stolid

\STAH-lid\

adjective

: having or expressing little or no sensibility : unemotional

I have to admit being a bit confused at the above definition. My initial thoughts were: But if you're unemotional, wouldn't that render you more sensible? I made the mistake of equating Sense with Reason, when I suppose the implication of sense suggests a literal connection with one's senses. And being Reasonable or Rational (it feels right to capitalize these concepts) does not necessarily apply to the senses; a sensory reaction would then be more emotional. In addition, the archaic definition of sensible is sensitive, now an obsolete link, but perhaps some residue remains. I've put it all together.

When one removes the influences of the senses, one arrives at STOLID—the impassive, the phlegmatic, the apathetic. A friend of mine was recently dating a guy I might describe as STOLID. One night the three of us went out for dessert. While perusing the menu, he seemed to have no opinions. He kept saying to my friend, "I'll share whatever you're having." He didn't say much through the night and responded often with shrugs. When I asked him, in an attempt to pull him into the conversation, "So, what's your story?" He grunted out an, "I don't really know."

I wonder if general STOLIDNESS is related to a mental condition. I mean, I suppose there are varying degrees of the quality, but if you pass a point after which someone would describe you as STOLID, seriously, what's going on in your head? Were you born STOLID? Or have you endured X number of life events that render you so? Is it related somehow to being jaded or emotionally worn down? So many questions.

Non-sequitur: I always thought this word was pronounced with a long O: stow-lid. The phonetics make me think of my New England past:

Yo, guy, yah totally STAAHHLID.

wildcatter

\WYLDE-katt-er\

noun

1 : one that drills wells in the hope of finding oil in territory not known to be an oil field 2 : one that promotes unsafe and unreliable enterprises; especially : one that sells stocks in such enterprises

The term WILDCATTER comes from a panther symbol that appeared on some risky counterfeit bills produced by certain U.S. banks prior to the Civil War. Hence, the wildcat became the symbol for phony, false enterprise.

*

My mother raised me a skeptic. I was instructed never to entirely trust anyone, including family members who may turn on you at any given point. "Blood is not thicker than water," she would often say, "don't let anyone try and convince you of that." This put me on guard at a very young age, developing a sort of "guilty until proven innocent" mentality in my underdeveloped brain.

Another idiom I harnessed was of course, "too good to be true,*" a phrase that can be applied to almost anything good when you're a skeptic. Well, to clarify, the phrase would describe anything not earned. A paycheck is not too good to be true. Requited love, although it may sometimes appear so, is not too good to be true. It is random goodness that fosters the skepticism—a bus arriving just as you approach the stop, the rain clearing right as you're about to mount your bike, having the exact amount of change—all too good to be true.

A few years ago while walking to work I decided to take a different route than usual because I was bored to death with my routine. On a quiet side street I spotted a twenty dollar bill on the sidewalk. I stopped and looked down at it for what felt like ten minutes. Then I reached for it, sure the bill would blow away in the spring breeze right before my fingertips touched its surface, but it did not. I picked it up and examined it. It looked like a twenty dollar bill. It felt like a twenty dollar bill. I looked around to see if someone was watching, or scanning the sidewalk for a lost bill. No one. Anywhere.

Convinced the bill was a WILDCATTER I still pocketed it, just in case there was some way this whole ordeal was actually happening to me. When I got to work I approached the cashier supervisor with the twenty.

"I need you to tell me if this is real."

"Why?"

"I don't think it's real."

She held the bill up to the florescent lights. "It's real."

"Are you sure?"

She handed me the bill and nodded.

I kept it in my pocket all afternoon, trying to fathom why I stumbled upon this bill. I must have done something to deserve it, otherwise there would be no rhyme or reason in the world and I may as well jump off a bridge. But I couldn't figure it out. I think I held onto the bill for days before I spent it. And I eventually used it to buy a gift for someone else, thinking I had to dissipate some weird mojo attached to the found bill.

Things are sometimes complicated for me.

