He opened the
door....we just went through it.
spendius
Well met., sir! Not ten minutes past, I watched you gag on wormwood. Now, I've always wished to see the thing, and so, am fulfilled.
Yet, you slander a Barrow, sir, and I cannot let this pass.
If a man wants for slandering, and surely many do, then they ought to receive the slandering - I'm all for balance and symmetry (if you were to watch me moving about the study here, in tights or jeans, you would see evidence that I am).
But you've slandered a Barrow. Do you click your thumb at me, sir? Do you, to put a finer point on the matter, apprehend the sword-edge upon which you stand? Have your friends move well aside, for whether in the open or under an arm, I shall run you through and I shall laugh...laugh, sir, even while these thick and fetid river mists that curl about us now smother my voice as quiet as a body slipping into the Hudson.
My mother, the most dainty creature who ever stepped, as light as a moonbeam or two, upon this earth, was a Barrow. (Aside: see now as he begins to shuffle his feet, to look to the horizon for reprieve...yet grace is within my hand and stays it.) Now, there are Barrows and there are Barrows, I admit it. My Barrows are not the fine-tuning Barrows. The fine-tuning Barrows are out of Shropshire and what the hell do you expect?! My Barrows are the Oxford Barrows and that's as different as night and day. My grandfather, one Robin Barrow was a tall and distinguished man with a wide and winglike handle-bar moustache but also, unfortunately, with a very large and streamlined nose attached so that it always seemed his nose yearned to just light from his face and flap away towards some nearbye cottonwood tree.
And that tells a tale right there because in the yooess people don't have names like that. Robin... Barrow...one can smell the worms and loam and the hint of inconsequentially dead people. Real names. Hop on a subway in New York and you are sitting beside Sharkey Washington. That's not a name, that's a billboard. Or maybe it is a flag you better not piss on, bub. But it's not a name. And Wodwo marries an American!? It couldn't have worked.
I Kant imagine what the excitement is all about.One fornication in billions.
All the myths of the world in just a few lines.That ought to be sharp enough for any cavfancier.Henry Miller took 300 pages over it.That's filigree work.
I've been to Oxford.It's where they drive cattle across a shallow bit of the
river Cherwell.They used to make cars there but they had to pack it in.
Enlighten me cav.Is there a hierarchy of freaks?Is the Gothic pro. a lady?It would be signifiKant.But fancy having a literacy tutor who could weep. Even the CPD don't stoop that far.Kan you remember any of the stuff he apologised for.You can camp it up.We don't care
You don't all work for the CPD do you and are trying to obfusticate and divert my project into the desert sands.It won't work.I do the books not some slippery interpretation by a jumped up wonker wonder.
Best wishes.
spendius.
blatham old chap,you've been swotting up some late 19th century Idler mags which I just happen to have a few tooled copies of.I meant no slight on your genetic catchment areas.My reference was due to a self inflicted wound so one may assume a mutant Barrow.
I do so admire the style of the authentic DNA.But you have two
grandfathers mi boy.Or so I assume.
I was hatched out by the heat of the sun.The sergeant said so and error never crossed his line of sight.
Best wishes.
spendius.
From the CPD webpage:
"We offer a wide range of courses of differing lengths and levels for teachers and other educators. The programme is reviewed annually against emerging new priorities and current concerns at local, national and international level.
Central to many of the courses is a belief in the importance of empowering teachers to link effectively theory, research and practice."
Please note the grammatical errors, and comment.
There is no heirarchy of freaks. We're all in it together. Yes, the Gothic Lit. professor was a lady indeed, who preferred stapling her pyjamas to her bedroom wall, rather than wear them (don't ask me how I know this).
.
Bockolls cav,we don't want no educashun.That died the death when married people started child- minding to fund sunshine tours and poppy growth accelerators.It's a job creation scheme.Eating the budget big time.It's ended up with them showing a soldier shooting dead a terrorist and bleeping out one of his words which the audience are too precious to witness.
Too many people come at philosophy from the top and at the top is the CPD squatting on their domain. Start at the bottom with Tiamat.I feel sure your pyjama stapler will agree.Being Gothic and all.If you arrived at Shakespeare by 2010 you'd be on your way.Don.t change trains at Bruno though.You could get in a tangle doing that.
Ghosts of 'lectricity howl in the bones of her face.
spendius.
You head up from the bottom and you have to get past the janitor. No easy feat. I don't recommend it. He'll already be grumpy as hell (the pre-digested budget) and when he gets clear on your destination (pre-digesting the budget) it won't go easier for you. Keep doing what you are doing...quote mad Germans at every turn, they'll suspect you are already one of them.
