500 Word Experiment and No Artificial Light

The 500 Word Experiment

I like the phrase freewrite.

I’ve been using that recently. In thinking about what I will be writing about. Often, most of the time I have something specific in mind, that I want to share. Even right now, there are several things that I am thinking about, that I would like to write about. And yet, I’ve noticed that when I just… freewrite, the writing… well, things come up that I wouldn’t have expected, sometimes, and the way I write about them is natural, as a flow of thought, and that’s often even more interesting than me just writing about a specific topic.

It’s good to just have a topic in mind, and something to write a whole piece around. There doesn’t have to be any specific way that you go about writing things for your blog, anyways. You still can do whatever you want.

I was having a good time trying to meet that 500 word cutoff, for a while. Did I even make it a week with that? It’s not my style. I’m simply too meandering and loquacious. I simply have too much to unload, in most cases, that I sit down at the computer, or with my pen and paper, and start going crazy. 500 words is a sneeze.

However, the 500 word experiment was very interesting. I hacked and slashed some of my pieces to death, to near death. I didn’t allow anything to die, and that’s why I ended up mostly being unable to reach the 500 word cutoff. There’s only so much you can say in 500 words. But, if you can say something in 500 words, but you’re saying the same thing in 700, or 1000, then you should really consider cutting that down, think carefully about those extra 300 or 500 words.

That’s how I felt about the experiment. I did feel that everything I posted benefitted from at least some degree of serious pruning, and often, even ruthless cutting helped the piece. But when pushing it to the limit, you see what is too much, when you’ve overcut and done damage, what can’t be cut away. Where to draw the line.

I really thought about Hemingway when writing like this, and editing in such a manner. I do use a lot of fluff. Even in that sentence, I realized it as I wrote it. I do use a lot of fluff. Now, do you see the fluff there? It immediately stands out. And I’m in the habit of using immediately as a filler word, as I just did again. Immediately can often be cut.

I just like to add words, and in conversation we do add a lot of words and use a lot of filler, and especially in a piece like what I’m writing now, a freewrite, where I’m writing as I’m thinking, that’s fine, even important. For the tone and voice. But there are cases where you don’t want that, and where it would be better not to have it. The point is that you are choosing to be terse, or fluffy, loose with your wordage and writing, intentionally. As Hemingway chose.

The fluff in that sentence was the do. Why do we need do in that sentence? We don’t need it. But if I were speaking, I would probably add the do, and say, “I do use a lot of fluff.”

How many words have we got here?

577, so far.

New Experiment: No (BAD) Artificial Light

The 500 word experiment was fun and useful. This is why we like to do experiments. They show you things. And, they are fun. Usually. I don’t know what experiment I’ve done that wasn’t fun.

I’m currently on a new one, that y’all don’t even know about yet, which is that I’m trying my best to avoid artificial light at night. I am shocked that it took me so long to get around to this one.

I’ve known that blue light was bad for the eyes, and screentime is a problem for the circadian rhythm, tricking your body into thinking it’s still daytime, throwing off your cortisol production. But I wasn’t taking it that seriously. Well, Rachel offhandedly made a comment about artificial light being a problem, the other week, and it stuck with me. It sat in my brain, it hit me at the right time. It was something I had been meaning to research.

I only had to read about three articles full of facts and data, to sufficiently shock and horrify me, and outrage me, and put me on the right and true path. I could share that data with you, possibly in another post. I’m freewriting, not writing an inspirational piece or anything here. You might not need all that data anyways, but data is what gets me to take action. Data, fact, reports, they are all what move me. And they are what convinced me of the bane on our existence that is artificial light.

Now, fire is also artificial light. I had to Google that after my first night by the candle. I spent the night thinking, “Is this artificial light?” Having an internal debate. The answer is yes, but it’s nothing like LED light, or light from screens. I am tempted to look some things up here — I won’t do it. But fire is low on the spectrum, the wavelengths are longer, and carry less energy. (Something like this.) It is not so intense on your eyes. I just read that firelight mimics sunlight, which is telling your brain that it’s time to wind down. So at least if you are burning a candle until 3 am, binging on Harry Potter and The Goblet Of Fire, your body and mind are basically already primed to go to bed whenever you decide that it’s best if you finally put the book down now, or you become so absolutely exhausted that you’re dropping the book on yourself or rereading the same page seven times in a row.

Candles are fun. We all know that, right? We are all in agreement of this fact. So, having more reasons to use candles is always great. I think that half of me is adhering to my no artificial light policy (I’m excluding candles from inclusion in my artificial light definition, here, because it’s really not a bad one) because it gives me an excuse to use candles.

It’s a good thing to be doing, a no artificial light (after sunset) policy, because it is like a soft ban on lots of bad things. Things that you aren’t supposed to be doing at night, that keep you up late. Phone, computer, gaming, TV. Even just getting up to shennanigans in your room, even reading, it will be easier to stay up later when you bask in your artificial light glow in your room, in your kitchen. However, when that sun goes down, FIRE UP THE CANDLES. It’s creepin’ time. There’s not much you can do then, or you have to really want it. You have to want it so badly that you’ll do it under conditions of severe low light, and possibly risk an injury, and experience frustration.

That’s how the reading has been. My candle barely casts enough light to illuminate the pages. It’s probably terrible for my eyes, having to squint so hard, but my eyes are already so terrible that at this point… they can get worse. I mean, if it comes to it, I’ll use a magnifying glass if I have to. We’ll cross that bridge when it comes. But this reading, you would be amazed to see all the various positions that I have come up with, the seatings and arrangements, the tactical candle placements, the ingenious schemes to angle the book so that it receives more light.

It took me three nights to come up with my second best idea, which was to place the candle in a drawer in my desk. I have an old wooden desk, and it sits right next to my bed. Reading from bed is more comfortable, especially at night, although I like to also sit at the desk and read. I have been starting at the desk, and then moving to the bed. Sometimes I’ll switch between them, and actually I have been doing that, to give my body a break from being stuck in a single position for too long. So, sitting at the desk could be tiring, as I have to prop the book up in my hands, on my elbows. That has to be done to ensure enough light hits the page.

The angle of the light is very important, and unfortunately most of my candle light is shooting straight up, and is wasted. So, wherever my book is in relation to the candle, it must be above the candle. I have to get that light. That’s why, after two nights, my genius was not to raise the book up, but to lower the candle, by putting it in an open drawer. That makes it lower than the surface of the desk, putting it on the right level for me and my book. It also allowed me to read from the bed, while sitting propped up against the pillows, because my bed height is slightly lower than the desk height.

