The English language is fairly kind to the singer-songwriter.
Not as kind as Spanish, but pretty good.
Pretty, pretty good.
Take “you,” for instance.
“You” is a godsend for the rhyming romantic.
It rhymes with blue, I understand what you’re goin’ through, wanderin’ shoe, knew, this much is true, together we grew, flew, where we flew to, and of course, leggy like a kangaroo.
“Mine” is also a goldmine.
It rhymes with lookin’ fine, this evening we dine, show me a sign, highly-rated cherry wine, shine, puttin’ it all on the line, and for the worship set: thine.
“Heart” is a rather important word, but it falls into a rocky territory of linguistic linguini.
You’ve got apart, brand new start, horse before the cart, my lover is so smart, work of art, Quik-E Mart, and the last resort of desperate comedy writers: fart.
As you know, one’s heart is the organ that produces love juice, and yet, you can’t use it at the end of a line unless you’re somehow equipped to navigate around infamous, fermented clichés.
It hurts me in my blood pump.
But “love”!
“Love” kicks me in my rump bump something fierce.
All you need is love, right?
(Love is all you need.)
Love makes the world go ‘round.
Faith, hope, and love.
But the greatest of these is love!
You can’t avoid it.
You want to be true to the human experience.
You want to exaggerate the day-to-day functioning of real relationships.
You want to put “love” in every verse, chorus, and bridge!
But no.
Love rhymes with above and of.
Poof.
That’s it.
And you’re not supposed to end a line with a preposition!
If you care to use like a dove, skin-tight glove, or non-abusive consensual shove, be my guest, but I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you cosmically.
I don’t blame you.
I’ve been there.
It’s tough for all of us.
I suggest we come up with a new word for love.
How ‘bout “splee”?
Baby, you’re the one I splee.
Your name’s on the marquis.
You know nothing comes for free
Except my sea of splee.
I like it, but I’m open to suggestions.
Happy Friday!

as reported in The New York Times
October 24, 1908
PRICE OF LOBSTERS TO DROP.
Maine Commissioner Says They Will Soon Be a Cheap Article of Food.

One clue whose answer consists of two rhyming words:
That designer’s new fall line is awfully sick and sad looking. The models are made up to be grayish and anemic. I don’t know how to feel about this…
Highlight here for answer: [ashen fashion]

Entrances to Hell


God doesn’t play dice with the universe.
Albert EinsteinNot only does God play dice, but… he sometimes throws them where they cannot be seen.
Stephen Hawking

EVERY DANG THURSDAY
8:00 PM
Flipnotics at the Triangle
4600 Guadalupe
AUSTIN, TX
(512) 380-0097
www.flipnotics.com
________________________________________________________________
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2008
9:00 PM (Doors open at 8.)
Matt the Electrician & Southpaw Jones
Anderson Fair
2007 Grant 77006
HOUSTON, TX
713.528.8576
www.andersonfair.com
Order the CD now at southpawjones.com.
Purchase MP3s at cdbaby.com or
Grab a copy in real time at Waterloo Records, End of an Ear, or Bookpeople in Austin.
Or buy one from me any Thursday at Flipnotics @ the Triangle.
Thank you, come again!
myspace.com/southpawjones
E-mail southpaw@southpawjones.com
©2008 Southpaw Jones. All rights reserved.












