Saturday morning

25 February 2017

— my dogwood buds getting fatter

Good Morning All,

I think I got lucky as a kid, in that I realized early on that even if I lived to be one hundred, I would still end up dead for a seriously long time. As such, the Calvinistic ethos within which I grew up did not carry a whole lot of weight. Why waste one’s time becoming conventionally successful, rich, famous, whatever, simply to prove I could be counted among the Elect, among the measly four million who would be allowed into heaven to endure an eternity of harp playing?

It seemed a much better idea to enjoy the days of my life as they happened, rather than preparing for the better life down the road, either here on this planet or up there in the clouds. From a fairly young age, it seemed to me that to live for love and beauty in all their various forms was the best way to travel. 

A fly in the ointment, however, was that for the longest time I nevertheless did want to become immortal in some fashion or other. The best second basemen the Red Sox ever had. A novel that could stand shoulder to shoulder with Huck, Moby, Scarlet, Gatsby, and Catcher. Possibly the Guinness Book of Records Spit-for-Distance Champion. Whatever.

Gradually, I lowered my sights to wishing I could add just one word or phrase to the English language. Something like jabberwocky or catch-22. I’d love to be the one to come up with a neuter third-person singular personal pronoun that everyone liked enough so that it would catch on. Something like: he, she, je, it. Then: him, her, jer, it, and his, hers, jers, its. 

Failing that, I do actually have a nifty word I think would be useful for all those times when something unexpected and unpleasant happens, such as dropping the soufflé on the floor or stepping out of the car into a puddle up to your mid-calf. You could use this word instead of that whole class of words your mother did her best to keep out of your mouth. 

My word is fartzinzockus, (four syllables, inflection on 1st and 3rd, fart-zin-zoc-kus), as in: “Oh, fartzinzockus, this brake pedal doesn’t seem to be functioning.” Or: “Talk about your fartzinzockus, I just sideswiped that police cruiser.) 

If you like this word, please, you must feel free to use it whenever you feel it is necessary. Who knows, it may catch on. 

And a thousand years from now, dictionaries will faithfully report: first use thereof in the Day Book entry for 25 February 2017 by Bheka Pierce, the Nobel Prize winning author of the epic poem: The Gustatory Adventures of King Arthur’s Portly Knight, Sir Cumference.

Go Well and Stay Well,

Bhekaron