Expressed a lot of my deep negatives in therapy today. But I don’t feel like talking about that just yet.

Instead, I am going to share some of my obscure silliness and give you some translingual puns to decode.

A translingual pun, as you might have guessed from the name, is one that spans languages. Mine tend to be names that seem like normal names but actually mean something in French.

What can I say, I am the sort of guy who not only reads food packages but adds the words to his vocab.

I then attach their “job”, which refers to the pun, and boom, you have a joke credit.

Here’s an example that I just invented tonight :

Desalination Expert : Zelda Maher

Looks totally normal, right? The trick is that “Zelda Maher” sounds like “sel de mer”, which is French for “sea salt”.

Sea salt? Desalination? See, it makes sense once you know the trick of it.

Here’s another one I am proud of :

Professional Snackologists : Burt al-Rasheed and May Sue Flay.

The first is not quite top shelf because al-Rasheed is probably not a real name, and even if it is, I had to insert an L to the orignal phrase to make it look more “name-y”.

But the second one is absolutely flawless and I am so pleased with myself for having come up with such a gem.

I will give you a little more time to guess them before I reveal the meanings.

Give up? Of course you do. I am surprised you read this far. Thank you.

Burt al-Rasheed = buerre d’arachides, also known as peanut butter.

And May Sue Flaw = mais souffle, known at home as popcorn.

Those two things are probably half my diet by weight.

Or how about my friend who is always full of great ideas, Bonny Day?

Bonnie Day = bonne idee, French for “good idea”.

Or if we really stretch it, there is my pal Al Awetta, who collects feathers as a hobby and has arranged his favorites into quite the jaunty plume array.

Only at this moment does it occur to me that I don’t know how to spell the original French version, so how do I look it up?

That one is marked as being Felicity’s. So I am not the only translingual punster.

Um, I will leave that one as an exercise for the eager student.

Then there’s my pal Moe Juiced, who always knows the perfect way to express things.

Moe Juiced : mot juste, a French phrase that we use in Englist to mean “the right word”.

Well, some of us do, anyhow.

Felicity and I came up with a whole bunch of these punny credits at one point. These ones are not translingual and some of them are not exactly A+, but I like them,

Like my lady friend who is a retired church leader, Pastor Prime?

Pastor Prime = Past her prime. Get it?

Some of them require no aid to interpret. Like my pal, ski instructor Dan Druff.

Great guy, but a total flake.

Or my roadie friend, Marshall Stack.

That’s what roadies call a stack of Marshall speakers like the kind they that they use in professional rock concerts that wanna be LOUD.

/And there is my sex worker friend, Sue Pine, who does her best work lying down.

I don’t really have to explain that one, do I? Sue Pine, Supine. Got it?

And I could go on and on. So I will!

OK, maybe not. I feel like I have imposed upon your good graces for long enough.

Makes a nice change from the usual depressive stuff, doesn’t it?

And now, back to the usual depressive stuff,

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Therapy went well today, I think. Doctor Costin mostly let me vent.

It helped…. if that’s the right word… that I was feeling quite depressed when I walked in the door. Dunno why, but right at that moment, my saddest and most depressed emotions were right at the surface, waiting to be vented.

Perhaps my Deep Code has finally realized that therapy is a great place to dump negative emotions and brought them to the surface for just that purpose.

That would be nice.

So I talked about feeling cold and alone and isolated even when I am around other people, and how badly I wanted to be part of the warm, living, active world instead of a cipher who plays video games all day and is a burden to all, from the provincial government down to my roomies.

There is so much I could do if I wasn’t all tangled up and frozen inside. I am a man of enormous capacities that could contribute so much to the world if I could only get my mental health issues straightened out.

At least I am healthy enough to view that as a tragedy now, and not some kind of indictment against my worth as a human being.

In fact, now that I am thinking about it, there is a certain irony to the thought, “I am such a loser for squandering all my amazing abilities”.

Non-crazy people would think having amazing abilities meant you were not a loser.

Must be nice to be able to be that sensible and self-supporting.

I also talked with Doc Costin about my feeling that healthy people must have some force within them that pushed back against negative thoughts and keeps their mind balanced and relatively happy.

I don’t have that force. Not yet, at least. Now that I am cognizant of the lack, perhaps I can start building one.

it won’t be as good as the ones good parenting and positive religion instills, but at least it will be all mine.

Some of us have to invent our own religion.

And I talked about how my position on innocence has evolved from “innocence is just another word for ignorance” to “what we call innocence is an important protection for a developing mind that keeps it from being exposed to more than it can handle. ”

I don’t have that, either. It was forever shattered by a stranger’s cock when I was 4.

Not sure that is something you can ever get back.

But I guess I can look around for an acceptable substitute.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.