And Reading Hates You

There is also a kind of song called Trivata , which consists of nonsense words extemporized by the singer.  It is a song beloved of boatment and dhooly bearers, as they take the sahib to his destination.  Every alternate line is some improvization telling of the sahib's supposed generosity, followed by a line of meaningless collection of mere words.

He always claimed he knew he'd marry me the day I gave him two black eyes and broke his nose.  To this day I dont' know why I did.  But I am still regretting it. K. I. Press. What Are Little Girls Are Made Of .  Spine.  Gaspereau Press, Nova Scotia Canada, 2004

The tendency for us to be monolingual English speakers in the United States is actually something that is odd compared to the way most people experience language. John McWhorter, The Science of Language , The Great Courses, Chantilly, Virginia. 2008

Why what have you thought of yourself? Is it you then that thought yourself less? Is it you that thought the President greater than you? Or the rich better off than you?  or the educated wiser than you? (Because you are greasy or pimpled, or were once drunk, or a thief, Or that you are diseas'd, or rheumatic, or a prostitute, Or from frivolity or impotence, or that you are no scholar and never        saw your name in print, Do you give in that you are3 any less immortal?) Walt Whitman, A Song For Occupations, Selected Poems , Dover Thrift Editions, 1991

Now began a period of exhilaration and extreme poverty.  Varese's pockets were empty but he was free. Sometimes he almost starved and sometimes he had no place to sleep. But he had music and he was young.  He told me of nights when he slept under the arcades of the Louvre, grateful if the flics (cops) left him in peace, protected at least from the rain, if not from the cold.  At other times he had a lodging but no money for food.  And the hungrier he was, the more imperative his pride. Louise Varese, Varese a looking glass diary , Norton, New York, 1972.

When you see a crowd come home quickly, it will carry you into a burning nation, it will suppress your breath, make you a prisoner of your helplessness, open the shops of hearts.  At home anti-communism is waiting for you, a pantry full of winter supplies.  Neither to the left, nor to the right, warns grandfather, who has been through two wars and knows what he's saying. Actually, if people are dying in some town you happen to be visiting on a vacation, you can peacefully sit down to a democratic lunch and wait and see.  If necessary declare a hunger strike. Julian Kornhauser, When you see a crowd come home quickly , ed. by John McBride and Paul Vangelisti, Humps and Wings Polish poetry since '68, Los Angeles, New York, Invisible City / Red Hill Press, 1982