O.N.C.E.

Despite the arrival of meteorological Spring, inspiration and enthusiasm are running a bit low this week-end, probably a sign that it's been a long old lockdown (or three) as the one-year anniversary of our covid incarceration rolls around. However, these Saturday blogs don't write themselves, and so here goes.

I haven't scripted a completely off-the-wall, bonkers piece for ages, (really). Once in a Spiral Moon seems to be often enough. I think D.U.S.K was the last one, back in 2017. But guess what the western sky contains tonight in all its splendour...

...so I'll begin. Once up on a thyme-covered mountainside, all splendidly isolated from human view, there stood a magnificent craggy grey castle, much betowered and castellated as any craggy castle should. Therein could be found the secret headquarters of an organization so secret that almost no one had heard of it, an organization whose sole purpose it was to give new words to the world. Deep within that munificent magnificence of craggy greyness was housed the Office of Neologism Construction and Etymology, known to those in the know as...

OFFICE of NEOLOGISM CONSTRUCTION and ETYMOLOGY

Logophiles the wide world over used to dream of landing a job at O.N.C.E. and of being spirited away to that betowered and castellated nirvana atop a secret mountain, so secret that almost no one knew where it was. Of course, it takes a steady head to be a good neologist and after a couple of regrettable episodes involving recruits from the wide world over who turned out to be more logomaniacs than logophiles, a special breeding programme was instigated, known as 'The Programme', whereby potential neologists were identified in the cradle and were then subtly moulded for the task from the craggy creche onwards. Once they were sufficiently formed, they would become trainee neologists under the capable tutelage of the Logomeister. O such fun they had, sitting at their consoles, busily inventing new words and then their etymologies (or back stories).   

trainee neologists learning the art of word invention

Fully qualified, they would then spend the rest of their working lives in purest dedication to their calling, inventing new words, their definitions and provenance; even though in the moist secret part of their hearts they might have longed to quit the munificent magnificence for a while so as to enjoy the simple pleasures that simple people the wide world over were reputed to enjoy: going on the lash, smoking a fag, having a shag or at least a flirt with a skirt, eating chips with gravy, leathering a ball, riding a rollercoaster, skinny-dipping, singing karaoke, petting llamas - but no, such diversions were not for them. 

O.N.C.E. the organisation was working so successfully, a special measure had to be introduced to stop the wide world over sinking under logorrhoea, which might paradoxically leave it lost for words. This was known as 'The Measure' and was in fact an algorithm which limited the number of new words O.N.C.E. approved for use the wide world over to thirty-seven a year; i.e. significantly less than one a week and a fraction of the tens of new words invented every day out of the teeming brains of the team of top neologists. So it goes.

As an illustration - and you must promise to kill yourself after reading it, or at least poke out your eyes, for it is top secret and has been smuggled out of the craggy castle by a disaffected disinfectant operative - here's a sample list of words and definitions as devised just today by the Office for Neologism Construction and Etymology:

ABWASSLE - the act of plucking down from the crown of a thistle

BOJ - to completely fuck over a country

BRILD - the colour of sunshine through closed eyelids

FATCH - to throw up after eating out

JAWBLE - fluff that has attached itself to sticky sweets

KLAPTER - a four-legged animal when walking on its hind legs

SPOFFANY - the laughter of meerkats

VINTELLAGE - an indiscretion uttered while under the influence of alcohol

XEND - a shade of purple so deep it is almost black (aka 'midnight purple')

In fact, one of the nine words itemised here has been approved, so it will soon be coming to a lexicon near you. 

By the way, the colour plate above is actually a scan from the cover of my hardback copy of 'The Glass Bead Game ' (by Hermann Hesse), a favourite novel. I've read it more than once; 1972, 1984, 1996 and 2008 in fact...which suggests I'm a year late for a fifth reading.

There is no poem this week, for once.

Coming up next time, exciting details about the new twenty-seventh letter of the alphabet. And for those of you who missed the previous acronym-based foolishness that I mentioned at the outset, it's linked here should you wish to venture into the twilight zone: D.U.S.K.

That's all folks. Thanks for the once over, S ;-)