series of short vignettes. If you like to read in three-minute spurts, that’s even better.
• Grundish and Askew by Lance Carbuncle (Note: I couldn’t find a description of the book on Carbuncle’s website, so the title links to Amazon, but you can purchase the book directly from the author by clicking on his name). This is a hilarious (if disgusting) book by the author of Smashed, Squashed, Splattered, etc. (which I reviewed on Amazon). Grundish & Askew is even more over-the-top, and absolutely hilarious. Hilarious!!! In a very dark way. More repulsive fictional characters than Grundish and Askew don’t exist, but you’ll love them anyway. The book is explicit, violent, full of rough language and (did I mention?) disgusting, so don’t ask for this one if you’re easily offended. G&A even pushed my limits in a spot of two. However, I was utterly caught up with the story and find myself still thinking about it weeks later. I’ll be posting a review of this one in a day or two, so come back for it, but it’s definitely a book I recommend (at least to mature reader — just don’t try this at home!).

No hat today. I’m furiously drafting a new novel (yep, it’s November). But I’m headed to Portland this afternoon and WILL take pictures of those fascinators I mentioned. So don’t miss next week!

(BTW, if you’re from the FTC? I purchased my review copy of The Long Sleep but the author gave me a copy to give away; the author of Grundish & Askew gave me a review copy but I purchased the giveaway copy, and I purchased both copies of Shapeshifter. But who cares???)

I’m sitting in the concert hall waiting for Loggins & Messina, and telling my sister about this great new band Keri Noble recommended.

Lights go down. Announcer announces …

“The Gabe Dixon Band!“

My sister says, “Isnt that the guy you were telling me about?”

Yep. Yep, it was. Gabe Dixon was opening for Loggins & Messina. And he was incredible!!!

But I liked best what Mars said.

“You know this band? Wow. You are really hip!”

P.S. I snagged one of his self-titled albums to give away. If you want it, comment below! I’ll close comments and choose a winner sometime next week. Hint: you DO want it!

P.P.S. I just realized the CD is autographed!!

P.P.S. If you’re from the FTC? I bought the album, so lay off!

I’m blogging today over at Happy Endings, where I describe lessons about writing that I learned from reading The Virgin of Small Plains by Nancy Pickard.

Straight to the fun part — today’s winner is Mariska! Mariska wins both Tradd Street books: The Girl from Legare Street andThe House on Tradd Street (or if she’s already read Tradd Street, she can substitute for another of Karen White’s books). Congratulations! Please send me your shipping information, and I’ll get your books in the mail. (P.S. You are going to LOVE them! Legare Street is even better than Tradd Street.)

For next week, you can pick your prize: any book! Well, any book that’s readily available for $25 or less (I’ll cover the shipping), which includes most books.

To enter, comment below before I close comments (Mondayish) and come back next week to see if you won. That’s it! Contest open to anyone on the planet who has access to reliable mail service, even if you shared a room with me as a child (Hi, Spark!) or won today (Hi, Mariska!).

Now, the hat from which I picked Mariska’s name (Hat #58):

Yes, I did. I bought another hat. It was in a basket with several other kittens hats, just mewling. I couldn’t resist.

This is another Amy Downs hat from Hubbub. It’s woven from a nubby wool that almost looks felted, though it’s not. It’s very warm, especially if I pull it over my ears.

Worn like this, it looks like a cloche, though cloche hats usually have more structure. This one is completely crushable — I can stuff it into my coat pocket and pull it out whenever I want.

But best of all, you can get a bunch of different looks simply by moving it around and playing with the brim and crown. Don’t believe me? Take the jump!

La Traviata was glorious!! Nuccia Focile was just stunning, musically and emotionally. As was Alfredo’s father (Charles Taylor).

Also, I so could have been a courtesan! Just sayin’.

More later.

Sent from my iPhone ]]> http://katrinastonoff.wordpress.com/2009/10/24/seattle-opera/feed/ 3 katrinastonoff http://katrinastonoff.wordpress.com/2009/10/24/men-at-urinals/ http://katrinastonoff.wordpress.com/2009/10/24/men-at-urinals/#comments Sat, 24 Oct 2009 23:22:23 +0000 katrinastonoff http://katrinastonoff.wordpress.com/2009/10/24/men-at-urinals/ ]]>

Did you know that men hold conversations while they’re standing at the urinals?

Me neither. And I said so when Mars casually mentioned a conversation that took place there.

His reply? “We’re old men. It takes awhile. We have to have *something* to do while we wait.”

You’re welcome. I knew you’d want to know.

And here I thought I was being too intimate when I contined a conversation with a girlfriend safely locked in the neighoring stall.

Our family participates in Community-Supported Agriculture. Well, sort of. Our farmer doesn’t use the model where you pay in advance, but she does bring us a box of assorted vegetables every week, all organic and just picked that morning. It’s heaven!

Sometimes, they aren’t vegetables we’d buy regularly, and we have to figure out how to use them. Daikon radishes, for instance, are really good grated with a little vinegar. And tomatillos are usually used for salsa verde, though they can also be roasted, grilled or sautéed.

This week, we got a Brussel Sprouts Stick. Yes, I said stick, and it’s a stick worthy of the name. It’s three-feet long, and you can wield it like a broadsword. Ask me how I know.

Does this look like alien food or what?

I have heard that if you get Brussel Sprouts small and fresh enough, they are not bitter, so we were eager to taste them. Mars steamed some for dinner the other night. I thought they were fantastic, but then, I like Brussel Sprouts. Mars? Thought they were bitter. I told him to try carmelizing them next time, a la Ristorante Bartolotta.

Another night it was cold and soggy out, so he decided to make beef vegetable stew with a couple of sirloin steaks and whatever vegetables we needed to use up. The stew was delicious, and really hit the spot on that miserable night.

But we didn’t fully appreciate the affects of ingesting copious amounts of purple cabbage and beets until the next morning.

Note to self: if you make this again, try to remember not to freak out when you move your bowels the next day. Vegetable dye is natural, non-toxic and non-hazardous, and the affect will clear up on its own.

Oh, and you might want to wear dark undies for a day or two.