November 28, 2010
Thanksgiving with the Bud. His digs have a striking view of the ocean, admired by many. Several of his friends, and a couple of mine, joined us for dinner. He’s not big on socializing. As we were putting dishes away in the kitchen, he said that he hoped they didn’t hang around all night. I asked him why, then, he always ends up playing host. He sighed. “The responsibility of the view,” he said.
November 17, 2010
You’d think the skies over a metropolis like New York would have dozens of
aircraft floating by at any given moment, on orderly tracks like those in science
fiction movies depicting an agreeably urbanized future. When I lived in
Manhattan, I’d look up occasionally and see some solitary plane fly by overhead
once in a while. The sky is huge.
I drive the Florida interior now and again, on back roads less traveled, en route
to a city or remote state park. I was always amazed, especially during the height
of the development frenzy, at how much undeveloped land I saw, vast stretches
of subtropical topography that will probably be waterfront property some day.
If you’ve played Boggle, you’ve come to realize that there are countless words
that don’t exist, have never existed, but should by now. There’s a vast
undeveloped philological world out there. Here are a few examples, along with
their proposed meanings, each of which has been carefully verified for non-
ancid - beyond rancid; no longer rancid
brif - shorter than brief
clost - a creepy fog, believed to harbor demons
dadder - paternal dandruff
flove - a fancy glove worn on special occasions
gludge - the gummy concentrate that collects around the rim of a ketchup bottle or mustard jar
nise - a nice nose
pelva - all things pelvic
sania - pathological sanity; a saniac
scoat - a juvenile scapegoat
zatin - a synthetic luxury fabric
Bogglelogogenesis studies is a new field with many as yet undefined parameters
and a rich deposit of undiscovered samples. I will return with new findings...
November 14, 2010
I went to pick up a few things at the supermarket, eggs, Danish butter, a bag of onions... the entrance doors parted and there on a dais, surrounded by twinkling Christmas trees, enthroned and merry, sat none other than Santa, Mrs. Claus, and a couple of elves. The costumes were outstanding. Santa waved. I waved back. “Have you been a good boy?” he said, ho, ho, ho. I told him that every so often an irresistible urge to behave comes over me. I try to resist, but usually end up giving in. “What fun is that?” said Santa. A right jolly old elf.
November 10, 2010
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