{"id":639,"date":"2010-01-12T05:06:00","date_gmt":"2010-01-12T09:06:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johncohn.org\/base\/2010\/01\/12\/monday-night-carminative\/"},"modified":"2010-01-12T05:06:00","modified_gmt":"2010-01-12T09:06:00","slug":"monday-night-carminative","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/johncohn.org\/base\/2010\/01\/12\/monday-night-carminative\/","title":{"rendered":"Monday night – carminative"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\t\t\t\t\t\t So.. I have an admision: i goofed.. yesterday’s blog entry was titled ‘prodigal son departs’..\u00a0\u00a0 I named it that in honor of Max’s departure to return to Brooklyn. I picked the word ‘prodigal’ from the biblical story of the ‘prodigal son’ .. which I have obviously never read.. I have always assumed ‘prodigal’ meant something like… the person who’s been away and came back.. .. or something like that.\u00a0 I thought it was a good thing..\u00a0 Imagine my chagrin when several folks wrote to tell me that prodigal actually means a “spendthrift, or person who spends money recklessly and wastefully<\/span><\/span><\/i>..”\u00a0 That’s not Max.. he’s\u00a0 actually pretty frugal.. for what it’s worth.. <\/p>\n

How many other words have I been misusing all my life ? I always thought that feral<\/i>\u00a0 meant active at night. but it actually means wild, undomesticated<\/i>.\u00a0\u00a0 I always swap the meanings o dialectic and didactic.. .. and confuse sacerdotal <\/i>and sartorial\u00a0 <\/i>I’ve always confused sacred <\/i>and scared (<\/i>I think I’ve already admitted that here)..<\/i>I don’t know the difference between a boor\u00a0 <\/i>and a bore<\/i>. I cant separate the definitions of insure <\/i>and ensure<\/i>.. effect <\/i>and affect, principle <\/i>and\u00a0 principal<\/i>.. and don’t get me started on lead <\/i>and led<\/i>.<\/p>\n

All this reminded me of one of my favorite short stories of all time. Chrome Yellow by Aldous Huxley.\u00a0 I was introduced to it by my buddy Rafe more than 30 years ago. In it Huxley tells a story of the protagonist love of a certain word.. .. Here’s an excerpt <\/p>\n


<\/i><\/font>“One suffers so much,” Denis went on, “from the fact that
beautiful words don’t always mean what they ought to mean.
Recently, for example, I had a whole poem ruined, just because
the word ‘carminative’ didn’t mean what it ought to have meant.
Carminative–it’s admirable, isn’t it?”<\/p>\n

“Admirable,” Mr. Scogan agreed. “And what does it mean?”<\/p>\n

“It’s a word I’ve treasured from my earliest infancy,” said
Denis, “treasured and loved. They used to give me cinnamon when
I had a cold–quite useless, but not disagreeable. One poured it
drop by drop out of narrow bottles, a golden liquor, fierce and
fiery. On the label was a list of its virtues, and among other
things it was described as being in the highest degree
carminative. I adored the word. ‘Isn’t it carminative?’ I used
to say to myself when I’d taken my dose. It seemed so
wonderfully to describe that sensation of internal warmth, that
glow, that–what shall I call it?–physical self-satisfaction
which followed the drinking of cinnamon. Later, when I
discovered alcohol, ‘carminative’ described for me that similar,
but nobler, more spiritual glow which wine evokes not only in the
body but in the soul as well. The carminative virtues of
burgundy, of rum, of old brandy, of Lacryma Christi, of Marsala,
of Aleatico, of stout, of gin, of champagne, of claret, of the
raw new wine of this year’s Tuscan vintage–I compared them, I
classified them. Marsala is rosily, downily carminative; gin
pricks and refreshes while it warms. I had a whole table of
carmination values. And now”–Denis spread out his hands, palms
upwards, despairingly–“now I know what carminative really
means.”<\/p>\n

