"Hello and welcome to 'Pronouncing Amusing Greek Words With'. And today I shall be pronouncing amusing Greek words with Dr. Anthony Clare. Today's amusing Greek word is:
φυσιγγούσθαι
[phy:siŋgo:sthaj]
which means
TO BECOME EXCITED BY EATING TOO MUCH GARLIC."
(honestly!)
And tomorrow we will be physythingywhat-you-said with Keith Chegwin to discover if he's really a vampire. Blunt silver stakes at the ready!
{In proper ink, not biro for once}
Why is my verse so brimming of new pride?
So full of variation and quick change?
Why with the time am I glancing aside
To new-found structures, and arrangements strange?
Why write I in a round, never the same,
And overuse invention in the text,
That no words mine do ever tell my name,
Shifting their style, not knowing whither next?
O Meaningless I always write of you,
And you and gibber rest my argument:
So all my best words lack cohesions through,
Spending for first what has been never spent:
For as the sun is daily old and new
We bring you "Famous People On The Loo."
Damn, I lost it at the end! Oh well, I guess it's back to the old biroid lifestyle.
{Forming the shape of the letter α, from bottom right round the loop to top right:}
Once upon a time there was the end. And then it all just began again, like the muesli dance of the fireflies (Opus 92). Emily had a cat, and his name was Bagpuize. Bagpuize, Bagpuize, soggy old Bag- -puize, crappy and a bit naff at
{Forming the shape of the letter ω, from top left to top right:}
the arm pits. But Emily loved him, hugged him, and devoured him for breakfast in a way that can never become legal. Once (or was it twice?) below a space there was a little structure called Phree Vurst, and Emily loved it. THE BEGENDING.
"Alpha es et Ō,
Alpha es et Ō!"
{Forming a question mark, with "a" as its dot:}
Symbol of all I wish I knew, polka dot under a
{Forming brackets around the question mark:}
CURL ICUE
{Spiralling clockwise outwards, interspersed with the words "READ THIS AND YOU'LL READ ANYTHING!":}
"A periphrastic study in a worn out poetical fashion." Because the origin is always a trace! Not know I here from go? The mistake was to mime closure to start, as though reasoning, from the outside and work in. The outside is the inside. Redundancy of classification. So you think the text is a circle or a regress, {the words break away from the spiral, float up the side of the page, and bob upside down at the top} collapsing out of any order or {upside down} inverted. But it defies even the laws of gravity to scandalize and immeasurably enrich SPLIT INFINITIVE all contexts with linguistic play.
MADMEN SAY POPACATEPETL (rates 5 on 1-4 scale)
TO BAGPUIZE.
(OR NOT TO BAGPUIZE...)
Lps. Given. Is it?
Frankie writes (because deceased) — Do logical positivists mean no, and does it matter? Bagpuize to you too, with side order of mango chutney.
βουστροφηδόν (Gk from Snakes & Ladders) [or Oxen & Benders] (or something)
{Roadsign:}
// Kingston Bagpuize 4
(on a scale of 1 to 4 for silly names)
Follow {roundabout} signs for
INFINITE REGRESS (and
stops to VICIOUS CIRCLE) // <-- SIGN!!
Logical positivists say NO to text before madness.
Surrealists say Bagpuize to madness.
Frankie says nothing, 'cos he's dead.
{Spiralling clockwise inwards:}
This excerpt of text has determined that it will not be confined within the rigid boundaries of lines, even if it is more awkward to read things when they are inscribed βουστροφαδων. But there you have it — this is a rad text — not to be trifled with, to be deconstructed as your peril --> indeed this text comprises a self-enacting, self-aware, hip-hop, ice-cool, dudish, well adjusted and contextualized item, even if it does now resemble a swiss roll.
{At the centre of the spiral:}
Where do we go from here — I know not!
