‘Gangway for a catamaran!’ (Xanga post from 2011 and a glimpse at the way we were

22 Replies

(First, the POEM: (Should be set off in a larger and different font. Can’t do that here. Of course.)

I dreamed I was a moron
In camouflague maroon
I dreamed there was a war on
To fight the Great Baboon

We scaled moraines and mountains
Maureen was at my side;
(a Marin County ex-Marine;
She’s skilled in simia-cide)

We traded Myron Cohen jokes
Till both our eyes were red…
Murine, then more ‘n more rapport
We poured ourselves to bed

But Ethics kept us up all night
Discussing Wrong and Right:
To scald the un-schooled thick-skulled Foe
It’s not a pleasant sight

Still, dreams exist to stir the soup
‘Too old!’, ‘Too cold!’, they scold
This-was ‘M-R-N’, ‘S-K-L-D’
And the Gold I’m told they hold

———–(there was a horizontal bar here————
UNDER WHICH I often added my sidekick, Wu’s catcalls…

Wu: Whatever could you be talking about?
Me: Oh, the usual… searching for the tie what binds them-there consonants together in English vocab.
Wu: You don’t sleep well at night, do you?
Me: Um.. define ‘well’
Wu: You never just dream about, like, pussy-cats playing in a sun-drenched field?
Me: Kinda. I mean, sure. Kittens in cottons playing in the lab with ketones and cations, cuttin’ up molecules… It’s like a synthesis…
Wu: Yer Momma’s a synthesis.

and then the COMMENTS: Great Fun. luckily, OBL and Roadkill are here on WP now. Elgan too, although nobody can find her. I’m waiting for the others. Especially since XANGA is now ‘John’ and a few othe Team members rowing a lifeboat toward the Bahamas. With 50 grand in a waterproof bag. Damn them.

1. rubys_garden April 15, 2011 at 5:45 pm

so who is killing a monkey? You’re too clever for us wee beings, but I also note that the people who respond (including me) aren’t too clever as well.

2. jsolberg April 15, 2011 at 6:09 pm

@rubys_garden – Aww, not a lot of clever in this poem. The monkey just appears near the start ’cause he rhymes with ‘maroon’, sort-of. Luckily, he uses up -skulled and -schooled. This is what I dream about, mainly, and probably because hebrew has so few vowel choices.

3. ordinarybutloud April 15, 2011 at 7:56 pm

If you hadn’t wanted to go simian, you could have used doubloon. Lampoon.

4. dirtbubble April 15, 2011 at 9:03 pm

I’ll be thinking about this for a long time.

5. Roadkill_Spatula April 15, 2011 at 9:10 pm

A murrain upon thy so-called philology, varlet! Fie! I scold thee! Thou shalt mourn the morn of thy marination. Love, Marnie.MelFamy called me a maroon the other day when I trolled his chatroom post.You could put Chomsky out of business if you start applying triliteral roots to English. And it would prove Herbert W. Armstrong right; the British are indeed among the Ten Lost Tribes.

6. jsolberg April 16, 2011 at 12:12 am

@Roadkill_Spatula – Captivating to awaken to read your warning, Marnie (I know that name?)Yeah, I’d put the Brits on the list of Top Ten Lost Tribes, “No-’M’ Chopsky aside.Astute of you to capture what my battle-plan is here. We’ll get to the damn Ur-language by hook, crook, or, with Mel at the helm, catamaran.

7. jsolberg April 16, 2011 at 12:14 am

@ordinarybutloud – I must have a soft spot for apes. In the end, none of our furry brothers/sisters was injured in the making of this epic. Thanks for the tips, though/ js

8. Roadkill_Spatula April 16, 2011 at 12:49 am

@ordinarybutloud – Raccoon.

9. jsolberg April 16, 2011 at 1:49 am

@dirtbubble – your comment is what we call in the biz “Impossibly droll” Ha, I’ve already forgotten whom’s left standing in the dumb ditty.

10. jsolberg April 16, 2011 at 1:52 am

@Roadkill_Spatula – Aha. A less anthropomorphic ‘other’. I seriously would have jumped on it had I had the 3AM presence-of-mind

11. POETIC_ISIS April 16, 2011 at 2:16 am

Morning! I squealed when I saw your poem (not really, but you are addictive!).