*When I look up this phrase online I get a few descriptions unraveling its meaning as "so excellent that it defies belief." That has a far more eloquent ring to it than the phrase it describes.

flotilla

\floh-TILL-uh\

noun

1: a fleet of ships or boats; especially :a navy organizational unit consisting of two or more squadrons of small warships
2: an indefinite large number

FLOTILLA is a word like swarm or pack or flock that suggests a lot of one thing. In this case: ships.

Others like this:

drove

herd

gaggle

school

army

horde

throng

crowd

lot

mob

gang

peck

Each word applies to one or more specific objects, i.e. gaggle of geese, or peck of pickled peppers. This makes for entertaining juxtapositions when one puts the form of the collective with an unexpected variety of the collected:

a swarm of furniture stores

a flock of bored housewives

a FLOTILLA of Hummer stretch limos

This last example occurs in downtown Portland on the occasional Saturday night outside clubs like The Dixie Tavern.

*

I have attached to this blog a video explaining the virtual game of FLOTILLA, complete with english subtitles for those who cannot understand...perfect English (or who are hard of hearing). I especially enjoy the background music.

eminently

\EM-uh-nunt-lee\

adverb

: to a high degree : very

In the seventeenth century the word EMINENTLY was often used in a literal sense to describe things located in high places—the house on the hill, the porno mags on the top shelf in the closet, that sort of thing. Now the word is used more in its figurative sense, indicating a high stature or place in the world. But in the above definition, the word seems to mean neither of these more specific connotations. It just means "very."

So, I'm trying to think of a time in which it would be appropriate to plug the word EMINENTLY in where "very" would normally stand.

I am EMINENTLY tired. Those jeans are EMINENTLY expensive. That tweaker is EMINENTLY fucked up.

I don't know, it just doesn't sound EMINENTLY appropriate.

There is an Eminence, Missouri, elevation 673 ft. This doesn't mean much to me, although I did find out that the highest elevation in the continental U.S. (not counting Alaska's crazy mountains, even though it is connected by land...) is Mt. Whitney, California at 14, 494 ft. The highest point in Missouri is Taum Sauk Mountain at 1,772 ft., sixty-nine miles from Eminence. So, Eminence, Missouri, not so EMINENT, comparatively speaking.

I also discovered that in anatomy, EMINENCE suggests a protrusion. For example:

a Collateral EMINENCE from the hippocampus in the brain,

a Thenar EMINENCE from the thumb side of the hand, and, of course,

an Iliopubic EMINENCE extending from the pelvis

I can't help pointing out that "the thumb side of the hand" sounds a lot like "the dark side of the moon." EMINENTLY amusing.

twee

\TWEE\

adjective

chiefly British : affectedly or excessively dainty, delicate, cute, or quaint

In other words: sickeningly sweet.

Some things I might describe as TWEE: any rom-coms featuring Meg Ryan, roses and baby's breath, fourteen-year-olds engaging in PDAs, people talking to babies or (forbid) tickling their feet, perhaps anything described as "SO CUTE!!!!," beanie babies (do these even still exist?), home decorations that involve sailboats, seashells, or anything in the style of "Cape Cod," and many types of reunions.

Some things I might describe as literally sickeningly sweet: mountain dew—especially the new varieties in various shades of red or purple, caramel, buttercream frosting, toffee, butterscotch, and any "coffee" drink that comes from a machine you would find in a 7-11.

I'm going to stop here before I begin to feel ill.

eighty-six

\ay-tee-SIKS\

verb, slang

: to refuse to serve (a customer); also : to get rid of : throw out

In this term's etymology, the closest M-W comes to explaining the origin of EIGHTY-SIX is by linking it with the word "nix," meaning to veto or reject.

Other theories:

- some correlation with a NYC speakeasy, Chumley's, located at 86 Bedford Street; when they cops were on the way during prohibition, the bar tender would be called and warned to "EIGHTY-SIX" it

- in British merchant shipping the standard crew was 85 men, so the EIGHTY-SIXTH was left behind

- some fashionable NYC restaurant had 85 tables, so the metaphorical EIGHTY-SIXTH was offered to someone who wasn't going to get served

- item #EIGHTY-SIX on the menu at NYC's Delmonico's restaurant was the most popular and often ran out; the item? a rib-eye steak named after the restaurant

- some streetcar line ended at EIGHTY-SIXTH street, meaning everyone had to get out

Et cetera, et cetera. They just keep getting vaguer as I go along.

