Thursday, August 28, 2008

Tarty Fanfare

What does the word "Tarty" mean, exactly?

Does tarty perhaps mean "Funky"?

- Or something or someone that is grossly funny?
- Or perhaps refer to wording as being brilliant
- Or just someone acting with slightly drunken stupor?
- Or someone overweight from eating tart?

Tarty is not remotely related to the picture of a creamy delicacy or anything else that may cloud the disintegrating and polluted mind. Neither does the word “Tartly” spoil its meaning, as tartly could only sour the mind, speech, taste and the soul.

An indulgent word? Oh Yes! Seductive? That question needs not be answered!

There seem to be a connection with "F" words too:

Flirtatious, Fun, French, Foolish, Ferblungen (all over the place), Foolhardily, Fablesome, Fearsome, Fortunate, Frolicking, Friendly, Fop, Fricative, Funny, Freedom, Fame, Fearless, Flavorsome, Freckles, Foolish, Facilitating, Fortunes, Fortifying, Frivolous and Felicitations (gentility & kindness)...

If one choose, a bulging word could be brought into the simple small act of tardiness. Floccinaucinihilipilification. A big word for a small sparkling act.

Tarty can be a truly human thing as in being a bright spot in a circle of friends - just like that unusual bright spot on the sun's surface.

Tarty could be associated with “Facula” and “fain” as in feeling happy and pleased with the moment. It may rhyme with "Factious” as in being harmlessly seditious and medicine for the heart.

From a Wild point of view, tarty has a significant meaning too:

"Fructuary" meaning a person enjoying the fruits of anything, or frame of mind which makes one waltz to the sound of unusual tunes or making love on tables amongst sharpened knifes and pin-rollers... Taking a walk or "Frescade" amongst gulls and gales high on the edge of a precarious cliff with splendid views.

Tarty can be behaving with “Falcade” as in the motion of a horse throwing itself on its haunches and daring life itself. Anything from “Fanfaron” too, as in mischievously kicking dust in the eyes of sour creams. Playful and harmless boasting or blowing on a trumpet with grandiose, or simply “Fanfaronade”.

Being tarty can improve health and has empowering effects on fragile minds and souls. Gives little splashes of life to or hopes of far-away and distant shores and horizons.

I want to say to those acting tarty: Thanks for shining brightly or Fulgently! In a world which is filled so often with monotony and serious faces, it is a darn fine thing to be and do.

Long live Tardiness in our world...


Does incessant chatter or noise ever bother you?

Noise that rises and falls. The clattering of notes too high or a notch too low for delicate ears to bear...

Sound that seems to ever grow and gradually becomes a blast of hysterical front stage music in an office environment, or a train compartment or queue in that multi-storey chain store. A vibration of the senses that eventually explodes like china clutter in one’s head and grows like an atomic bomb into an unbearable weight loaded with silent irritation that surpasses most other types of harassment on this planet.

I wonder if the animal kingdom experiences such vile little irritations? If insects or creepy-crawlies can get a nose-to-nose sniff with another creep of the same species or one who got lost or off-track and now sensor and breathes in the same space?

Office politics:

There seem to be souls in my office environment that have a disability to tone and frequency of their own voice and noise that they make.

We know there will always be someone odd with that long neck sticking out like a plucked ostrich. The weird one's who seem to be collectors of empty Indian take away boxes cluttering their desk and dustbin. The one that wears the same pair of socks each week, until it can virtually stick to anything... Just like the one who has to talk so loud that the business next door starts complaining.

Back to the animal kingdom again. Avian species have the benefit that they can pick themselves up and fly away with the option to emigrate. But what about our earth-bound friends, such as trumpeting elephants or marrula-drunk baboons having to share the same waterhole?

I like to think for each human there is an animal persona, whether bombastic, loud or hardly visible.

