Z.

People love dunking on cliches and platitudes.  Puns and "small talk" are other adjacent forms of language that are also thoroughly groan-inducing. Granted, these forms of "communication" (in the loosest sense of the term) represent language's  lowest-hanging fruit one can offer while in rhetorical discourse. I do not want to overstate their usefulness. But I also want to make a positive case for them that, while sickeningly neutral, platitudes do have  some utility. For all their hollowness, there is a simplicity and brevity to them that make them easy communicable ammunition  when you're otherwise at a loss for what to say. "Oh my god,"  "What, what is it?" "My pet goat Aloysius has grown eight mutated spider limbs and is weaving a macabre web of pale fibrous thread in my house doorways. I believe he might be building a trap to catch and liquify my insides to slurp out for his nourishment!"  Slight pause. You're not sure w...

5 year old Z.  Sitting "Indian-style" (to use the parlance of that time) on the floor, listening to the teacher in class.  And I'm having the time of my life.  Why?  Because I'm making a pleasant, bubbling, popping sound in my cheeks and underneath my tightly closed lips.  Pushing air around inside my mouth, making thousands of tiny, gurgling frog chirps inside the confines of my closed mouth.  And I'm the only one who knows. It's like a little secret, just for me. Not a care in the world.  Totally in the zone.  Not listening to a single word the teacher is saying. Not even pretending to be. Grooving to the satisfying ripple of air bubbles popping like caviar inside my mouth. I've lost all track of time.  Truly in the moment.  Enjoying life.  "Z!" I stop. My teacher's tone is surprisingly irritated. Did I miss something?  "What?" I ask, alarmed and curious.  "Can you stop making that sound?" In utter naïveté, blissfully s...