Free Writing (a little post-edited)

       So your time starts now, Mr. Don, no going back, no erasing, just hold your editor, your censor, your "cut it, it's not right, it's no good, you can't say that."  So let's just get on with the mind "whorl," no, "whirl," no, "worl."  Small words that speak to each other like frere jacques, and Ferrer Mel and Ferrer Federer, yes Federer was playing Ferrer the other day at the U.S. Open and all you could hear was FEHR-er and FEHD-er-er and they sounded almost exactly alike, especially since "r" and "d" are produced similarly.  Things that sound alike, things that sound all right, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout, and that's my free write tonight.   

Opting Out of Personalized Ads

       We can opt out of receiving on our computing devices ads that are aimed exactly at each of us individually. 

       Many different sources provide these personalized ads--you can't opt out of all personalized ads at once. 

       To opt out, you read and re-read obscure words and sentences.  They want to make you feel like a dummy so you'll just forget about opting out.  Then they want you to feel like a loser:  "Remember, you'll still get ads anyway, just not ones tailored for you."

       When you see an ad appear suddenly for a kind of thing you maybe just bought online yesterday, go to the corner of the ad, click on the tiny icon, have a little patience, and you'll be free of at least one source.       

     

In the Palm of Your Hand

       As I lie here reading text messages and emails on my iPhone, I realize this is the twenty-first century version of palm reading.

"I Call Myself" / "I Am" / "I Am Called," Part 3

       What appeals to me most of all is what Jack Gariss used to say to identify himself on his KPFK Pacifica program:  "I am called Jack Gariss."  Neither the assertion of an identity upon oneself nor the merging of oneself with an identity, but rather, the acceptance of a temporary designation in a much larger design.  This is how the world addresses me.  It's no more who I am than any word constitutes what it designates; a mere happenstance sign that others use to point me out.

       Neither do I call myself this.  Someone else gave me that first name, someones else, my surname, but I don't call myself this except as an echo of being spoken to.  It's all a makeshift of my passage.  When I rejoin the whole, this particularity will pass with me, for the I and the All ultimately are not to be distinguished.  "I am called Jack Gariss, but how little that matters in the sum of things."

       I am called Don, but like Jack, I shall be moving on.

"I Call Myself" / "I Am" / "I Am Called," Part 2

       If the name is not a part of my essence or being but something I call myself (as with French), it's a moniker, a label, a "handle" as Texans might say, something to get ahold of me by; without it, I'm not a graspable package.  In other terms, there's no pigeon hole for me, no "address" to find me, to see me home, to send me a message.  So let's agree that you'll call me by this name, and everything'll be all right; the assertive ego staking its claim in the world.

       So what of the "is of identity" (as with English)?  "I am Jake."  "I'm Hillary Rodham Clinton."  "I'm Don."

       Then that's who I am; that's my substance.  Give me a "title," whether first or last or maiden name or all together, and that's the core of me.  Without the name I am nothing.  A pretty flimsy ego if it rests on simply and only that which is exterior to me yet is supposed to individuate and particularize me.

       And since so much rests on my name, the fate of my very self, both it and I are more "fragile" phenomena in English than in French.  

"I Call Myself" / "I Am" / "I Am Called," Part 1

       "Je m'appelle Don."  I am back in high school French class.  The French way of saying your name.  Rather than the English "I am..." or "My name is..." "Je m'appelle..."  "I call myself Don."

       An interesting difference.  The "is of identity" in English:  the "subjects" on either side of the "copulative" "is" are equivalent, are the same, are identical, I am that name.  This name constitutes my core, my essence, my very being.  My name is who I am.

       The reflexive form of "appellation" in French is an act of the one named, not the "is" of being, but the act of doing:  "I call myself."

       Such differences, one is tempted to speculate, do they make a difference in character, in psychological approach to "self"?

      

"Scroll" like the Ancients

       It's nice to find a word like "scroll" associated with computers.  It can make computers seem less imposingly modern and technological.  "Scrolling" text down a display screen, you are in touch with the ancients, who inscribed their scrolls of parchment or leather or papyrus with the symbols of commerce and religion of their time, and, not too coincidentally, preserved it for us.

       "Scroll" (the word) is a blend of Middle English rolle "roll" and scrowe from Old French escrowe "strip of parchment."  Amazing the storied backgrounds of language as well as language storage that pop out from the glowing rectangles of our desktops, laptops, tablets, and smart phones!

