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Thoughts

Grammar Nazi

First, let me be clear. I used to be a Grammar Nazi but have been in recovery for years. And, in actuality, it seems to be the most difficult addiction to overcome. Cigarettes are nothing, drugs nothing, alcohol nothing. Grammar? Carved into the very soul.

I’ve managed in stages. The first stage was to stop correcting others and has been accomplished. (Although once in a while that will slip through, after the Chinese water torture of repeated infractions.) Rather like the occasional martini. The next stage was to stop correcting misused words. That’s still a toughy. I’d say that one is still on the iffy list. That’s particularly difficult when it’s misused everywhere, including those who should know better.

My particular favorite is “pre-order.” I’d like to know how you can “preorder” anything. You either order or you don’t. Oh for heaven’s sake, of course I know what is meant. It still can’t happen. The preorder time would extend from the time before ordering, to the ordering. In other words, forever.

It’s not that I’m against making up words. Creating words is a healthy exercise and most often gathers the sense of use that isn’t otherwise captured. Thoughts of: Realness, Everness, Neverness. Fine words. Worthy additions to any lexicon. And we all know, or should, that Shakespeare made up many words. There’s a difference between making up words that work and describe what they represent, and making up words that are just plain wrong.

“Irregardless.”

And don’t forget “copacetic.” I wonder how the spelling was decided when it was added to the dictionary. (Yes, that happened.) Maybe a frequent user was asked to spell it. Although I’ve not heard that one used for a while. Maybe it will reappear as an adjective. As in a “copacetic grammar Nazi.”

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Thoughts

Norman

I saw an old photo of a young Norman Mailer. The blue eyes, the color of a brilliant summer sky, the slight smile, the gentleness that still worked around his face, all there. Still, from that time, wearing the attitude of one who would charge at his writing, charge at the public, charge at his wife. We all know he came to slash away at those who adored him and everything else. Everyone bought his novels and his short stories in the au currant magazines from Esquire to Harper’s. Some people even read them. He argued on the Dick Cavett show and heaped fuel on the fires of literary feuds. He showed up drunk if he showed up at all.

Eventually it all went away. He died, and no one talks about him anymore. I wonder if anything of his is read today. Maybe, but you wouldn’t know. All is quiet.

In the photos of his later years his lips had come together in a tightened pout, no longer with a slight smile, no gentleness. The lips had come to mimic those of Renee Zellweger.

Sedona Window

PHOTOS

 

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Thoughts

WILDLIFE UPDATE
      Yesterday, in a parking lot before a hike with me & Tula, Judi & Halle: One huge Mountain Lion. So big he looked like a real lioness. Unless there’s a lion missing from the zoo, not so. The dogs didn’t notice and the cougar took off very quickly, tail twitching. That probably had something to do with someone loudly yelling, “Look! Look! Mountain Lion!” while jumping up and down.
      Our walk thru the woods runs across from a field of weeds & brambles. In the field were 5 coyotes (pronounced here as “ky-yots–2 syllables). They were scrawny & sickly looking–mange seemed to have taken their fur. They were mostly skin and bones. Someone suggested they might be hungry. In any case, they weren’t intimidating, even with their heads low and watching. Someone else suggested that could be my problem. In another case, this is a good reason to have larger dogs. The little ones are not faring well these days. In some places they can’t even be out in their own fenced-in yard as cougars & coyotes will both jump over fences. And a biped standing there is not a deterrent.
      So there you have it. Life in the mountains. And that’s the ‘waaaay things are’* at least for today.
 
*As the mice say, in Babe.
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Cemetery View from mountain

View coming down the mountain.

From the path where Wolf and I and now Tula and I descent Red Rock Mountain. The Orange Cat followed us once so we learned to confine him before setting out.