Regular readers know that I have an interest in the written word, and words spoken that have meaning. Looking at that sentence you may have wondered about the last bit. Surely all words have ‘meaning’? Not at all, some words are scattered so liberally that they are mere chaff, and the scattering of such a profusion does not give them any significance beyond the obvious.
Having swallowed the dictionary I will continue in this vein and rubbish the kind of popular culture that I increasingly find myself consuming. Corrie is still a social documentary; TOWIE and its Chelsea imitator is pure drivel. The Mail on Sunday is for dedicated Tories, but the TV listings is well set out and their free CD offer got my attention.
Well, you might ask, what is the meaningful stuff? Try any author, journalist, poet, lyricist and, dare I say blogger, who puts together whole ‘paragraphs’ of entertaining material. Length is not the criteria by which I judge, since haikus can be brilliant. But string a few together to see if the body of work has merit
That’s my middle-aged rant over – I’m off to read Andrew Motion’s Natural Causes.
odespinner 