Sick and Awkward

One of the pleasures of teaching teenagers is that you get to keep up on current slang, or at least not fall behind as far as you would on your own as an old fart. This year’s two biggest slang terms are sick and awkward. Sick is an adjective that—not surprisingly—mean its opposite. It’s used almost entirely by guys, especially (at this institution) hockey players, in place of awesome or amazing. For example: That was a sick move! Or That was a totally sick move! Or Did you see the end of last night’s game? It was sick!

Awkward is used primarily by girls, which is fitting since it has more to do with social dynamics.

“I would never do that.”

“Why?”

“It would be so awkward. Can you imagine anything more awkward?”

It also has more complex connotations than sick. In fact, it seems to me, to signify a different and particular kind of social awareness. Sick feels like another version of cool or bad: one syllable terms that essentially mean good or really good. The prominence of the concern about awkwardness seems like something different and new. Obviously when I was a teenager there were awkward situations and moments, but we didn’t identify them in a such a clearly-defined category. Also, awkwardness can be uncomfortable or odd, and given those things it can often be quite funny. In fact, it seems to me to be the operating mode of the most popular comedy out there these days. The humor of The Office is built almost entirely around discomfort—our own and that of the characters—which is true as well of last summer’s hit movie, The Hangover.

I love to see the way people play with language, and make it fresh. I remember when my first son was born, and consciously not wanting to use the word cool around him too much. It seemed that everyone around me was using it for everything that was good or desirable. I felt like it put too much emphasis on what was cool and what wasn’t, and it also made people sound rather unintelligent when that was the only modifier that came out of their mouths. I wanted him to grow up with a greater range of descriptors at his disposal. In time, sick and awkward will either become passé or clichéd, but for now they feel fresh. Of course, as a middle-aged man I don’t actually use these terms. That would be awkward.

For a Good Time, Call . . .

Focus!

So, the other a day my friend and colleague, Ms. M., came to me with a song running through her head that she couldn’t identify. What she hummed didn’t ring any bells for me, and I didn’t think any more about it until she showed up in my classroom a couple hours later, having tracked down the above video.

When she started playing the song, I wasn’t watching the screen, and I called out “England, 1972.” The video actually says 1973, and the caption says it's from a 1971 album, so I wasn’t too far wrong on that, but the band, as it turns out, was not British but Dutch, which may or may not explain things. In any case, this video left me amazed and speechless on any number of fronts.

1. Where in the world had Ms. M. heard this before?

2. How had I never heard this before?

3. Who the hell are these guys?

The remaining questions I had left me so speechless I can’t even write them down. I was awed, amazed, and convulsing in laughter and disbelief. What were they thinking? It’s brilliant. And it’s awful. And even though it calls to mind Uriah Heep, Jethro Tull, and a demented Julie Andrews at times, it also is like nothing else on the planet. It's also addictive. I keep needing to see the vocalist (if that is the right word here) perform one more time. In fact, I'll probably click on the link right now, and see and hear it again.

Word of the Day

cwm—(noun)—a geological term from Wales, another word for a cirque, which may not help many of us flatlanders very much. Still, you gotta love a word with no vowels, especially a noun. That's rock solid.

The Fool's Wife

The king's a fool. He's a fool's fool.

It's unnatural. What servant has

a servant? What wife a wife?

I'm the fool's fool once removed.

And when the king, that fink,

is in a funk and sends his fool away,

he drowns himself in sack,

then sacks out in the hay.

—Dallas Crow

"The Fool's Wife" originally appeared in Dunes Review (Summer 2008).

Top 5 Books That I Have Lent to Friends and Which Have Not Been Returned

1. White Noise by Don DeLillo. Just as Hemingway was the most influential American prose writer for much of the 20^th century, DeLillo has been the most influential novelist of the past two decades (at least among male writers), and by DeLillo I mean the DeLillo of White Noise. I lent this to a girlfriend in my early 20s. Lost it in the breakup. I still think of it as a contemporary novel even though Penguin has put it through nearly half a dozen cover changes since then.

2. The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean. One of my favorite works of literary journalism. I will be teaching it next year, so just picked up another copy, which has a pale, much less attractive cover than the rich blue of the advance reading copy of the hardcover edition I owned. Also, the trim size of that was slightly unusual if I remember correctly, and it looks like they’ve trimmed the bottom margins of the current paperback to make it a more orthodox size. Too bad.

3. The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford. Read this during fall semester of my freshman year in college in a class that was confirming my decision to be an English major. This seems like a book I would really like to re-read. I remember it as a revelation of what a novel could be, and it seems like it would be no less satisfying to read in mid-life.

4. Heft on Wheels: A Field Guide to Doing a 180 by Mike Magnuson. The only book on this list that I’ve read twice, and if I had it on hand I might start in on it again right now. Magnuson’s account of his love affair as a 255-lb., chain-smoking, heavy drinker with bicycling is profane and beautiful. This and Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run are two outstanding books about the compulsions of endurance athletes.

5. Feeding a Yen by Calvin Trillin. The only book on this list I haven’t read in its entirety. I lent it out before I could sit down and read it properly.

Line(s) of the Week

"I should have moved to New York City, but I never was that cool.

I just languished in the Midwest like some old romantic fool."

—Freakwater

Location. Location. Location.