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Monday, April 12, 2010

Analyze EKG / Can You See a Memory?

Happy Monday to you all. Because there’s a high probability that you Monday may not, actually, be all that happy, I’m offering a reason to keep living for at least a few weeks longer.

Some of you might remember a game I’ve played before on this blog: abstract song suggestion. It’s pretty fun. It goes like this:
You all tell me what kind of music you want.

In a few days, I’ll post a song for each of you.

However, you can’t request music by band name or genre. You have to describe, in terms of color, mood, texture, taste, or any other creative way you can think of, what you’re looking for in a song, and I’ll do the best I can with what I have. Yes, that means that I may end up posting a song that you wouldn’t normally listen to. That’s part of the fun. Finally, I can’t use more than one song by any given band.
If this still doesn’t make sense, check out the first go-around and the subsequent results post. More people offered suggestions in the second go-around and I think the results were even better. If you want to see how I matched up past suggestions, click some examples below.

Click some of the past suggestions Some examples of suggestions and what songs I matched them with:
“A sweet sixteen birthday party gone bad.”

“If Twin Peaks were set today, what song would Audrey find to dance to in a contemporary jukebox?”

“Having a picnic on a sunny day in a warm, grassy field without bugs, on top of a superfuzzy mustard yellow blanket, on which you make out with someone very attractive (yet intellectual) all afternoon and you never, ever, ever get sunburnt.”

“you like CHOCOLATE BABY? then google CHOCOLATE BABY for best prices for CHOCOLATE BABY...”
Yes, I did my best to match a song to a spam comment. This all makes sense now, right? Go nuts with it, people.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Fried Enema Revisited

In early January, I posted a photo that Sanam took during her trip to China. She had spotted a restaurant menu that listed fried enema. She was understandably perplexed.



Per the suggestion of word blogger Goofy, I sent a link to my post over to the people at Language Log, who were kind enough to repost it with an explanation. We can all be thankful that the food-that-should-not-be isn’t, in fact. Fried enema is merely sausage or a meat-free sausage-like substance made of wheat flour and fried, sometimes in hog casings. The enema appears as a result of the last two characters in the dish’s Chinese name —炸灌腸, written in the English alphabet as zhá guànchang and translating as “fried sausage” — being pronounced as guàncháng, which could be the noun “enema” and the verb “to give an enema.”

The commenters did not discuss why there would be such a similarity between the words for “sausage” and “enema,” but given that the verb form of guàncháng literally translates as “to irrigate the intestine,” I’m guessing that the similarity may not be coincidental. I don’t know much about Chinese, but there’s a certain visual resemblance between a sausage and an intestine. And the English word colon comes from the Greek kolon, which can mean both “large intestine” and “food” or “meat.”

which is it? WHICH IS IT?!

I know, I know — just when fried enema began to sound a little less gross, I went and spoiled sausage for everyone.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

A Clue: “It Has Notions”

Crossword puzzles, you may have noticed, tend to feature certain words again and again. In a February 2009 article for the Boston Globe (found via Languagehat), lexicographer Erin McKean pointed out discussed the tendency of a group of English words to appear more often in these black and white grids they do in everyday speech or writing. As she puts it:
The vocabulary of crosswords is like the dialect of an alternate and highly specific universe, populated by Ednas and Enids and Ians; where the food is Oreos and oleo and the drinks ales and tea. It embraces particular bits of French (ami, ete), Latin (esse, ave), Spanish (este, oro), and even a little Hindi (Sri). It wields an epee with elan; is on familiar terms with tsars and emirs; enjoys music, especially the oboe and altos, and likes to travel: Iran, Oslo, Reno, Etna. And it's interested in science, exploring ions and the atom, as well as the erne and the orca.
McKean goes on to explain that these old standards are giving way to the likes of a fresher batch of words whose arrangements of vowels and consonants make them good fits for crossword puzzles. (Check the current papers for clues seeking elater (a click beetle), istle (a fiber made from tropical plants such as agave), the name Omri (associated with the father of the Biblical Ahab or the actor from Eerie, Indiana.) But it’s the start of the article that I’m interested by. McKean notes that at the 2008 American Crossword Puzzle Tournament, grand high puzzlemaster Will Shortz held up a tiny object that elicited applause from the nearly 700 people in the room. The object, an etui, happens to be one of those whose name pops up frequently in crosswords despite being obscure. It’s also my word of the week.
etui (ae-TWEE or AE-twee) — noun: a small, ornamental case.
The word, which I’ve seen in puzzles before — more often in the answer keys, and less often never in the spaces I’m filling in — comes from French via the Old French estui, a form of the verb estuier, “to enclose.” The word goes back to the Vulgar Latin studiare, “to treat with care,” which in turn comes from the Latin stadium — “study,” “zeal” or “pursuit.”

