Uncool word revival

People are always saying they're going to revive words like coolth and then fail to do so. I'm one of them. Regardless, I've been itching to revive certain uncool words.

In case you're unaware, uncool words are extremely disarming. A young musician once told me he was "jazzed" and after I nearly fell over laughing, I bought two of his CDs. In the world today, the more disarming our prose, the better. Just think of the dire diatribes you could bestow upon an unwitting audience using words like "jazzed". Jazzed like it's freaking 1998. Jazzed.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, disarmingly uncool words I think I'm going to try to revive. Ready?

• skite
• snazzy
• zippy
  
• ace
• rippa
• radical
• snag
• flip (all forms)
• rapt (already making good inroads here)
  
• shonk
• scheister
• wack
• hinky (yeah, hinky)
  

Yes, the coolth is extremely low in these linguistic realms. That's why I love it here.

Good luck, sometimes

Rico believes in luck, and it follows him. I'd love to be like him, but unfortunately there are times when I don't believe in luck; I only believe in graft of the most arduous kind. However, this past week has entailed quite an offering of luck. Shall I tell you? Alright. But I'll keep it short.

Rejection/selection
My phone suggests both options when I begin to type "rejection". Which is interesting, given that a book pitch rejection today turned into a rather charming guest writing invitation. There seem to be other entertaining work prospects on the cards, too. Simultaneously. I know: this never happens.

Top of the world; bottom of the ocean
New music, found only as a result of stupid-hour driving with the radio on.

Nuts to that
This week, something I wrote went the proverbial nuts. I know, it sounds like such a small thing, but it's not, really.

I used to think that pitching was the big deal -- once your pitch is accepted, you're home and hosed, right? Well, no. Once your pitch is accepted the publisher will only really be happy if nuts occurs. And when nuts occurs, that period is short-lived, so you must bask in it, lie full-length in the swells for as long as there's still light and the water's warm.

Not only this, but I had actually hoped that nuts would be the outcome of this piece. I actually thought it might be. "If I was [audience]," I told myself, "I'd want to know this." And I was right.

Right on
I'm practically never right. Like, ever. Literally. I'm not sure if you've noticed. But this week I was right about something -- that whole nuts thing -- and (hooray!) this means ... well, it means I was right about something for once.

Where turning 30 is awesome
No, I'm not lucky enough to be turning 30 on a gorgeous tropical island, but I have been invited to help a lovely someone who is, to celebrate that very event. Can you believe it? No, the luck is too good. All I need now are bargain-basement air fares...

Eggs
When a hen returns to laying on the winter solstice, you know hell's frozen over. When she does it despite no artifical light, cold morning and evening food, breakfast constantly late and regardless of the fact that she came this close to being freezer fodder in the autumn before you realised all your chicks were males, well, it's just impossibly fortunate. Perhaps I can use her eggs to offset the price of tropical island air fares?

That's it: that's the luck list. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "So what, man? So fucking what?" Well, I'll tell you what.

Luck isn't a matter of the world being on your side, or the gods being benevolent. Luck like this makes you hold your freaking horses. You pause for a moment. You put down your tools and glance around at the humdrum everyday and think, "Maybe, just maybe, I have something here. Maybe every decision I ever made wasn't ill-conceived and ignorant. Perhaps I'm not just flailing -- perhaps I have something, and there's something for me. Maybe."

This, friend, is luck.

Ending on a high

I've noticed certain popular trends surrounding the ending of sentences. So I wanted to present a few sentence endings -- beyond the ole full-stop-or-ellipsis dichotomy -- for your kind consideration.

, bitches
As in, "My spoodle-wool coat rocks, bitches!" Variations include "byatches" and simply "bee-atch."

, you moron
Said under one's breath, this ending is at once subtle and damning. Its dulcet intonation allows it to go by almost unnoticed -- almost! -- which makes it perfect for whiteanting the pathologically paranoid.

, Chief
Inspired by the Chief himself, this is a playful way to simultaneously end a sentence and make a new friend. Right, Chief?

[verb] this!
Handily takes the last verb your correspondent used, and thereby shows that you're attentive and you regard them as an impediment to your happiness and/or progress.

well, whatthefuckever.
Handy for imparting a sense of the devil-may-care to your dialogue. What's that? You spell it "dialog"? Yeah, I knew that, but, well, whatthefuckever.

Kanpai!
Severely underrated. This ending is perfect for those long days in the office where 3pm signals happy hour:
"So, Bob, did you prepare that Board report?"
"I sure did, Chief."
"But this is a page with five unfinished games of hangman on it."
"Yeah, but I bet you can do something great with it, Phil. Kanpai!"

Anyway, and blah blah.
Especially good for use in written correspondence when you can't be bothered writing all the things you want to say, but there are many, and although they would be communicated in an instant, through body language and eye contact, were you in your correspondent's presence, their elucidation would take up entire paragraphs of a written document. This ending must be used judiciously -- the uninitiated would likely mistake it for "well, whatthefuckever" -- but the initiated would be able to read into it all the necessary thoughts and feelings. My goal is to find someone with whom I may finish correspondence in this way.

Anyway, and blah blah.
Alida