It was the wind that arrived first. Wild and unruly became coarse and brazen. They’d been warned that this wasn’t the right day to be out on the water.
And it had started to creep in now. Using the way the boat was swaying to make its way onto the deck.
And the rocking got worse. It wasn’t long until they realised they weren’t in any form of control any more.
Trim started to panic, just like he always did. “This don’t look good, Muck. This is bad. Oh, this is really bad.”
"Pull it together, Trim. We’re here now. This is it. This is that adventure we’ve been whining about not having for four years. It’s got to be better than anything waiting at home. The same trip to pick up the milk and paper. The same blank stares at the checkout. This ocean, though. It’s salacious. It wants us."
1. mamihlapinatapai - google is your friend, 2. hjtfnm - who needs vowels, 3. first memory you can recall ?
WARNING: BORING. BUT IT FOUGHT MY BOREDOM, SO SOMEONE WINS, I SUPPOSE.
Thanks for these. It helped me kill a lot of time!
1. Mamihlapinatapai! What an amazing word! Thank you for bringing it into my life. For anyone else’s benefit, Wikipedia tells me it refers to “a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other will offer something that they both desire but are unwilling to suggest or offer themselves.”
Here’s a go:
They both knew there was an easy way out of this. That was the hardest part.
"D’you ever feel like it’s just that time is against us? Like everything’d be fine otherwise?" said Karen.
"You shouldn’t take time so personally, kid," said Cliff.
"Don’t call me ‘kid’. You know I hate it when you call me that."
There was no give anymore. Their candle-lit dinner was heavy with mamihlapinatapai. But she took the initiative. He had always loved it when she did that.
"I could do it," she began to well up a little. "I could take him out. It’d be quick."
"I know you could. I seen you do it plenty times before. But we both know you won’t. We’re in too deep now."
And his chair legs groaned as they slid across the wooden floor when he stood up, clutching his brown duffel bag with half the money. He left, seemingly calm, through the restaurant door. In a moment she would have to do the same, but she’d be turning a different way, and she’d have to just keep walking until she figured out her next step.
2. Hjtfnm is a noun used to describe the moulds left behind in concrete when something walked through it when it was still wet. Particularly used when you can’t figure out which creature made it, so it has also been adopted to describe writing/etchings on the back of train seats when you can’t figure out what it says.
3. That’s a weird one because some of my childhood was captured on a camera that (as I understand it) my dad “borrowed” from his work for an extended period of time. So it’s often hard to know what are memories and what are memories of watching back old videos. Like, I know that the top of one of my fingers came off once because my sister trapped it in a slidey door, and that a family friend pulled one of my wobbly teeth out by tying string around it and tying the other end to a doorknob and slamming the door, and that we had an old playhouse that was taken away by the wind, which are things you’d think would stick with me, but I have no memory of then. Yet I know from footage that we used to bore our parents with repetitive puppet shows and line up chairs in the kitchen and pretend we were on a bus. So I remember that, but that’s probably ‘cause there’s film of it. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. It’s just a thing.
What sticks out, though, as perhaps my oldest memory is being with one of my oldest friends, a guy who didn’t start talking till pretty late on, and he had this amazing toy car that you could sit in and ‘drive’ with your feet like they do in The Flintstones. I remember going back and forth along his narrow hallway for hours on end not saying a word and never getting bored.
“What happens when a reader loves a book isn’t actually a wondrous explosion of literary greatness, an inevitable consequence of that book’s inherent value, it’s a complicated combination of all sorts of circumstances: like who the reader is, where they are in their lives, what else they’ve read, what mood they’re in at the exact moment when they pick up the book, whether they’re drunk or sober, what sorts of bullshit they will or won’t put up with (and all novels contain a certain amount of bullshit), whether the author photo looks like their ex-girl/boyfriend, etc. etc.”—Lev Grossman, “I Hate This Book So Much: A Meditation” (via austinkleon)
There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.
There is another theory which states that this has already happened.
”—Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe (via the-bitter-suite)