Delightful Obsolete Words It’s High Time We Revived

From Buzzfeed (probably not the most scientific site on the web, but this is a great article)
Callipygian and Resistentialism are my favourites!

1. GROAK

Meaning: To silently watch someone while they are eating, hoping to be invited to join them.

Origin: Unknown
As in: It’s hard to enjoy your meal when the guy opposite is groaking you the whole time.

2. HUGGER-MUGGER

Meaning: To act in a secretive manner.
Origin: 1530s
As in: I’m sick of all these sneaky types, creeping around and hugger-muggering the whole time.

3. CRAPULOUS

Meaning: To feel ill because of excessive eating/drinking.
Origin: 1530s
As in: Blerg. The morning after St. Patrick’s Day. I feel crapulous.

4. SNOWBROTH
Meaning: Freshly melted snow.
Origin: 1590s
As in: Yesterday we woke up to a perfect carpet of white, but now it’s just snowbroth. :-(
 

5. JARGOGLE Meaning: To confuse, bamboozle.
Origin: 1690s
As in: I don’t get string theory. It utterly jargogles my brain.

6. APRICITY
Meaning: The sun’s warmth on a cold winter’s day.
Origin: 1620s
As in: Even in darkest December you sometimes get a moment of beautiful apricity.

7. TWATTLE
Meaning: To gossip, or talk idly.
Origin: 1600s
As in: I wish you’d quit twattling and get on with your work.

8. GORGONIZE

Meaning: To have a paralyzing or mesmerizing effect on someone.
Origin: Early 17th century
As in: Don’t look into his eyes. He’s so charismatic, you’ll be gorgonized.

9. COCKALORUM
Meaning: A little man with a high opinion of himself.
Origin: 1710s
As in: He’s a boastful shortarse. Total cockalorum.

10. SNOUTFAIR
Meaning: A good-looking person.
Origin: 1500s
As in: Alison Brie? Total snoutfair.

11. JOLLUX
Meaning: Slang term for a fat person.
Origin: 1780s
As in: Time to go on a diet, I’m getting to be a right jollux.

12. CURGLAFF
Meaning: The shock one feels upon first plunging into cold water.
Origin: Scots, 1800s
As in: Those outdoor swimmers must have balls of steel to cope with that kind of curglaff.

13. BRABBLE
Meaning: To argue loudly about something inconsequential.
Origin: 1530s
As in: I can’t stand Question Time, it always descends into brabbling.

14. LUNTING
Meaning: Walking while smoking a pipe.
Origin: 1820s
As in: I’m off for a post-lunch lunt, anyone care to join me?

15. CALLIPYGIAN
Meaning: Having beautifully shaped buttocks.
Origin: 1640s
As in: I admire Beyoncé for her musical talent. The fact she is highly callipygian is neither here nor there.

16. RESISTENTIALISM
Meaning: The seemingly malevolent behaviour displayed by inanimate objects.
Origin: 1940s
As in: That water bottle looks like it wants to kill me. It exhibits resistentialism.

17. CURMURING
Meaning: A low rumbling sound produced by the bowels.
Origin: 1880s
As in: Nothing worse than audibly curmuring during a job interview.

"Languages are like towns: they must grow organically and for good reason. Esperanto is like a new town, Telfor or Milton Keynes; it has linguistically speaking, ample walkways, spacious parking, rational traffic flow and all the modern amenities: but there are no historic sides, no great towering landmarks: there is no feeling that mankind has grown and lived and worked here, shaping the architecture according to neccessity, power or worship.

The English language, however, is like York or Chester or Norwich or London - absurd narrow twisting streets that strangers are so lost in, no parking, no velodrome: but there are churches, castles, custom houses, the remnants of old slums, and old palaces. Our past is there. But not just our past, these cities are not museums, they contain the present too: estates, office blocks, contraflow cycle paths. They are living things, towns and languages."

