Today, while reading an 1855 account of the local fireman’s festival, I came across the following whopper of a sentence. It kicked off the story, and I thought writers and fans of writing would enjoy it.
The Fireman’s Festival. — Sacred to the memory of departed militia heroes; of officers in short-waisted, shallow-tail coats, who, at the head of their several commands of citizen soldiery, exhibited more of the “pride of circumstance and the pomp of war,” than any Crimean commander has reason to feel; and that of the rank and file themselves, who, in uniforms and without uniforms, of all sizes and nearly all ages, went through their several duties of marching and counter marching with more zeal than discipline, fired blank cartridges at an imaginary enemy without flinching, and only surrendered as the shades of evening came on, after a prolonged and most unequal contest with “Old jamaica or pure New England”; sacred the the memories of this and of those in the hearts of all Vermonters, is the first Tuesday in June.
Leaving out the “title,” that’s 135 words to say the Fireman’s Festival was on Tuesday.
Perhaps we are a bit quick and sloppy with our modern descriptions of events, and maybe we should aim for more colorful and extended use of words.
I use this opportunity to challenge anyone interested to write a 135 sentence about anything happening in 2015.
Perhaps I will accept the challenge;
Perhaps I will accept the challenge; it may be that as an extremely fatigued person with a disability I am no longer able to muster such skill and accomplishment (I was queen of the run of sentence until recently), though I do believe the enticing prospect of achieving the goal of writing a 135 word sentence may be just what I need to overcome some minor part of my difficulties — you folks here on ibrattleboro undoubtedly have picked up on my love of words and wordplay — and return me to my rightful royal place, thereby restoring my honorificabilitudinity in this sad person’s life who has nothing better to do than entertain herself with such silly, trivial activity as I await the end of the NBA finals game three and the megamillions drawing results later tonight.
It somewhat pains me, and
It somewhat pains me, and introduces disquiet in an incidental but not easily dismissible way, that a wordsmith of high caliber, a sensitive soul, and sentient being, even one who has ascended the high slopes of contemplation, sees the tiny, personal and hyper mundane as lacking in dynamism, even significance, as if only the strivings of blowhards, attention whores, professional campaigners, narcissists, and juice box big boys were mustering actions of consequence, which as all Waldenesque fans, Whitmanesque loafers, and small ball gamers among us know, is patently ridiculous, even a needlessly self deprecating slight on the sublime generative abilities of our bicameral brained and nimble natured featherless species- to dawdle, drift and dream in currents and eddies as much fulfilling life’s so called purpose as anything that purports to matter, much less endure.
Nice day for cats
It is known, as observers of small and large animals will note with some degree of certainty, and others might infer based upon their own, personal baked-in animal instincts, that any morning, such as this morning, that begins sunny and warm, with clear air freshly-washed by a torrential spring storm the night before, and a decided lack of interfering breezes or winds, is the type of day which could very likely turn in to a spectacular day for laying about in the hot, pre-summer sun, finding a shady spot under a bush, or drinking from a freshly-filled bowl of cool rain water, which is a to say, again with certainty, that this type of warm, relaxing spring day is indeed a wonderfully nice day for any cats to lay about outside or in a window.
…
(Andie gets bonus points for using “honorificabilitudinity” in the sentence…)
I think it's a tie
Maybe some others will take the bait and submit a sentence; for now I say it’s a tie — each entry unique in style and content. Excellent work, all! And enjoyable.
169 word sentence (OK, made up my own rules)
I really like this topic, not only because it is challenging, but even more so because — unlike many ibrattleboro stories which seem to engender acrimony — this is the type of topic which would intrigue even the most jaded among us: those unfortunate souls who live in the most pedestrian realms, fining nothing fascinating, nothing worthy of deeper reflection, everything mundane, everything plain in the least positive sense of that mostly over-used word; the type of word which makes other words uncomfortable, even to the extent of those sad words wanting to succeed from the dictionary, which of course is impossible, or at least to many of us would seem to be were it not for a questioning spirit, the questioning spirit which is indicative of the the finer aspects of true human intellect, that rare emergent and remarkable item which, it could be said, is what makes us truly human or at least so we might expect, as if expectations were as solid as a melting ice cube.
And Joy
Today I woke up, tired and in a slight panic, to be greeted by a fine spring morning, so fine that I was able to forget my fears briefly, and simply absorb the day, breathing it in as if it were a fine perfume, as it was, filled with the fragrance of mock orange and damp grass, a reminder that no day is “the day” but that every day is “day” and that is beautiful, which is to say, perfect, as an early summer day is perfect reminding one that the seasons change and so do we, but spring sunshine and warm breezes are perennial, as phenomena that come up every year and fill our hearts with that rarest emotion — joy — a thing that can never be planned or contrived but always comes as a wonderful and inspirational surprise.