…rarasaur, because of the smiles I find to be left upon my face after visiting her site and reading her stories. I would be very interested to read what any of you out there reading this might think regarding this subject:
This morning I have been thinking upon the nature of not just artistic blogging, but blogging in general. Those sites to which I enjoy–and to which I find myself returning again and again, tend to have a constant tone. Particularly are these the ones which, after having visited for a while, I find have left me feeling enriched in one way or another–not necessarily happy, I should remark, but certainly further along on any number of emotions which might be though of as positive. Continue reading →
The professor was a strange man; indeed, there is little else about him upon which it can be agreed. We might hesitate to submit that he was strange in any conventional sense—it wasn’t that his voice was too high or his stature too short or anything of the like—no, it was rather something peculiarly unrelated to any identifiable quality of himself. He was strange in a strange sense. Though upon it, it most certainly may not be agreed, this author might be so bold as to assign him the label of pedantic; for he was dreadfully preoccupied with the ‘rules of proper English’ and had an unchecked phobia of sentences that ended in prepositions bordering on the psychotic, which caused him to go to great lengths to avoid such sentences, and in turn, to produce such clausal absurdities as ‘upon which it can be agreed’ and ‘upon it, it…
Here’s to an old friend whose bawdy humour always made me uncomfortable. But all-in-all, he was a good-hearted lad and this morning finds me missing him and wondering what he might be up to these days–if in fact he is up to anything at all.