I thought that this was a good lesson in how time can reveal solutions and solve your problems. You do not immediately see all the improvements, you do not strike on all the best methods at once. You inevitably get tired of the problem, you get so tired of the problem, and you constantly scheme ways to solve it, until you do.

It took me about five nights before I found the best, most comfortable solution yet. It was also, however, the most fraught with risk, as I found out. By placing the candle at the side of my hip, directly on my bed with me in my bed, I was able to have the light so close, and receive a majority of the beaming photons, wonderfully lighting up the pages of my book. They would shoot right up into the book, that I could hold in a natural position, right on my lap, as I lay there in the bed, and I could see every word, on both pages, clearly, from a perfectly comfortable position. How wonderful!

Yet, the problem as you can imagine, is that I am laying down, sharing my bed with a precariously placed flame, and a basin of hot, liquid wax.

It was some night where I was reading the Order of the Phoenix, deep into the trials and tribulations, and I just wanted it to be over, I wanted to get through it, but the book was defeating me, all 900-something pages of it. This was no Chamber of Secrets, this was no Prisoner of Azkaban. I was pushing it up to my limit, playing with fire, literally (yes I had to write that)…! And I was falling asleep at the wheel, and the third or fourth time I nodded off on the page, I was jolted awake, feeling my side suddenly become wet and hot, and saw that the candle flame was now sideways, and the hot wax was spilling out everywhere. That’ll wake you up.

You know what? I just remembered. I wasn’t falling asleep. I remember that, I was just deeply engrossed, and forgot about the candle, and adjusted myself. I know I wasn’t falling asleep, because I remember what I did afterward: I took off my pajama pants, now covered in hot wax, I changed my undies (had a little hot wax on ’em too), and then I promptly sat down at my desk and kept reading. When I went back to bed, I checked to see if the wax had cooled, and it had. There was a hard, waxy patch now on the side of my comforter and bedsheet.

That patch lasted for about five days, by the way. I just washed the sheets today.

One week of no artificial light: Results

I was just tempted to let that be the last line, but I should tell you about the big reason to avoid bad artificial light, which is quality of sleep. And I have found that since I’ve started doing this no artificial light thing, I have really been getting great sleep, and I have been enjoying these evening, reading-by-candlelight sessions. It’s got me waking up at the crack of dawn again. I find that even if I stay up late, as I have been, because I have been gripped by a sickness of Harry Potter fever, it’s not as punishing to stay up reading by candlelight, than by browsing the internet on the laptop, watching YouTube or whatever it is that I’m doing with that thing.

It also removes all temptation, and pressure. Maybe I’m pressured to take care of some business? Do it tomorrow. Have to message someone? Nope. Check email, bank accounts, Google something that I absolutely need to get to the bottom of, such as “Is fire artificial light?” It can wait. (It took all of my self-control not to look this one up, that first candlelit night.)

It makes it easier to say no to all of these things because of the clear rule. When the goes down, artificial light is BANNED. That’s it. Simple.

I would recommend anyone to try this out.

(Shoutout to Parker for discovering the unscented $1.99 candles hidden on the very bottom rack in the candle aisle at Kroger, that comes with no plastic except the tiny sticker, that looks exactly like a large glass of milk, and makes this foray into candlelight living much more economically bearable.)

The Neighbor’s Sunflowers

Not much writing here, I just wanted to share some shots that I thought you guys would enjoy.

After a very longgggggg time away… I busted out the macro lens.

I was surveying my neighbor’s sunflowers, at about 6:30 pm today, and there was so much action going on, I was really taking a good look and seeing everything. There was so much activity, so many different organisms (nearly all insects) making use of the great gifts of the sunflowers, and I decided, you know what? I’m going to do some macrophotography. The spider was really what made me decide to go grab the camera and the gear, because it was an interesting one, with incredible long front arms. I was excited to take some photos of these creatures, and I tried my best.

I was reminded, and especially after actually pulling up the photos on my screen, just how hard macrophotography is. Especially of moving targets. And not only were the bugs moving, but the sunflowers were often moving around, waving in the wind. You have to do alot of spray and pray, and even when the shot lines up, everything is right, nobody is moving, no wind, the target animal is not moving, still you have your hand movement, and you have to get the focus just right. These things are so small. You cannot capture the entire creature in focus, from too close up, because your focal plane is not big enough. You either have to back up, or choose a focal point, which you would almost always want to be the eyes. You can see that I had this trouble with the leaf-footed bug, because it was large. But the tiny ants, the incredibly tiny ants, the tiny ants in existence, I could get the whole ant in focus, from so close up, because the entire ant fits into the focal plane.

All shots were taken on 1/200 of a second, f5.0, ISO 800, a couple on ISO 200.

The Japanese word for sunflower is himawari (ひまわり). Isn’t that a nice word? Rolls right off the tongue. I think it sounds light and pretty, like the actual flowers.

(Below is an American Goldfinch photo I took at the same sunflowers last year, with my 400mm prime lens.)

“Rest Day” // Japanese Pokemon

The Celebration That Wasn’t

Yesterday was supposed to be a rest day, and it kind of was. But I “worked”. I dog sat. It wasn’t a full rest day.

Today I woke up and felt like, yes, today needs to be a rest day. And today is actually becoming a rest day. Even me writing this, we’ll call it a restful thing, because I’m just having fun with it. There’s no expectation. This is purely for enjoyment. There’s a big difference, between having to do something out of obligation or requirement, versus just for fun. And this writing here is just for fun.

Two days ago I finished the first draft of a story idea that I had hatched. I carried it all the way to completion and that took about ten days. Ten days of tenacity, of sticking to it, of staying on it, and not letting it escape me, but getting through the whole thing, through the ups and downs, the struggle and joy. When I finished the draft two days ago, I felt euphoric, and yet, lost. It had consumed me and stayed in my mind for ten whole days. I couldn’t believe that much time had actually passed. For ten days I contemplated the story and worked on it, held it in my mind, stayed tethered to that fantasy world. And when I was done, I felt strange. It was over. Except, it wasn’t over, and it’s not over. That was just the first part. But that’s probably the hardest part, I feel. Who knows. I’m new to all of this.

It’s the longest story I’ve ever written, possibly ever. Probably ever. And I still haven’t recovered from the writing of it yet, I think.

I knew that the first thing I had to do upon finishing was celebrate. I couldn’t move on to anything else without celebrating the accomplishment. Even from a work perspective, if you are trying to accomplish more, you have to celebrate. It’s part of the job, it’s a necessary thing.

