Sploogleportion took a lot out of me. Someone told me on WritersCafe.org that it reminded them of Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake. I haven’t read it, so I don’t know. I have read some Joyce, though. (I ain’t uneducated, like.) I’ve even visited the Joyce museum in Dublin. It is a little stream of consciousness and inside out, like Faulkner – which I have read. (I don’t claim to be worthy of shining either’s shoes.)
How hard can it be to write drivel anyway?
Ah, but there is a difference between gibberish, drivel, and fine drivel. Here’s an example of my drivel:
Goosemontle freeblesnooter splayed in a horndoggle salad. See buckaroo (not kangaroo)?
It is a mixture of made-up words, almost-words, and real words, in a surreal, but almost correct sentence structure. On the other hand, my gibberish doesn’t use any real words. My made-up words are chosen only for their auditory properties (and I’m counting on you to pronounce them right, and at the right speed). Sometimes they mirror a foreign language. Here’s a gibberish haiku for you:
scholdy scoldy musnickler
(I wanted to use parabolembulism, but there were too many syllables.) So what is ordinary drivel compared to “fine drivel”? I suppose that is drivel written by anyone but me.
(Joyce isn’t drivel, by the way. It’s literature.)
I’m not sure if I have the stamina to write a whole novel of the stuff.