12 November, 2020

Neologism of the Day: pinkture

Meaning: A tiny stab of colour in an otherwise grey day

The weather is meh. I am blurgh. The work is ugh! The grind is grrrrrrrrr. Yes, you guessed it, my brain is porridge and I am once again beyond speech. Beyond sense. Or sensibility.

Time for a few onomatopoeisms. Onomatopoeigfaceisms. Not to be confused with authoritarian regimes of any kind, but merely the sound of flowers opening and closing with the ebb and flow of light. Of luminosity.

I have nothing to say tonight. Still there is the consolation of consonance, the balm of sound. The refrigerator purrs. The old dog sups at her bowl then clips about the wooden floorboards on high heels. My fingers at the keyboards clack. This inversion is a prelude to tonight’s Gaelic lesson, still to be done, in which I shall talk to myself in a foreign tongue in an old worlde word order. About pets. About items of clothing. About the weather.

My old dog is not herself. Back to the vet tomorrow. I am not myself. I am decranged with fatigue; still chained to the desktop for 14 hours a day. I can’t remember what real life feels like. Still. There is food. There is cheese. Oatcakes, and mustard fruits. There are online panels and seminars full of articulate artists and queer folx and women of colour who jolt me with the electricity of their brilliance.

And there is sleeeeeeeeeep!

Published by wandalusst

I am a member of the non/fictionLab and a postdoctoral research fellow at XXXX University in Melbourne, Australia. I started this blog on 17 March 2020, after voluntarily removing myself and my over sixty-year old bronchially-challenged lungs to an undisclosed coastal location. I intend to remain here for as long as is sensible, but I'm going to miss you all. And so, in order to stay sane, I'd like to stay connected to you, dear colleagues, as we figure out how to work remotely and stay focused on the small, the meaningful and the manageable.

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