       "Scroll down," and smile. 

Words at Your Service

       It's trash night.  I was pulling the barrels out to the curb for tomorrow morning's pickup.  Connie was bringing out the empty bags she used at the grocery and putting them in the car as I went by.

       "Getting them out of the way," she said.

       I knew what she meant; she didn't like 'em lying inside our front door all week.  As she was heading back into the house, I was about to say, "I've got a neat wife," and then it occurred to me . . . and I said:

       "I've got a neat wife, in more than one way."

       She said, "Oh yeah," but smiled too as she turned and went in.

      

Communication Technology: A Stitch in Time, Part 4

       From the podium for an ancient rhapsode to a modem for an internet surfer seems a long way indeed.  But just as the medieval "rhapsode" of England, called a scop, was spoken of in Beowulf as "the one who wields wide with his words," so the contemporary location of symbolic nexus is the "World Wide Web."  And while we are almost all caught in this "web," we should remember its roots also are "to weave" from Old English wefan.  

        It is nice to contemplate that secret "threads" run between all these different eras.  The weave, the warp and woof (also from wefan) that stitch together the narratives of our people and our people themselves, whether in speech, text, or digital data, these threads intertwine and communicate in metaphoric subtext.  They connect across centuries through the "subtle" ("finest thread") loom of our language. 

        

Communication Technology: A Stitch in Time, Part 3

       With writing and later the printed word, the passing on of knowledge and values became the primary task of words on a page, of what we typically think of as "text."  And the thread that runs through this era is weaving:  Latin texere--"to weave"; textus--"something woven."  And what are those words on a page but a "texture," a "tissue" (same root for both words), of ideas, of narrative?  The preserved text connects us with one another, and weaves our past into the tapestry of our future.

       ("Textiles" gives present day evidence of the root meaning of "text.")

Communication Technology: A Stitch in Time, Part 2

       Ancient tales were passed along from mouth to ear, and glad they were who sat to hear the tales told of their foretathers and foremothers in days of yore.  (And if the tales had some of the rhyme and rhythm of the preceding sentence, all the better.)  These oral tales were the precedents of the race that set the sights in behavior and conduct for the next stages of the tribe's advance.

       Those who passed on the ancient tales in Greece, the "rhapsodes," were "song stitchers."  Rhaptein, rhaps-:  "to sew," "stitch."  Oide:  "song."  The ancient Homeric storyteller stitched together episodes from the legendary epic of the race; he also stitched together the fabric of a people, their values and societal continuity from generation to generation.

Communication Technology: A Stitch in Time, Part 1

       We're rapidly moving toward the age of computer interaction on a planetary scale:  anything we need on a screen at our fingertips.  There's little we think we have in common with the ancient world in communication technology.  But . . .

        In the everydayness of life on the planet something like clothing is fundamental, and with it stitching, sewing, and weaving.  Images from these activities get embedded in the roots of our otherwise transcending and abstracting language, keeping us down to earth and tying our lives together over time.

      

      

Smart Phones Help the Blind (Too)

       What a blessing the smart phone has been for Jolie, our leader in the Los Angeles Radio Reading Service.  Jolie is blind, but she knows EVERYTHING about her iPhone.

       Nowadays text can be translated to speech; speech can be translated to text.  Today Jolie could send me a text message by speaking aloud into iPhone's microphone and having it transferred to print for me to read, letting me know we have to cancel tomorrow's program.  I responded to her message instantly by the same modes, and she could listen to my text.

       In our entire exchange with multiple back-and-forths between voice and print, print and voice,  only one word was muffed.  Jolie's spoken "acknowledge" became "add knowledge."

       No one was heard (or read) to complain, least of all Jolie or I.

     

Bad Language on Cable/Satellite

       Connie and I view/listen to Bill Maher and John Oliver on Satellite/Cable.  We like both shows.  They're on HBO.  Both gentlemen are comedians; both do satiric political humor on events and people in the news.

       Both have carte-blanche (not to mention carte-brun) to utter street language, filthy talk, swearing, wash-the-mouth-out-with-soap words. 

