What HE said........

A recent visitation upon sweet Ms Cellania's realm hath indeed inspired me, to articulate this post in familiar fashion, to that of one dead bard, a cad indeed who did upon his employment do great damage to a language and the lives of students who would by any other name, be something other than a slave to an understanding of an oafs laments, such that most of us would have laid upon the definition of this foul persons' influence upon literature and our very lives.

Yet, you doth find me here, laboring upon key after key in such fashion that joined together, their labors dare add up and amount to such an array of ideas, and fashions, and travesties that assault one's eyes and understandings that a minority of thee should stare at this and think me insane if not an idiot, whilst those of you more cultured for some ungodly reason might think this a snippet of refinement, an attempt to lull the Gods of Muse to sleep and refresh them in their slumbers, but alas, tis only an exercise in finding a precise moment to insert a necessary period, thus ending this seemingly everlasting paragraph that would serve so many of us in much better stead as an abbreviation, rather than this abomination it has become.

I dare would attempt to impart SOME fashion of understanding during this exercise, which indeed it is, for even now my readers beg of me some resolution to this practice of a language never meant to be tortured so, yet, I would soldier on in some vain if not foolhardy attempt to instruct thee, brave observer, in some knowledge that would serve thee, if not me, in some fashion most charitable and of some snippet of value. Alas, what could one possible say here upon this page amongst this jumble of mumble that would impart to thee that I even now am aware of a waft of aroma that ventures from that room made famous by repast, and sustenance, that speaks of Italy, of tomatoes and sausages and pasta and a blending of gastronomic alchemistry.........ah, it would indeed drive thee mad and induce thee to reach forth thru your conveyance to this place and capture for thyself some example of this nirvana I do prepare whilst I toil upon this keyboard.

Escape, you foul interloper, and do not think to acquire this meal that shall greet my spouse as she returns from labors that bring to this stead the bacon we subside upon. Remove thyself, for thou shalt NOT dip into the treasure of the pleasure that I create with the fruit of our Earth. No, this night no invitation has been forwarded, not to this table, for you art far removed and would dare seek to find this a cold, cold plate upon which to gorge yourself, and thus your appetite would not be so well served.

However, I WOULD prepare such a feast, my dear visitor, such that you might never encounter in all your travels, not tainted with the fame of some able chef of consequence, but of my humble efforts, of my humble supplies, and my humble desire that it be pleasing to both your palette and your stomach. Thus, invite thyself to this table, ask of what travels ye might avail thyself of to find this place, and put upon yourself the task to come here and know fellowship, kindness, and what little I might offer one who would call themselves friend, even upon the most harrowing of moments and circumstance. It is warm, and tasty, and real.

Merry meet.

Merry part,

And Merry meet again.