Saturday, December 28, 2013

Prompt 28: Wassail


Wassail
noun / verb


noun
  1.  a festivity where much drinking takes place
  2. an alcoholic drink, drunk at a festivity; especially spiced beer or mulled wine
  3. the singing of Christmas carols, going from house to house
verb
  1. to drink to the health of a person
  2. to go from house to house singing carols at Christmas
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submissions accepted until Saturday, January 4th


Saturday, December 21, 2013

Holiday Break Announcement!



The Dictionomicon is going to be out of commission until after the Holidays!
Well, not all of the Holidays. 



Our Next Prompt will appear on Saturday, the 28th.

Submissions will be accepted until Saturday, January 4th, 2014


We wish you all a Happy Holiday Season! 

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Hircine

What did Hircine inspire?

adjective; meaning "Of, pertaining to, or characteristic of goats.
Possessed of an odor reminiscient of goats.
Libidinous; lustful;
excessively and overweeningly desirous.”





Sunday, December 8, 2013

Prompt 27: Hircine


Hircine
adjective



  1. Of, pertaining to, or characteristic of goats.
  2. Possessed of an odour reminiscent of goats.
  3. Libidinous; lustful; excessively and overweeningly desirous

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submissions accepted until Saturday, December 14th

Zizz

What did Zizz inspire?

noun; meaning "a nap or sleep.”
verb; meaning “to have a nap.”



Sunday, December 1, 2013

Prompt 26: Zizz


Zizz
noun / verb

  1. noun: A nap or sleep
  2. verb: To have a nap

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submissions accepted until Saturday, December 7th


Nudiustertian

What did Nudiustertian inspire?

adjective; meaning "Of or pertaining to the day before yesterday.”




Saturday, November 23, 2013

Prompt 25: Nudiustertian


Nudiustertian
adjective

  1. Of or pertaining to the day before yesterday

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submissions accepted until Saturday, November 30th


Scolion

What did Scolion inspire?

noun; meaning "An impromptu song
begun by one and continued by others.
A song sung at banquets in ancient Greece.”



Saturday, November 16, 2013

Prompt 24: Scolion


Scolion
noun


  1. An impromptu song begun by one and continued by others.
  2. song sung at banquets in ancient Greece.


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submissions accepted until Saturday, November 23rd


Panglossian

What did Panglossian inspire?

adjective; meaning "Naively or unreasonably optimistic,
Of or relating to the view
that this is the best
of all possible worlds.”



Saturday, November 9, 2013

Prompt 23: Panglossian


Panglossian
adjective


  1. Naively or unreasonably optimistic
  2. Of or relating to the view that this is the best of all possible worlds.

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submissions accepted until Saturday, October 26th

Bosky

What did Bosky inspire?

adjective; meaning "having abundant trees or shrubs,
of or relating to a woods.”



Saturday, November 2, 2013

Prompt 22: Bosky


Bosky
adjective

  1. Having abundant trees or shrubs
  2. Of or relating to a woods

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submissions accepted until Saturday, November 9th


Cacodemomania

What did Cacodemomania inspire?

noun; meaning "Belief that one is inhabited by an evil spirit.”



Noël Coleman


          It was a dark and stormy night.  They would have told you it was not.  That it had been Unseasonably Warm For The Past Week, and Not A Cloud Had Passed By The Sky.  But, as usual, they were terribly, horribly wrong and knew not a thing.

          Well, of course, they would claim to know.   That’s what people in white coats do.  They poke and prod and postulate on facts.  They say things like I Read So-And-So In A Study Last Week or Did You See The Report On Last Night’s News?  But those are bland, coverall statements any soul could make.  If that soul chose to have eyes and an internet connection and a disregard for facts like one’s own experience.

          I do not disregard such things.

          I look and look and look away from the things they say are important.  [For those are not usually things to be considered of import and most always, certainly, definitely false]  Instead, I look and look and look around me.  I see the facts written in the sky and the grass and the [occasional] Ouija board, and the people who look back and stare and run.

