(no subject)
My mind is mushy.
I have a feeling this is going to be one of those entries where I write a whole bunch of things and end up deleting a while bunch of things. I actually kind of hope it's one of those, because I'm always very sheepish and sometimes dead on angry with myself when later reading what I've written under my present state of mind.
And no, I'm not drunk. It's not that kind of a state of mind. Jerk.
I've been rumaging around in my memories of the past a lot over the past 48 hours. I've been having amazingly believable dreams. I look at people and wonder why the don't ask me how I'm doing.
Mind, I'm grateful, because at least any of you fine and fair folk can just skip reading this drivel and move on to the next entry. If one of my coworkers had asked me how I am today I don't know exactly what would have come out of my mouth. Or my eyes or my spleen, for that matter.
And since I keep deleting everything else, and since I can't find the particular spleen poem I would like to share with you in the actually quite prolific genra of spleen poetry (The spleen was a popular subject in the 18 and early 1900s), I will instead have to sum this up with an all time favorite.
Ode on the Mammoth Cheese
(Weighing over 7,000 Pounds)
James McIntyre (1827-1906)
We have seen the Queen of cheese,
Laying quietly at your ease,
Gently fanned by evening breeze --
Thy fair form no flies dare seize.
All gaily dressed soon you'll go
To the great Provincial Show,
To be admired by many a beau
In the city of Toronto.
Cows numerous as a swarm of bees --
or as the leaves upon the trees --
It did require to make thee please,
And stand unrivalled Queen of Cheese.
May you not receive a scar as
We have heard that Mr. Harris
Intends to send you off as far as
The great World's show at Paris.
Of the youth -- beware of these --
For some of them might rudely squeeze
And bite your cheek; then songs or glees
We could not sing o' Queen of Cheese.
We'rt thou suspended from baloon,
You'd caste a shade, even at noon;
Folks would think it was the moon
About to fall and crush them soon.
I have a feeling this is going to be one of those entries where I write a whole bunch of things and end up deleting a while bunch of things. I actually kind of hope it's one of those, because I'm always very sheepish and sometimes dead on angry with myself when later reading what I've written under my present state of mind.
And no, I'm not drunk. It's not that kind of a state of mind. Jerk.
I've been rumaging around in my memories of the past a lot over the past 48 hours. I've been having amazingly believable dreams. I look at people and wonder why the don't ask me how I'm doing.
Mind, I'm grateful, because at least any of you fine and fair folk can just skip reading this drivel and move on to the next entry. If one of my coworkers had asked me how I am today I don't know exactly what would have come out of my mouth. Or my eyes or my spleen, for that matter.
And since I keep deleting everything else, and since I can't find the particular spleen poem I would like to share with you in the actually quite prolific genra of spleen poetry (The spleen was a popular subject in the 18 and early 1900s), I will instead have to sum this up with an all time favorite.
Ode on the Mammoth Cheese
(Weighing over 7,000 Pounds)
James McIntyre (1827-1906)
We have seen the Queen of cheese,
Laying quietly at your ease,
Gently fanned by evening breeze --
Thy fair form no flies dare seize.
All gaily dressed soon you'll go
To the great Provincial Show,
To be admired by many a beau
In the city of Toronto.
Cows numerous as a swarm of bees --
or as the leaves upon the trees --
It did require to make thee please,
And stand unrivalled Queen of Cheese.
May you not receive a scar as
We have heard that Mr. Harris
Intends to send you off as far as
The great World's show at Paris.
Of the youth -- beware of these --
For some of them might rudely squeeze
And bite your cheek; then songs or glees
We could not sing o' Queen of Cheese.
We'rt thou suspended from baloon,
You'd caste a shade, even at noon;
Folks would think it was the moon
About to fall and crush them soon.