And refrain from quoting lyrics written by skinny Americans stoned on acid.
I know the way general.The janitor couldn't have been more accomodating.A piece of cake it was.An officer and a true gent can do it with both eyes shut.As long as there's a fair wind and smooth water it's not usually all that hard.The only thing to avoid is the "last rasping gasp of the mantis's groom." (attribute that professor).
The folk-song quote was shorthand for where it went after Shakespeare.
There's a thread to follow for the weekend.
Best wishes
spendius.
"last rasping gasp"...a lovely mix of vowel and consonants...the poem could end right there.
Terrible sounds for a terrible situation.
A bloke called Bill Greenwell put them together.
I wonder what exactly it was that inspired it.The Queen of the underworld in one of Her many manifestations I suppose.Poor Bill.
There's a fairly good story.
When Auberon Waugh (of blessed memory) was editor of the Literary Review he ran a poetry competition.A committee of Bron and five female
intellectuals ('scuse me sir) sat in judgement.(sitting again).Bron voted for Greenwell's effort and was outvoted 5 to 1.He had to shout to have it in sixth place.
Best wishes
spendius.
Terrible sounds for a terrible situation.
Quote:
I hope you are proud of that sentence, you ought to be. I confess I've never bumped into Mr. Greenwell, but it seems certain we've dated from the same pool. Execution-orgasm...that puts a precise period to a man's saturday evening.
Re the lovely Waugh story...yes, and one doesn't find a lot of ladies trumpeting the Wife of Bath as an exemplar of admirable femininity, yet I do.
Next week I'll likely join Adele (Mailer) for a jaunt by the river or for brunch or some such. Anything you'd like to know? Were they pinking shears? Is his ego in the Smithsonian? Did he really forgo the tattoo for an implanted tugboat anchor? Was she planning to leave him for a dashing upper east side forensic proctologist?
Letty wrote:I'm trying to decide if spendius is sine noblesse or noblesse oblige. Whichever, I don't have a dicky bird of what he speaks. That's what I get for choosing UVA.
Oh - just matronise him sans ruth, until his patronymic falls off - like a lamb's tail oppressed by a rubber band.
He professes to regard us as a lesser creation. Have at him!
Really - "Terrible sounds for a terrible situation" - such anthropocentrism!
Who is to know whether the most exquisite male mantis orgasm is not reserved for those who die as they reach their climax?
Whether this is not, indeed, a consummation devoutly to be wished - and, indeed, most fervently prayed for? Perhaps prayers for this wondrous transmogrification inspired the very eponymous attitude itself?
De low one,
Guilty.
As anthropocentric as a circle is round.
You could try the mantis's problem on the dilemma thread.Might lighten them up.
"Exquisite",a word invented by men,is a feeble attempt to convey the sensation experienced by an intellectual during the final phases of an intimate conversation with an English Rose eating a crispy apple.One usually survives providing you don't sign anything.
Of course,I am referring to that historical era before Germaine Greer alighted on our leafy branches.
Man gave names to all the animals.(See Monsieur Proust.)
Give my regards to Mr Ponting and his merry band of rate busters.
spendius.
Thanks for the offer general.
I,ll consult my collection.
Is circumscision to Adele,s taste.
Is Norm on any forum?There are a few things I,d like to have clarified but I shouldn't think Adele has any answers.
Good luck though.
I danced with the man who danced with the girl who danced with the prince of tailes.
Best wishes.
spendius.
Is it just me, or does spendius just need a good lay, actuallly, a good f***? Excuse me for removing my floppy philosophy hat, and please don't consider this an attack, it's just sound advice.
Hmmm - didn't Craven and Frank, or someone - make up a good name for that one as a logical fallacy?
Not that I am especially disagreeing with you!
A logical phallusy seems in order here.
It's Major General. Will check on the circumcision question and get the certifiable back to you. What will you do with it? Norm appears now and again at a Spanish chatboard for bullfighters with glaucoma. Don't bother, he'll pretend he can't see you.
Another bloody Monday morning.
Nah Cav-it's just you.
The inspirations today are so hard to come by.Philosophy is a fruitless search for a jack-up into the mythological plane which is fair enough but why should it be subsidised.
VIZ,a mass circulation periodical for the modern intellectual here in the Yucky,has a nice definition of post coital euphoria which spendius trembles to share with simple colonials.Suffice to say that it derives from multo grosso experience.It.s a Sancho Panchez type thing which the Dom is pretending he hasn't heard.
Another order is A CAP LAY.GOSH!!! I LULL.(courtesy Anagram finder)
Best wishes.
spendius.
