I was searching the Latin/Greek section of a used bookstore for some ~aesthetic~ antique Latin books, and I came across this beautiful 1889 tome:
This is going to look great on my “look at me I’m a pretentious twat” bookshelf.
But then… the first few sentences read:
“In 1875 delegates of the Oxford University Press proposed to me that I should undertake the compilation of a new Latin-English Lexicon, of something the same compass as the Greek-English Lexicon of Liddell and Scott. I acceded to the proposal in the expectation, for which I had at the time what appeared to be good grounds, that I should obtain adequate assistance in the work. My hopes were, however, disappointed.”
Ouch.
He goes on to detail how he spent 12 years working on A all by himself. Then the university asked him to publish what he had, so he threw together the rest of the book, clearly caring less and less the further he got in the alphabet - the entire Q section has four entries - and published… this.
Obviously this is going straight onto my pretentious twat shelf as a goofy conversation starter, but it is interesting and potentially useful if obscure Latin words are your thing. (Did you know “ramen” is a hapax legomenon meaning “a small chip or shaving”?)
So if you ever come across a really obscure Latin word or name that you can’t find anywhere, hmu… but only if it starts with A.
Rob: I know it’s a cliche to point this out, but the weirdest thing about Twilight is how this immortal vampire just chooses to go to high school over and over for some reason. Me: Yeah, that is the biggest waste of being immortal (pause) You know what I’d do if I was a vampire? Find a way to wrangle my way on to the Supreme Court. I mean, I’d have centuries to do it. And once I was on, that would be it! Rob: God, I hope Ruth Bader Ginsberg is a vampire. Me: (grinning) Maybe the next big news story will be that she eats Brett Kavanaugh
The man approaches the barbecue grills and his face bears a trance-like expression, suggesting that he has cast aside all the pains and imperfections of this world and is approaching the gateway to a higher dimension.
As you probably already ‘know’, I stopped calling what I produce “art” as of 1978 when I publicly made the transition from “artist” to “mad scientist”.
Zagreus puts the novel’s series of set-pieces in motion by sending the young idiot Dan Boleyn on a series of visits to prominent “Apes,” the novel’s term for fraudulent artistic poseurs, largely drawn from the upper or upper-middle classes.