I’m less interested in the etymology, however, than with this word’s popularity with those fluent in crosswordese, as McKean calls it. There’s nothing all that special about etuis in general. I mean, look at them:




Etui simply beats out others by virtue of the arrangement of its letters, this lucky little word. And oh how well it’s done. The website XWord Info had documented 76 different appearances of the word in English-language puzzles since 1993 — and eight times since Shortz held up an etui before other puzzle fanatics. (Quite possibly the only time an etui has gotten such a warm reception outside of sewing circles, I’d bet.) Another website has documented the many ways that etui has been hinted at in nearly every way imaginable. Just some of them:
More than a lot of words can claim. Etui, I salute you. Also: Whatever happened to Omri Katz, anyway?

Previous words of the week:
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Friday, April 9, 2010

Lost: Romantic Couplings That Never Were

Now that the series is winding down — CLOCK REFERENCE! — the show has been focusing less often on what guy Kate currently wants to fall onto. However, given that so much of the previous seasons dwelled on this very subject, I feel we once again be subjected the battle between Kate+Jack, collectively known as Jate, and Kate+Sawyer, collectively known as Skate, though I would prefer Sawkat. Of course, matters were complicated mid-series with the arrival of Juliet. She initially made googoo eyes at Jack, thus creating Jacket (a.k.a. Juliack), but later shacked up with Sawyer, at which point they became Suliet.

But what could have been with all the other characters who didn’t manage to find love amid tropical peril and time-travel paradoxes? Consider, please, what could have been.

Juliet + Ilana = Juliana

Walt + Libby = Wibby

Claire + Frank = Clank

Sun + Miles = Smiles

Daniel + Boone = Daniel Boone

Nikki + Locke = Likki

Sayid + Sawyer = Saysaw

Arzt + Desmond + Eko = Arzt Deko

The Man in Black + Shannon = The Shannon Black

Ana Lucia + Rose = AnalRose

Ana Lucia + Boone = AnalBoone

Ana Lucia + Charlotte = AnalChar

Ana Lucia + Hurley = AnalHurl

Ana Lucia + Miles = AnalMile

Ana Lucia + Locke = AnalLock

Okay, those last six were easy and obvious and essentially reduced this whole post to a set-up for anus jokes, I admit, but it’s at Michelle Rodriguez’s expense so it’s okay.


Naw, just kidding, broham. You my dogg. You the man.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

That Famous Japanese Love Song, “Sliced, Broiled Beef”

In this post, I will discuss “Sukiyaki” — that is, capitalized and in quotes, rather than lower-case and punctuation-free. The distinction will soon be important. I hadn’t thought of the song in a long time, but I recently saw a blog post that extolled its virtues and was reminded that I always wanted to know how such a famous song came to share its name with a common Japanese dish.

First, the song itself. Even if you think you’ve never heard it, you have. It’s one of those songs — like “Green Onions” or “Walk, Don’t Run” — that comes from the 60s and has probably been heard by most people who own a radio and a TV set. Maybe it’s in a commercial, maybe it’s incidental background music in a movie, maybe it’s s piped into the doctor’s office, or maybe it’s being sampled or covered or otherwise somehow incorporated into another song, but “Sukiyaki” gets played often enough that it would be tough to have had some awareness of popular culture without having heard “Sukiyaki” in some form.

In 1961, it was sung in Japanese, by Kyu Sakamoto, though it achieved popularity there under its original title “Ue o muite arukō” — or in English, “I Shall Walk Looking Up.” The song tells the story of a heartbroken man who looks up as he walks so that his tears will not fall — a touching idea that’s kind of lost to people who don’t speak Japanese.

