There are no good words for the things I like. On the other hand, there are plenty of ways for describing and criticising things which irritate, annoy and cause aesthetic disjunction. Hence, my reputation for complaining. No doubt I am good at complaining, and, in view of this talent, it would be churlish to hide one’s light under a bushel. Many stupid people therefore assume that there is nothing I like, or that I enjoy very little but I warrant they are the same people for whom trite language like ‘beautiful’, wonderful , gorgeous, fantastic, lovely, nice, great and pretty comes easily to their mealy mouths. The myriad of events, artefacts, and natural forms pleasing to the eye and senses need no exclamations or appellations from me. Their beauty and correctness are self evident. Similarly, I find with intellectual, theoretical or abstract thoughts, no need to add some ungainly generalising approbationary label to the products of those cogitations for them to mean anything or create a better world. Their perspicuity should also be self evident without intervention on my part.
In the case of other efforts which are undeserving of accolade, however, there seems to require comment on my part. A voice needs to be heard, saying ‘this is not deserving’; this cannot pass without observing that, against a general background of otherwise neutral good taste and intellectual judgement, certain items stand out as poor, pathetic, unpalatable, and plain ugly – in both senses of the word.
Thus, I cannot help but notice the marked, the deviant from the standards against which the new, or newly presented may be assessed. The issue for overhearers and interlocutors seems to be that I mention such observations at all. Do they not notice, or do they prefer to pretend that all is fine and dandy in their worlds, or is it that they, too, fear to be accused of being good at complaining?