Oh, I had an idea last hour that I could use a taboo word in a poem. Say, like, the “c” word. And it’s no big deal to say most swear words, and yet (and yet, it’s naughty-fun, 14-year-old-style, to say naughty body parts)—and yet, to write these words in a poem is to have a sense of their power, I guess. I mean, yeah, to write a word, to have a reverence for it—it’s usually hard to write while revering every word. But maybe some words, which brings me to the topic of the day, the first word, the very first word. How to get it to catch on, among other people (and how soon were the first accents and word changes?).
A student—L__?—asked why there are so many examples of certain words having many meanings—why not use more different words? Well, I assume part of the word-spread is metaphor. She mentioned the word “right”—how the word meaning “hand” came also to mean “correct” and “rights” (privileges).
Here I am in class. It’s an overcast day out. “Gymnopedie” by Satie—or someone’s interpretation of that song—plays, and I think how it might be nice to be outside right now—instantly, or after just a walk out of the classroom. Eh, then what would I do next? That walk-out doesn’t happen often, I ‘d suppose—oh, I got notice about pension record annual update.
What was the first word — “I”? “You”? “Water”? “Sun”? “Food”? A specific food?
[From school journal of Weds., 28 Nov. 2018, 9th hour, Journal 296, page 22-4]