I racked my brain on what to do for my celebration. I tried to walk through the great suburban desert of East Nashville to go to Woodland Wine Merchant and buy a bottle of wine, to crack open with my lads tonight, but I only made it halfway through the great suburban desert before dying in the sun and throwing in the towel. I thought about going to Waffle House or getting some donuts at East Park Donut, but I didn’t really to spend money on that. I wanted to have an experience, and I knew that I had wanted to go swimming. I keep thinking about surfing. I guess I miss surfing, and I miss swimming, and I really want to do it again. So, I decided I would go swimming, even though it meant work, because I had to figure out where I would go, and drive there, which I really didn’t want to do. But I had to celebrate, and it was all I could think of.

I found that Percy Priest Lake seemed to be the closest place to me that I could swim in the wild. In freshwater. I had to drive on the highway…. blah blah blah. Long story short, the highway was a nightmare, the “beach” was a strip of grass next to the highway, covered in trash, there was a homeless guy there with swollen, rotting elephantitis ankles, the water was scummy, and made my eyes sting, and yet I did enjoying frolicking in the water like an otter. It was exactly the feeling I was looking for. Then I returned on the nightmare highway, and had angry visions of bombing everyone on the highway, and of having a giant plow affixed to the front of my car that would allow me to drive through the highway unimpeded and plow everyone out of my way. I was stuck in bumper to bumper traffic in the 90 degree July sun and moved 0.2 miles in 10 minutes. Not a good feeling.

Climbing Conquest

So, I still haven’t recovered, and still need to rest, before entering work mode again. I did go climbing at the gym, and if you had read my recent post “Perseverance”, I talk about my “nemesis” climb, the V1-3 that was stopping me from becoming a V2-4 man. Well, I walked into the gym yesterday with Parker, and I had actually forgotten about that climb for a minute, as I was really just there to have fun, and chill, but my man Ryan, a #1 One Piece fan, and a chill high school kid, he told me when I walked in, “Bro you gotta get that climb today, they’re taking it down soon!” And I was like.. Oh, god dammit. The pressure is on. Great. I was supposed to be here for fun.

You know what happened? I was fully charged, and I was strong, and I did some warmups, and then Ryan came out from the behind the counter, and Parker said, “Well, are you gonna do it now? Ryan’s here to watch.” And I said okay. And I walked up to the wall, and I screamed, “THIS ONE’S FOR RYAN!!!!!” And I took that sucker down. It was euphoric. I laid on the ground after the conquest, not moving, eyes closed, basking in the glow of victory. Parker gave me knucks, and Ryan clapped, and then he said, “Now you have to find another project-” But I cut him off, and said, “CHILL. Ryan, chill!!!!” I had just beaten this climb. I didn’t need another project (new challenging climb to be working on) just yet. Chill, bro. Let me savor this.

Well, today, it’s a million degrees, and I was not going to try and go swimming again. Nope. I’m not going anywhere, and not driving on the Nashville highway ever again in my life if I can help it. So.. what else could I do for my rest day?

When I was back in Ozu Machi, way back when, in the depths of the pandemic, when we were all bound to the home and desperate for things to do… I bought a 3DS and got Ultra Moon, in Japanese, and played through the whole thing. I hadn’t played Pokemon for like, ten years, so I had no idea what they had been cooking up, but I knew they had been cooking. I remember that time fondly, exploring the new world of Pokemon, and learning so much Japanese I thought my head would explode. These days, I’ve been feeling a pull to Japanese again, and I’ve been thinking about that playthrough, and so as a treat, and for my rest days, I thought I would try to recreate the magic.

After debating on which new Pokemon game I would buy, I ended up settling on Pokemon Violet, for the Switch, an open world Pokemon game from 2022. And now, if you can stand it, here’s what I want to share with you.

Return To Japanese

Note: I think that even if you are not a Japanese language learner you might just be interested to see some of my notes, and a breakdown of some recent Japanese study. If you are not, this part might not be so interesting for you.

I played for about three hours between yesterday and today, and I haven’t even made it to the first town. Parker was watching my slow, crawling progress, as I sat there with my notebook, scribbling my 20th Japanese study note, and he said, “People would love to see this.” I think I had played for over an hour before I even caught my first Pokemon, which is something you can do, if you skip the dialouge and get straight to business, in about ten minutes.

When it comes to studying language, Pokemon is a great mix of everything. Right out of the gate, we had the sensei speaking in keigo (honorific, polite Japanese), especially when talking with the main character’s mom (called in game, ママ, Mama), modeling a real conversation between a Mama-san and her daughter’s school’s sensei.. you have the kids jabbering casually, and then you have the instructive Japanese of the in-game instructions. Between game prompts, in-game signboards, character dialogue, etc… there’s a lot of variety in the Japanese being used. There’s a wide range of characters of all ages and backgrounds as well, and they all have different styles of speaking, so you can see what language is used by an old fisherman, an honorable sensei, a Mama-san, or a young bug catcher child, or an insolent breakdancer gangster lackey, a mob boss, a scientific genius..

Here are some of the snippets of Japanese I wrote down in my notebook today. Let’s break them down. Just for fun.

ご近所同士仲良くしよう！

The word I was wondering about was 同士, and in the context of 近所同士, which is something like neighborhood companion. This is probably a phrase that Japanese use, and is used for members of the neighborhood. Your neighbor friend was saying this to you in the game.

凄腕トレーナーなんですよ

This word is すごうで. I thought it was a more polite way to use 凄い, and actually it’s using the same kanji 凄腕、凄い.. So I was on to something there. 腕 is arm. So it’s saying “great arm”, literally. The dictionary says that 凄腕 means “1. remarkable ability, brilliant technique or 2.virtuoso, resourceful person”. It’s a compliment to someone’s ability. I like this word.

交流を深めてください

交流を深める seems to be a set phrase. It’s saying something like, “deepen our exchange” or “grow together in our relationship”.. Kind of a thing.

ポケモン勝負より放題

I wrote this down because I couldn’t remember at the time what 放題 was. It’s houdai, unlimited, as much as possible. Like 飲み放題, “all you can drink”. So this is “Let’s battle as much as possible.” I might need the whole sentence to perfectly translate it or to graph the entire meaning because I am a little confused about the より here, which seems to be in this case saying “less than”.

実りある勝負をしよう！

I had never seen the 実りある part here. Not hard to guess what this means. I take this to mean “fruitful”, so, “Let’s have a fruitful battle!” 実 is fruit.

勝負をしかける。

Noting that しかける is a verb used with 勝負. This sentence just means “To start a battle.”

Well.. what I have taken on here is unfeasable. I have about forty more notes in book, just from today.

