LiveJournaling, Or, Sundry Paraphernal Things

First, a quotation from John Barth's The Sotweed Factor, which is a historical novel set in Maryland around 1695 and is, like, the best thing ever. Here, Ebenezer and Henry discuss types of rhyme and meter, and Ebenezer suggests that there are some words in English for which it is impossible to find a rhyme . . .

Ebenezer replied, "[The couplet was finished by] Sam Butler in this wise -- observe the art, now, the collision:

Then did Sir Knight Abandon Dwelling
And out he rode a Colonelling"

"Ah, stay!" cried Burlinghame. "This is too much! A Co-lo-nelling! Tis a fabrication -- aye, a Chimaera! Co-lo-nelling, is't! Why did not Mister Butler, if he was so enamored of his unnatural word, call it kernelling, as't should be called, and rhyme from there?"

"Why not indeed? What would you rhyme with kernalling, Henry?"

"Tis naught of a chore to me," Burlingame scoffed. "To rhyme with kernalling -- Well, kernalling--" he hesitated.

"You see," smiled Ebenezer . . "Yield now, there is no rhyme for kernalling."

"I yield," Burlingame said with apparent humility. "I can get me the first line --Then went Sir Knight a kernalling-- but can't
rhyme the infernal thing."

The two travelers exchanged glances.

"Out upon't," Ebenezer muttered, "the lesson's done."

But Burlingame was delighted to see his unintentional coup de maitre; he went on to declaim theatrically from his horse:

"Then went Sir Knight a kernalling
Pursuing all infernal things
Inflam'd by hope's eternal springs
Through Winterings and Vernallings
(As testify his Journallings
And similar diurnallings,
Not mentioning Nocturnallings) . . ."

"Desist!" Ebenezer commanded. "Spin me no more of this doggerel, Henry, lest I heave my burden upon the highway!"

"Forgive me," Burlingame laughed. "I was inspired."

"You were baiting me," the Laureate said indignantly. "Be not puffed up o'er such a trifling achievement . .. "

"Ha! Oh! Ha!" Burlingame cried with sudden glee. "I have hatched more! I'God, they crowd my fancy like the shoats to Portia's nipples!"

Now, Lend me, muse, supernal wings
To sing Sir Knight's Hibernallings
His doublings and his Ternallings
His Forwardings and Sternallings
To sing of his Hesternallings
And also hodiernallings
Internal and External things,
Both brief and diuturnal things
And even sempiternal things
His dark and his lucernal things
Maternal and Paternallings
Sororal and Fraternal Things
His blue and red pimpernallings
And sundry paraphernal things --"

"Stop!" cried Ebenezer. "I'll hear no more!"

So. This is a post about (ahem) LiveJournalling.



If anyone wishes to critique/snark at/flame/etc. prose that I have written, a sample may be found here. It is not fanfiction. Rather, it is a fairly silly fantasy novel set in an alternate ninteenth-century universe. I was toying around with what I know of ninteenth-century America, seventeenth-century America, and ninteenth-century England. Also, it is a version of the Pocahontas story.

I am not a brilliant prose stylist, but I can set up an entertaining story. There are no explosions, but there are steamboats, imperialists, Puritans and snide references to Harvard University.

That is all.