As you slowly become decrepit you lose things, throw them over a cliff, you can see parts of them but don't have the eyesight to see all of them, and yes indeed, I lost a word. Couldn't sleep for thinking about it, round and round like an out of a control crab.
Before reading and writing rose to prominence the first explosions of passion for us Great Apes were dictated by unmanageable demands for expression. Anything that made a determined "I am Here" "I seem to exist!" or "Look at Me" statement was good enough. Don't take my word for these collapses of balance, you might recognize it in the tapestry you may have enjoyed while hunting down a word that at one time was a regular visitor to your vocabulary but which is apparently lost possibly for ever.
I have to wonder at the filter which acknowledges that some words are verboten in this or that social context. Then all of a sudden that filter is gone, lost in the Popeye of "I am what I am." A "this is me." On the whole when a "this is me" is rejected by a group the filter returns until the word is actually lost.
I was hoping to lose the smile I have for the word retard, I was hoping to find my self no longer reaching or the word retard in the bread aisle of the Walmart, but you know - politics. Last night in my dream about outsider artists that eat people for breakfast I forgot the word Sanskrit, which in the English language translates as refined, polished, well-done, perfected.
