Verb loss

I dreamt there was a word I needed to use, but couldn't remember it.  I had been told once, but voosh, right out of the brain.  It was a new verb, like skype or snapchat, but it involved shooting up into the sky, loose, without a ship or anything, to meet people.  Not like going to heaven, just regular transportation.  The way the cool kids get around, I guess.

Anyway, I was supposed to meet someone via this new verb, someone I missed terribly, and was walking around asking people, "Do you know the new verb I'm supposed to be doing right now?  Do you know it's name, first of all, and secondly, how to do it?"

And people looked kind of sad, and I wasn't sure if that's because they didn't think I could do that verb, or if it was more like, wow, she is so out of the loop.  Like, bipedal motion, sistah!  We've been doing it forever!  Keep up!

Comments

  1. I read your NYTimes essay about putting poems in your daughter's shoes today, and I was just overcome with the sheer beauty and terror and hope of that period in your life together as mother and daughter. Your writing is astonishingly beautiful, but it was the stubborn refusal to abandon hope that had me weeping. I am glad I found your blog. And you. Thank you.

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    1. Aww, thank you! That is so kind. I just went to look at your blog; it's beautiful!

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  2. Sometimes a lot of "people" can fool you walking upright like that.

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  3. You've either been watching too much superhero TV or reading too much Strunk & White! But actually I'd love to be able to shoot up in the sky and land safely without benefit of machinery. Now I'm trying to think what would be a good name for that verb. Skjumping? (the 'j' would have to sound like an 'ee', of course)

    You need to go back and dream about this again, that's all there is to it.

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    1. Yes, it does sound fun. I wish that were a thing you could do, bookmark a dream and go back to it. . .

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  4. I'm worried about 'hashtag' because I don't understand what the hell it/they/we is. There's # but that's the symbol for number? or is it pounds? And when my young friends are sitting around yucking it up (hashtag, hashtag) I feel like I don't know my own species anymore. Then the weasels come...

    Your confused friend Beth

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