I’ll do a few more. It’s good review for me, at least…!

へえー！きみやるね！

I was just suprised at this sentence. It’s so basic. The girl I had just beaten in a battle said this, which basically just means “you can do it!” as in, “You can fight!” That’s what I took it to mean. Natural English translation of this sentence might be: “Damn girl! You can really fight!”

Hermoine, Crookshanks, And Katakana

I was mysteriously drawn to choosing a young black girl as my protagonist in the game. I named my girl Hermione, trying to write that in Katakana (this took me about five minutes of debating and saying aloud how I thought a Japanese person would write it), and settled with ハーマィオニ. This turned out to be very close to correct, but not quite. The official Japanese translation of Hermione is ハーマイオ二ー。And then after naming my character ハーマィオニ, one of the starter Pokemon was a cat, and extremely cute, so I had to pick that.. because Crookshanks. (Hermione’s cat in Harry Potter world.) I couldn’t name my cat Pokemon Crookshanks though, because I was limited to 6 Japanese characters when naming in the game, which pissed me off. What the hell? 6 characters??????

Crookshanks in Katakana is a nightmare. I have to attempt writing it now, for you. For the blog.

クルックシャンクス.

I guess that wasn’t so bad.

But was it right?

Internet says: クルックシャンクス

Yatta!!!!!!!!

I do not know how much you are enjoying reading me thinking about Japanese and getting an insight into my Japanese study world, or if you are just confused. I imagine it would be interesting just to see some snippets of Japanese and look into the world of Japanese language. Japanese is really a fun and interesting language. (Profound statement.)

Chat GPT Sensei

疲れておいでですよ

This was interesting because of the おいで part, which seemed to me a kind of grammar conjugation going off of 疲れておく (spoiler: not true, it’s actually a form of 来る), but I don’t think I’ve ever encountered it. The おいで, and then adding です at the end, which is a formal sentence finisher. This sentence is keigo (honorific Japanese) I think, which has interesting and lengthier conjugations. That’s my guess here.

This one actually is a puzzler. So let’s ask our master translator, Chat GPT.

(For all y’all who don’t already know about the power of Chat GPT.. you’re about to see it. I’m bouncing around here in this post. It’s my rest day, alright? Stream of consciousness. Below I have pasted the entire result of me asking: “Can you help with this sentence? I’m wondering about the conjugation.” to Chat GPT.)

(Chat GPT answer)

Yes, I can help with that! The sentence: 疲れておいでですよ is a polite and somewhat gentle expression in Japanese, but the conjugation is slightly unusual and worth unpacking.

Breakdown:

疲れて = the て-form of 疲れる (to be tired)
おいで = an honorific or polite imperative form of 来る (to come), but in this context, it is functioning differently
です = polite copula
よ = sentence-ending particle for emphasis or assertion

What’s going on here?

This is a respectful/polite way of saying “You look tired” or “You are tired,” using a classical or regional (often Kyoto-style or older) construction. It’s a softened, polite version, especially common in service industry or among people showing concern in a gentle way.

Key point:

おいでです is a polite respectful form of いらっしゃる, which itself is an honorific verb meaning “to be,” “to go,” or “to come,” depending on context.

So:

疲れておいでですよ

really means:

You are tired, or more literally, You are in a state of being tired, said politely and with care.

More “standard” equivalent:

お疲れですね (You’re tired, aren’t you?)
お疲れのようですね (It seems like you’re tired)

In summary:

The conjugation おいでですよ is a respectful and slightly old-fashioned or regional way to say “you are…”
It comes from おいでになる, a polite form of いらっしゃる
It’s perfectly natural in certain contexts, especially when someone wants to express gentle concern

(End Chat GPT answer.)

How incredible. Chat GPT just gave us a detailed explanation on the meaning of 疲れておいでです. This phrase seemed strange to me is because.. well, it is strange. It’s a set phrase, it’s keigo, and it looks like it comes from older Japanese, so the grammar is funky. It seems to be an older and more polite way of saying お疲れですよね！

That was an interesting one. Yes indeed…

興奮しやっって　ついつい…

しやっって is an interesting conjugation.. I didn’t even notice that so much when I wrote it down because I was thinking about the ついつい, and I understood it. I think it is another way to say しちゃって.. combining しちゃう and って. Now I can’t even remember exactly what って is used for in Japanese, in this context at least… But that gets used all the time. The ついつい seems to be “accidentally” or “unintentionally”.

Yeah.. we can stop here. Let’s wrap up this brain dump.

Reflecting on this morning’s session, I was thinking: I already know so much Japanese, and yet there is so much Japanese I don’t know. It’s crazy. There’s just so much language out there. So many words. It’s wild how much we all really know.

Bart

Sometimes, the universe gives you exactly what you ask for, exactly when you ask for it.

(This just happened to me.)

It was noon. I had already done some writing on a story that I’ve been working on. I’m nearing the end of it, and it feels like I’m in the middle of a boss battle. I’m currently writing what seems to be the core emotional center or climax of the piece. It’s a difficult part. I can’t force it. But I can’t leave it alone.

However, after spending the better part of last night as well immersed in writing, I realized I was hitting a limit of time spent in fantasyland. I tried to write outside so that I wasn’t cooped up inside all day but was immediately beset by mosquitoes and angry about it.. I had an unshakeable feeling that I needed to get out into reality and connect with it, right now, during the day. I could come back to writing at night. Now was the time for reality.

With that solified in my mind, I decided to go out and walk, and do a bit of running, which I have wanted to do but am struggling with a calf strain. Just let my feet take me somewhere, and move my body in the sun. I changed clothes, threw on shoes, and out I went.

Immediately, as I turned right to go up the hill and into the depths of my East Nashville neighborhood, I saw a man on the ground in the grass across the street. He was about thirty feet down the way, rolling around near the sidewalk. I didn’t recognize him. I saw that he was old, had snow-white hair. And at first, I thought that he may have been doing yoga or something. I approached him with great curiosity and growing concern. I realized that he was not just doing some noonday stretches, but he trying to get up off the ground, and he was shaking and rocking rhythmically, like he was having a small seizure.

I walked up and studied him. There was no else around. I asked him if he was okay, and what had happened. I now noticed that his forehead was covered in a smear of blood. It was shining and deep red. It was the color of blood. He seemed confused, and I was trying to figure out what had happened to him. Was he having a stroke? Did he have a concussion? How conscious was he? Was he on drugs? He was not coherent at all. He only kept asking me to help him get up.

