Someone - I forget who and under what circumstances - told me once that the grammar is a bit 'as a leash of language: it is not escape, to regulate, to curb the irreducibly anarchic temperament. Beautiful image, I thought, imagining a woman in the act of forceful and authoritarian resist pulling a dog over-excited when it tries to drag it - she and her heels - in the mud.
Now, though personally I do not like to dirty my hands, I know the call of the mud, for dogs and language, is irresistible. We can educate them, bind them, maybe even punish them, but the day we leave them alone (The language and the dogs) is very likely going to roll in mud happy and carefree. Not only is part of their nature, but demonstrates their viability. A dog that does not stink is not a real dog. A language that does not get dirty is not a real language.
What is it then the leash? Throw it away? Do not exaggerate. Let's say that you should use it only when needed, when it brings the language for a walk in the most exclusive or between the pages of a book written. For the rest, just make sure that does not bark too much, and especially not bite.
This long preamble to introduce the blog, which is a bit 'the extension of the book where you see the cover on the side. A book which tells of a grammar and without heels, without a leash. A book that explains that those who barks really are the purists of Sunday, the "neo-bran lash out because they would like to see that the language always candid and disinfected. A book in which dozens of topics are addressed but are left out hundreds. This blog serves to fill this gap. And to trigger debate.
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