Poems & Palmer-isms
Why waste time say lot word when few word do trick
I’ve tried to keep to a bi-weekly release schedule since I’ve started writing again, and some of you may have noticed that I’ve fallen off and am a few days behind. (Or at least I hope that someone has!) This is partially because I had to prepare for and perform a three hour long country set for an investment fund’s summer barbecue party, followed by a ten day travel gauntlet between NYC, Cincinnati, and Paris. But it is really because I have attempted writing two essays during that time and have sent them both to the garbage bin. I had ~900 words on “the NYC you live in vs the NYC that lives in your head” and 3,000 words on the limits to my musical ability. Both would have needed to balloon to twice their length before I could start to “cross out the wrong words” and it’s unlikely I’ll be able to do that for while, if ever.
When I’m writing, I’m writing for myself. You have to. So, what I try to write is some form of non-fictional prose or romanticism in the literary sense, which I could get around to on the NYC essay but probably not on musical talent. I don’t want to write fiction, but I do want to write in a poetic, descriptive way and it’s sometimes hard to do that without putting too many words on the page. It’s easy to take for granted that you can do that with very few words. You can resort to writing real poems, like these two haikus and one not-haiku:
I love listening
to the singing yogis while
they harmonize ohm.1
Or,
The guitar man’s hand
And a heavy slammed door
Half step melodies2
And the not-haiku.
I’m sorry about all those dollars
you spent to show your love,
pushed to the back of the attic.3
Those are barely poems, but you don’t even need to be that structured. A simple phrase is enough to say something meaningful, beautiful, and sometimes funny. In the last few weeks, I’ve been in some situations that have made me think of a few Palmer-isms that either come from my Dad (that he probably stole from somewhere) or that I’ve stolen from other people and made my own, too.
The first phrase that keeps coming up is one we used when talking about Teaberry Rock and is “There’s pumas in them crevasses!” It must be said with a Southern or Old-Timey accent, and is apparently a Smothers Brother’s joke but I’ll still claim it as a Palmer-ism since I heard it from my Dad first. There is something forewarning about unknown risk behind it’s comedic presentation.
Elizabeth and I have also been talking about money, given our impending childcare costs. It’s made me reflect on how I’ve missed every major wealth building opportunity in my adult life. I made little on the crypto craze, I didn’t buy property before COVID-19 (not that I agree with rent-seeking behavior anyways), and timed the post-COVID / pre-AI hiring poorly, and the list goes on and on, complaint after complaint. But, Elizabeth wants us to still have the mindset that we can make it big and jump the crazy compensation band required to raise a family comfortably in New York City. My stress about it has gone down a little bit by remembering that my parents would say that I constantly “fell in shit and came out smelling like roses.” I think I was more bold as a teen, because I don’t as often find myself in unlikely situations that resolve themselves beautifully anymore.4 I’m setting myself a goal to try to take more big bets.
Those are the two Palmer-isms that I’m remembering the most right now, but a few more stolen Palmer-isms from my father’s era are:
“It’s been so lonely in the saddle since my horse died,” which is from a Highwaymen song but I’ve heard it and said it hundreds of times. This response works 100% of the time anyone says something about a horse or a saddle.
Growing up, it was quite an honor to be called “Insiglius, purple, and clairvoyant,” which is a misheard take from Steve Martin’s Grandmother’s Song. Insiglius is not a word, but obsequious is.
If you had a fresh haircut, you might be both “Suave and Debonair” (pronounced “dee-boner”) and I think this may come from The Gong Show.
As someone who has listened to hundreds of hours of Buddhist dharma talks (mostly while asleep), my favorite koan is still an old Palmer-ism that “Wherever you go, there you are.” It’s less of a joke than it seems, because I also read a book with the same name in college when I first started reading about mindfulness, though it’s not one of my favorites.
I’ve stolen my own Palmer-isms, too, like:
“Some walk in the rain, others get wet” which this philosopher believes is saying something about outlook on life, but I’ve just used it as a double entendre. Not a perfect success rate on this joke, but usually worth putting out there.
Every college and MBA weekend usually heard me say “You can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the morning” and I think Drake actually stole that one from me given the timelines.
Lastly, for years, I’ve followed every shot or bottle-pull of whisky with the satisfied sigh of “Mother’s Milk,” which I stole from this song and only once have been caught on it. It depends on your definition of success, but I think it works 100% of the time.
So, like how family recipes all secretly come from the back of cornbread boxes, nothing is really a true Palmer original. But that opens up anything, even a single word, to become a Palmer-ism and that’s beautiful. Palmer-isms come and go. All things that have the nature to rise also have the nature to pass away.
I hope you reap what I’m sowing.
The UWS is filled with Broadway singers turned yoga teachers. If you don’t get beautiful chants echoing in the heated room, you get harmonium accompaniment!
I’ve broken most of the fingers on my left hand at some point and the inability to spread a major second between my first and second fingers while playing guitar is actually a tiny limit on my musical ability. I broke my pinky and ring finger in December 2024 and was afraid I wouldn’t be able to play octaves on the bass ever again. I got lucky.
Guilt over childhood toys and American consumerism.
I would say being paid to play a three hour long country set at an investment fund’s summer barbecue party is exactly this, though.