Fallehuckinglujah is my comment on the power of words; it's a bastardization of Hallef***inglujah, which I am wont to say in moments of joy but cannot because of the f*** part. If, however, I switch the f and the h it retains the same feeling but is no longer obscene. Same feeling, same letters, only two letters switched but one is verboten and the other is, well, not
“I know that I am mortal by nature, and ephemeral; but when I trace at my pleasure the windings to and fro of the heavenly bodies I no longer touch earth with my feet: I stand in the presence of Zeus himself and take my fill of ambrosia, food of the gods.”
Mrs. Teasdale: I held him in my arms…And kissed him.
Firefly: Oh, I see, then it was murder! Will you marry me? Did he leave you any money? Answer the second question first.
The word capitalized is seldom capitalized because it usually comes at the end of a sentence, not the beginning.
Love the Brits. They drop out as many letters or syllables as possible. I do not know. Four words become five letters. Four syllables become two. Even that could be considered one syllable: dunno.
Something about eating a batch of small animals freaked me out. Shrimp pie, each handheld pie are dozens of shrimp. Gulp. Yum!
I mean, they’re cooked, I guess, but weird.
Who thought five repeated words would come to life. Out in the street, oh oh oh oh oh. They bounce along, A, D, E, F#, E. And they’re meshed between lyrics before and after. Simple construction, strong lyrics, fabulous cadence. If that song doesn’t make your foot tap, at least a little, there’s no hope for you.
Marvin Gaye floats like no one else. Sliding along, around, tremulous. Always right on the money. Unreal. Like Sam Cooke. It’s not that he was flawless; he was alive. His songs still sing to us. Timeless. Two who really should have lived longer.