Page 164
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Jump to navigationJump to searchI helped him to in my princeps edition which is all so munch
to the cud) are mutuearly polarised the incompatabilily of any
delusional acting as ambivalent to the fixation of his pivotism.
Positing, as above, too males pooles, the one the pictor of the
other and the omber the Skotia of the one, and looking want-
ingly around our undistributed middle between males we feel
we must waistfully woent a female to focus and on this stage
there pleasantly appears the cowrymaid M. whom we shall
often meet below who introduces herself upon us at some precise
hour which we shall again agree to call absolute zero or the
babbling pumpt of platinism. And so like that former son
of a kish who went up and out to found his farmer's ashes we
come down home gently on our own turnedabout asses to meet
Margareen.
We now romp through a period of pure lyricism of shame-
bred music (technologically, let me say, the appetising entry of
this subject on a fool chest of vialds is plumply pudding the carp
before doevre hors) evidenced by such words in distress as I
cream for thee, Sweet Margareen, and the more hopeful O Mar-
gareena! O Margareena! Still in the bowl is left a lump of gold!
(Correspondents, by the way, will keep on asking me what is the
correct garnish to serve drisheens with. Tansy Sauce. Enough).
The pawnbreaking pathos of the first of these shoddy pieces
reveals it as a Caseous effort. Burrus's bit is often used for a toast.
Criniculture can tell us very precisely indeed how and why this
particular streak of yellow silver first appeared on (not in) the
bowel, that is to see, the human head, bald, black, bronze, brown,
brindled, betteraved or blanchemanged where it might be use-
fully compared with an earwig on a fullbottom. I am offering
this to Signorina Cuticura and I intend to take it up and bring it
under the nosetice of Herr Harlene by way of diverting his
attentions. Of course the unskilled singer continues to pervert
our wiser ears by subordinating the space-element, that is to
sing, the aria, to the time-factor, which ought to be killed, ill
tempor. I should advise any unborn singer who may still be
among my heeders to forget her temporal diaphragm at home
