One of many awkward me-affiliated places. Time-Dependent SemiPublic Memory Bank, Super Secret Dumping/Proving Ground, Displaced Miscellany Collection, 3 Hours in the Future (EST)
(I mean, a name besides “diphthongization”, which is a fine enough name in the context of all conceivable ungainly Latinate* word-constructions, but maybe isn’t the clearest of ideas.)
*Vulgar Latin is probably one of the most useful languages, and not just because I get saucy** when it comes to talking about misplaced tongues.
**Proto-romance languages are the first pit-stop on the fast track to innuendoville, population: me.
A short listing of probably most everything one needs to know, silent communication edition.
(I’m not saying the protagonist of my silent language book is going to be named Manuel Comm, but it is not outside of the realm of possibility.)
~Fun fact:
Since, generally, I am suspicious of named sandwiches (as they mostly seem like secret pork conveyances that I would avoid given more descriptive names), I was never really exposed to the details regarding what a Croque-Madame really is; and so it was only this weekend, when I saw the phrase somewhere and it tickled me such that I looked it up, that learned that it was not a name for a reptilian manager of a cat-house.
This doodle does not bare this truth out: I think it may be the better for it.
The Female Rod Stewart’s Deutschland Tour
My primary KC song is the duet “Don’t fall in love with your data”. I sing both parts. When I’m alone. And processing data. Which actually doesn’t happen as often as it used to. But still happens. That’s still one of my hats.
It’s late September and I really should be back at school.
Follow-up re: Classifieds dawdling.
Scattered research indicates, even on a project basis, it would be a pay cut. Maybe. At least at first. On the other hand, think about all the weird things that I have an excuse to learn about!
BONUSES:
+ the sudden legitimacy for my predilection for wetsuits.
+ the astronaut feelings without dealing with my issues with heights.
+…I’m sure there are other things.
ˈlis|ən ˈbā|bē!
Any time I use the word “everybody”, I have to finish this song in my head before I can think about anything else. It is so good though.
Everybody is somebody’s Salieri.
(I like the idea that Cuba Gooding Sr. was kind of the main ingredient of The Main Ingredient.)
Bits of this had been floating in the playlist since the Millenium Falco megamix debacle last month, but only yesterday evening, in a rental car on the way back from a Philadelphia area campus field-engineering gig, did my ears finally alight on the missing form.
A bell rang, an angel got its wings, and we all had a little moment.
Ha ha, charade you are, Van Hȣtte:
Surely the French just call it “VANILLE” in a vaguely ludicrous accent.
ΛΕΓΟ, from the Greeks, translates to LEGO.
It follows that I can totally see why people like this installation so much.
Droll sidenote:
[Redacted anecdote about my home, home’, work, and work’ lives, the week of April 15th, 2009]
…Twitter would have borne this insight out, but the partitioning of my life was and is such that cross-checking secret-open information was not something I would have necessarily suggested to anyone.
Related:
The Soviet-era “bones” [кости], “ribs” [рёбра] or “roentgenizdat” [рентгениздат] are so-called because one cheap, reliable source of suitable raw material is discarded medical x-rays, which have the added benefit of including ready-made and interesting images. The name roentgenizdat comes from the combination of roentgen ray (another word for X-ray) and izdat (Russian: издат, abbr. издательство, izdatel’stvo, “publishing house”), patterned after the word samizdat (“self-published”, or underground literature). X-ray records emerged at the time of the Stilyagi as an underground medium for distribution of jazz music, which was prohibited in the Soviet Union after World War II. This format was also particularly attractive to politically suppressed punk rock music and the “do it yourself” punk ethic, since other publishing outlets were much less accessible.
I could read Wikipedia for years and years.
Mein Gott, Frankenstein* (Germany)
I think about this picture all the time.
Not the movie; this specific picture.
*See also:
Abbott and Costello spotykaja Frankensteina (Poland)
Abbott y Costello contra Frankenstein (Argentina)
Abbott und Costello treffen Frankenstein (Austria)
Abbott and Costello Meet the Ghosts (United Kingdom)
Abbott y Costello contra los fantasmas (Mexico)
Contra los fantasmas (Spain)
Oi Abbott kai Costello synantoun ta terata (Greece)
Abbott og Costello i redselskabinettet (Norway)
Abbott e Costello e os Monstros (Portugal)
Deux nigauds contre Frankenstein (France) [2 simpletons…]
Uhyggen breder sig (Denmark) [Horror spreads]
Huu! Så hemskt (Sweden) [Huu! So terrible]
Tangentially: Happy S²FD! (It seems earlier every year.)
His first day at the lab, the German and I moved a spectrometer that should have required 4 other people to lift. This mental image was attached to him pretty much immediately.
He still messages sometimes. Mixed, mostly.
NB: This is not Curious Giorgio (per CG e l’Infinito Discoteca) perché gli manca i baffi.
Perhaps this will be a cover for an awkward digital album of covers of Styx’s Renegade.