Diablevert

Bog Cotton

BogCotton, originally uploaded by diablevert13.

There ya go, Bog Cotton. It's Cotton-y.

Cotton-pickin', even.

Or possibly cottonliscious.

You know, cotton goes from "word" to "weird" in a remarkably short time. There ought to be some sort of meter that would chart that, how many repetitions of a given word it takes before you start to go a little cross-eyed and no matter which way you spell it, it doesn't look right. But what would such a meter be called? The nonsensometer? The Nonsensicalibrator? (That sound more like something that, when pointed at the TV, would produces a series of gravelly clicks and tweaks increasing in pitch and speed as you flicked from the Discovery Channel to E to Fox News). And there ought to be a way to involve the nonsensometer in incredibly complicated equations with tildes and omega and deltas that lots of stuff cubed and square-rooted with the end result that would give you a handy ratio of nonsensicality over Tootsie-Pop-centre-approaching-velocity: the Goop Reduction Constant, used to calculate how soon a given activity will turn your brain to mush. At least that's how it would be if I'd designed science. But if I'd designed science, drinking Coke while eating Pop Rocks would make your head explode. (It's these little things that give the world a sense of wonder.)



Anyway, bog cotton. Enjoy.



P.S. You know that I ramble on in this bizarre way because I feel guilty that I haven't posted in a while, yet have nothing particularly interesting to say? Seriously, y'all, I thought about inflicting my thoughts on the Garrison Keillor-Poetry magazine contretemps, as commented on in the New York Times, on you. But that would be cruel. And uninteresting. I'm not sure how interesting all this babbling is, but maybe I'll get an E for effort.