          Like today. They say It’s Not Storming, Not At All, Do Not Look At The Sky, There Is Not A Storm There, Only Sun.  Yet, I have been pushed out into the world and am wet.  Wet, you say?  Wet.  I say it.  And do you know why I am Wet? Because it is a dark and stormy night.  But don’t tell them such things.  Such facts might burn the very soul out of them.  Wouldn’t want that, no, we wouldn’t.

          They have all these big,   l  o  n  g   words.  But none of them are [right].  None of them catch on the accuracy of what is inside.  Words are just nomenclature for the things they claim Do Not Exist.

          But I have words too.

          And my words can be   l  o  n  g  e  r   and bigger, if only they’d listen.  My words say things about faith and demons and skies that look clear but are really quite full.  My words speak of the things said to be  Not Really There, All In Your Head, Take This Pill. See Blue Skies, Blue Skies
                                  
                                                                                    Smilingatmenothingbutblueskiesdoi-

But there are no blue skies.  They give you (little blue pills) in white paper cups.  They whisper about things you’re supposed to see while you sit outside and wonder why do I feel raindrops.

Drip.

Drip.

Dripping.

It’s because there are no clear skies.  There is not sun and no blue.  Only grey and clouds and things that hideunderbeds and grabatyourankles and pullyoudownintothenight where there’s a blue that might be blue but might be black and it doesn’t really matter because eventually everything is red Red   R E D .

Until it’s not.

Until it’s dark and they’ve pulled you back inside and gave you more pills [a different blue, and bigger].  And you’re trying to TELL them but they won’t listen.

IT’S IN ME. IT’S IN ME.

But it’s easier to look away and Talk About What The Books Say, or How That Guy From That Show Had That Family Member And They Said The Same Thing but all better now, all better now, all –

It’s all cacodemomania.  And it goes on and on and down and takethesepills don’twatchthosemovies don’treadthosebooks.  Feeding into the paranoia and the paranormal hallucinations of hoping for the supernatural to impose on this style of going mad with boredom.

 They say:
Blue pill,                Blue pill,

They say:
Blue skies.   B l u e   S k i e s .



                                                      
                                                                    But I Know.   




Sunday, October 27, 2013

Post 21: Cacodemomania


Cacodemomania
noun

  1. Belief that one is inhabited by an evil spirit.

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submissions accepted until Saturday, November 9th


Saturday, October 26, 2013

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Prompt 20: Jettatura


Jettatura
noun

  1. A curse of the evil eye

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submissions accepted until Saturday, October 26th




Saturday, October 19, 2013

Xenomancy

What did Xenomancy  inspire?

noun; meaning "The art and practice of divining
the past, the present, and the future
by studying the first stranger you meet
and their actions”




Sunday, October 13, 2013

Prompt 19: Xenomancy


Xenomancy
noun

  1. The art and practice of divining the past, the present, and the future by studying the first stranger you meet and their actions



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submissions accepted until Saturday, October 19th





Fascinum

What did Fascinum inspire?

noun; meaning "The act of bewitching, witchcraft"




Saturday, October 5, 2013

Prompt 18: Fascinum


Fascinum
noun

  1. The act of bewitching, witchcraft.



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submissions accepted until Saturday, October 12th





Cacoethes


What did Cacoethes inspire?

noun; meaning "an irresistible urge to do something inadvisable”





Saturday, September 28, 2013

Prompt 17: Cacoethes


Cacoethes
noun

  1. an irresistible urge to do something inadvisable

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submissions accepted until Saturday, October 5th





Gallimaufry


What did Gallimaufry inspire?

noun; meaning "any absurd medley,
a hash of various kinds of meat”



Saturday, September 21, 2013

Prompt 16: Gallimaufry


Gallimaufry
noun

  1. Any absurd medley
  2. A hash of various kinds of meat

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submissions accepted until Saturday, September 28th



Dysphonia

What did Dysphonia inspire?

noun; meaning "any disturbance of normal vocal function,
any impairment in the ability to speak normally,
as from spasm or strain of the vocal chords.”





