Wednesday, May 18, 2011


In need of getting some things out of my head today I discovered a lack of ability where it comes to the cerebral muck and mire that is my normal state of affairs. I had nothing to say. I absolutely could not find a direction to go or, for that matter, one single matter of importance to bore you with this evening. Help!

I had occasion to speak with my Sweet Deifiúr yesterday having to admit a reality to her. While everyone else was celebrating the miracle of birth as exhibited through their affection for the gynic member of their individual procreative committee, I had emptiness in me that felt, and still feels disquieting. One should celebrate their parentage. I have, if properly accessed, hours upon hours of tales to regale the populace with about my adventures with this most remarkable woman. Her passing still leaves me with an enormous void right where my heart is. Yet, words are not coming. To someone whose main occupation is words, this serves as a major irritant. Not going to fight it anymore and I am just going to put it away where it wants to be…

Disquieting demeanor aside, I am back from the Land With No Words. It is a few weeks after that phone call and I am of a mind to complete this piece. I can hear my Dear Sainted Mother’s words in almost everything I do. I do not hear her when I am afflicting the world with the alternative vocabulary I am a master at. You know the one where I use multi-syllabled words to convey messages about situations that irk me. Okay…okay…when I curse. She never liked most curse words, and used the ones she found acceptable sparingly. I have, of late, attempted to temper the vulgarity I display when vexed. I also avoid such language when I am pleased. Well, most of the time. I believe that my desire to “clean-up” my verbally communicated ideals, expressions, rants, and philological pursuits comes from lessons learned at my màthair’s knee.

Morphologically speaking, it is tedious to me when I see the syntactical difficulties that swearing offers in the face of the confusion over whether this guy is in the least bit literate. I remember being admonished by Sister Mary Robertine from the parochial school I attended, “Cursing is just the desperate attempt of a weak mind trying to express itself!” Cursing has not me served well, and the realization of this is a lesson I damned well should have listened to when my mother told me so. She would also tell me that I need to stop using big words that folks have to keep a dictionary nearby in order to read what I have to say in this blog. I have a new venture at where I will attempt to deliver enlightenment to the world on the necessity to increase one’s vocabulary. In the meantime, I can and will cease and desist from the over usage incommodious of language that is exasperating, irritating, tedious, or downright incommodious. Well, maybe cease and desist is too strong a statement. Perhaps the best I will do is to try. That is what my mother would have told me to do. Try. And keep trying until you succeed.

Well enough of all this shillyshallying about. It is time to do battle with the World Wide Web in order to post this. While I am at it, perhaps I will look up the meaning of the word shillyshallying.