"Nonsense, Syllables! Fa la la lie lie whop bom a loo wop, and get thee hence!"

The nonsense syllables are trying to tell us something.

More than that, I suspect we not only listen to them more closely than we do 'real' words, but we also find meaning in them.

Think about it: the end of "the Boxer," by Paul Simon. 

"Lie la lie

Lie la lie lie, lie la lie

Lie la lie

Lie la lie lie, lie la lie, la-la-la-la lie."

(And no, it's not about fibbing.)

Go on, listen to the song. You hear it if you're listening, and what's more: you feel it if you're listening. It's air.  It's life. It's triumph. Defeat. Acceptance. Resolution. It can be different, even seemingly opposing, things at the same time. But it's PASSIONATE, above all. Strong, resilient, confident by sound. It 'defines itself'; the syllables themselves have no 'inherent' or socially-labelled meaning on their own. 

Genius.

Listening exercise number two:

the 'Lullaby' theme from Rosemary's Baby, composed by Krzystof Komeda, sung by Mia Farrow.

...granted, it may take you a few minutes to track this one down, but it's WELL worth it. (I'm excusing you for not already OWNing this film due to some temporary cash-flow problem or a shortage of the film's availability in the format of your choosing.)

The song has no lyrics apart from the "La la la la"s. But go ahead, take a listen. Tell me that sh*t ain't creepy! (And downright lovely, says I, if I Mei.) (i know, i know. bad pun)

Now of course I realise that the mere syllables "la la la" are not creepy. But even without the context of the film, I think it's arguable that most 'Western' ears would hear this and find it eerie, disconcerting, or something along those lines. Why? Well, that has to do with the instrumentation, the melody and phrasing, the tonality of the piece, etc. But why the nonsense syllables as opposed to straight-out lyrics (answer: because it would be absurd and easy to mock later on Mystery Science Theatre 3000)? Or why not just a violin or a cello or a flute playing the melodic line with similar phrasing patterns? 

Because the human element immediately brings us closer to it; our listening is engaged. We instinctively 'listen' differently (says me) to a voice singing nonsense syllables vs words, and even differently to nonsense syllables in a voice spilling a melody than we do a solo instrument embodying that same melodic line.

These non-words are everywhere! Christmas carols, folk music, spiritual chants, motets, rock and pop songs (we never would've gotten through the sixties without them)... (and I could just as well be referring to the 1660s as the 1960s).

I've not researched this at all; I'm only drawing on what I hear, what I see, and the things I know from my own studies in music on other topics. But this has been ticking at the back of my mind for quite some time.

It wanted out... Goo goo ga joob.

Gesundheit: Theme and Variations

"Bless You."

* * * * * * * * * * *

(sneeze)

"Bless you."

 * * * * * * * * * * *

(sneeze) ... "Auntie Anne, I got 'bless you' on my finger."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Andrew, peeing on the potty...

 (sneeze) ... "Whoah!!! When I 'bless you'd' when I was peeing, it made the pee go 'whoosh!'"

* * * * * * * * * * *

I can 'bless you,' then get 'bless you' on my finger, and someone will state the obvious: Bless you.

Wow, that 'bless you' is powerful stuff.

Opposition in Semantics... an ongoing investigation

happy: sad

angry: happy (?) (relieved?)

helpful: harmful

good: bad

good: evil

good: ...not good.

The opposite of helpful--harmful? or "not helpful?"  The opposite of happy--sad? or "unhappy." or "not happy?"

What is the opposite of "indifferent?" If I am not happy, I'm not necessarily sad. Nor am I decidedly "angry." Perhaps I am "undecided" or "indifferent."

If something is "not good" for me, does that mean it is "bad" for me? Could it be neither good nor bad for me? Is its "lack of goodness" for me the very quality of being "bad" for me, because while it may not be directly harmful, it is taking the place of something that could have been beneficial? (e.g. Coffee isn't 'bad' for you so much as it is replacing something like water, which would be 'good' for you. Thus, in the very act of replacing what your body needs, is it by this fact alone 'bad' for you?)

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"If you don't stand for something you'll fall for anything."

"You're either for us or against us."

"It's all or nothing."

I'm suspecting that this is some sort of 'western' mindset, perhaps rooted in Christianity? You know, light vs dark, good vs. evil, heaven vs. hell... Why are we so stuck on this in our language?

I'm wondering if, the farther from western influence and language you go, these holes are patched--or not even seen as holes at all?

* * * * * * * * * *

More opposition 12/2008

opposite = difference

on /= off        on drugs/off drugs

on /= not-on on drugs/not on drugs

I am the opposite of 'on drugs.' Does this mean I am 'off' drugs or does it mean that I'm 'not on' drugs? Think about the tremendous difference in implication here. One could omit certain information by stating "I am not on drugs," while knowing that the truth is he is "off drugs." But why advertise?

Likewise, a once-dear friend of mine with certain linguistic troubles would easily have said "I am not on drugs--I am OFF drugs," meaning that he had never done drugs. But what was implied in the way he worded it?

The word 'difference' also occurs in math. But are there mathematical 'opposites'?

What would the opposite of 6-3 be?

the difference is 6-3=3 

but the opposite?

6-3  6+3?  3-6? 

I would love to ask 100 people this question, just to see what their gut instinct is.

for the dictionary... Epidermogram

When you don't have paper handy, and your mind is exploding with ideas, you write on what's available--your skin.  (Talk about recyclable...)

Voila! The epidermogram is born.

evolutionary defect?