       Connie listens "through" it but wishes it weren't there; I tend to listen "to" it and accept, maybe even welcome it.  Does the sub-par language help the comedy?  Yes, the sheer "low-lifeness" of the words provides a chuckle, and hearing an unexpected word uttered that is often said by people in anger, anxiety, or frustration can underline the satirical point.

       Shocking to some degree?  Yes.   Freeing and enlivening?  That too.

Public Commercial Radio

       Two local "public" radio stations are including more commercials on their air waves.  They don't want them to be called commercials, but they are.

       Last week, one of those stations did a promo for itself, speaking of its virtues, proudly ending, "and all this with no commercials."  The irony was pretty heavy--just before the promo, three businesses had been identified as sponsors, including "selling" language for those respective companies.

       I have heard the words "supporters" and "underwriters," and I remember a time when that minimal straightforward wording and the sparseness of such announcements made those appellations credible.

       But now I even hear the word "sponsor" used on the air shamelessly.  And the numbers are growing.  When will the government, not to mention listeners, decide "public" radio doesn't need us any more and withdraw funding?

       

"What did they do to the booze, Hickey?"

       Sometimes a line from a play will stick with you for the rest of your life, meeting your needs in many situations.

       Last night that was the case when I found myself saying, "What did they do to the booze, Hickey?"

       In Eugene O'Neill's The Iceman Cometh, Hickey proselytizes the habitues at a local bar into getting off their duffs and making something of their lives.  Hickey's inspirational, and the men all try but are really not up to it.  When Hickey returns and finds them back at the bar, disgruntled and forlorn, one man says, "What did they do to the booze, Hickey?"

       So when something that used to satisfy doesn't, has no savor to it, that line from O'Neill pops into my head, and I recite it with the sullen passion it deserves.

      

"For Your Convenience," My Arse

       We are regular receivers of recorded phone messages from several different sources which are at pains to let us know:  "This message will now be repeated for your convenience."

       It's NOT for our convenience.  It's for their convenience because somehow their recorded message begins in the middle, and if they didn't "repeat" it, only half the message would get onto the machine; so now one and one half to two times their message is slathered all over our voice mail.

          

Seen on a Pin

                                        "I need
                                someone really bad.
                                    Are you really
                                           bad?"

A Peculiar Sign

       Emily Levine pointed out in her one-woman show the peculiarity of the sign in a San Fernando Valley place of business:


                             "Ears Pierced While You Wait"


What?  There's some alternative?  "Yeah, I want to leave 'em.  I'll be back in an hour."

"Origin Unknown"

       Comparing  notes with friend Heide on some words and definitions, etc., our exchange prompted me to say the following to her in my email:

       "I guess one of the things I most like to find in a definition is 'Origin Unknown.'  I like it that language itself can keep plenty of secrets from nosy linguists and lexicographers."

       

"WHAT FOOD DESERT?"

       The  L. A. Weekly article claims that despite common thinking the San Fernando Valley has plenty of good restaurants.

       I am thrown into cognitive dissonance by that title.  How do you spell [DEHZ-urt] and [de-ZURT]? 

       Consider what double-letter consonants are supposed to do to pronunciations:

                super = [SOOP-er]
                supper = [SUHP-er]

                rabies = [RAY-bees]
                rabbies = [RAB-eyes]

                ladle = [LAYD-uhl]
                ladder = [LAD-er]

Single-consonant-ending first syllable--the vowel is a long one; double the consonant--the vowel becomes shortened and flattened.

       But look at "desert" and "dessert."  The arid, dry, land with one "s" is  [DEHZ-urt].   The sweet end of a meal with two "s"s is [de-ZURT].

       And then put "food" with "desert"?!  The association is irresistible.

       Pardon me, English, if I just go around mumbling sometimes. 

"Stalactite" / "Stalagmite"

       One way to remember which word is which:

please click on cartoon to enlarge

       My way to remember as a kid was "stalactite" is on the ceiling; "stalagmite" comes up from the ground.

       But what are the derivations?  Both come from Greek stalassein, "to drip."  Not much there to help in distinguishing the two words.  So maybe my childhood mnemonic device should stand.

       For more Dan Piraro "Bizarro," you may find him here.

Pun-loving Cartoonist Again

       Now there's a pun worth wading through the cartoon for.  You can find the website for the comic, including Daily Panels for the last 30 days by looking here.