Friday, September 13, 2013

Prompt 15: Dysphonia


Dysphonia
noun

  1. any disturbance of normal vocal function
  2. any impairment in the ability to speak normally, as from spasm or strain of the vocal cords
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submissions accepted until Saturday, September 21th



Coruscate

What did Coruscate inspire?

adjective; meaning "To be brilliant or showy in technique or style,
To give off or reflect light in bright beams or flashes”


Joelle Saveliev and Noël Coleman


[The Dictionomicon recommends listening with headphones]
once upon a path so clear 
on a road I once held dear 
I reached across to grasp your hand 
and wondered could we meet again 
but storms they broke 
and skies they cried 
for we could see it in your eyes 
an ever coruscating green 
embittered by the lies they'd seen 
the world might turn for other loves 
your years may pass in other's arms 
but my time has all run out 
a train pulls up, a warning sounds 
called out to carry me about 
away from you, and bound for doubt

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Prompt 14: Coruscate


Coruscate
adjective

  1. To be brilliant or showy in technique or style
  2. To give off or reflect light in bright beams or flashes

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submissions accepted until Saturday, September 14th





Adoxography


What did Adoxography inspire?

noun; meaning "fine writing in praise of trivial subjects”


Noël Coleman



Sunday, September 1, 2013

Prompt 13: Adoxography


Adoxography
noun

  1. Fine writing in praise of trivial subjects

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submissions accepted until Saturday, September 7th





Hamartia

What did Hamartia inspire?

noun; meaning "The tragic flaw of the protagonist in literary tragedy;



Noël Coleman

















Hospitals are not my favorite place to be.

The reasons should be obvious.  They’re too bright and they smell and they have all these questions about why are you in here for another fractured bone when it’s only been two week or the only way that could happen would be to fall off a building or, my personal favorite, Son, I don’t know what you kids are into these days but we’re calling the cops.

Suffice to say, I try not to be in them often.  But I think I’ve been in enough to know all this polka music is unusual.

I’ve been awake for 14 songs now.  Or was it 15?  I’m not 100% on that.  I haven’t actually bothered to open my eyes at this point.  I am in a hospital after all, and I’m hoping broken people don’t need to be on high alert in these sorts of places.  That would be awful for the healing process.  So I think it’s been 14 or 15 songs.  There was this weird pause about 3 (4?) songs back and I’m pretty sure I heard people arguing in Polish and - -

Oh.  God.  No.

She didn’t.

She couldn’t.

I’d say she wouldn’t but she totally would.

My eyes open, and apparently she did.

“I think I’ve discovered your hamartia.”

“hmphffgarg-MMMMMM”  I was saying What are you talki- WHY CAN’T I TALK?

Which wasn’t close enough for my sister to interpret.  I don’t know why.  I thought the message came across very clearly. 

“Yes, alright, dear brother.  Please don’t interrupt.  Thank You.” 

Chelsea, sans the PajamaMan attire, rose from the hospital chair and perched onto the edge of my bed.  She was being graceful.  It was unnatural, she’s never graceful. 

It was only when she moved to hold my hand that I realized the reason for her careful movements.

I was strapped to this stupid uncomfortable bed.

“gyfathevuu”

“Love you too.”  Well, at least the I hate you went across loud and clear.  “But I think we both agreed it was better if you don’t speak.”

“vidiffknotts”

“Ah. Ah. Nope. I can bring the Polka band back in here.”  I honestly hadn’t even noticed they’d left.  I’m pretty sure the music was still running through my head.  Would I ever have a second of my life without the background noise of Polka?  Was that really my worst problem here?  I mean, I’m strapped to a bed.  

Strapped. To a hospital bed.

I looked down at my feet, also strapped.

It was a bed.

It was not a hospital bed.

“So, I may have had you moved during your little sleep vacation.”

This was worse than the Polka music.

“Don’t look so upset.  You can’t get caught up on the whole kidnapping thing right now, I’m trying to have a serious discussion.”

Discussions usually involve both parties being able to speak.

Wait.

Why couldn’t I speak?

