Friday, June 26, 2009



1. A poem in which shepherds converse.

This time children, try to write an eclogue that does not contain bestiality.

To reiterate, that's what the word used to mean, now it's more informal and you can call a poem that involves a duck and cup of tap water an eclogue as long as they converse. A rhyming diddly where two bums talk about cheese? Eclogue. A ten page poem where two stoners say dude to each other over and over again. Eclogue.

That's just so sad. Yet another example of a word who can't just be itself, who has to change in order to be accepted. I for one was perfectly happy when eclogue meant a poem in which shepherds converse but clearly it was insulted at one point and felt the need to reassess it's life, rethink it's priorities and sadly reinvent it's old image so that the world would accept it.

Eclogue probably went to it's high school reunion and the word it used to get a boner for in high school was there with some guy who used to be on the debate team and weigh 98 lbs but later started taking steroids and bleaching his hair and turned into douche who wears promotional Corona sunglasses on the back of his head, thinking it would land him more chicks.

And those two douches were like, "So what are you doing with your life now Eclogue?" And the poor word was too embarrassed to say that he still was a poem about shepherds talking just like he was in high school so he lied and told everyone that he has grown as a word and expanded and now meant pretty much anything.

Did he get the girl? No, of course not. Because girls don't like anyone who changes and grows and expands their personal definition. Girls like emotionally stunted, immature losers who will verbally abuse them and borrow money from them to pay for their band's practice space.

And that ladies and gentleman is the moral of this little story. Don't change, don't grow and certainly don't redefine yourself. And if you're in a band and want to borrow money from me in exchange for occasional drunken sub par sexual encounters that neither of us will me.


jorg wobblington lopez said...

I have changed since high school, and I just graduated a few hours ago...

...I just changed again!

I must be the man of your dreams... or nightmares...


MEBEE said...

"That's just so sad. Yet another example of a word who can't just be itself, who has to change in order to be accepted."

So true... I spent half an hour last night looking at the Wikipedia entry for the phrase Momento mori and it was fascinating. So I think the key to helping words not change is to join them with other words in immortal expressions & thus friendships. If we're going to personify words (which we effin should! brilliant idea E.) and encourage lingual stasis let's make words have lots of friends, or at least one (Momento and mori are BFFs). And then, much like human beings, word friends will help each other codependently not move forward but stay just as they are. Lovely and amazing.

Oh and, I think Charlotte's Web might qualify for an epic prose eclogue of modern times. And perhaps the best book ever written?


Wilbur: [singing] Isn't it great, that I articulate? / Isn't it grand? That you can understand / I don't snort, I don't eep, I don't even squeak or squawk / When I wanna say something, I open up and talk, I can talk, I can talk, talk, talk, I can...

Ram: Why don't you keep it down?

Wilbur: I can talk

dogimo said...

The word itself is a great word, and has a dry and lovely sound which would go well in a poem. It is sad that its meaning has been demeaned so.