the moment you realise that you're currently happy- consciously trying to savor the feeling - which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it's little more than an aftertaste." His entry kairosclerosis, for instance, comes from the Greek Rs kairos' which means an opportune moment, and Rs sclerosis', or hardening. (Unlike the six-step Wikihow entry on coining words, which makes you want to swallow your own tongue: "Step one: Get inspiration. Koenig nails down unbelievably slippery feelings, and coins etymologically sound words for them. The author, John Koenig, writes, "Its mission is to harpoon, bag and tag wild sorrows, then release them back into the subconscious." Now the Dictionary is the object of my affections. Writer and editor Anita Roy used a couple of words from the Dictionary to help her describe things in the book being launched, unwittingly setting off a thrill in my whiner's heart, that was very much like spotting the object of your affections when you don't expect to. I heard about it at a recent book launch. It's called The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. Nothing messes with a good bellyache like having to shout incoherently because you don't have the right vocabulary. You can feel the feeling exactly, it's right there, but the available lexicon doesn't quite do it justice. The problem is that even the best, most skilled and experienced of moaners often runs into a linguistic wall. There are things we wish to dwell on and wallow in peace, because dwelling and wallowing makes everything better.
Know that there is a time and a place for your optimism, and that that time and place is far, far away from us.
Those of us who like to complain, cannot stand those of you who keep banging on about the glass being half full.
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