- Stephen Fry, 'Trefusius Is Unwell', Paperweight

Dunkel war's, der Mond schien helle

My dad recently reminded me of this poem, which I used to love when I was a kid. Unfortunately, there's no real English translation, so I will probably try to translate it - but be warned; it won't be half as good in English as it is in German, because this poem lives through its paradoxes, some of which are really hard to translate into English (especially if I attempt to keep the rhythm of it, which I'm not sure I will - let me direct you to this post about the problems of translating).
The author of the poem is unknown, and one great thing about it is that it has evolved throughout time. The earliest known version is from the 19th century (according to wikipedia) and since then, stanzas have been added or words changed (for example Wagen (coach) is now sometimes Auto (car)). Nowadays there are versions with sixteen stanzas! However, I will only post the first four stanzas, as they are the ones that are normally kept fairly the same, probably because this is the 'most famous' version as children's author James Krüss used it in the 1960s I believe. So, until I have completed the translation (if I ever will), here's the German one for those of you able to understand it:

Dunkel war’s, der Mond schien helle,
schneebedeckt die grüne Flur,
als ein Wagen blitzeschnelle,
langsam um die Ecke fuhr.

Drinnen saßen stehend Leute,
schweigend ins Gespräch vertieft,
Als ein totgeschoss’ner Hase
Auf der Sandbank Schlittschuh lief.

Und ein blondgelockter Jüngling
mit kohlrabenschwarzem Haar
saß auf einer grünen Kiste,
die rot angestrichen war.

Neben ihm ’ne alte Schrulle,
zählte kaum erst sechzehn Jahr,
in der Hand ’ne Butterstulle,
die mit Schmalz bestrichen war.

18 Weird German Words You Won’t Believe Exist

...unless you're German, of course. Taken from this article. I must say, there are a few words I've never heard of or used, so I'm only posting the ones I know and use. In cases like this, being fluent in two languages really is a lot of fun!

1. Ohrwurm (Ear worm)

Have you ever listened to a song on the radio while driving to work only to find yourself still humming the same tune by lunch time? Congratulations, you’ve had an ear worm. The beautiful German word Ohrwurm describes the fact of having a song stuck in your head as if it wriggled itself into your brain through your ear.

2. Fernweh (Distance pain)

This gem describes the feeling of wanting to be somewhere else. It’s kind of like a reverse homesickness (Heimweh in German), a longing for a place that isn’t where you are right now. Fernweh is also a frequent reason for people in Germany to go on holiday.

3. Kummerspeck (Grief bacon)

When a relationship ends or during other times of sadness, anger, or worry, it’s common to put on a few pounds of Kummerspeck. What it means is the excess weight put on by emotional overeating. So when you find yourself on the couch watching ”Bridget Jones’ Diary” with a tub of ice cream, you are in fact feeding your grief bacon.

4. Innerer Schweinehund (Inner pig dog)

Can’t get up in the morning to be on time for work? Too lazy to go to the gym? Homework remains undone until the last minute? Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. The blame lies with your inner pig dog. That’s the tiny voice in the back of your head which is trying to convince you to live a life of inertia and which you will have to overcome to rid yourself of Kummerspeck.

5. Fremdschämen (Exterior shame)

For those of you who cringe in phantom pain when others make a fool of themselves, this is your word. It describes the feeling of shame when seeing someone else in an uncomfortable or embarrassing situation. It’s a real thing for the more empathetic folk and has kept more than one person from watching “the Office.” the translation isn't quite accurate, as 'Fremd' means strange, alien, unpersonal, but you get the idea

6. Lebensmüde (Life tired)

This word literally means being tired of life and was used to describe the dramatic and soul-crushing emotional agony of young Romantic poets (see also Weltschmerz and Weichei). Nowadays lebensmüde is what you call your friends when they are attempting something especially stupid and possibly life threatening. Most people in fail videos on YouTube suffer from latent Lebensmüdigkeit.