Customers occasionally get EIGHTY-SIXED at Whole Foods. The most notable in my remembrance is a woman named Mareka. Maraka was...interesting—about 5'2", rounded, definitely assisted in some way by the State, often galavanted around in long floral skirts and oversized cardigans draped crookedly over her shoulders. Her eyes seemed to gaze in two different directions and I never saw her without this clunky, battery-operated headset topped with an erect silver antenna that protruded from her disheveled hair. I have no idea what she was listening to—the motherland perhaps?

Mareka had a thing for honey. She used to come to our coffee bar, request a large cup of hot water, and proceed to the condiment bar where she would deposit about four ounces of honey into her cup. I guess I never really cared; I thought it was amusing and was sort of touched by the fact that this was all Mareka really needed to start her day. She paid her ten cents for the cup. Who was I to argue?

An old co-worker of mine—let's call her Lindsay because that was her name—was not as fond as I. Lindsay was of the spoiled brat, pain in the ass, whining sort. She had too much trust fund money and no aspirations. I think she only had a job because she wanted some way in which to pretend she could interact with other human beings. She often complained about Mareka to our store leadership, to no avail. After all, Mareka did pay for her cup, and the condiments were for paying customers. Lindsay would often yell at Mareka as she squeezed organic honey into her steaming cup. "MAREKA. You can't just take all of our honey! That's for people who actually BUY coffee." Mareka's eyes would look in all directions, and she would mumble something about her rights, squeezing away. While I saw Lindsay's point—the honey was kind of expensive—watching her try to get through to Mareka was funny as hell, kind of like catching someone having a one-sided conversation with their pet.

When Lindsay finally got through to the powers-that-be, Mareka got EIGHTY-SIXED for taking advantage of the condiment situation. However, she didn't deal with the rejection very well. A few days later she wandered into the store looking for revenge. Meandering down the cereal aisle she was spotted by another old co-worker—Neil? Nathan?—and reminded that she had been EIGHTY-SIXED and needed to leave immediately. Mareka proceeded to lift up her floral frock revealing her uncovered genitals and screamed, "THIS IS WHAT HELL LOOKS LIKE!"

She hasn't been back since.

colloquy

\KAH-luh-kwee\

noun

1 : conversation, dialogue

2 : a high-level serious discussion : conference

This is the second descendent of the Latin "loqui" M-W has thrown my way this year, the other being collogue (April 23), which means to conspire in private. To be clear, I didn't remember this; collogue appeared in the drop-down menu from the box in which I type the day's word. I'm not actually retaining any information here.

So, I'm thinking about what warrants a COLLOQUY, or a discussion one would refer to as "serious." Perhaps anything preceded by the phrase, "We need to talk." I hate saying those words far more than I hate hearing them. Saying them means I'm about to break someone's heart, ruin someone's day, or (and) embarrass myself in some inevitable way. Receiving such a preface I'm often kind of excited; it means something is about to change, I'm about to be challenged, or, at the least, things are going to get interesting.

But, who says this? Nobody. Nobody says, "Later on today I'm sitting down for a COLLOQUY with Fred to discuss the future of our marital status/this company/his drinking problem." The kind of people who use the word COLLOQUY are the kind of people who create things like The COLLOQUY Society, "the first high-IQ (their italics) society based entirely on the internet," currently accepting applicants of "superior intelligence." Judging by the looks of their website, there are no web designers intelligent enough to have a hand in the matter.

COLLOQUY is also the name of an application for iPhone, iPad, and iPod Touch—a mobile chat program. Technically speaking the app is an Internet Relay Chat (IRC) client for mobile devices. I'm terrible with technology, so I don't understand much of this language, but I do understand the juxtaposition in the phrase "Mobile COLLOQUY." Something old, something new—like Napoleon Bonaparte at the Waterlube in San Dimas—always makes for good wit.