I am not Shakespeare, nor was meant to be
I cannot say how long this has been so, but lately I have found that when I think, my thoughts are in iambic—what’s the word? Pentameter; that’s it. And I am vexed by all the sing-song thoughts that I must think because of this affliction most bizarre.
How can I keep blank verse out of my head? I’d be most grateful, readers of my blog, if you could help me end this nasty curse.
26 September 2007 10:21 PM
Comments
OCD FTW!
Posted by schoomer on 28 September 2007 5:59 AM
Obsessive? Sure. Compulsive? Not so much.
Posted by Jeff on 28 September 2007 6:56 AM
OD FW!
Posted by Elanor on 29 September 2007 9:54 AM
An overdose? That's never for the win.
Posted by Jeff on 29 September 2007 12:35 PM
Try thinking in Dickensian prose where you could use as many words and description and punctuations as possible, elaborating on even the most insignificant details, so that, in the end, the image or scene or person you have hither to decided to portray is so fraught with adjectives, action and images that the happy subject of your contemplation becomes a jumble of overly fascinating words and therefore more lively and rich in the sense that one could never hope to achieve such vibrancy of existence, even if one were on Ecstasy and LSD at the same time though, we know, you never would but, if you were forced to make your living by the amount of words you wrote, you would be a little long winded too. Thank god you're not.
Posted by Mary Jane on 30 September 2007 6:43 AM
A very sound idea, I must admit, and even rather beautifully explained. But that foul cure is worse than the disease.
Posted by Jeff on 30 September 2007 11:56 AM
For Win, Jefe.
Posted by Elanor on 30 September 2007 3:51 PM
Perhaps you could try aversion therapy?
Posted by Hannah on 14 December 2007 5:23 PM