I have a blister on my finger. That’s what you get when you have no calluses on your fingertips but you play the guitar anyway. I would have calluses if I played more often, but I don’t because . . .
Why don’t I play more often?
There’s a bunch of reasons and I assure you that they’re all stupid. I’m going to have to get past them or I’m going to have to give the guitar away. I don’t have room for a dust-collector.
I am grateful for rhyming dictionaries.
I used to think that rhyming dictionaries were for losers. I mean, who doesn’t know how to rhyme? Then I realized how much time I spend making lists of rhyming words. It happens both at work and, with my silly limericks, at home. Why should I spend effort on rhyming when someone else has already done the work? I shouldn’t!
So now I own two rhyming dictionaries. My favorite is the Scholastic Rhyming Dictionary. It’s intended for children, but it has all of the common rhymes, which is more than enough for simple limerick-writing. It’s so easy to use that it’s a joy to own. I also have the Oxford Rhyming Dictionary. It’s not as easy to use, but it’s huge and definitive. For serious work, it’s just the thing. It lists not only exact rhymes, but also near-rhymes, which are key if you’re writing songs.
And in case you were wondering what words really do rhyme with GRATITUDE, there’s ATTITUDE, LATITUDE, and one of my all-time favorite words, PLATITUDE.
My Faithful Reader is leaving me for a few weeks. What will I do without him?
I suspect that I will play a lot of music, do a lot of movie watching, a lot of blog writing, and a lot of reading. Oh, and a lot of pining 🙁
Will I give in to the temptation to invite other readers?
Only time will tell.
I am grateful for visitors.
Sometimes we get so stuck in what is that we forget about what can be, until an event, such as the arrival of a visitor, forces us into action.
A poor fox simply could not fox trot
No matter how hard he was taught.
Whether quick steps or long,
Every time he’d step wrong,
But he gave it his very best shot.
My first ever Sunday Story has been imperiled by our first ever overnight visitor. A lot of cleaning is required to bring our apartment to anywhere near visitor-worthy. Am I sorry? Not in the least. We are happy to have company and the place looks a heck of a lot better. But now, while the men are off reminiscing or picking up hookers or whatever it is they like to do for fun, I have a little time to myself, so I must hurry up and write.
I know, I know. I haven’t posted a clothing limerick in a long time. I got stuck on one and with it sitting in my head half-formed, there hasn’t been enough brain-space for working with new ideas. I need to get it out of my head, so here are two versions.
1.
The young cat found a belt he was sure
Would look smashing against his dark fur.
But he cinched it so tight
That his head felt quite light
And his vision soon started to blur.
2.
The young panther was fond of his belt,
How it glittered against his black pelt.
But he cinched it so tight
That his head grew quite light
And his hind legs he no longer felt.
There are two things that can make the moon appear red: lunar eclipses and particles in the atmosphere (e.g. pollution). We are not scheduled for a lunar eclipse until August 28.
I saw two moons last night.
The first was on the highway just after I left work. I heard a beep, but saw nothing amiss until a car moved up in the lane to my left and a man’s naked butt was thrust out the window. It was only a quarter moon from my perspective, but still funny.
The second was shortly after I crossed the state line. It was the real moon, hugging the horizon, large and ominous, shockingly red. It was the kind of moon that arouses primitive superstitions and I had to fight the urge to consider it a bad omen. Sign or no, it was both beautiful and frightening.
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