12. jsolberg April 16, 2011 at 2:31 am

@POETIC_ISIS – I’m holding my globe in hand, trying to figure out when is morning in FL for the ump-teenth freaking time.Anyway, so glad you liked it. Have a sweet Saturday; I’m already a beer-and-a-half into the event/ ♥ js

13. MelFamy April 16, 2011 at 5:47 am

Miss Marple’s marsupial loved marzipan,Poirot’s panda preferred flan, Bobbies, I bet, buy budgies as petsBecause boas in Britain are banned

14. ordinarybutloud April 16, 2011 at 9:29 am

@Roadkill_Spatula – That’s much better than mine. I love it when people call other people maroons. Just like I love it when some people loose weight.

15. jsolberg April 16, 2011 at 9:40 am

@ordinarybutloud – ha. And how many kilos is the standard ‘octamaroon’? I’ll be, this evening, poring over my genealogy, hoping for an Indo-pithecus to explain my heavy brow

16. ordinarybutloud April 16, 2011 at 10:12 am

@jsolberg – you have such ambitious evenings! I’ll be wearing my best maroon, battling the racoons whom I will later lampoon.

17. Roadkill_Spatula April 16, 2011 at 10:31 am

@jsolberg – Marsupialcide sounds intriguing.

18. Roadkill_Spatula April 16, 2011 at 10:37 am

@ordinarybutloud – You should lampoon raccoons soon by the light of the moon dressed in maroon.

19. Roadkill_Spatula April 16, 2011 at 10:37 am

@ordinarybutloud – Aaand that was about as lame a comment as I’ve made in quite some time. Should I rec it?

20. elgan April 16, 2011 at 10:52 am

You know I love you, JS. There is only one “u” in camouflage. Guess which one is superfluous? I have missed you. El

21. jsolberg April 16, 2011 at 10:43 pm

@elgan – It’s ok, dear. Our unit of irregulars, constipated aa the ‘Fighting 209th Scopes Gang’ purposely misspells words to avoid NSA monitors, But when this blows over, I’ll gladly change it♥

22. jsolberg April 16, 2011 at 10:46 pm

@MelFamy – lovely, Mel. Takes this heart-sick bloke right back to Blighty, it does


12 thoughts on “‘Gangway for a catamaran!’ (Xanga post from 2011 and a glimpse at the way we were

  1. solberg73 Post author

    Accessible, huh? I myself never ‘got’ it.
    Ok, yeah, another run-through of vowels, looking for connections.
    But it’s the ‘memories’ thing I wanted to present here. A grand old time. Xanga felt like singing inside an abandoned stone cathedral: echos and feedback from every crook and cranny. Glad I recalled for you the giddiness I myself felt at almost exactly the same age. (?) Might explain sometime later….but there *is* a pix worth1000 palabres on the Suicide note post
    Now go get MelFamy up(?) here and we be partying.

  2. g.

    You use words wonderfully. This reminds me of Edward Lear–which, in case it’s not obvious, is a great big compliment. Also this (“Yer Momma’s a synthesis”) made me laugh.

    1. solberg73 Post author

      I’ll let you find the attribution for “Once you’ve eliminated all other possibilities, whatever is left, no matter how bizarre, is the answer.”
      I’ve seen it in other areas; a guy takes your money, leaves a ‘ringer’ bag of unworkable spew on your doorstep, then never returns calls.
      There’s gonna be a class-action suit here, if you’re interested.
      Anyhow, many thanks for visiting; you were one of the main reasons I re-posted this, your helpful comment style. Now I can get back to songs, etc/JS

    1. solberg73 Post author

      A fine addition, and one can only wish…
      See, Maureen and I are comrades-in-arms, but not necessarily -in-each-others’. Regulations, you know. The G.C. is dying to court-martial and far-fling us to separate theatres; we took a risk just co-bivouacing. And note the mention of Ethics, in the poem. ‘Ethics’ as in the Simian Corps’ Code-Book, not pure ethics from first principles as a topic. Our flesh and spirits were both strong and willing, respectively, but, you know, with the nerve-racking apes-on-the-warpath calls off to the North and east, we might even have had trouble concentrating.
      A thrill to see you here, as always/JS

    1. solberg73 Post author

      No fear, it’s just a silly poem using vowels. Any red-haired step-child coulda done it.
      I put it here mainly to re-capture some of the fun-times on xanga. As to Erudite, goddess of big words, she helps me pick ’em by their colour, since I suffer (?) from synesthesia, a brain-wiring quirk where the victims see letters in colour. Oh and taste them, Oy


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