I could tell that if he did get up, it wouldn’t help him much. He was going to fall right over, and risk hurting himself again. I knew then that I needed to call an ambulance, and I looked around for anybody, but there was no one around. I didn’t have my phone on me and would have to go back and get it. I didn’t want to leave this man, but that was what I had to do. As I walked over to the man I had heard a siren, and I was hoping that maybe they were on the way for him, although there was no one around that I could see that would have called the police. Well, I hung around with this man, who was becoming angry at me, that I was not helping him stand up, which he couldn’t do anyways, and he started yelling at me, when I let go of his hands, “Help me, God Dammit!!” I grabbed his hands again, calming him, and then I saw turning the corner at the end of the street, a fire truck. That was a relief, and I waved to them. They pulled up, and three guys hopped out of the truck.

The lead guy was middle aged, shaved head. The two guys following behind were younger, wearing sunglasses. The shaved head firefighter walked up to the old man, and said to my surprise, in a friendly way, “Hi there Bart! Need some help?” The firefighter knew this guy. That was good. Bart said, not looking up at them, “I don’t want your help. Don’t help me.” He seemed to know them too. He was not happy to see them.

I backed off, and let the professionals take over. They talked to him, grabbed a plastic chair off the nearby porch and sat him down in it. As they picked him up, he collapsed again. The two other firefighters were sitting with him now. The lead firefighter now turned to me and gave me an explanation, in low tones. “He lives just over there,” he said, gesturing to the houses back behind. “He has Lou Gehrig’s disease and does crack, smokes weed.” He talked about it as if it were regrettable but common. All I could really thing to say to this was, “He’s having a tough time, I can tell.” The firefighter now walked over to Bart, and at that time an ambulance and a squad car showed up, everyone getting out of their vehicles. Six personnel were on the scene, and my role here in this small play was finished. I went off on my walk.

I thought briefly about this. I reflected on the plight of this old man, of the casual, matter-of-fact way of speaking about him, in his patheticness, of the firefighter.. This man, a man of my neighborhood, in such abysmal condition, and his story so natural and normal that I don’t even bat an eye at it. It’s not surprising to me at all to have encountered this situation. Especially after New York City, and from my time at the Cummins Station Starbucks, I am not shocked to see these things anymore.

Underneath the normal veil, the standard quietness of this suburban space, today, where I do my writing and my gardening, and things seem so normal, there was a rupture. I learned that my neighbor is doing crack. He is not okay. He is suffering.

Bart punctured the veil.

I am supposed to write something memorable and significant here, in conclusion. I know that. But I don’t really have anything to say.

I left my house seeking reality, and yet I was immediately met with a somewhat fantastical event. I guess it’s just that kind of day. The lines are blurred.

I hope Bart is okay.

Sunflower Sprouts and Soil Creatures

I stepped out to investigate my garden, and found that the sunflower seeds I had planted less than a week ago are already sprouting vigorously. This was an incredible sight.

It’s proof of concept. Planting seeds actually works. You can actually get a plant out of a seed.

This was inspiring, and this motivating sight, plus a strong pot of coffee in me, finally inspired me to move, and plant the other ten seeds I had.

Front lawn cleared of hemlock with small dirt patch for sunflowers

Here is the patch, I doubled it in space. I had taken down all the husks of the.. what was it called… why am I blanking.. POISON HEMLOCK. The poison hemlock turns out to be not only extremely toxic but also covered in literally thousands of burrs, which ended up sticking to everything I was wearing, covering me in hundreds and hundreds of little tenacious burrs. (I pulled some off of my washed underwear this morning, five days past.)

Remains of the dangerous and nefarious poison hemlock

Here are the poison hemlock remnants. I got a nice hornet sting in the process of pulling this all out of the front yard. It’s funny, I was ripping it up, knowing it was a toxic plant, apparently so toxic that it shouldn’t be burned or ingested, but Google says touching it was generally fine, and so there I was, in a no-sleeve shirt and with no gloves, standing deep in poison hemlock and slathering it all over my body for a solid hour, the entire time thinking.. I might really end up regretting this. Knowing that it was dumb. But I had no averse reaction, and the only thing that caused me pain and suffering was a hornet sting.

I haven’t been stung since I was a kid, and if you have forgotten what it’s like, as I had… Yeah. It hurts.

I hadn’t even thought about hornets or bee stings when I was reaching in and grabbing those plants barehanded, like a maniac. Well, I clamped my hand down on a hornet, and it reminded me right away why they are not to be forgotten. I knew instantly that I had just been stung, and I saw the culprit whiz right out of the bush, a large black hornet, and within seconds my palm, as it stung me right in the meaty meat of my palm, had doubled in size, and I was going, “Ahhhhh….. Tssssss.. Ahhhhh…….!” Making those sharp breathing sounds between your teeth.

The stinging animals have an incredible power with their stinging ability. After I got stung, I f***ed right off, and immediately ended my shenanigans for the day.

Anyway, that was about four days ago. Today I finished planting the rest of the sunflowers, during a noon bit of cloud cover, and now this is what I really want to share with you.

I began to pull up the clumps of grass, to clear more dirt patch for my planting. And when I pulled up the first round of thick, tall grass clumps, an amazing and unbelieveable sight met my eyes.

I had just unrooted an incredible, thriving ecosystem. Down in the soil before me, I saw literally thousands of organisms wriggling wildly in the soil.

Most of them were baby roly-polys. I could not believe the number of roly-polys I was seeing. Within a single square foot patch of this earth in front of my yard, there were so many, innumerable tiny beings living, and they were only what I could see with my eyes. I scanned the dirt, taking it all in, and I spied: adult roly-polys, baby roly-polys, earthworms, a large weevil, juvenile shieldbugs (stinkbugs), ants, millipedes (several various kinds, one that was extremely wriggling and lithe, with two long slender antennae, and it reminded me strongly of the worm dragons of Asian mythology), various snails, and wasps.

All of this was in the square 1×1 foot of earth that I had just torn up, ripping up those thick clumps of earth. Every centimeter of the earth contained some small living beings. And they were all scrambling madly, now having their world suddenly turned upside down. It was shocking to see.

I had just blown up their little town, completely ripped up their home, and I felt terrible.

I had not expected this to happen, of course. Not like this. This was a particularly prolific patch that I had torn up. I thought, is it worth for me to tear up all this grass, in the name of cultivating the earth, when clearly there is already a good amount of thriving happening here? Already an entire ecosystem is supported.

I had to step away for a minute and consider that.

