Glorious Zinzins
by Steve Finan
I read.
I sometimes am so pierced by prose that I wish, I wish, I wish it was mine. I am carried on a rush of adrenaline into someone else's mind. I glimpse the moving shapes and colours of their imagination. I am shown their highest highs and their betes noire. They become mine. The writer moulds me, wrestles my thoughts to be alike to theirs.
It can be a phrase, a word. Tonight, Christine Daffe reached me with Genevieve's Voice and gave me a shiny nugget — zinzins.
I do not know what zinzins is, what a zinzins is, who zinzins is.
I do not want to know. I will attach meanings myself, I will use my stolen word aloud to the wonderment or bafflement of others.
I read.
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Author's Note
Why I read.
I stole a word.
Zinzins.
(With thanks and appreciation to Christine Daffe).
Other stories by Steve Finan
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Tell it brother. Tell it.
Tell it brother. Tell it.
You might call this a verbal TWOC-ing.
Put that word down! You don't know whose mouth it's been in!
Nice nod to a fellow writer.
Hi Steve! You are the perfect reader! An inspired writer. In French, zinzins is synonym of machins, trucs, bidules... Zinzins = a thing whose name you cannot remember or do not know. Zinzins = a whatchumacallit! But, of course, you did not want to know.
Thank you!!
I imagine a zinzin a black zinnia. But who knows?