Avert your gaze from Patrick Swayze's gaping spaceship you 8 foot Aidans.

Welcome to the Blind Boy a Podcast.

If this is your first time, maybe consider going back to an earlier episode to familiarize yourself with the Lord of this

podcast.

I enjoyed the most beautiful storm last night, a thunderstorm.

I've been looking forward to it all day. I was calling it a tempest. A tempest.

tempest is a perfectly acceptable word for a storm. It's an old maritime word, but it's a word that I'd keep to myself.

Like earlier in the day I'd rang up my ma and I said I'm really looking forward to

the tempest later on and she's in her 80s and she said don't be calling it a tempest. People would think

your pretentious don't call it a tempest. And I said I'm not. I'm just saying tempest

in front of you ma I thought this phone call was a safe space, where I can use words like

tempest, without judgment. I possess sufficient social etiquette, not to go calling at a fucking tempest in the petrol station,

or to one of my neighbors, I'm not going to wave at my neighbor as they're walking their dog and

ask him if they're looking forward to the tempest later on.

But in my head, privately, I was looking forward to the tempest later on but in my head privately I was looking forward to the

tempest I just don't like the word storm it doesn't tell me anything

storm is it's like an, it's an old Germanic or Nars word and we've lost the root of it.

It probably meant something to someone at some point.

In a last proto-Indo-European language,

a storm is a storm because we call it a storm,

but nothing about the shape of the words or the meaning of the words allows me to

emotionally connect with the fucking storm.

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