Meaning golden-haired. It can also be applied figuratively (and fancifully) to objects, particularly trees (pertaining to their leaves).
If you remember your periodic table, you'll remember 'Au' is gold, an abbreviation of the Latin "Aurum", which, believe it or not, means 'gold'. In English, you can still use "auric" as an adjective, to mean "of, or pertaining to, gold".
The "comos" part comes from the Latin word "coma" meaning "of, or pertaining to, the head". That's where the English "comb" comes from, as well as the succulently Shakespearean insult "coxcomb". That's "cock's comb", because jesters and fools wore hats that looked like a rooster crest. What's more, the noun "coma" comes from that root as well.
But back to auricomos. Heavily Latinate words usually seem to lack the expressive punch of their more concise Germanic counterparts. There seems to be an exception here. "Blonde", from Middle French, is almost too compact and consonant-ridden to convey a visceral sense of beauty in description. This is made even worse by modern pejorative connotations of the word.
"Auricomos", however, has a music to it. Try saying it and see. "OR-ic-OM-us". It scintillates, like golden hair caressed by a gentle gale. "Blonde", on the other hand, is an arresting thud, like an inebriated foot stumbling on the way out of a bar.
I suppose if you're simply trying to describe colour, "blonde", is your best bet. Plus, "auricomos" isn't a noun, so you can't say "she's an auricomos", though I know the temptation must be overpowering.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Hastiform, a, etc
Meaning spear-shaped. It comes from the Latin, "hasta", meaning "spear". -Form should speak for itself. Although it's quite specific and almost nobody would understand your use of the word, the word is actually not listed as obsolete. I have yet to encounter it, but I'd encourage anyone to keep their eyes (and ears) open!
As an aside, despite the superficial similarity, the Latin "hasta" isn't related to the English word "haste". Even stranger, the original Old Frieslandic and Old High German meanings of "hâst" meant more "violent, furious; strife" so the speed aspect of the word was only originally in connotation.
Is it just me, or is English "haste" a better verb than noun? "I must haste home" or "I must make haste home". No contest.
Speaking of spears, I've always loved the sound of the word "assagai". It's a type of light, metal-tipped spear. In English, the word is applied pretty generally to such projectile weapons as were used by South African tribes.
It's originally a Berber word, which was adapted into the Arabic "az-zaghayah". From there the Portuguese extracted the word "azagaia", and in English it still, aurally speaking, contains the flare of those oh-so-musical Ibero-Romantic languages.
As an aside, despite the superficial similarity, the Latin "hasta" isn't related to the English word "haste". Even stranger, the original Old Frieslandic and Old High German meanings of "hâst" meant more "violent, furious; strife" so the speed aspect of the word was only originally in connotation.
Is it just me, or is English "haste" a better verb than noun? "I must haste home" or "I must make haste home". No contest.
Speaking of spears, I've always loved the sound of the word "assagai". It's a type of light, metal-tipped spear. In English, the word is applied pretty generally to such projectile weapons as were used by South African tribes.
It's originally a Berber word, which was adapted into the Arabic "az-zaghayah". From there the Portuguese extracted the word "azagaia", and in English it still, aurally speaking, contains the flare of those oh-so-musical Ibero-Romantic languages.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Ceiling
It just struck me that the word "ceiling" must come from the French "ceil" for sky. Was it obvious? Maybe. But it's still pretty neat.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Lacuna, n.
It's not the most useless of words, but I love it anyways. It usually means a gap or missing portion of a text. Typically, this is in the context of an old document from which a component is missing. One thing I adore about the word is that the Latin origin means "basin". I'm always a fan of when a word's literal meaning evolves into a purely figurative one. Deee-liscious.
Another thing I dig about the word is that it can also be applied in a physical context to a small hole or gap. I'm not sure I like it in terms of a hole in the ground, but I'm incredibly tantalized to use it, say in a library. Imagine you're looking through a row of books and there's one missing; "there's a lacuna where my tome should be!".
Yes. Yes. By the end of the week, I'll use it in the physical context. And you should too.
Another thing I dig about the word is that it can also be applied in a physical context to a small hole or gap. I'm not sure I like it in terms of a hole in the ground, but I'm incredibly tantalized to use it, say in a library. Imagine you're looking through a row of books and there's one missing; "there's a lacuna where my tome should be!".
Yes. Yes. By the end of the week, I'll use it in the physical context. And you should too.
Nemorivagant, adj.
I'll start off with one of my favourite obsolete words.
It means "Wandering in a wood or forest". Try to use that three times in a day and I bet you'll be able to! I have a feeling it probably originated in criticism of the Divine Comedy. As in the famous starting scene in which ol' Dants finds himself, well, wandering in a wood or forest.
In fact, Nemorivagent could even be metaphorically related to a crisis of faith or the soul. I mean, it isn't, but the potential for that allusive connection is so perfect that I'm quite tempted to try seeing if it catches on.
Speaking of etymology, (which I actually wasn't) "nemoralis" is Latin for "grove" (seen in the adjective "nemoral", meaning of a forest or grove). The second half is related to "vagrant", a word in everyday parlance.
It means "Wandering in a wood or forest". Try to use that three times in a day and I bet you'll be able to! I have a feeling it probably originated in criticism of the Divine Comedy. As in the famous starting scene in which ol' Dants finds himself, well, wandering in a wood or forest.
In fact, Nemorivagent could even be metaphorically related to a crisis of faith or the soul. I mean, it isn't, but the potential for that allusive connection is so perfect that I'm quite tempted to try seeing if it catches on.
Speaking of etymology, (which I actually wasn't) "nemoralis" is Latin for "grove" (seen in the adjective "nemoral", meaning of a forest or grove). The second half is related to "vagrant", a word in everyday parlance.
Reprise
I recently made allusions to a word blog that, at the time, had ceased to exist. So, here it it. I aim to make it a repository of words I find amazing, grammatical observations, and other linguistic oddities. Chances are it'll either bore you to tears or pique your interest.
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