abortive: failing to succeed; unsuccessful
bruit: to voice abroad; rumor
contumelious: describing a humiliating insult
dictum: a saying; maxim; judicial assertion
ensconce: to settle securely or snugly
iconoclastic: attacking or ignoring cherished beliefs and long-held traditions
in medias res: in the middle of things
internecine: of or pertaining to conflict or struggle within a group; mutually descructive
maladroit: unskillful; awkward; bungling; tactless
maudlin: tearfully or weakly emotional, foolishly sentimental
modulate: to regulate or adjust to a cettain measure or proportion; soften; tone down
portentous: ominously significant or indicative
prescience: knowledge of things before they happen; foresight
quid pro quo: one thing in return for another
salubrious: favorable to or promoting health; healthful
saturnalian: unrestrained revelry; orgy
touchstone: a test or criterion for the qualities of a thing
traumatic: of, pertaining to, or produced by a trauma or wound; psychologically painful
vitiate: to impair the qualitiy of; make faulty; spoil
waggish: roguish in merriment and good humor
Here's yet another vocab example story for this week's vocab remix. Originally I aimed at writing in the style of cheesy crime noir, complete with a jaded hard-boiled detective. It ended up sounding more like the interior dialogue of a depressed drunkard, but I guess that works too.
There I was again, after another abortive night of trying to shake this portentous ache in my bones. I'm too old for the game--I've been dealt too many contumelious jabs, and downed even more drinks. The saturnalian of drunkenness has lost its waggish appeal. Each sip seems to vitiate my mind. Nowadays, I'd much rather ensconce myself in the confines of my home, where only the walls can hear my maudlin lamentations. There's no need to modulate my words when away from the internecine of society. As the dictum goes, there's no place like home--whether it be traumatic or salubrious. However, quid pro quo, I've developed something of a reputation in this city. No amount of prescience could have prepared me for this bruit that circulates about me. There's some truth to their words, though. In my self-imposed seclusion, I've become somewhat maladroit. Held up to the touchstone of normalcy, in those rare times that I find myself in media res, I must seem like a downright iconoclast.
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