Myspace blog: Thursday, September 18, 2008

So this particular word-whore must have evolved in a fashion atypical to most humans... I know, I know: who would be surprised by such an admission from moi? In all my language questioning, in all my searching, there is apparently an entire facet to language development that I've never even considered--that of gesture. I've played the whole 'word'/'speech' game (chicken vs. egg) without giving due attention to a third, highly plausible option: that of physical communication. There seems to be an entire school of thought that language originated neither in verbal NOR written forms; rather, it began as hand signals, arm sweeps, and other physical expressions etc.In written research, the explanation arises that "gesturing" was seen by some scientists as too lowly a predecessor to spoken language; accepting signing as a valid means of expression leaves a less clearly-defined boundary between "us" (the intelligent, powerful humans) and "them" (the 'lesser' animals). In short, linguists find it more convenient to say that the gifts of advanced communication and abstract expression are what make us superior to and distinct from all other living beings.But the book I'm reading for my Anthropology class has led me to consider this third idea. Its arguments and examples are impressive, but I can't help but feel completely blindsided by this one. How did I miss this all-important component?All I can say in my defense is that, due to my romantic (dare I say 'illicit'?) involvement with words, I rarely rely on gesturing to the extent that some people do. My mom, for example, is nearly incapable of communicating WITHOUT using her hands. It's really kind of funny to watch. We've experimented with trying to get her to sit on her hands while she talks, and she's never made it further than 1 1/2 sentences before the hands pop back up and in motion.But I write. I write a LOT. and I speak. OFTEN. And all the research that says that humans revert to signalling/signing when words fail them (when they're too excited, when speaking another language where translation proves difficult, when exasperated with trying to get a point across...), but such is not my personal experience. I mean, I do think that I am an 'animated' person, but if I can't say it in words, I grunt or scream or moan or breathe audibly in some way. Gesturing is NOT my default mechanism.Add it to the list of my oddities.How do you say what you want to say? How 'evolved' are you?! :)
Currently reading : Next of Kin: My Conversations with Chimpanzees By Roger Fouts Release date: 1998-09-01

As 'we' say in NOLA, this is fixin' to...

Yep. This is fixin' to get a bit messy. I've officially decided to stop really organising these little blobs of spontaneous brain combustion.  I know, I know--they weren't really organised to begin with.

It's just about to get less organised, if that's even a possibility. 

I am consoled by the fact that absolutely no one reads this, so the damage should be minimal...

... Incidentally, how does one say "fixin' to" in another region of the country? I guess it's the equivalent of "gettin' ready to," or perhaps "about to."  

But it's so much more charming in the South, especially paired with equally charming colloquialisms, e.g. "I'm fixin' to go make groceries."

For more Southern fun, 'ax' us why we go 'by' places instead of 'to' them.  (I'm thinking it has something to do with the old adage "the point of the journey is not to arrive.")  And so... we go 'by' your mama's house, 'by' McKenzie's Bakery, 'by' K&B drugstore.  You'd think we never make it inside.  :P

"listen to what the drum said"

In Kenya, certain mountain dwelling tribes use drums to communicate messages from one area to another. There are metric and tonal patterns used to send warnings about danger (say, the imminent presence of a pride of lions headed in a certain direction), played on a pair of what we would term in Western music 'kettle' drums.
This goes even further into my argument, as I originally only considered the realistic possibility of music communicating less 'literal' or 'specific' ideas (eg feelings of love, melancholy, enthusiasm, etc).
Through drumming, these tribes also interpret their own spoken language on a more humanistic, 'expressive' level. The example I witnessed was the recitation of a native poem, first spoken, then 'repeated' on the drums. But the drumming was not merely 'imitating' the rhythm or pitch; it was, to the native speakers, literally 'saying' the line, simply without the use of a mouth or vocal chords. In short, the drum was 'speaking' the lines. This was an idea I had not previously considered.

I was also struck, more generally, on the concept of a certain phoneme borrowed in Western music from an older, African 'language' tradition--the polyrhythm. While teaching the class the concept of the polyrhythm 2 against 3 (two in the time of three, or vice-versa), both I and the teacher simultaneously explained "once you know how it sounds and feels, you just HAVE it" and it sticks forever. This is not unlike the process in learning a language where one must recognise the phonemes of his/her own language as a child (which we do instinctively, just as we instinctively 'exclude' other sounds even though our bodies are capable of producing them--sometimes even more easily than we produce those of our own language). During second-language acquisition, the biggest boundary for most people is the conquering of the phonemic boundary--to make the native sounds naturally, intuitively, as a native speaker does. Grammar can be learned, rules and exceptions can be memorised, vocabulary can be studied, but phonemic understanding is the key to fluency and ease of communication.
The example of the 2:3 fits into the same category as learning the sounds of, say, aspirated and unaspirated /b/ or /p/ for English speakers. Instinctively, we actually produce both variations of each of these letters, depending upon their placement in a word. But screw with the placement (putting an unaspirated b or p as an initial, for example) and many, likely most, native English speakers would have an extremely difficult time reproducing the sound spontaneously. It would take concentration and effort, not because we are not capable of doing it, but because it seems unnatural to us in that usage. If you want to learn certain dialects of Indian languages, though, you'd need to be able to both hear and speak those differentiations instantaneously and fluidly.

Our 'Western' minds are perfectly capable of playing a 2:3 pattern, but the effort required for most of us to 'know' the sound and feeling of it is fairly formidable for some. African musicians must think we look like idiots for struggling with it--it seems to come 'naturally' to them. Why? Because it is a part of their language, both musically AND, as it turns out, literally.