Amazing Shapeshifter [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Corking: white linear scars that indicate sweeter, fully ripe pepper with good flavor

To me, corking is a term exclusive to wine bottles. It comes at the moment when, sadly, you decide that one glass is enough. And then, recently, I found myself at a farm stand gaping at the beautiful markings on a basket of jalapeno peppers. “What is that?” I asked, pointing at the peppers.

“Corking.” While nature is a crazy good designer, people have a genuinely hard time creating words to express the beautiful.

In times gone by, “corking” meant “wonderful” or “splendid”. In a past century I might have written, “Nature is a corking good designer.”

Corking precedes “rad” by a few generations but means the same thing. Today you might hear “slaps” or “fire”. Language is an amazing shapeshifter. I’d have completely misunderstood a Gen Z-er, admiring the basket of corking peppers, who said, “Those peppers are fire!”

Do you remember when “bad” meant “good”?

Sometimes I think it is a miracle that we can communicate at all.

When I was young my grandparents used the phrase, “She’s a corker!” It meant “very funny”. We boomers might say, “She’s a riot!”

I bumbled upon this quote from a 16th century French writer, Michel de Montaigne, and thought it more relevant today than when he wrote it: “The greater part of the world’s troubles are due to questions of grammar.”

We currently communicate by text. Condensing our grammar inflates our troubles. We somehow believe language efficiency produces effective communication. We have eliminated time for complexity. We live sound byte to sound byte.

We are learning that governance by text is an especially dubious affair. Efficient word count is provocative but certainly less-than-effective.

These days I might text, “The world is on fire!” and a Gen Z-er might misunderstand me completely. They’d understand the opposite of what I intended. For me, the “world is on fire” does not mean that it is rad or the bomb or slaps. It is definitely not corking.

***

Bonus Snark Addition: We consistently invent new words for old concepts so the mistakes of the past seem like new territory. Perhaps this is why history repeats itself? Today, instead of “Schutzstaffel” (condensed into SS), we say ICE. Instead of Nazi Party, we say MAGA Republican. Different words, same meaning. Neither is corking.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CORKING

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“I Am!” I Said. [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Un-momentous Breaking News! I’ve just decided – just now, right this moment – that my personal symbol, my identifying-critter-crest, should from now and for all time forward be…The Bumble Bee!!!

“Wait!” you yawn. “What?” you ask-to-be-polite. “You can’t possible make so un-dramatic a dramatic claim without a comprehensive explanation!”

True. Yes. An explanation. Fortunately, I came prepared for this moment. The word “bumble” – relative to the bee – has two definitions that, lately, fit me like a glove. First, to move ineptly through the world. To blunder, lurch, or wobble. The second (as is proven by this very blog post), to buzz or drone on and on. To babble, ramble, gibber, and burble.

But wait! In case you are suddenly concerned that I am hosting a festival of self-deprecation, let me assure you that you are misguided. Wrong. Filled with wild assumptions. Your concerns could not be further from the truth of my new personal-symbol-bumblebee-rumination. I’m actually quite pleased.

Creative processes never follow a straight line. Bumblebees get the job done but their path is nearly impossible to follow. They appear like a flying-happy-accident, a reeling wanderer that is surprisingly efficient. It’s the real trouble with my resume (or any creative person’s resume): HR people, family and friends expect to see straight lines and are highly suspicious of anything expansive, eclectic, or exploratory. I will be quite pleased with myself, when the next stranger I meet at a party asks me what I do for a living, to answer, “I’m a bumblebee.”

As for droning on an on. Well. Look at the archive of this blog. Good god. Or the drafts of plays, the ideas for books, the organizational ruminating, the stories…, the opinions I have not-yet-learned to keep to myself (this is your cue to send condolences to Kerri. For some reason she married me so now I have a captive audience…). “Gear-down!” she says, when my esoterica runs amok and she needs my mind to express a simpler path and be less bumble-bee-like.

And, to prove that I am actually capable of controlling my drone, I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

[Bonus track. This popped into my mind as I wrote the title of this post]

read Kerri’s more coherent blogpost about BUMBLEBEES

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