It seems to be a quiet day, so…

[Zootonius]

Get out of my head. I was literally just looking for that bit of the movie.

I'm staring to think Emily has the ability to get into many people's heads.

 

[MrPixel]

I'm staring to think Emily has the ability to get into many people's heads.

Apparently. She mentioned titling a story "Transfiguration" in another thread, upon which, in the context of our classical music tangent here, took me straight to Richard Strauss' Death and Transfiguration. I am listening to it at this very moment, as recorded in a live performance by the Vienna Philharmonic. Probably will follow up with Rachmaninoff's Isle of the Dead, a dark-mood fave. There's a performance on YouTube by a Russian group that is quite emotional.

 

[GrushaVashnadze]

What’s the most pretentiously recherché and exclusionary / elitist word you have used recently?

typoi
retable
viridescent

 

[EmilyMiller]

typoi
retable
viridescent

I am so not au fait with Paraguayan fashion.

Em

 

[yowser]

Geek pride does tend to pull out less common utterances. I've used the following:

trepverter
incanabula
sybaritically

And as a linguist joke/coinage: Allomorphic Supersymmetry

 

[EmilyMiller]

Geek pride does tend to pull out less common utterances. I've used the following:

trepverter
incanabula
sybaritically

And as a linguist joke/coinage: Allomorphic Supersymmetry

Only 1/3 for Emily on that test .

Em

 

[jehoram]

And I gratuitously use frenulum as I like the word, it just rolls off the tongue .

Em

Like "cunnilingus."

 

[GrushaVashnadze]

I am so not au fait with Paraguayan fashion.

Em

Er... no, actually, Em, typoi as the plural of typos, as used in patristic Christian theology. See: τύπος, and Typology. But here's the context, from Alison Goes to London ch. 12:

And then something strange happened: Alison did not know how or why, but she felt compelled to kneel. She was, for the first time in her life, not kneeling to suck a guy's dick -- but kneeling for something unutterably rich and strange. She felt compelled to worship, to adore something -- or Someone -- greater than herself, so much greater, in fact, that she could not even attempt to seduce Him. And yet He loved her. He offered her not Pleasure, but victory through His Love. With Him she would not need to keep eating every new cunt, or fucking every new dick that came her way, for He was adorning her as His bride. Suddenly, Alison thought, it was as if a veil had fallen from her eyes. All the 'marriage'-talk, the 'love'-talk, even the 'fuck'-talk -- these things were just signs, shadows, typoi, signposts to the eternal Love which now beckoned to her from Beyond.

Behind the toilet door, Claire was coming -- loud and noisy and obscene: "OH YEAH, FUUUUUUUCK!" But Alison barely noticed, for all she could hear was the voice calling to her:

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

And so Alison, still on her knees, wept desperately -- for she knew she must choose. Claire tiptoed back into the chapel and slid into the pew next to Alison. She giggled as she held three fingers of her right hand up to Alison's nose. Alison smelt cunt -- and it was beautiful: pungent, full-bodied, sweet -- and irresistible. In an instant Alison wanted nothing more than to eat hot cunt again, to taste its savour, to coat her face with it so that everything tasted and stank of cunt. She felt her own pussy tingling and juicing up, and her slender hand could not resist moving down to her crotch. Even as the old man's coffin was being borne slowly down the aisle, and Eva was shaking with grief and weeping into her brother's shoulder, and Father Ambrose was intoning, "May the chorus of angels lead you into paradise," Alison was maniacally licking Claire's fingers, sucking them deep into her mouth to savour her heavenly, hellish taste, as she rubbed desperately at her own twat through her clothes.

Claire chuckled wickedly.

"No one can serve two masters," Alison whispered to herself. Her spirit cleft in two, she broke down in tears as she ran out of the chapel, down the corridor, and into the bathroom. She plunged into the first cubicle she could find, yanked her jeans down and had four fingers up her cunt even before her buttocks had touched the toilet seat. "OH GOD, OH FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!" she howled, for it was but a second before she was coming, her lust, fear, yearning and humiliation boiling over into a shattering, painful orgasm which swept through her entire body, leaving her breathless and whimpering, as the tears continued to pour down her face, and her juices down her thighs and onto the toilet seat.

Claire did not follow, but sat silently in the chapel as the funeral party slowly filed out, a knowing and satisfied smile on her face.

 

[EmilyMiller]

Er... no, actually, Em, typoi as the plural of typos, as used in patristic Christian theology. See: τύπος, and Typology. But here's the context, from Alison Goes to London ch. 12:

I’m sure you are right. Going by:

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/1355560040/paraguayan-typoi-paraguayan-traditional

Em

 

[EmilyMiller]

I'm staring to think Emily has the ability to get into many people's heads.

That’s funny as it’s normally other people getting into my head. Or at least one part of it .

Em

 

[onehitwanda]

glomerular.

That’s funny as it’s normally other people getting into my head. Or at least one part of it .

Em

so wrong but so appropriate right now.

https://media.tenor.com/yLHveD-mD1gAAAAC/drinking-problem-woman.gif

 

[Zootonius]

glomerular.

so wrong but so appropriate right now.

https://media.tenor.com/yLHveD-mD1gAAAAC/drinking-problem-woman.gif

Why does that remind me of a quote:

One more drink and I'd have been under the host

--Dorothy Parker

 

[EmilyMiller]

glomerular.

so wrong but so appropriate right now.

https://media.tenor.com/yLHveD-mD1gAAAAC/drinking-problem-woman.gif

← not Emily Miller