The Sandwich Maker had been sent to them by Almighty Bob in a burning fiery chariot. This, at least, was what Thrashbarg said, and Thrashbarg was the authority on these things. So, at least, Thrashbarg claimed, and Thrashbarg was… and so one and so on. It was hardly worth arguing about.
A few villagers wondered why Almighty Bob would send his only begotten Sandwich Maker in a burning fiery chariot rather than perhaps in one that might have landed quietly without destroying half the forest, filling it with ghosts and also injuring the Sandwich Maker quite badly. Old Thrashbarg said that it was the ineffable will of Bob, and when they asked him what “ineffable” meant, he said look it up.
This was a problem because Old Thrashbarg had the only dictionary and wouldn’t let them borrow it. They asked him why not and he said it was not for them to know the will of Almighty Bob, and when they asked him why not again, he said because he said so. Anyway, somebody sneaked into Old Thrashbarg’s hut one day while he was out having a swim and looked up “ineffable.” “Ineffable” apparently meant “unknowable, indescribable, unutterable, not to be known or spoken about.” So that cleared that up.
At least they had got the sandwiches.
Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless, Chapter 13
That was the first place I ever encountered the word “ineffable.” For nigh upon fifteen years now, “ineffable” has been one of my favorite words. And I believe it applies to people, or, rather, any person. Groups of people behave in understandable ways, but there is no collective, “we” is just a fiction. But “I” or “you”… these are mysteries.
Sure, we are the sum of our experiences, the sum of our actions, the sum of our memories, emotions, blah blah blah, but what does any one of those things tell us about someone? It may help to know that I was born and spent my formative years in New York City, but that historical fact is only a part of the puzzle.
And some of the pieces have been hidden.
Not because I’m hiding anything (in a general sense), but because they aren’t things that can be shared. They can’t be explained. They just are. All of us just are. Hence ineffably tom: it’s just me and my view on the world, not trying to make sense because there isn’t any to be had.
This is not to say the broad strokes have to remain unpainted. That would be silly. So what might you want to know…
Along with this place, I also write at fallenverses.org which is ostensibly focused on poetry and culture. The poetry is mine, the culture, well, ours, I guess. Sometimes I Twitter, sometimes I Dent, sometimes, but rarely, I Facebook or Myspace.