"WELTANSCHAUUNG," "WELTSCHMERZ," "ZEITGEIST," Part 5

[In fact, if the Zeitgeist is replete with Weltschmerz, your Weltanschauung will likely be decidedly gloomy.]

      Maybe this is why, though we can translate these words and find approximate equivalents in English, the aura they have around them is not reflected in American ebullience, resilience, and, indeed, the "quicksilverness" of our attitudinal life.  Do we stick with anything long enough and penetratingly enough to pin a Zeitgeist on it?  Or to savor a Weltschmerz?  Or discern and develop a Weltanschauung?

       Sorry.  Americans just don't have a word for it.

"WELTANSCHAUUNG," "weltschmairts," "zeitgeist," Part 4

      "Weltanschauung" (VELT-an-shauhng), another lovely German word to get your mouth around, obviously begins with "welt" also.  The last part of the word, "schauung," shares the root with our word "show."  What we have here is a "world view," a "perception of the world," "a particular philosophy or view of life. . .of an individual or group." (OED)

       As I said, all three words seem to be evocative of large scale moods, transcendent, universal mantles cloaking wide swaths of humanity.  Is there something more inherently Germanic and European that makes these words cluster, and perhaps something more darkly "Old World"?

       In fact, if the Zeitgeist is replete with Weltschmerz, your Weltanschauung will likely be decidedly gloomy.

"weltanschauung," "WELTSCHMERZ," "zeitgeist," Part 3

       "Weltschmerz" (VELT-shmairts), wonderful sound, translates to "world pain," and our word "smart" as a stinging pain is akin to that second syllable just as "world" and German welt share kinship (Merriam-Webster).  Weltschmerz is "sadness over the evils of the world, especially as an expression of romantic pessimism" (AHD).

       Thus attuned to misery and human suffering, you'd be experiencing Weltschmerz, related to but a good deal stronger than what President Jimmy Carter referred to in America as "a malaise."

"weltanschauung," "weltschmerz," "ZEITGEIST," Part 2

       What do these words mean?

       "Zeitgeist," (pronounced with long "i" in both syllables and a hard "g") translates to "timeghost," loosely, the spirit of the time:  "the general intellectual, moral, and cultural climate of an era" (Merriam-Webster).

       English "ghost" and German "geist" are kin as you can tell.  Interesting that zeit and "time" also share the same root with one another, as does "tide" (AHD).  And as we know, "Zeit and tide wait for no man."

       So we ask, "What's the Zeitgeist?"  What are the guiding themes, the informing spirit of the age?

Weltanschauung, Weltschmerz, Zeitgeist, Part 1

       Mentioning "yahrzeit" in yesterday's post reminded me of the essay I wrote on three German words:


       When I was doing a lot of heavy graduate school reading, I used regularly to run into certain italicized words that fascinated me.  I really didn't know what they meant (except from context, by which we can always tell exact meaning, right?), such words as weltanschauung, weltschmerz, and zeitgeist.

       I knew vaguely that they had to do with an aura, an outlook, a whole cast of feeling.  Maybe (now that I've looked them up) I'm even exaggerating the degree of comprehension I had.  What I did know was that there was something that could only be expressed by these foreign words, that nothing in English would quite suffice.

"Yahrzeit" / ("Anniversary")

       My mother's yahrzeit was today. We lit a memorial candle for her.  Connie and I read aloud a short prose piece and a poem from among her writings, recalled some things we remember about her, told her a thing or two about her great grandson, watched the candle flicker and glow a while, put her book back on the shelf, let her candle be a reminder of her throughout the day.

       The word "yahrzeit" hung with me a bit.  It contains the two Yiddish/German words yahr "year" and zeit "time"; it is the time to mark the year anniversary of a passing in Judaism; I realize as I say this the redundancy.  "Anniversary" has the same derivation:  out of the two halves of the word from Latin,  the "turning" of a "year."  

"Zits"' Uncanny Cartoonists

click on image to enlarge

       Don't think I've ever seen such wonderful dialog, conveying the "crowding" of a conversation by overlapping balloons!  So inventive, believable, and funny!  Bravo, Scott and Borgman,  whose "Zits" website can be found here.

"Bestrewn"

       I woke to this backyard sight with a word seldom used by me coming to mind simultaneously:

"Bestrewn"
Click on image to enlarge.