Ultimately, I figured that this ecosystem could continue to flourish once some sunflowers and other flowers had been added to the mix, and would be even further improved. Wildflowers and other native plants were going to be better than invasive poison hemlock and whatever grass had been there, in the long run. So I continued with my planting. And anyway, this was an experiment, a small-scale experiment in the front of my little lawn in suburban Nashville, and so the stakes aren’t that high.

Seeing this flood of microorganisms in the soil today was a good reminder, that there are many things happening under the surface, down in the soil, that we are not seeing at all. Just below the grass, down in the blades and the bases, an entire ecosystem exists and is thriving, doing the heavy work of keeping the soil healthy and helping things to grow.

I plan next to plant black-eyed susans, zinneas, and shasta daisies. It’s probably not the best time for planting, in the middle of summer. I kind of have no idea what I’m doing. But I’m having fun and learning some things. I figure that’s the most important thing.

I wanted to share this picture too.

This now totally green and flush space had just this spring been a patch of bare earth that I dug up to plant some nasturtiums. That was the first thing I ever planted. Three plants grew out of the nine or ten seeds that I planted, with me doing absolutely zero work of watering or weeding. What’s cool to see now is that within only a few months, this bare space of earth has been entirely populated by a variety of plants, without me having to do anything. That was prime real estate for many local plants, and they’ve scooped it up without hesitation.

I surveyed the plants in this space, and looked at all of the plants in the front yard here, and was wondering just how many species of plants there were in this small space. There is already a wild ecosystem here, even in this humdrum patch of weeds and grass, I’m learning.

Plastic Bag Bans

I woke up this morning thinking about plastic.

Again.

I have developed a minor obsession with plastic. It helps that plastic is literally everywhere, all the time. There are many opportunities to think about it.

I have recently been getting emails from my environmental sources that have been touting the benefits of plastic bag bans. And yesterday, as I went for a walk through the neighborhood, I followed behind a man carrying his groceries home in a plastic bag.

I followed him for awhile, walking the same route, and thinking (again) about plastic. Specifically, plastic bags.

Plastic bags are one of the most common sources of plastic pollution. I mean, I don’t really have to even say anything about them, right? We all know. We all know now that plastic bags are a problem.

I don’t think I’ve taken a plastic bag at a grocery store in years. I can’t remember the last time I accepted one. I keep reusable bags in my car. I bring a bag when I walk. It doesn’t cause me any trouble or hardship. It seems like this is really a low-hanging fruit. Cutting out plastic bags.

Many states and cities have already banned them successfully.

Here are some facts about plastic bags, from publicinterestnetwork.org.

Click to access US-Single-Use-Plastics-Coastal_1_0.pdf

“The U.S. uses over 280 million plastic bags
every day on average. We use these plastic
bags for a few minutes and then they pollute
our communities and environment for decades.”
“Plastic bags are not readily recyclable and
can jam up recycling equipment, hurting
the overall recycling system.”
“Plastic bag bans work. Just four years after
Seattle banned plastic bags, Seattle homes
threw out 50% fewer plastic bags. In 2017,
after hundreds of local governments and
the state of California banned single-use
bags, 72% fewer plastic bags were found
during beach cleanups, compared with
2010.”

Let’s get these plastic bags out of here!!!!!!!!!!!

Environmentamerica.org has a calculator for how effective a plastic bag ban would be if instituted in Nashville, TN.

(Calculator: https://environmentamerica.org/center/resources/plastic-bag-bans-work/)

Over 200 million bags kept off of Earth a year, just from a ban in Nashville.

The other persuasive point here is that we would also save over 1 million barrels of oil by banning plastic here in Nashville. At a time where we want to reduce our energy consumption and especially of fossil fuels as much as possible, that could be some really welcome savings.

It seems to me that we need this action as soon as possible, and this is an easy step. Most of our plastic usage is just based on convenience. With a little more foresight and planning most of our single-use plastics can be eliminated, and money and energy can be saved.

Thinking about it from an efficiency perspective helps motivate me to action as well. Generating less waste and consuming less waste means that we don’t use as much energy on production and removal. Less water, less oil, less electricity, less cleanup cost. And anywhere where we can save energy and effort, that reduces costs elsewhere, and that energy and labor can be utilized somewhere else.

This is something that is in my mind when I think about mowing lawns. Where are we wasting energy? Where could we better utilize human time and resources?

I see wide tracts of land that are mowed that are not really being utilized for anything. (I say not used for anything but perhaps there is a reason why they keep them clear and I just don’t know about it. I admit I am not a land use expert.) It costs energy and labor to keep that mowed, while not serving much of a role (that I can see). It seems to me that if it were allowed to grow freely, it would be a carbon sink, and it would also not require energy use of mowing, of watering, and would not need any human labor either.

What if our lawn mowers were also gardeners? What if they cultivated instead of cut?

I know I’ve strayed a little off topic here, but this was in my mind as I watched the mowing crews cut a large swath of grass around a small strip mall near my house. Nobody is walking or playing in that grass. So what if it was a garden instead? Or a patch of wildflowers or grass, which would require less effort than a garden? We are already spending time and energy to cut it. Why not cultivate it instead? It seems that that would be a better use of the land and cost less resources over time.

In many ways, we’ve fallen out of sync with nature — swept up by the momentum of our industrial and societal engines. But there are plenty of chances to restore balance. With a little imagination and effort, we can make meaningful changes. A simple plastic bag ban looks like one easy place to start.

A Flea, a Goose, and a Lollipop Walk Into a Bar.. (And They’re All Poems)

July 6th, 2025

Well I really have no idea what that title is all about but I have to keep coming up with these things.

My poetry brain was working overtime last night. I can’t tell you why. All I can tell you is that I settled snugly into bed, after a hard day’s work and a fun day’s enjoyment, tired and ready to get my rest, and then suddenly, relentlessly, I was seized with an attack of unabating poetic inspiration. I wrote a poem, then I wrote another poem, and another, still more, my brain twisting and turning, churning them out like an oven. I don’t know what was happening. After I spent twenty minutes on a monkey poem that I didn’t even want to be working on, I had started to feel possessed and unhealthy, and I had to stop myself, and get in bed and stay there. Something was coming over me last night, it’s clear.

This poem about fleas was inspired by the fact that my legs are covered in what I think are chigger bites, and I was laying there in bed with my incredibly itchy legs, twisting and turning, trying not to scratch.

Fleas

Fleas!
Fleas!
I’m up to my knees,
In 10,000 fleas!

I’m scratching, itching, jumping,
Jeez!

Somebody please—
Help me get rid of these
dastardly,
bastardly
Good-for-nothing,
fleas!

The goose poem ended up being about the classic battle of my father versus the geese that terrorize and poop on his lawn. But it simply started with my brain wanting to rhyme goose with noose.