Here’s the original:



And here are the lyrics translated into English (at least according to this site):
I look up when I walk so the tears won't fall
Remembering those happy spring days
But tonight I'm all alone

I look up when I walk, counting the stars with tearful eyes
Remembering those happy summer days
But tonight I'm all alone

Happiness lies beyond the clouds
Happiness lies above the sky

I look up when I walk so the tears won't fall
Though my heart is filled with sorrow
For tonight I'm all alone

Remembering those happy autumn days
But tonight I'm all alone

Sadness hides in the shadow of the stars
Sadness lurks in the shadow of the moon

I look up when I walk so the tears won't fall
Though my heart is filled with sorrow
For tonight I'm all alone
In its Japanese form, the song was already a hit. But when British group Kenny Ball and His Jazzmen released a cover, it was retitled it “Sukiyaki.” As Wikipedia notes, the band members were concerned that English-speaking audiences would find the original title too difficult to remember and pronounce. The name of the Japanese beef dish, on the other hand, was “short, catchy, recognizably Japanese, and more familiar to most English speakers,” according to Wikipedia. Newsweek’s take: The title made about as much sense as “issuing ‘Moon River’ in Japan under the title ‘Beef Stew.’”

Kenny Ball’s jazzy, instrumental take on the song:



Shortly thereafter, Kyu Sakatmoto’s Japanese-language version was released both in the U.S. and Britain, but the song unfortunately retained the name “Sukiyaki.” It stuck from then on. In 1981, the pop group A Taste of Honey popularized English lyrics for the song, though they were a reinterpretation rather than a literal translation.

See, here, A Taste of Honey performing their version on Solid Gold:



Finally, Tejano singer Selena released yet another version of the song in Spanish — with lyrics translated directly from Taste of Honey’s.



So there you go: American, British, Japanese and Mexican singers all singing about sliced beef in soy sauce, whether they knew it or not. Though it might seem silly, I think the illogically chosen English title for the song adds to its charm, even thought it might have done just as well had it been named “Chicken Teriyaki” or “Instant Ramen.” In any language, the song is catchy as hell. Just try and get it out of your head. But most of all, it makes me happy when some element of Japanese culture can make an impact on the U.S. without featuring Godzilla, transforming battle robots or pantyclad schoolgirls wielding samurai swords.

Other non-Godzilla, non-robotic, non-schoolgirl bits of Japanese culture:

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Griselda

I had looked for her on Facebook more than once, even though I rarely seek out a means to reconnect with people from my high school. It should have been telling that Griselda didn’t show up. With anyone else it would have been. However, Griselda wasn’t like most people from high school, all of us so eager to jump online and broadcast whatever version of our lives we feel like sharing with the world. No, Griselda wasn’t like most people in general. She was better, or at least I saw her that way.

Late last month, I learned that Griselda’s absence from online social networks didn’t result from her politely too-cool art girl persona. In fact, she had died back in 2005. Somehow, finding out about her death so long after the fact has made it especially hard for me to accept it. If I had heard of it shortly after it happened, I would have tried to attend the funeral. As it happened instead, I get to grieve on my own. She has been dead nearly as long as we’d all been out of high school.

I remember Griselda in art class, working on projects independently from the rest of us because she had more experience painting and more raw talent. She was good, and when I told her this she disagreed — again, politely. That might have been the first time I talked to her, and I can remember few other conversations we had during the short time we knew each other. The one that sticks out most was about her name. She explained that it sounded prettier when pronounced the Spanish way rather than with the hard “z” an English-speaker would use. I later had similar conversations with other girls — an Edith, an Agnes — but it was Griselda who first pointed out that an accent can make a world of difference in how people perceive a person or a thing. Maybe because she was a painter she was better able to explain how such a slight variation could influence someone’s reaction, make people see a thing as more beautiful. I associate Griselda strongly with art and aesthetics, so I have found it hard to read the news article about her death: It’s to-the-point, like a news article should be, but it struck me wrong that this text — along with a newsletter from my old parish announcing her memorial mass — should be the lasting memories of Griselda. So I’m taking this opportunity to remember her in a more appropriate way.

I don’t remember how anyone from high school signed by senior yearbook — except for Griselda. She took my yearbook away for a few minutes and when it came back, it had a genuinely unique signature.

griselda_ruiz

I had told her that I was moving to Santa Barbara, and in lieu of a simple “Have a great summer!” Griselda drew what she thought Santa Barbara might look like, since she had never been there at the time she made this picture. To me, this beach doodle is Griselda Ruiz. She did things differently. She made art. And she found a way to make me remember her. I’m sorry she died. I had hoped that what Griselda had drawn in my yearbook would have been an indicator of greater things to come and not the last original piece of her art that I’d get to see.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

The Two Alexandra Cabots

Has anyone else ever noticed that Alexandra Cabot, the assistant district attorney played by Stephanie March on Law & Order: SVU, has the exact same name as the bitchy manager girl from Jose and the Pussycats?


As if further proof were needed that these two characters are inextricably linked, please note that both have their arms crossed in the images of them I found.

Fictional characters and name oddities, previously: