Futile Horn

01.31.2003 - 2:27 am (whoa, here come the acronyms)

For giggles, I think I am going to introduce the use of acronyms on my page. This shall mean that when you see something written in bold, go on and give it a good mouseOver. In this way I shall endeavor to produce something I call "multidimensional writing". It's like reading in 3D! I'd like to imply I was pioneering some new literary experience, but my erudite readership no doubt already knows that glosses have been around since antiquity.

If I see one more diaryland banner displaying a pair of eyes, someone will have to pay in blood. Do you somehow think people will be more interested in reading your diary if they suspect it comes from someone with optic nerves? Whoa, boys, back the truck up, this one has corneas! Jeepers creepers!

Corneus means horny in Latin. Cornu inutile ego sum. My resources inform me that futilis is also a word, but I've yet to stumble across it in a dark alley.

Considering that the nights don't feel quite so frigid anymore and I am no longer dreaming bizarre dreams ('to dream dreams' is an example of what is called a cognate accusative; the New Testament Greek is obnoxiously full of them), I believe I've had a particularly mild form of the flu that last few days.

The mouse in my wall is dead! I started to smell him in the hallway the other day (behind my apartment thankfully, not actually in it), but his rotting corpse was recently discovered and disposed of. There shall be no more scratching to keep my punk ass awake in the afternoon.

My sister had some friends in college that busted a couple of holes in their wall. Rather then paying outrageous fines, they decided to patch up the walls themselves. But since the bowels of walls were already open, they decided to load it full of all sorts of interesting crap: pizza boxes, underwear, textbooks, and so forth. They were about to plant a halibut in there as well, which all agreed would be a delightfully funny and nasty prank to pull, but they decided against it when they remembered they were retaining the room the next year.

I opened up Doctor Faustus today and the first line I saw was "Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" No kidding. Actually my favorite part of the play is where Faustus asks Mephisto where hell is and the devil answers it's under heaven. And Faustus more or less says, well, so is everything you dolt, and Mephisto responds:

but where we are is hell,
And where hell is there must we ever be

Amen, Mephistopheles. Amen.

Born to play the funky céilí,
Futile Horn