I tried to give Chelsea my best what did you do to me face.  I’ve had lots of practice with that particular face.  I think it’s what you might call my normal expression.  She seemed to catch onto the meaning right away.  She should, she’s had just as much experience receiving as I’ve had relaying. 

“Fine.  I’ll explain it.  It sort of ties into the tragic flaw epiphany I had.

You went to the hospital after digging through my room.  Which I told you not to do by the way.
I specifically recall telling you the piles were organized just like I wanted and should not, under any circumstances, be moved, didn’t I?”

She did.  I may have failed to nod my head.  There was no way I was admitting fault in this.  Moving a pile of clothes does not constitute being blown up and kidnapped by your little sister.  Even if you had been there to plant a bomb yourself.  My reasons were totally better than her reasons.  I was the hero in this story.  She was the one prancing about leaving bombs on the floor in a residential area.  That’s just… bad manners.  Better Homes and Gardens wouldn’t exactly include it as a spruce up your environment tip.

She wasn’t bothered by my continued staring.  How could she be?  This was grade A monologue opportunity.  Any self-respecting sibling or arch-nemesis would pounce on it.  Being both, she almost didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“Are you listening?”

I nodded without thinking.  Although I should probably be listening.

“Whatever.  I hired the Polka band to cover up the noise of all these stupid machines.  Necessary to keep you alive or something.  The doctor really wouldn’t shut up.  She didn’t even want to release you into my care.  Your own sister!  How rude.  Healthcare.  Don’t even get me started.

So I decided this just can’t happen anymore.  You need to step up on your whole superhero-ness if we’re going to keep this up.  I can’t have you crawling to the hospital every time we meet out there. 

I might be your nemesis, but I’m also your sister. 

In other words, I’m calling a truce.  Until you get better.  And then, I’m thinking, I’ll give you some pointers on the whole not dying part of being a masked supersomething.  It can’t be so much different from being a supervillain, can it?”

She stopped and moved towards the door. 

I would probably say something witty here.

Pretend this is really witty and dashing.  Throw in some laughing out of your seat if you’re really feeling adventurous.  I’ll just.  Sit here, I guess.  And try to figure out how my little sister jumped to the conclusion of me needing lessons on how to be a hero.  I’m an AWESOME hero.  She just – She – I mean, there were bombs.  BOMBS.  That would throw anyone off their game.

If I’d planted my fluffballmachine first, she’d be- Well, she wouldn’t be in the exact same position.  But she would be at the laundromat crying into the washer over her ruined stuffed animals. 


“Oh, by the way, one of the Polka people used to be some sort of black market surgeon,” She sounded way too chipper for this to be good news.  “I had him sort out that talking problem of yours.  Good Night!” 

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Prompt 12: Hamartia


Hamartia
noun

  1. The tragic flaw of the protagonist in literary tragedy

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submissions accepted until Saturday, August 31st



A Note* of General Upkeep from the Dictionomicon:
Submissions for Hamartia will appear Sunday Afternoon [EST]



*this note has not been equipped with self destruct
this does not mean it will not explode
it simply means that is not our intention
See you Sunday!

Cancatervate

What did Cancatervate inspire?

verb; meaning "To heap up into a pile;




Saturday, August 17, 2013

Prompt 11: Cancatervate


Cancatervate
verb

  1. To heap up into a pile

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submissions accepted until Saturday, August 24th





Recumbentibus

What did Recumbentibus inspire?

noun; meaning "a knockdown or knockout blow”



Noël Coleman


Saturday, August 10, 2013

Prompt 10: Recumbentibus


Recumbentibus
noun

  1. A knockdown or knockout blow

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submissions accepted until Saturday, August 17th





Moither

What did Moither inspire?

verb; meaning "to bother or bewilder;
to talk in a rambling or confusing manner"






Saturday, August 3, 2013

Prompt 9: Moither


Moither
verb

  1. To bother or bewilder
  2. To talk in a rambling or confused manner

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submissions accepted until Saturday, August 10th



