buried tunnel

Sane, remarkably, depressingly sane.A friend of mine says the word "funny" in such a funny way as to suggest onomatopoeia but also something else; introspection, the word turning back on itself. It ends in hysteria: whatever it is that you might say and she find funny will never be as funny as hearing her say the word itself. If I could find a way to make all words as expressive then, I think, language could truly birth a new reality and what we live would only be a shadow of the word. "In the begining there was the Word," so begins my least favorite of the gospels but the sentiment stays with me. I suspect that in the end there will be the word as well. I only hope that the word will be "funny," properly and honestly enunciated and what follows this promised end will be as funny as the consciousness of language has allowed this life to be. The essence of a word can't be found in its adjective form: it's not enough for love to be lovely or sex to be sexy. Intimate verbosity, verbose intimacy? What's it like to know what you're saying?