Tetherd Cow Ahead

My guest blogger writes on:

April 12, 2006

Now the sombre shadows thicken and I feel my heartbeat quicken
At my melancholy musings on the one that I adore
Ah! My beautiful Victoria! Her name evokes euphoria!
Her love might lead a warrior to make a cause for war!
Surely Paris would shun Helen as a diamond with a flaw
If Victoria he saw…

Yet the very contemplation of my Angel brings deflation
Of my soul, and so my spirit is a boat without an oar
Should I look for Eldorado in my best Amontillado?
Or perhaps that false bravado the Green Faerie would assure,
Seeking silent sinking solace in the Dionysian maw
As I often have before…?

…to be continued

Over at Jill Writes I learnt about a grass roots promotion for a book called The Lost Blogs: From Jesus to Jim Morrison by blogger Paul Davidson.

Jill says:

The subtitle of the book pretty much sums it up: The Historically Inaccurate and Totally Fictitious Cyber Diaries of Everyone Worth Knowing. The premise is this: friendly bloggers give Paul a hand in promoting his book by spending the work week of April 10-14 blogging as historical figures (of their own choice, but that aren’t included in the book). Readers guess who they are.

Well, I’m a bit of an outsider on this, but I support anyone doing something clever, especially if there is a literary bent to the enterprise, and the idea caught my fancy so I’m participating in spirit if not in fact (and besides I missed the starting post).

Herewith my guest writer’s first entry. I don’t think it will be too hard to guess who it is, but it’s kinda not the point for me – I just like the idea.

Settle back, and light a solitary candle. Are you sitting comfortably…? OK, channelling:

April 11, 2006

Dear reader, once again have I retired to take up pen
(These days should I say keyboard? I can never be quite sure…)
And resume my nightly journal of philosophies nocturnal,
The ephemera infernal that my mind will not ignore;
Visions from the world of Charon that the righteous would abhor
Rendered tangible once more.

And I draw the heavy curtain, sure that she is dreaming, certain
That the night will bring her respite from the coughs that rack her core
This I hope, at least, for hoping is my only way of coping
Else I sit here merely moping, and the dread comes as before
Crushing, crashing waves of dread from some cold atramentous shore
Heaving heavy at my door…

…to be continued

You know how restaurants charge you corkage for uncorking a bottle of wine?† What are they going to charge you for now that wine bottles are using screw caps a lot more frequently?

†This ridiculous practice may not occur in other countries.

So anyway, yesterday I was in this bike shop near where I live and I heard this conversation:

Bike Shop Assistant (to woman browsing racks and racks of bikes): Can I help you?

Woman: I want to buy a bike.

BSA: So, you want to buy a bike?

Woman: Yeah, I want to buy a bike.

BSA: OK. OK…. A bike?

Woman: Yeah, I was thinking, like, maybe I should get a bike.

BSA: Right. So. A bike.

Woman: Yeah, a bike.

These people vote.

Have you noticed that there is appearing in the news media, a kind of nutty and meaningless phraseology that is peculiar to the popular press? Things like ‘… this senseless act of vandalism was committed in the early hours of the morning…’. Senseless act of vandalism? Like there are acts of vandalism that are sensible…?

Maybe:

Sensible vandals today sprayed graffiti over train carriages but made sure not to endanger themselves or the general public by wearing safety harnesses and protective clothing.

Here in Sydney, we have apparently just experienced ‘the ugly side of racism’. This should not be confused with the redeeming side of racism which is, well, er…

Maybe:

The lighter side of racism was demonstrated in Sydney today, when white children beat and shot aboriginal children in an hilarious spoof of the early colonial encounters with the native inhabitants.

And recently the death of a famous media personality, known mostly for his astute business acumen in the field of tax ‘minimisation’, evoked the headline ‘The Many Sides of an Enigma’.

An enigma is not like a box or other geometric figure. It doesn’t have sides. Not even an inside and an outside. What is wrong with ‘The Many Aspects of an Enigma’, or even just simply, ‘An Enigmatic Man’. Next it will be ‘The Many Colours of Opportunity’ or ‘The Many Edges of Freedom’…

Where do these people learn this mangled form of expression? Do they ever actually think before they write? How long will it be before all language becomes entirely meaningless?

I am having my morning coffee in my favourite cafe, doing the Cryptic Crossword, as is my wont. A guy comes in and sits at a table near me. He orders a coffee, takes out his pen and opens at the puzzle pages. I watch to see if he is doing the Cryptic or the Quick. He fills in a clue on the Cryptic. He glances up and sees that I am on the Cryptic. We exchange looks. Right On Word Friend! Who would bother with the Quick?

Another guy comes in and sits down at the table under the window. He orders a coffee, takes out his pen and opens the paper. Crossword Guy and I watch… Cryptic or Quick? He turns to the puzzles… he puts his pen to the paper and starts on the… Sudoku…

Crossword Guy and I just look at one another and shake our heads.