Slumgullion

What did Slumgullion inspire?
noun; meaning "stew of meat, potatoes, etc,
a beverage made weak or thin"


Noël Coleman


Saturday, July 27, 2013

Prompt 8: Slumgullion


Slumgullion
noun

  1. Stew of meat, vegetables, potatoes, etc.
  2. Beverage made weak or thin

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submissions accepted until Saturday, August 3rd

Welter

What did Welter inspire?

noun; meaning "a confused mass,
a state of commotion, turmoil, or upheavel"
or                            
verb; meaning "to roll, toss, or heave,
to lie bathed or drenched in something"



Noël Coleman

“You left me in a welter.”

I paused, to turn the cardboard cup in my hands. Anything to pass the time without more words, to make this moment freeze up and wait for me to be okay before it passed.

“Anna?”


There was a rush of air from your lungs before I even met your eyes. I knew, right then, we were doomed. I looked down. There was something in those green eyes that I realized, posthumously, I never wanted to see. 


“I didn’t mean to. I – I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean it.”

The cup was becoming more fascinating with every passing second.

Red cardboard.

Rubbing your hands down the side creates a scratching rhythm.

I try writing the sound in my mind.

Onomatopoeia would probably be easier to figure out if you didn’t reach out and grab my hand, thank you very much.

“Stop it. I hate that noise.”

I roll my eyes, and I can feel your stupid smirk.

“I don’t have a choice. Not if you insist on holding my hand.”


“Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Maybe I don’t. Whatever.”

“I’m sor-,”but I don’t give you the chance to finish.

“Don’t. It’s far, far too late. And I should have told you before. And I don’t even want to talk about it anyway.”

It’s not like me to interrupt.

“Fine.”


I falter. It’s not like you to let it go.

Then again, it’s not every day I decide to announce my undying affection over a cup of stale, watered down coffee. So maybe we’re just breaking with tradition all around.

Maybe you’ll just let it go. Maybe we really won’t ever talk about this again.

“Which ‘welter’ did I leave you in?” Okay, fine, maybe not. 


“What?”

“Which welter? Were you confused because I left without a goodbye? Did I throw you into turmoil over
where I disappeared to? Did you cry yourself to sleep when you remembered the last time you saw me? I think those work with the word. Maybe a bit too melodramatic for your usual tastes. But I dunno. It seemed to work for me.”

You were tripping over words, coming out too fast and too loud for our crowded space. You don’t trip over words; I do.

“What are you talking about?”

“I love you too.”


Oh. 


I should say something.

Okay, no really. Now you’re looking at me with those eyes again.

I thought I wasn’t going to look at them anymore today?

I should really say something.

“Oh.”


“Oh?”

“Well… yeah”

“You just said you loved me and freaked out and now I’m saying I feel the same way and ‘Oh’? All I get is ‘oh’?”

“I’m not sure what I’m… I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now.”


Oh.”

“Shut your face.”

“Alright,” You sound... exasperated? The scrape of your chair turns more heads than our furious whispers had managed.

“You’re leaving?”

“No. I’m going to buy us another round of coffee. More coffee is needed for this.”

I returned to staring at my cup.

Oh.

“No. Wait. Look at me first.”

I tilted my face up to you.

It hurt my neck.

You’re too absurdly tall.

Okay, brain, calm down.

“I’m looking. I’d rather see you holding another cup of coffee.”

You laugh, and I think maybe, maybe we’ll be okay if we just forget about this.

“Since I’m hoping for an answer beyond ‘oh,’ I figure I should give you some time to prepare.”

“Gee, thanks.”


This is good. This is lighthearted. This is… us.

“I’m going to ask you out on a real date tonight. I’m hoping you’ll say yes. If you don’t… If you don’t, I’m going to ask you again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after. Because I love you. And I left because I was stupid. I’m not leaving again. Not without you.”

You turn towards the counter.

I feel like my head is exploding.

You turn around again.

I wonder if anyone else notices how crazed you look right now.


“Cream, right?”


“Yes.”


“Good. Yes. Don’t leave.”

I don’t.