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Here's a delightful new book by Craig Conley: Annotated Ellipses. In it, he takes a page from The Wind Bloweth, a ellipse-filled novel by Donn Byrne, and he explains the hidden story behind all those daffy dots. It's so creative, so funny, and so completely Craig, who also wrote a dictionary of one-letter words and a field guide to identifying unicorns by sound (really!). We love it!
Very charming. ... It's visual theatre.
Fantastic. Really lovely use and fragmentation/elaboration of the source text, something very allusively numinous and resonant. The idea of what lies behind the ellipses ... what has been left out, the ellipse as a hole/portal into another world, as .... a 'mark of three,' as three places in an alphabet of symbols/signs/sigils, is fantastic, and very evocative.
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I dreamed I participated in a cakewalk with a spastic colon. (My dream was no doubt inspired by Jeff at Omegaword.)
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Jonathan shares this deilghtful Robert Benchley snippet: G. B. Stern, in her delightful book Monogram ... tells of her rage, about three years ago, at learning that there were no such animals as unicorns. All her life she had simply taken it for granted that there were unicorns. "That there should not be is plainly silly," she says. "Who can deny that there are zebras? And zebras are even striped, which is absurd. Well, then, there must be unicorns or how are we to manage?" I think that possibly Miss Stern is a little too upset right now to look at the lack of unicorns in its right perspective. Her desperate cry of "or how are we to manage?" is born of the suddenness of the whole thing's breaking on her like this. In a year or two Time, the Great Kidder, will have fooled her into thinking that we are managing all right without unicorns, and only occasionally will she wince when looking at the "By Royal Appointment" signs.
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Alex shares this strange dream: My dream began at a pet store that resembled a big warehouse. I was in search of a pet octopus. I was assisted by a young man who placed a maroon-colored octopus in my arms. I walked around with it in my arms for a while and decided to set it down for a while. It started running around, and I chased after it. Not long into the chase I became frightened and ran from it; here the octopus started chasing me. The young man who had given me the octopus caught it and again placed it in my arms. I began walking again and decided to buy the octopus some food, so I asked the octopus what it liked to eat. The octopus couldn't talk, but we could communicate. I stopped suddenly in front of a row or clear refrigirators and asked the octopus if it could shock me. The octopus responded by placing one of his tentacles in my mouth. I fell to the floor where I lay for a minute; when I arose, the octopus was again placed in my arms. We headed to the reptile section. I stopped in front of an aquarium where snakes had tried to escape through the bottom but had suddenly died. Half of their bodies had managed to taste freedom. I blinked and suddenly I was in a stranger's driveway. His garage was open so I walked inside. His pets were dying, among them a dog, already covered in maggots. I walked inside and was greated by a young male. I asked him if I could use his bathroom he said yes and showed me the way. The inside was covered in blue carpet and there were three steps that led down to the toilet. I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them I found myself in a classroom. The classroom resembled the classrooms in the movie Matilda. There were only girls inside the classroom, all no older than 13. They were all waiting in line holding AM/PM cups. I too was holding one and was told to urinate in it. There was a table on the right side of the classroom where all the cups were being placed. I did what I was told and I gave it to my instructor. She looked inside and said that it was the right color; I didn't understand. At the end of my dream I realized that the world was ending and the color of my urine was the only way to save the world. (I am not sure why this was the solution.) I also realized that the only reason why my urine was the right color was because the octopus had shocked me.
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Saint Pennybags Patron of Monopoly Money.
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"Back in the crumpled space whence this side trip had begun, Anna got a container of ravioli from her pack and let Sondra eat half of it." — Nevada Barr, Blind Descent (1999)
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[Dedicated to our friends at The Ampersand blog.] I dreamed I visited Ampersand Mountain / Lake / Stream.*
* Which came first: Ampersand Stream, or Lake, or Mountain? Here's an intriguing explanation from The Gentleman's Magazine, 1892: Ampersand
is a mountain. It is a lake. It is a stream. The mountain stands in
the heart of the Adirondack country, just near enough to the
thoroughfare of travel for thousands of people to see it every year,
and just far enough away from the beaten track to be unvisited, except
by a very few of the wise ones who love to digress. Behind the
mountain is the lake, which no lazy man has ever seen. Out of the lake
flows the stream, winding down a long, untrodden forest valley, until
at length it joins the Stony Creek waters, and empties into the
Raquette River. Which of the three Ampersands has the prior claim to
the name I cannot tell. Philosophically speaking, the mountain
ought to be regarded as the father of the family, because it was
undoubtedly there before the others existed. And the lake was probably
the next on the ground, because the stream is its child. But man is
not strictly correct in his nomenclature; and I conjecture that the
little river, the last-born of the three, was the first to be called
Ampersand, and then gave its name to its parent and grandparent. It is
such a crooked stream, so bent and curved and twisted upon itself, so
fond of turning around unexpected corners, and sweeping away in great
circles from its direct course, that its first explorers christened it
after the eccentric supernumerary of the alphabet which appears in the
old spelling book as &.
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(Part one of a research/collage project inspired by Chris Piuma and dedicated to Geof Huth. Thanks to Gordon Meyer for invaluable support.) Top clipping from John E. Woods' translation of Doctor Faustus by Thomas Mann (Vintage International Edition, 1999). Middle clipping from H.T. Lowe-Porter's translation of Doctor Faustus by Thomas Mann (Knopf, 1948). Bottom clipping from Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's Faustus (Boosey & Sons, 1821) --- Carson Park Ranger writes: Asterisks seem to exist only on hand-held devices anymore where, sadly, they are referred to as star.
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"I imagine that dark matter consists of an almost infinite number of punctuation marks. Interstellar punctuation to clarify the grammar of the universe." — Gary Barwin, Serif of Nottingblog
This image is from the cover of our new whimsical study of ellipses, which we'll serialize on Abecedarian in the coming months.
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May you have the strength to voice your sharp red song Without thorn of envy. —Caroline Boon, "A Celtic Blessing," Chatter of Choughs (2005)
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"I am a closet stuffed bunny. But I am also a penny-farthing bicycle." — fafnir
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From A Surrealist Dictionary by J. Karl Bogartte: SADISM: Moments during the vernal equinox when sunlight turns into honey.
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