Word: Stargazer

stargazer

[ stahr-gey-zer ]

noun

1. a person who stargazes, as an astronomer or astrologer.

2. a daydreamer.

3. an impractical idealist.

4. any of several marine fishes of the family Uranoscopidae, having the eyes at the top of the head.

5. sand stargazer.

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               Jenny flopped on the grass and looked up at the stars.  Her friend, Zeke, cocked his head and looked at her.

               “Is there a reason you are laying down?” He asked.

               “Seriously, Zeke?  You have to ask that?  We came all this way out here to look at the stars, and you’re asking why I’m laying down?”

               “Can you not look at the stars standing?”

               “It’s not the same.  Come and join me.  The grass is really nice and the stars are beautiful.”

               They had gone as far away from civilization as they possibly could, and the stars were clearer than Jenny had ever seen.  And, thanks to the warm, cloudless summer night, she had an unobstructed view of the night sky.  This all seemed lost on Zeke, who simply craned his neck up and looked oddly unimpressed.

               “I would rather remain standing.” He said.

               “Oh don’t give me that.  Getting off your feet once in a while won’t kill you.  It’s really nice.” She patted the ground near her.

               Zeke stood still for a moment and then lay down.  He did so with an awkward, jerking movement that was in no way normal.  He did that whenever he had to stop standing.  Even just sitting seemed like a chore for him.

               “You are such a weird guy, Zeke.” Jenny said.  “It’s like your skin isn’t really your own.”

               Zeke stiffened.  “What makes you say that?” He asked.  His eyes darted around as he spoke.

               “Just the way you move and stuff.  It’s like…like you aren’t comfortable in your own skin, you know?  Like it’s someone else’s and you’re just borrowing it.”

               “I see.  That is a silly thing.  You are being silly.  There is no way that is possible, of course.”

               “Well, yeah, obviously.  But you could learn to loosen up a bit.  Just sit back and relax.  That’s why I took you out here.  Just lay back and look at the stars on a beautiful night like this.”

               “I do not see what is so relaxing about looking at stars.  You can not make out any fine detail from this location.”

               “That’s not the point.  Oh hey, look, there’s Orion, and there’s the Big Dipper.  You can see all the constellations really well out here.  Way better than you can back home.”

               “You see patterns in the stars?”

               “Just the normal ones.”

               “I do not see the use in such a thing.  They are not even in the position they appear to be in.”  He pointed to two random stars that were close to each other.  “Those two, for example, are exactly 245,398 light years apart.”

               “That’s…that’s kind of specific.”

               “Specificity is important.”

               “Yeah, but that was…I mean, it’s like you’ve been there or something.”

               Zeke lowered his arm quickly.  “That is crazy.  You are being crazy with that line of thought.  I would recommend not continuing it.  Why not talk about more star patterns?”

               “You mean constellations?”

“Yes.  Constellations.”

Jenny shook her head.  Zeke was a good guy, but he was so weird.

**************************

Yeah, that guy's totally an alien, as if that wasn't clear enough.  

Word: Controvert

controvert

[ kon-truh-vurt, kon-truh-vurt ]

verb (used with object)

to argue against; dispute; deny; oppose.

to argue about; debate; discuss.

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               “Man, this sucks.” Tod said.  He slumped into the thinly padded seat with his arms crossed.  “There aren’t any hot girls around.”

               “You know, not everything is about T & A.” Tyler said.  He sat much straighter in his seat.  He did shift around slightly in a futile effort to make himself more comfortable though. 

               “Yeah, but all that stuff’s boring.”

               “We’re here to expand your mind, Tod.  The least you can do is try and pay attention.”

               Tod rolled his eyes, but did sit a little straighter in his seat. 

               “So, what’s this debate about anyway?”

               “You know, the flyer didn’t give an exact subject.  All it said was that it’ll be about the nature of reality and the world we live in.”

               “Oh yeah, sounds riveting.” Tod let the sarcasm drip from his mouth like a bitter syrup.

               “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” Tyler said.  “It’ll probably involve a lot of sci-fi stuff.”

               “Meh.  Only good part about sci-fi is hot girl in tight outfits.”

               Tyler glared at his friend. “You are a horrible person, you know that, right?”

               “No, I just know what I like is all.”

               The lights in the community center room dimmed and two people stepped up to each of the podiums that had been set up for the small debate.  One was a young man, the other a woman of around the same age.  Both were dressed well, in crisp, well made suits.  Even if the venue was not large, they were both taking the debate seriously.

               Tod perked up immediately upon seeing the female debater.

               “Hey now, she’s pretty hot.” He said.

               “Seriously?  That’s the first thing you see?”