7. Weltschmerz (World pain)

The world isn’t perfect. More often than not it fails to live up to what we wish it was. Weltschmerz describes the pain we feel at this discrepancy. It can be one of the main drivers for Kummerspeck.

8. Weichei (Soft egg)

No, Weichei isn’t what you order in the hotel when you want a three-minute egg for breakfast. In fact the waiter might look at you slightly disconcerted for accusing him of being a wuss. A soft egg, in German, means someone who is weak and cowardly. The same is also conveyed by calling someone Würstchen, the diminutive of sausage. Apparently Germans like to name wimps after foodstuffs.

9. Erklärungsnot (Explanation poverty)

Erklärungsnot is a state shared by cheating spouses, lying politicians, and school children without their homework alike. It’s what you find yourself in when put on the spot without a sufficient explanation or excuse for something you have done or failed to do. Most often used in the form of in Erklärungsnot geraten or in Erklärungsnot sein. 'Not' is more like 'need' or even 'crisis/emergency', but again, you get the gist

10. Sitzfleisch (Sit or seat meat)

As much as it sounds like it, Sitzfleisch isn’t a recipe of German Hausfrauen that involves tenderizing meat by placing it under your buttocks. Instead, it describes a character trait. Those who possess a lot of seat meat are able to sit through and weather something incredibly hard or boring. It’s like carrying your own personal cushion around with you. 

11. Purzelbaum (Tumble tree)

This tree is so common in Germany that every child knows it. However, if you are about to take out your big German botanical dictionary, let me stop you right there. Fespite the name, a Purzelbaum isn’t part of the kingdom of plants. Instead, it describes a somersault on the ground, a favorite way of children to get their clothes dirty.

12. Dreikäsehoch (Three cheeses high)

This sounds like it would make a great name for a pizza. However, what it describes is a person who is vertically challenged, implying they’re only as tall as three wheels of cheese placed on top of each other. Usually this label is reserved for small children, together with Zwerg or Pimpf.

13. Zungenbrecher (Tongue breaker)

While it sounds like a medieval torture instrument, the nature of the Zungenbrecher is much less gruesome. It is the German equivalent of tongue twister, a phrase that’s very hard to pronounce even for native speakers due to its sequence of letters. A very common one in German is Blaukraut bleibt Blaukraut und Brautkleid bleibt Brautkleid. Yeah, practice that for a while and say it 10 times fast. I still can't do it very fast, and not even close to 10 times

14. Kuddelmuddel (???)

I know, great final word right? Don’t even start guessing its English meaning. Kuddelmuddel describes an unstructured mess, chaos, or hodgepodge. Alternatives which are equally awesome include Tohuwabohu, Wirrwarr, Mischmasch, and Kladderadatsch. I know, some of these just sound too far-fetched to be true. Well, they are far-fetched – gathered in the distant land of Germany. If you’re still convinced I’m making up words, go ahead and look them up in the dictionary! They really do exist & I use all of them

"Obsolete Word of the Day" Blog

Just found this blog, seems worth checking out if you're interested in unusual words!

"bumwhush" is something that I need to use soon!

So many ways to die....

Nice article in the Guardian about the many expressions and euphemism we have for death / dying. I also recommend reading the comments, some nice & interesting things in there - one thing I learned was that 'dying' apparently used to be an euphemism for having an orgasm in Elizabethan times.

The danger of words

Here's -once again- Stephen Fry, talking a bit about the power of language in Nazi Germany. This is a point I find extremely interesting and disturbing - not just because I'm German, simply because I've always been aware and intrigued by the 'darker' side of language and literature, by how words can destroy or manipulate thought (see my thoughts on Orwell's Newspeak). Language can literally do everything - even lead whole nations into commiting genocide. And (although German is particularly suited for slogans and the like - a lot of harsh consonants etc) it can happen to all of us. You can talk someone into commiting suicide - or stop him from killing himself. It all depends on the words you use. And often enough, they're still beautiful words. Beautiful and powerful - and potentially very, very dangerous.