Tag Archives: words

The Devil’s Dictionary: Abdomen

In our continuing quest to revisit a classic, or even a curiosity from the past and see how relevant it is, we continue with The Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce. Originally published in newspaper installments from 1881 until 1906. You might be surprised how current many of the entries are.

For example, here is a definition for Abdomen. The Old definition is Bierce’s. The New definition is mine or somebody else contemporary. From time to time, just as it was originally published, we will come back to The Devil’s Dictionary, for a look at it then and how it applies today. Click on Devil’s Dictionary in the tags below to bring up the other entries.

OLD DEFINITION
Abdomen, n. The temple of the god Stomach, in whose worship, with sacrificial rights, all true men engage. From women this ancient faith commands but a stammering assent. They sometimes minister at the altar in a half-hearted and ineffective way, but true reverence for the one deity that men really adore the know not. If woman had a free hand in the world’s marketing, the race would become graminivorous.

NEW DEFINITION
In this case, it’s more of an augmentation of the original definition than revision of the original.

Augmentation 1:
Beer Belly, n. The temple of the god Stomach after a regular and continual ingesting of liquid graminivorous forms. These graminivorous forms include ale, pale ale, stout, larger, and lite forms of these and other similar liquids.

Augmentation 2:
Six-Pack Abs, n. The flip side (so to say) of the beer belly in which attempts are made to make the temple appear like the packaging of the liquid graminivorous content and not the liquid graminivorous contents themselves.

[Editor’s note: In case you are wondering, graminivorous is a word and it is a word that Bierce used in his definition. I did not add it to show off. It means: feeding or subsisting on grass.]

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The cleanup of the cover-up was too much to bare, but a woman with a camera covered it anyway.

The cleanup of the cover-up was too much to bare

Are newspapers sending us subliminal messages? Have you checked yours, today?

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Haiku to you Thursday: “Words you will not hear”

Words you will not hear
ring forth from my fingers’ touch
and my lips’ caress.

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CarToonsday: listen up

“Listen here, young lady!”

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The Devil’s Dictionary: Abatis and Aborigines

In our continuing quest to revisit a classic, or even a curiosity from the past and see how relevant it is, we continue with The Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce. Originally published in newspaper installments from 1881 until 1906. You might be surprised how current many of the entries are.

For example, here is a definition for the words Conservative and Republican, which have become synonymous. The Old definitions are Bierce’s. The New definition is mine or somebody else contemporary. From time to time, just as it was originally published, we will come back to The Devil’s Dictionary, for a look at it then and how it applies today. Click on Devil’s Dictionary in the tags below to bring up the other entries.

OLD DEFINITION
Abatis, n. Rubbish in front of a fort, to prevent the rubbish outside from molesting the rubbish inside.

Aborigines, n. Person of little worth found cumbering the soil of a newly discovered country. They soon cease to cumber; they fertilize.

Corollary: they succumb to abatis.

NEW DEFINITION
Abatis, n. Rubbish in front of the U.S. Congress, placed there to prevent the rubbish outside, the people, from molesting the rubbish inside, the bought and paid for representatives and senators. Often this rubbish is lobbyist, who themselves are many times former congressmen and senators making sure the people who hired them get what they want before the people, voters, do. See lobbyist in an earlier installment of The Devil’s Dictionary.

Aborigines, n. Person of little worth found cumbering the voting booths at election time. They soon cease to cumber; they fertilize or fodder for the plutocratic machine that is the U.S. Congress. unfortunately, this has also become increasing true of state congresses, too.

Corollary: they succumb to abatis.

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Billboards

Grounded stars imbued with a foggy night.
Suntanned pieces of wind-tilted technology.
Saluting Souvenirs of transience: Billboards.
A toothpick-bearded hitchhiker saunters from a
Detroit-styled digestive supplier.
Straddles the roadside.
The smoke curls and cocoons in the corners of his
Well-traveled eyes.
His past:
Grounded stars imbued in a foggy night.
His future:
Suntanned pieces of wind-tilted technology.
Saluting Souvenirs of transience:
Billboards.

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New words to live by: Obsurd

New word for consideration in the next release of the Oxford English Dictionary or Webster’s Dictionary, or even the old tattered-edge dictionary your grandma uses to hold open the screen door.

New word:
Obsurd. This word is combination of:

Obscure: inconspicuous or unnoticeable. Maybe indistinct to the sight or any of the other senses; not easily felt, heard, seen, etc.

and

Absurd: obviously senseless or existing in an irrational or meaningless world.

So, Obsurd, n. inconspicuous or unnoticed senselessness. Sometimes also referred to as obsurdity, as in the obsurdity of life.

To use in context: As Henry David Thoreau said: The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.

Modern corollary: The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation, toiling endlessly and in obsurdity.

Or, go forth and do obsurd things.

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Writing quotes: Asimov, Bradbury

Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers. –Isaac Asimov

You must stay drunk on writing, so reality doesn’t destroy you. –Ray Bradbury

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Writing Tip Wednesday: 15 minutes

By David E. Booker

So, how much time to do you have a day to write? How much time a day do you spend?

I read about a noted short story writer who started out writing 15 minutes a day, between 11:45 PM and midnight. As a single mom of several kids, working very hard just to hold her family together, that was the only time she had after all her kids were in bed and before she went to bed.

I wish I could remember her name, but the point is not so much her name or even that she won awards for her short stories. It is that she wrote regularly, even if all she had was 15 minutes.

Fifteen (15) minutes.

If there is one piece of advice that I have heard over and over and over again, it is to develop a routine and stick to it. Show up for your writing just like you would for your job that you work to hold body and soul together so you can write. If all you have is 15 minutes a day, use it wisely and use it well. If you can spare more, or if you operate better by setting yourself a word quota, then do it that way.

The writer James Scott Bell doesn’t have a daily quota, but a weekly one, which he then breaks down into daily installments. He says having a weekly quota works better for him because it misses a day or doesn’t write the full amount one day, he can work to make it up on the other days and still hit his weekly quota.

Certainly, if having a daily quota, then set one. I believe the writer Graham Greene had a daily quota of 500 words a day. He would write 500 words and then stop.

The writer Harry Crews often rose at 4 AM to write before going to work as a professor. One of his students, the New York Times bestselling crime novelist Michael Connelly said recently of Crews, “The singular lesson I took from him was his simple adage that if you are going to be a writer then you must write every day, even if only for 15 minutes. The last part about the 15 minutes has served me well. I’m going on 30-plus years of writing every day, even sometimes for only 15 minutes.”

So, where are your 15 minutes?

[Editor’s note: Connelly quote taken from LA Times obituary article on Harry Crews, who died earlier this year. He was known to write from 4 AM to 9 AM and to begin each session with the same plea: “God, I’m not greedy. Just give me the next 500 words.”]

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Spoken words

I crave the sound of your voice,
the touch of your syllables to my ear,
a kindness of words only you can speak.
Sentences that mean nothing
when spoken by others –
a clattering of consonants to these empty ears –
are wonder of time on your lips.
Your voice carries the lightness of words,
the weight of our history,
and the magic of the moment yet to be.

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Filed under free verse, poem, poetry