               “What?  She is.  Hey, you think after the debate I can get her number?”

               Tyler sighed.  “She’s not here to get hit on.  She’s here to have an intellectual debate on the nature of reality.  Giving out phone numbers to some random guy in the audience is probably not high on her to-do list.”

               Tod shrugged.  “Hey, worth a shot, right?”

               “Oh, be quiet, they’re starting.”

               Both debaters had gathered small stacks of index cards.  An older man stood between them to act as moderator.  The man looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, but he still gave a quick run through of what was going to happen.  It was all standard stuff.  One would give a timed statement, and then the other would get an equal amount of time to reply.  They would take turns giving a statement and replying in this way for a set amount of time, and then a few questions would be asked of both.

               “You may now each give a short opening statement.” The moderator said. 

The young woman was chosen to go first.  She adjusted the cheap microphone, cleared her throat and began.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what I have here is undeniable proof that the world is not like what we have been taught.  At first, you will think I’m either crazy or stupid.  However, I assure you I am neither of those things.  I come here to educate and inform you.  I come here to tell you that the planet we live on is flat.”

The audience groaned.  Some laughed at the claim.  Tod and Tyler looked at each other and grimaced.

“Still want her number?” Tyler asked.

“Nope.  Not enough pretty in the world to outweigh that amount of crazy.”

“Oh good, there is hope for you.”

“Hey now, even I have some standards, you know.  Now shut up and let’s watch this idiot get destroyed.”

 ************************************

Ah flat earthers.  So much fun to watch them try and prove something that's clearly false.  Just watch them self destruct and not even realize it.  At the same time, it's also quite sad.

Word: Gallimaufry

gallimaufry

[ gal-uh-maw-free ]

noun, plural gal·li·mau·fries. Chiefly Literary.

a hodgepodge; jumble; confused medley.

a ragout or hash.

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               “That is not art.” Walt said.

               “Sure it is.” Becky replied.

               “No, it’s a bunch of random stuff stuck of a piece of paper.”

               Sure enough, the canvas hanging from the gallery wall did appear to be a jumble of items.  Bits of cut up plastic, scraps of paper, chunks of metal, pieces of wood and more were all arranged seemingly at random.  There was no paint, no planning, and no meaning.  At least none that Walt could see.

               “It’s modern art.” Becky said, stressing the second word.  “Just because it’s not a painting or a sculpture doesn’t mean it has any less artistic value.”

               “Becky, a five-year-old could’ve done this.  It’s not art.”

               “Well, that’s just not true.  A ton of planning and thought goes into a piece like this.  No way a little kid can do that.”

               Walt looked from his girlfriend to the canvas.  He tilted his head from side to side.  He could see no meaning in it at all.  It did not suggest an image, and it did not evoke anything resembling emotion.  Well, maybe annoyance, but that was not directly because of the piece of so-called art.

               “What planning?  The guy probably just dumped a bunch of glue on the canvas and threw whatever he had lying around on it.  Seriously, most of it’s junk.”

               “No way.  This is planned.  Deliberate.  The artist chose every item and carefully placed them, all to create art.”

               Walt huffed and crossed his arms.  He still did not believe it.

               “Okay, what’s it mean?”

               “Mean?”

               “Yeah, what’s it mean?  Art should have a meaning behind it, right?  So what does this one mean?”

               Becky looked thoughtfully at the piece of modern art.  She held her chin and hummed in thought. 

               “I don’t know.” She admitted.  “But it’s also not my place to figure it out.  That’s what art appraisers and critics are for.”

               “Doesn’t work like that.  Art, good art anyway, should carry meaning even for laypeople like us.  We should see it and be able to interpret it, even if our interpretation isn’t the same as an expert’s.  When I look at this, all I see is a big mess.”

               “Well, maybe that is the meaning.”

               “What?”
               Becky moved a step closer to the item and looked at it from different angles.  “It’s meant invoke a mess.  A jumble of things to represent our chaotic lives.”

               Walt blinked and looked at her for a moment before responding.

               “You just made that up because of what I said.”

               “Yeah, but so what?  It’s meaning.  And by your definition, that makes it art.” She said triumphantly.

               Walt opened his mouth to say something, but no words came.  She was right.  He had basically given her free reign to call this travesty art.  And he hated himself for it.  But, he was at least capable of admitting it.

               “Okay, fine.” He said.  “Maybe, just maybe, this can be considered art.  But that doesn’t mean it’s good.”

               “I can live with that.  Especially since we’re buying it.”

*****************************************

 I wouldn't be surprised to see something like this in a modern art collection.  There's already some really weird stuff.  I've seen piles of glass, chairs, string, and a bunch of squares.  And that's just scratching the surface.