Definitions to words in danger of falling out of the vocabulary #7 – O’clock



1. of, by, or according to an “old-timey” feeling. Ex. A Sunday’s supper, chiming o’clock.

2. reminiscent of the limited dimensionality upon which the use of objects depends, that liminally studded flatness that shines like a knife’s molybdenum flat.

3. specifying “why?”, “what for?”, “which is which?”, or inquiry into any state of affairs in which explanation is desperately desired and urgently requested, in loud and repeated articulations, but in which the only assurance is that all explanations will be withheld by knowledgeable entities and / or forces whose motivations are unmistakably vindictive if otherwise obscure. Ex. We were in bed, lying one o’clock, awaiting the morning.


(used to indicate this wild, straying off, the whole scene, at the conventional angle, a thing with a certain weight, for that matter, the opposite tendency, now holding its ears, as far as life, a pang that a billion people share, outward darting, that clause about the boundaries of common decency, the way they stand out, very high and very straight, though capable of talking, including treatments, his elegaic praise, with better prospects for health, again objects of scorn, a tiny emerging light, what you would have to abandon in crossing, pulling it a bit out of earshot, the latent eloquence of what they were doing, whatever that is, a world without coincidence, the humorless, secularized Puritan, by itself from forever, unable to look up, that was show business, and to have applied, the quitting bastard, be it in ink or pencil, jetting on a blue plume, which had both vagueness and a point, not a dog, the speech of a rustic, when served, this utterly restless stillness, who was destined to become equipped, this method for finding, the quaint remnants, which deterred no one, a first member, which accepts bad teeth, this brazenness, a saint in his vitrine, the violent emotion, the grandest pattern, the skyscrapers, armies, prisons, airs and all, unannounced, across the big room, a self-deprecating therapist, following the burglary, as satisfying the questions of “how much?” and “how many?”, in nearly every way, well-heeled, as a livelihood or obligation, wonderful one, the machine, unfulfilled promises, who wouldn’t let it move, a rather conservative estimate, this path of duty, the valley where she had passed, those wastes, for such services, as often in those days, apparently the first, a parrot for your shoulder, those years, the record he had worn out, the original thought, the plus and minus of it, waves gone with the bronzed one, islands lucid and afloat, where there was an oasis of hot water, a world on which he dined on fish and fresh fruits, only a month into his training.) Ex. the wifebeaters hit the showers / the panties bombardier / relatively speaking / upwind [i.e., impending disaster]  it’s all / o’clock / lord kitchener’s guns (Ceerig, “the last of the diplomatic channels,” 1922).

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