“Well, what DOES it mean?” asked Mr. Scogan, a little
impatiently.<\/p>\n

“Carminative,” said Denis, lingering lovingly over the syllables,
“carminative. I imagined vaguely that it had something to do
with carmen-carminis, still more vaguely with caro-carnis, and
its derivations, like carnival and carnation. Carminative–there
was the idea of singing and the idea of flesh, rose-coloured and
warm, with a suggestion of the jollities of mi-Careme and the
masked holidays of Venice. Carminative–the warmth, the glow,
the interior ripeness were all in the word. Instead of which…”<\/p>\n

“Do come to the point, my dear Denis,” protested Mr. Scogan. “Do
come to the point.”<\/p>\n

“Well, I wrote a poem the other day,” said Denis; “I wrote a poem
about the effects of love.”<\/p>\n

“Others have done the same before you,” said Mr. Scogan. “There
is no need to be ashamed.”<\/p>\n

“I was putting forward the notion,” Denis went on, “that the
effects of love were often similar to the effects of wine, that
Eros could intoxicate as well as Bacchus. Love, for example, is
essentially carminative. It gives one the sense of warmth, the
glow.<\/p>\n

‘And passion carminative as wine…’<\/p>\n

was what I wrote. Not only was the line elegantly sonorous; it
was also, I flattered myself, very aptly compendiously
expressive. Everything was in the word carminative–a detailed,
exact foreground, an immense, indefinite hinterland of
suggestion.<\/p>\n

‘And passion carminative as wine…’<\/p>\n

I was not ill-pleased. And then suddenly it occurred to me that
I had never actually looked up the word in a dictionary.
Carminative had grown up with me from the days of the cinnamon
bottle. It had always been taken for granted. Carminative: for
me the word was as rich in content as some tremendous, elaborate
work of art; it was a complete landscape with figures.<\/p>\n

‘And passion carminative as wine…’<\/p>\n

It was the first time I had ever committed the word to writing,
and all at once I felt I would like lexicographical authority for
it. A small English-German dictionary was all I had at hand. I
turned up C, ca, car, carm. There it was: ‘Carminative:
windtreibend.’ Windtreibend!” he repeated. Mr. Scogan laughed.
Denis shook his head. “Ah,” he said, “for me it was no laughing
matter. For me it marked the end of a chapter, the death of
something young and precious. There were the years–years of
childhood and innocence–when I had believed that carminative
meant–well, carminative. And now, before me lies the rest of my
life–a day, perhaps, ten years, half a century, when I shall
know that carminative means windtreibend.<\/p>\n

‘Plus ne suis ce que j’ai ete
Et ne le saurai jamais etre.’<\/p>\n

It is a realization that makes one rather melancholy.”<\/p>\n

“Carminative,” said Mr. Scogan thoughtfully.<\/p>\n

“Carminative,” Denis repeated, and they were silent for a time.
“Words,” said Denis at last, “words–I wonder if you can realise
how much I love them<\/p>\n

<\/i><\/font>To fully appreciate this story you need to look up windtreibend\u00a0 ..
The be<\/font>st definition I found<\/font> <\/font><\/b>f<\/font>or carmaitive.. Or the German wintreibend is:<\/p>\n

<\/font>is an herb or preparation that either prevents formation of gas in the<\/p>\n

gastrointestinal tract, or facilitates the expulsion of said gas,<\/p>\n

thereby combating flatulence<\/a>… That is to say a deflatulent..

<\/font><\/b>Well. I hope you all have a truly carmanitive evening..
Nite folks.. Nite Sam !
-me<\/font><\/p>\n

<\/font><\/b>\n<\/div><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

So.. I have an admision: i goofed.. yesterday’s blog entry was titled ‘prodigal son departs’..\u00a0\u00a0 I named it that in honor of Max’s departure to return to Brooklyn. I picked the word ‘prodigal’ from the biblical story of the ‘prodigal son’ .. which I have obviously never read.. I have always assumed ‘prodigal’ meant something … Continue reading Monday night – carminative<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-639","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/johncohn.org\/base\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/639","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/johncohn.org\/base\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/johncohn.org\/base\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/johncohn.org\/base\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/johncohn.org\/base\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=639"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/johncohn.org\/base\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/639\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/johncohn.org\/base\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=639"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/johncohn.org\/base\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=639"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/johncohn.org\/base\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=639"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}