It’s that time again….
:: T minus two months or so until we have to name a baby girl, and I can promise you it won’t be “Emmillie” or “Graiyce” or “Wrooth.” (I wonder what Mr. Jennings thinks of the popular new name, “Nevaeh”? Personally, I think that name is about as stupid as anything I can think of. All the amazing names in the Bible, and we’ve got to start spelling shit backwards?)
:: Of course, “Nevaeh” is an order of magnitude sillier even than Remington, simply because it takes an linguistic epiphany that would embarass a stoner (“Hey dude — did you realize that butter spelled backwards is … rettub?” “Duuuude.”) and forces some poor kid to live with it until they die. (Just Googled “Nevaeh” on a whim. Hey, we can go lots of places with this! Like, “Hey, did you hear about the recent mystery novel manuscript found amongst the writings of JRR Tolkien? The killer kept saying Rodrom!”)
:: I think you have to have loved someone to write a song about them. I loved Jessica. To a degree, mellowed by distance, time and life, I still do. (Or to write poetry.)
:: Cats are, after all, very cool.
:: An artist is an artist only because of his exquisite sense of beauty, a sense which shows him intoxicating pleasures, but which at the same time implies and contains an equally exquisite sense of all deformities and all disproportion. (Not actually written by the linked blogger, but click through anyway to see who did say this.)
All for now. Back next week.