Ordinary language is all right.
One could divide humanity into two classes:
those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula.
Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.
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A man and a woman struck up a conversation on the bus tonight. It was snowing heavily, so they talked about the weather. At one point the man brought up the way that some people anticipate bad weather by feeling swelling in their joints. 'I always used to think people were lying about that!' the woman said. Later, they discussed the folly of youth in inclement weather.
Last night there was a paper cup rolling around on the floor at the back of the bus, for a good fifteen minutes. On his way out the man sitting in the back row picked up the cup and set it upright on the floor in front of the seat closest to the door.
On the bus, in the morning, an old woman had a long conversation with the couple sitting next to her. Their names were Virginia and Cleveland.
There is a joke in there somewhere.
'I can't wait until I'm old enough to feel ways about stuff.'
The more I listen to 'New San Antonio Rose', the more I wonder what I'm missing out on by not knowing what's new about it.
First thoughts upon waking up this morning: Frank Sobotka working a shift on someone else's union card, Frank Sobotka turning up in the harbor.
No significant thoughts followed - just a feeling of unease.
'But how many codgers can make you believe Alicia Keys better get a head start and not stare too deep into his eyes when she spies him in her rearview?'
'mock mockers after that'