
What I like is the sort of nonsense you might find in Ogden Nash's poetry:
The Germ
A mighty creature is the germ,
Though smaller than a pachyderm.
His customary dwelling place
Is deep within the human race.
His childish pride he often pleases
By giving people strange diseases.
Do you, my poppet, feel infirm?
You probably contain a germ.
...'There's something in one of the Pine Trees.' 'So there is!' said Pooh, looking up wonderingly. 'There's an animal.' Piglet took Pooh's arm, in case Pooh was frightened. 'Is it one of the Fiercer Animals?' he said, looking the other way. Pooh nodded. 'It's a Jagular,' he said. 'what do Jagulars do?' asked Piglet, hoping that they wouldn't. 'They hide in the branches of trees, and drop on you as you go underneath,' said Pooh. 'Christopher Robin told me.' 'Perhaps we better hadn't go underneath, Pooh. In case he dropped and hurt himself.' 'They don't hurt themselves, ' said Pooh. 'They're such very good droppers.'That, my friends, is called Grand Nonsense and it is that that I love. All this to say, there is a way that Is and a way that Isn't, and I vote for the Is. That being said, I wanted to announce one of my newest Sprouts to you. (Sprout. n. or adj. meaning New Project, plot-bunny, inspiration, etc.)
This Sprout, at present, has a humble name: The Traveler.
It is a book that chronicles the windings and travels, adventures and acquaintances and whatnot of a young fellow--a journalist--(nameless, to help things feel mysterious-er than ever. ;) who, in order to avoid bankruptcy, must take up a bet from his fellows journalists that he can't visit every region of the world in a year and send them back an entertaining story of his experiences in each. He takes up the bet, he takes up his things, and off he goes into the far reaches of the Victorian-era world. That is the basic plot of The Traveler, and I will keep it as my Relief-Project to work on when everything goes batty with my other W.I.P.s :) The flavor is decidedly Dickens-ian. It is also decidedly nonsensical. I love it already. You will be hearing plenty about The Traveler in the weeks and months to come so there is nothing else to be said! Cheerio.
"I asked you, Young Man, how much you're in for?""Fifty-pounds, Auntie."Aunt Kate turned pink on her cheeks and white around her lips and looked altogether apoplectic for about five minutes. I slouched in my corner, wishing to goodness that I could disappear and never come back—never see Aunt Kate like this, never have to pay up to the Boys for all my stupid debts, never have to look myself in the “I” again. No, I do not mean “look myself in the “eye”—that is quite a different matter than looking in the “I” which is rather too close to the “me” and the “myself”, and once you’ve looked into those three it’s all up with you.-The Traveler