Goose

Goose,
Hey Goose!
Tell me when
was the last time you felt the noose
around your neck—
The cold kiss of Death?

And do you want to feel it now?
Because I have the power
to end all your fun
with my plastic air gun.

Stop pooping on my lawn.
Go away.
Don’t come back!

Or I’ll sic the attack
dog on your ass.
She’s faster than fast—
a great black beast
named Daisy.

On geese she feasts.
A goose is her treat.
She’s a fan of goose meat.
And she loves to eat beaks.

So I would advise,
You go find another lawn
to terrorize
with your crap!

The last good poem to pop out of my brain last night was inspired by The Jumblies by Edward Lear, where he writes “lollipop paws”. And I just loved that so much that I guess the word lollipop has been stuck in my brain.

Lollipop

Lollipop
Lollipop
Call it a Jollypop
It makes people happy
It’s better than taffy

You lick it and lick it
And make it all sticky
It can be tricky
To figure this one out—
How many licks does it take
To get to the center
Of a Lollipop
Jollypop
Pollywop

They come in many colors—
Pink, brown, and blue—
And many flavors:
Bubblegum, cinnamon,
Raspberry too

If you ever find yourself
In need of a treat,
Something sweet,
Take this:

A Lollipop
Pollywop
Jollybop
For you

Muses have mercy on me! Let me sleep tonight..!

Ode To Donuts

July 5th, 2025

Four days ago at the coffee shop, after handling some of my business, I had a wild and intense urge to feast on donuts. I immediately typed in “donut” on Google images, to feed my desire, and I gazed upon images and images of wonderful, colorful, round, chocolate, cake, glazed donuts. It was driving me wild, and I wanted to get donuts right then and there.

I was with my sister at the coffee shop. I was speaking out loud, vocalizing my internal struggle with wanting to immediately go and buy a large amount of donuts from Kroger, but not wanting to spend money nor gorge on such an unhealthy food, as I knew I would do. Yet about two months ago, I had this wild urge to eat an entire red velvet cake, an urge I have had many times but never given in to, and I thought, that night would be the night that I finally gave in, and feasted on red velvet cake. I had earned it. However, when I went to the store, I found that all of the cakes, the red velvet included, were encased in large plastic containers, and I had recently just started my anti-plastic campaign, and I wavered, but I knew that I could not commit a double sin, of gluttony and environmental crime, and so I didn’t get the red velvet cake.

But right next to the cakes, in the bakery corner, was the rack of Krispy Kreme donuts, and they caught my eye. Perhaps I could settle for a donut, or twelve. Checking out the stand, I thought that there were many satisfying donuts for my purchase, and then I looked at the boxes, and saw that they were all entirely made of paper. That was acceptable. So I bought a whole dozen, jelly, creme, glazed, cake, chocolate, mamma mia, and I took the whole dozen home and feasted. I personally ate six that night, five in a row, and then one more later at night. My roommates had two and three respectively. One was leftover for me, the next morning – proof that last night’s donut devouring was not just a dream.

I reflected on this prior donut gorging, as I debated whether or not I should immediately go to Kroger and do it all again, because it was actually a wonderful thing. It made me feel alive and brought me incredible joy, and my roommates too. And so I was thinking, at the coffee shop now having this wild urge again, that perhaps this could be a satisfactory donut feasting as well.

I tried to justify it as that I could make a blog post about it, and that’s exactly why I am making this post now. I said that I could write a poem, being inspired by the book of fancy and fun poetry, and my sister, in her wisdom and genius, said that I should write the poem right there on the spot, as I was at the time in the midst of the urge and desire. So I did, and this is what came out of me, born out of pure, unbridled donut lusting.

Ode To Donuts

Donut

Schmonut

Gronut

Wonut

I love a diddly dang donut

Munch, smunch, yummy yum yum

Chocolate, cream, glazed, crumb

Crumbly bumbly yummy donuts

Pink brown white yellow and green

Give me a donut right now

Please

My tummy!

My tongue!

Howls for donuts!!!

I ended up not getting the donuts for several more days. My intense desire had abated rapidly. We did end up going to Kroger but I didn’t want the Kroger donuts. I had to investigate some new donuts, and so we ended up going to East Park Donuts a few days later, and having a classier donut.

One donut plus the tip cost me $5.50, whereas a dozen Kroger donuts cost $16.50, but hey. It was a nice experience, and my sister was gracious enough to buy me the strawberry donut, which was actually amazing. It had a perfect texture, being one of the sour cream cake donuts, and then the strawberry glaze actually tasted like strawberries, and not the fake strawberry flavor (you know what I’m talking about). I was afraid to get it because I was worried about the fake strawberry flavor, but my sister knew better. She knew it had that real strawberry flavor.

There was a real difference between the quality of the donuts, the biggest thing being in the range of flavors present in the East Park Donuts, and in the quality of the donut batter. The cake part of the donut. There was a significant improvement in deliciousness and quality of the bread part of the donut. When it comes to quality, East Park Donuts wins. Good for a thoughtful donut enjoyment experience, with a friend, over coffee. Kroger’s Krispy Kreme has them beat on quantity. Good for an insane, hedonistic binge at midnight, with your two hungry roommates.

We have the Donut Distillery right down the street, apparently. Donuts and whiskey? We’ll have to write another poem for that.

Have you ever had a donut binge? Any other kind of treat binge or gorging session? Let me know!!!!

An Interview With Two Crabs

July 4th, 2025

Happy AMERICA Day!!!!!! 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

Interviewer: “What is your favorite food?”

Crab #1: “Seaweed.”

Interviewer: “What do you like to do – “

Crab #1: “But on a fancy day, a bubble filled with salmon oil.. no, no, not salmon, we don’t eat salmon. Just a bubble. From near a Dairy Queen. The air is from Dairy Queen. It has french-fried air. That’s very important.”

Crab #1, sewing intensely: “Sewing takes a long ass time. But it’s definitely easier than…”

Interviewer: “Than what?”

Crab #1: “Easier than crocheting.”

Interviewer: “How do you spell croquet?”

Crab #1: “I don’t know. I’m a crab.”

Interviewer: “Crocheting. It’s crocheting.”

*A second crab appears.*

Crab #2: “Can I give my answer?”

Interviewer: “Sure.”

Crab #2: “Anything.”

Interviewer: “What? Oh, anything.”

(Interviewer realizes that Crab #2 is answering the favorite food question.)

Interviewer: “Okay, great. What do you like to do on your days off?”

