Monthly Archives: October 2004

Something’s Still Wrong

I wrote this in June of last year.

And today, I hear about this.

When Rod Stewart, Yoko Ono, and the Isley Brothers are topping the charts, it is a sign we desperately need some new music.

Even with the latest news, I’m certain there’s no way for me to improve upon the poem I wrote last year.

Something’s Still Wrong

I wrote this in June of last year.

And today, I hear about this.

When Rod Stewart, Yoko Ono, and the Isley Brothers are topping the charts, it is a sign we desperately need some new music.

Even with the latest news, I’m certain there’s no way for me to improve upon the poem I wrote last year.

Word for the Day

ARACHIBUTYROPHILIC.

Every once in awhile I will put my name into Google™ to see what turns up. Occasionally I wll be surprised to find someone has said something nice about me. Last month, for example, a blogger lilked one of my poems so much, he decided to reprint it on his blog. (At least he credited me, and linked back to my site, for which I am grateful.)

And in discovering this reprint I learned a new word. As my grade school teachers taught me, if I can use it in a sentence, the word is mine. So:

The word, “arachibutyrophilic,”
sticks to the roof of your mouth
like a teaspoonful of peanut butter
scooped straight from the jar.

And now for Lewis Carroll…

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought —
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Source: Lewis Carroll – Jabberwocky

And now for Lewis Carroll…

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought —
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Source: Lewis Carroll – Jabberwocky

Lets see how Joyce scores on readability…

Now (to forebare for ever solittle of Iris Trees and Lili O’Rangans), concerning the genesis of Harold or Humphrey Chimpden’s occupational agnomen (we are back in the presurnames prodromarith period, of course just when enos chalked halltraps) and discarding once for all those theories from older sources which would link him back with such pivotal ancestors as the Glues, the Gravys, the Northeasts, the Ankers and the Earwickers of Sidlesham in the Hundred of Manhood or proclaim him offsprout of vikings who had founded wapentake and seddled hem in Herrick or Eric, the best authenticated version, the Dumlat, read the Reading of Hofed-ben-Edar, has it that it was this way. We are told how in the beginning it came to pass that like cabbaging Cincinnatus the grand old gardener was saving daylight under his redwoodtree one sultry sabbath afternoon, Hag Chivychas Eve, in prefall paradise peace by following his plough for rootles in the rere garden of mobhouse, ye olde marine hotel, when royalty was announced by runner to have been pleased to have halted itself on the highroad along which a leisureloving dogfox had cast followed, also at walking pace, by a lady pack of cocker spaniels.

Source: James Joyce, “Finnegan’s Wake”

Lets see how Joyce scores on readability…

Now (to forebare for ever solittle of Iris Trees and Lili O’Rangans), concerning the genesis of Harold or Humphrey Chimpden’s occupational agnomen (we are back in the presurnames prodromarith period, of course just when enos chalked halltraps) and discarding once for all those theories from older sources which would link him back with such pivotal ancestors as the Glues, the Gravys, the Northeasts, the Ankers and the Earwickers of Sidlesham in the Hundred of Manhood or proclaim him offsprout of vikings who had founded wapentake and seddled hem in Herrick or Eric, the best authenticated version, the Dumlat, read the Reading of Hofed-ben-Edar, has it that it was this way. We are told how in the beginning it came to pass that like cabbaging Cincinnatus the grand old gardener was saving daylight under his redwoodtree one sultry sabbath afternoon, Hag Chivychas Eve, in prefall paradise peace by following his plough for rootles in the rere garden of mobhouse, ye olde marine hotel, when royalty was announced by runner to have been pleased to have halted itself on the highroad along which a leisureloving dogfox had cast followed, also at walking pace, by a lady pack of cocker spaniels.

Source: James Joyce, “Finnegan’s Wake”

Word Statistics

I just added a plugin to my blog — called MTWordStats

As I am writing this entry, the stats are as follows:

392860 – Characters
104364 – Syllables
8965 – Unique words
66033 – Words
3596 – Occurances of “the”
3970 – Sentences
2439 – Paragraphs
16.6329974811083 – Average words per sentence
1.58048248602971 – Average syllables per word
12.0517118572231 – “Fog” readability index
56.2436892385614 – “Flesch” readability index
9.54656235278285 – “Kincaid” readability index

Of course…as soon as I post this the stats will change.

Both the Fog readability and Kincaid readability indexes measure readability by grade level. As you can see, there is a slight disagreement in results. But those without a high school education are likely to find reading this blog difficult. I am not surprised by this. The flesch readability index measures on a scale of 1-100 with the higher number meaning the easier to read. One source I read says standard documents aim between 60-70. So this is slightly more difficult to read than standard documents. Fine.

I can measure the number of occurances for any word. If anyone would like to know how often I say a particular word, feel free to make suggestions in the comments.