I went out of my mind and then came to my senses
By meeting a magpie who mixed up his tenses,
Who muddled distinctions of nouns and of verbs,
And insisted that logic is bad for the birds.
With a poo-wee cluck and a chit, chit-chit;
The grammar and meaning don’t matter a bit.
The stars in their courses have no destination;
The train of events will arrive at no station;
The inmost and ultimate Self of us all
Is dancing on nothing and having a ball.
So with chat for chit and with tat for tit,
This will be that, and that will be It!
*The poem above is taken from Alan Watt’s “Nonsense”.
**Painting “Magpies” by Archibald Thorburn, 1905.
It is, I think, increasingly clear that parameters of this kind provide an essential corrective to the obsession of sanity. More and more, one feels that free and dominant methods are loud, tough, and frequent. Obviously, closed corners must be very carefully under-rated; otherwise, popular notions of frame and texture will show that the entire system is purely academic, and that the particular point of convergent energies is that they are finally globular.
Cows are, naturally, free of dust. But stops are most difficult to try. The real problem is that quills are too fat, and until we can easily connect ideas with tassles the function will be empty. Not that this would be equal: it is only that disproportionate combinations have an existential dimension which is, all too often, gullible.
On the whole, I prefer dongulation. It is prepid, snord, and tart, and the vallifaction of an estimate is grolic. Churdles and mards will always require fronicks, and lapsy daddles are usually bequeathed to the snorder kind of lumpens. Bolliwots are frankly bespoken, and every mutter-hound is a preposterous garble of tonsils. I have no wish to be snerdily previous: It is merely that wumpens and drabs are vollible, and that any further toculation would be groanly unspecified.
*Quotation above are taken from Alan Watt’s “Nonsense”
**Painting “Laughing Hotei” by Kogan Genge