Crab #1: “Umm.. I like to sit on a pile of gold doubloons, and rub my claws together, and go heh heh heh.”

Interviewer: “Crab #2?”

Crab #2: “Scuttle.”

(Interviewer nods approvingly.)

Interviewer: “What do you like most about being a crab?”

Crab #2: “Scuttling.”

Interviewer: “Sure. Makes sense.”

Crab #1: “I like.. clicking my claws.”

Interviewer: “Very nice.”

Interviewer: “What is your highest aspiration in life?”

Crab #2: “Thrive.”

Crab #1, to Crab #2: “Boring…”

Crab #1: “My greatest aspiration is to become the Swimness Book of World Records (the underwater version of the Guiness Book of World Records) for highest claw clacks per minute.”

Crab #2, to Crab #1: “That’s not what a crab would want. I’m detecting fake crab.”

Crab #1, sewing a sock puppet: “Could be true. How would I know what a crab would want? I was born here just like everybody else. Perhaps I was born a mollusk.”

Interviewer: “Let’s get back on track.”

Interviewer: “If you were going to be used as a food dish for humans, what dish would you like to be a part of?”

Crab #1: “Cake. Crab cake.”

Crab #2: “I morally object to the question.”

Crab #1: “Oooh, you are a real crab! You reject crab death.”

(Both crabs laugh.)

Interviewer: “Well.. umm.. You guys got any questions for me?”

Crab #1: “Is it true that you guys.. That…. Oh, I can’t think of a question.”

Crab #2: “Are we supposed to ask you a question?”

Interviewer: “You don’t have to.”

Crab #2: “Why do you love?”

Interviewer: “Why.. Why do I love..? Why not?”

Crab #1: “My question is, what store in the mall is your favorite? I wish I could go to the mall.”

Interviewer: “Red Lobster.”

Crab #1, sad: “No….!”

Interviewer: *Chuckling.*

Crab #1: “That’s not at the mall.”

Interviewer: “You know I went to Build-A-Bear once, and had a great time.”

*Crab #2 starts giving Crab #1 a crab massage. Crabs are now discussing playing DND.*

Interviewer: “Alright guys, let’s wrap this up.”

Crab #1: “Let’s scrab.. rab.. Let’s crab this up.”

Interviewer: “Any last words?”

Crab #2: “Finally! Freedom!”

Crab #1: “When I go up to heaven, I want to be a seahorse next time.”

Interviewer: “I hope that comes true for you.”

Crab #1, confident: “It will. I pray to Crab Buddha.”

Thank you to my crab interviewees who were real people channeling their inner crab for this interview. Crab #1 lines, written by: Rachel. Crab #2 has requested anonymity.

Flinkywisty Pomm

July 3rd, 2025

I’ve recently stumbled upon an incredible new genre of literature. The world of nonsense poetry, from a book titled Poems Of Fun And Fancy. It’s shocking that I didn’t know about any poems of fun and fancy, and my life has been this whole time entirely devoid of poems of fun and fancy, but thank god I’ve got them now. My favorites so have been the Edward Lear and Lewis Carroll poems. Today, my deserving reader, let me share some of these gems with you.

A Letter to Evelyn Baring, by Edward Lear.

A Letter to Evelyn Baring

Thrippsy pillivinx,

Inky tinky pobbleboskle abblesquabs? —

Flosky! beebul trimble flosky! — Okul

scratchabibblebongibo, viddle squibble tog-a-tog,

ferrymoyassity amsky flamsky ramsky damsky

crocklefether squiggs.

Flinkywisty pomm,

Slushypipp

Yep. Literally 100% nonsense and jibberish.

For me, this is straight gas. This is my kind of poetry.

Next we have The Jumblies, also by Edward Lear.

The Jumblies

They went to sea in a Sieve, they did,

In a Sieve they went to sea:

In spite of all their friends could say,

On a winter’s morn, on a stormy day,

In a Sieve they went to sea!

And when the Sieve turned round and round,

And every one cried, ‘You’ll all be drowned!’

They called aloud, ‘Our Sieve ain’t big,

But we don’t care a button! we don’t care a fig!

In a Sieve we’ll go to sea!’

Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies live;

Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,

And they went to sea in a Sieve.

They sailed in a Sieve, they did,

In a Sieve they sailed so fast,

With only a beautiful pea-green veil

Tied with a riband by way of a sail,

To a small tobacco-pipe mast;

And every one said, who saw them go,

‘O won’t they be soon upset, you know!

For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long,

And happen what may, it’s extremely wrong

In a Sieve to sail so fast!’

Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies live;

Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,

And they went to sea in a Sieve.

III

The water it soon came in, it did,

The water it soon came in;

So to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet

In a pinky paper all folded neat,

And they fastened it down with a pin.

And they passed the night in a crockery-jar,

And each of them said, ‘How wise we are!

Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long,

Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong,

While round in our Sieve we spin!’

Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies live;

Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,

And they went to sea in a Sieve.

And all night long they sailed away;

And when the sun went down,

They whistled and warbled a moony song

To the echoing sound of a coppery gong,

In the shade of the mountains brown.

‘O Timballo! How happy we are,

When we live in a sieve and a crockery-jar,

And all night long in the moonlight pale,

We sail away with a pea-green sail,

In the shade of the mountains brown!’

Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies live;

Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,

And they went to sea in a Sieve.

They sailed to the Western Sea, they did,

To a land all covered with trees,

And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cart,

And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart,

And a hive of silvery Bees.

And they bought a Pig, and some green Jack-daws,

And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws,

And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree,

And no end of Stilton Cheese.

Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies live;

Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,

And they went to sea in a Sieve.

And in twenty years they all came back,

In twenty years or more,

And every one said, ‘How tall they’ve grown!

For they’ve been to the Lakes, and the Torrible Zone,

And the hills of the Chankly Bore’;

And they drank their health, and gave them a feast

Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast;

And every one said, ‘If we only live,

We too will go to sea in a Sieve,—

To the hills of the Chankly Bore!’

Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies live;

Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,

And they went to sea in a Sieve.

Jack-daws and lollipop paws? The hills of the Chankly Bore? Come on man. How good is that??

Next time someone is annoying you with some bulls***, try that line: “I don’t care a button! I don’t care a fig!”

(Anybody happen to know what a “Ring-Bo-Ree” is?)

Now, these two alone are enough for you to meditate on today. They will suffice for an introductory foray into Nonsense Poetry. But, if you want to have one more, and I think you can handle it.. Here is The Mad Gardener’s Song, by Lewis Carroll (The Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland guy).

The Mad Gardener’s Song

He thought he saw an Elephant,

That practised on a fife: