I'm often caught reflecting on the beauty of the remote places in the world. To go and see those place that remain almost untouched by our dirty, developing hands surely must be a dream of many and the reality of few. I want to go. But I'm not sure I want to share.
Now that is has seriously gotten cold -- I mean, it was cold before but now it's time for lintel soup and hot toddies. There are no two ways about it: The temptation to curl up on the couch with your favourite and wait out the blustery wind, dreaming of warmer days and planning your next outdoor adventure is overwhelming but we all know that being out of doors when the leaves fall heavy and the breeze from the North is relentless can be refreshing to the soul. So go ahead -- well, i'm not insisting but -- shucks, put on your thermals and heavy boots, wrap your scarf tightly -- I am insisting. I'm also practicing my new style of writing.
It requires, well, it's tough to define but easy to see if you -- I could have made this slightly easier to read but, I(it's my fingers' fault, really, since they're shivering a bit from the open window) can't quite focus on just this one thing. My list for today, things to-do, is getting long while I sit here typing.
noun, -- lack of grammatical sequence or coherence, esp. in a sentence.
So go on, my darlings, blame your anacoluthia on the weather but we all know it's the whiskey in your cocoa.
Those clouds today are gently suspended on rays of sunshine, spreading the light out into a glowing, ambient illumination. No sharp points and no wincing at the frightening discovery of things better left in the dark. The whole world is soft. Diaphanous A soft D is a great start to it. adj.--Of such fine texture as to allow light to pass through; translucent or transparent. Don't fret, my lovelies, for this week is just one more in our lives and the cool air allows a certain reflection that evades in other times of the year. Reflect on things with a slanted look, sideways glance. Evaluate fully but one piece at a time.
I have a love/hate relationship with the French but, suffice it to say, sometimes they make things sound so good.
The important thing about pronouncing foreign words is to say them like you do English words. Which is to say, not perfectly. No one enunciates precisely. So let your mouth warble and wobble as you start with the first BEE syllable. It's stressed but go easy on the B. LAY is the second syllable and it's okay if you barely hear it. Your tongue can be almost an afterthought, getting pulled to back of your mouth as if afraid to go outside. DU or DOO makes your lips pucker as if bidding adieu to your favourite lover and even though the moment is over quickly, you stand with your mouth held in position as the train slowly pulls away from the station. Despite the parting so sweetly, you know that you'll soon smell his cologne on the paper when he sends you that first love letter. And the second. And the third. May the mail be ever your hope for more of his or her words, written, nay, scribbled quickly because the emotion won't be dammed.
M makes the yummy sound...then a short A is cute. The hard C puts a click in your throat. The U is more like YEW, which you pull through your lips. End with a sweet LA but it's more like LUH, a sound like you're out of breath, pushing from the diaphragm.
Macula n.--- a spot or blemish
But not all imperfections are terrible. Some remind us of the love we have for the soft underbelly of emotions, the dark side of the lovely things. Perfect alabaster or marble does not work. It needs movement and motion, landmarks that show us where they're going, where we're going. Maps of beauty, roadways of the aesthetic.
The little green monster sneaks up on you again, filling your head with buzzing and fuzzing, your fingers tingle and your toes ache. You don't like this feeling because you know it's not healthy but you cannot control it, cannot squelch it, try as you might to put it down like the silly idea it is. Your days spent in fear of this overwhelming sensation. You probably have Zelophobia.
Oh, my dear, you know how we love the Zs. It hums at the roof of your mouth. It tickles the tip of your tongue. Its serpentine sensuality arouses.