Inspiration of 2012

Jan 01, 2020 15:58

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rudyard December 31 2011, 21:01:11 UTC
Rare Words

acosmist - One who believes that nothing exists
paralian - A person who lives near the sea
aureate - Pertaining to the fancy or flowery words used by poets
dwale - To wander about deliriously
sabaism - The worship of stars
dysphoria - An unwell feeling
aubade - A love song which is sung at dawn
eumoirous - Happiness due to being honest and wholesome
mimp - To speak in a prissy manner, usually with pursed lips

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rudyard June 16 2012, 02:06:45 UTC
Quiescent - a quiet, soft-spoken soul.
Chimerical - merely imaginary; fanciful.
Susurrus - a whispering or rustling sound.
Raconteur - one who excels in story-telling.
Clinquant - glittering; tinsel-like.
Aubade - a song greeting the dawn.
Ephemeral - lasting a very short time.
Sempiternal - everlasting; eternal.
Euphonious - pleasing; sweet in sound.
Billet-doux - a love letter.
Redamancy - act of loving in return.

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rudyard December 31 2011, 21:02:02 UTC
6 types of love

Eros
a passionate physical and emotional love based on aesthetic enjoyment; stereotype of romantic love

Ludus
a love that is played as a game or sport; conquest; may have multiple partners at once

Storge
an affectionate love that slowly develops from friendship, based on similarity

Pragma
love that is driven by the head, not the heart

Mania
obsessive love; experience great emotional highs and lows; very possessive and often jealous lovers

Agape
selfless altruistic love; spiritual;

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rudyard December 31 2011, 21:03:07 UTC
Déjà Vu - the experience of being certain that you have experienced or seen a new situation previously - you feel as though the event has already happened or is repeating itself. The experience is usually accompanied by a strong sense of familiarity and a sense of eeriness, strangeness, or weirdness. The “previous” experience is usually attributed to a dream, but sometimes there is a firm sense that it has truly occurred in the past ( ... )

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rudyard December 31 2011, 21:04:36 UTC

He was not dead yet, not exactly-

parts of him were dead already, certainly other parts were still only waiting

for something to happen, something grand, but it isn’t

always about me,

he keeps saying, though he’s talking about the only heart he knows-

boys on the bed, strange sheets,

the way the phone rings in the other room

like that, the way it has of ringing ringing…

Inside his head a little music, inside his head a little hum. What he remembers

doesn’t make any sense. What he remembers has nothing to do

with us,

or does it? All this circling around inside the darkened rooms inside

those dreams of ours that never get used.

***

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rudyard December 31 2011, 21:05:50 UTC

... )

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