The pip-squeak mouse: Doesn’t seem to know it has vocal cords.
The duck – Ugly during adolescence, makes a monotonous soul-wrenching quacking sound when adult.
The bullfrog - Pervert at best of times with a French nasality
Crow – Bedraggled thieving droll creature to stay well clear off
Pig – A scumbag hiding behind a snorting and dirty appearance
Cricket – Can’t kill the bugger and an irritating nerd.
Cat – Unsocial allergic constantly sneezing type, a bit scary too
Snake – The freak who likes to hiss about everything
Chicken – Cackles self-importance to be heard above all the rest
Jack Russell – Fearsome bully and womanizer, once it slams its teeth in...
Peacock – Verbally abusive and pain in the butt

At work I am failing to cope with a loud-mouthed living entity that seems to suffer from an accursed love-my-own-voice-so-much virus for which the anti-body cure has yet to be found.

Colleague with loud voice enough to crack through the sound-barrier who;
- Doesn’t understand how to hold a telephone and mouth INTO it.
- Can’t talk on the office phone; but shout to be sure to be heard.
- Can’t talk on a mobile phone; but makes a cacophony of noise
- Puts mobile phone on speaker phone to hear the other person
- Puts mobile on speaker phone for the caller to be able to hear too
- Doesn’t belief in a one-to-one discussion; must includes whole office
- Is in undying love with own voice; must be heard above all and everybody else

I would probably put this person in a category of a disorderly self-important parrot. Don’t try to assume that this refers to a certain gender either. I m in fact not sure at all of how I should put it...

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Fundamental Issues

Colonialists used to be a mix of foolhardy French, Dutch and wot-nots believing in destiny.

Destiny came to the most southern tip of Africa and thus began the stormy history of invading, enslaving and inter-breeding with who-ever happened to be around. One consequence of this behaviour is a coffee colored green-eyed type famously known for the saying "Your mother’s ***" and proudly referring to themselves as "Hotnots".

There are a couple of names for white South Africans: Colonialists, Boer, Kafferboeties, Dutchmen, etc. An altogether strange sound had been added and in recent years became the known chant “Kill the farmer, Kill the Boer”.

Since I am in a fragile frame of mind, following a weekend of screwing the cork, it may be a good idea steering away from sounds of war-cry. But I recently discovered an old saying which originated in Kenya. Surely older folks will know about the "Rock-spider”?

Ever the innocent, I learned its meaning when as usual, it was too late. A close friend laughed her head off when I recited an episode of being called a Rock-spider and asking if she thought there was a sinister meaning behind the word. I received an elaborate description of the real meaning, between gulps and sniggers. When she finally looked at me expectantly, I felt deeply miffed. Insulted, deprived and robbed of something called 'my pride'.

A tit of a Redneck had called me a Rock-spider. Sly beast had cast bate into my neck of the woods and this former Dutchman-Colonialist had gone straight for it, having no inkling nor any idea...

Monday, August 4, 2008

To sell one's soul

Some wee midgie obviously needs to be informed...

MF friend, "Greywolf" waspishly decided to comment as follows:
"A Scot will sell his own people to earn ownership of a bottle of Vodka without blinking an eye."

Instead of:
"A Scot will sell his own people (or soul) for Vodka or methylated spirits when freezing off more than just knobby bits, with no whisky at hand."

Ending his lame lament by calling me “ya wee timorous beastie!" and a "Ba'-heid!"

What on earth is a bahead? Perhaps he mean't be-head.

Aye, we know. It is a rather loosing battle to understand why our friends from nether parts (down south) seem to feel a bit Xenophobic towards beasties and heilen-moo’s. Also impossible to resist when they become utterly charming and call the "objects of their infliction - I mean affection, alluring names such as Rockspiders and such...

Obviously though, using such Gaelic and waspy stings (bites) tells me our Graywolf may just not realise yet, the naked truth of his dominant gene after all.

And so MF friend graciously landed himself in more than a wee piggy mud-bath - known lately as Natural Health-spas and Respites. Heaven knows why people must pay these days to get a layer of thick pulp stinking mud of uncertain origins slapped onto body parts...

I would think it could be very dangerous.

MF friend took the nosedive into troubled waters resembling a whirlpool like the treacherous "Corryvreckan", the 3rd biggest whirlpool in the world between the islands Jura and Scarba. Well, apart from enduring the unbearably beautiful Argyllshire scenery, Graywolf will just have to do more than tread or trod for the Olympics. He needs perhaps to take a deep breathe...

Next time we will discuss the matter of healing serums for Rockspider & Wasp bites...