Osvaldo's comment on the chipotle post has got me thinking of another thing that has always bugged me. Why oh why do we have different names for cities in foreign countries? Cities that already have their own perfectly perfect names, thank you very much!
I mean, I could understand if we had to spell the names differently, so that an english-speaker could look at the word and approximate the sound of the native pronounciation. But that's not what happens; it's like we create a whole other word, sounding nothing like the original name.
Like, what the hell is up with Munich?! Not the least bit like Munchen.
And Koln and Cologne. -Why even bother to mess with the spelling on that one? All that 'gne' crap just makes it more confusing.
And the Bodensee being the Lake of Constance?! Is 'Bodensee' really that hard to say?!
(Of course, so far I've only cited examples from Germany, but still.)
I'll add more examples once I can get home and look at my atlas.
If someone can explain to me the logic in having double names for the same place, I'd love to hear it!
12/19/07
12/17/07
flying in a plane and calling people on the phone
the two things that don't seem to get easier no matter how many times I do them.
12/16/07
nope, there were four creepy places
The really really last:
El Valle de los Caidos [Valley of the Fallen], near Madrid. It's a monument to Franco (and I think he's buried there... or mausoleumed there, whatever, as well). It was built by republican [anti-Franco] political prisoners between 1940 and 1950-something. Anyone would get chills just looking at the place. If you ever go there, I recommend a hot tub, massage, sweat bath, and therapy session afterwards, just to regain equilibrium.
El Valle de los Caidos [Valley of the Fallen], near Madrid. It's a monument to Franco (and I think he's buried there... or mausoleumed there, whatever, as well). It was built by republican [anti-Franco] political prisoners between 1940 and 1950-something. Anyone would get chills just looking at the place. If you ever go there, I recommend a hot tub, massage, sweat bath, and therapy session afterwards, just to regain equilibrium.
a conversation with Tyler (who is 5)
T - What's this, what's this thing?
Me - That's my book.
T - Why is it here? Why did you bring it? What kind of book is it? Will you read it? Read it, read it to me!
Me - Well, I'm not sure you'll like it too much.
T - Read it, read it please!
[He hands me the book, settles himself next to me and looks over my shoulder at the pages.]
Me - Ok. Umm... "More often than not, Hector finds himself at the bottom of the social ladder. He is married in only two of his films (Hearth and Home and Mr. Nobody), and except for the private detective he plays in The Snoop and his role as a traveling magician in Cowpokes, he is a working stiff toiling for others in humble, low-salaried jobs."
T - [getting up and walking away] Eeegghhh! No, it's not very good!
Me - That's my book.
T - Why is it here? Why did you bring it? What kind of book is it? Will you read it? Read it, read it to me!
Me - Well, I'm not sure you'll like it too much.
T - Read it, read it please!
[He hands me the book, settles himself next to me and looks over my shoulder at the pages.]
Me - Ok. Umm... "More often than not, Hector finds himself at the bottom of the social ladder. He is married in only two of his films (Hearth and Home and Mr. Nobody), and except for the private detective he plays in The Snoop and his role as a traveling magician in Cowpokes, he is a working stiff toiling for others in humble, low-salaried jobs."
T - [getting up and walking away] Eeegghhh! No, it's not very good!
12/14/07
Bresee's #3
There are only two other places I can think of that have given me that same sad-sick feeling as the dream about Bresee's.
One is Mrs. Winchester's bedroom, in the Winchester house in San Jose, CA. They've left it just as it was after the earthquake hit on the morning of April 18, 1906; all crumbling plaster, with the wood laths showing through.
The other is El Alcazar in Toledo, Spain, where there's a room whose walls are still full of bullet holes from a dramatic seige during the civil war.
History in decay is just generally disturbing to me, I guess. Or is it the places themselves?
(later:) No, no, wait, I lied - there are three places-
The last was an old barn near Milford, NY that houses an antique shop. I stood the atmosphere long enough to buy an Edison Amberol cylinder recording of Will Oakland and Chorus singing Take This Letter to My Mother, and then I had to leave. It was just too oppressive.
-That was 20 years ago, and I still feel a bit ill when I think about it. I tried to go back once, a few years ago; after all, it is a kick-ass antique shop. But I literally couldn't bring myself to step inside. It was a beautiful sunny summer day, and I walked right up to the open barn doorway. But it felt like there was some huge negative energy vortex swirling just inside the door. I turned around and left.
Again, weird.
One is Mrs. Winchester's bedroom, in the Winchester house in San Jose, CA. They've left it just as it was after the earthquake hit on the morning of April 18, 1906; all crumbling plaster, with the wood laths showing through.
The other is El Alcazar in Toledo, Spain, where there's a room whose walls are still full of bullet holes from a dramatic seige during the civil war.
History in decay is just generally disturbing to me, I guess. Or is it the places themselves?
(later:) No, no, wait, I lied - there are three places-
The last was an old barn near Milford, NY that houses an antique shop. I stood the atmosphere long enough to buy an Edison Amberol cylinder recording of Will Oakland and Chorus singing Take This Letter to My Mother, and then I had to leave. It was just too oppressive.
-That was 20 years ago, and I still feel a bit ill when I think about it. I tried to go back once, a few years ago; after all, it is a kick-ass antique shop. But I literally couldn't bring myself to step inside. It was a beautiful sunny summer day, and I walked right up to the open barn doorway. But it felt like there was some huge negative energy vortex swirling just inside the door. I turned around and left.
Again, weird.
siren
Someone told me once that songwriters write lyrics first, and then compose the melody to go with them. That seems totally backwards to me. Whenever I've made up a song, it's always the music that comes first. Not, of course, that I could by any stretch of the imagination be called a 'song-writer'. And maybe that's why - I've been going about it wrong all these years! Well, whaddyaknow.
Bresee's #2
For years I have had a recurring dream/nightmare of walking through Bresee's Department Store after it was closed (which I never did in real life).
The rooms are dimly-lit, and full of dusty displays and ancient merchandise. Somehow I always find myself in the upstairs hallway by the Salon. In the dream, I look up and see brown water-stains on the walls from years of roof-leaks, sagging ceiling tiles, paint chips suspended like paper graffiti in hanging strands of cobweb, strips of water-logged wallpaper all over the floor.
It's always the same, and always very creepy, and I wake up with a sad-sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Weird.
The rooms are dimly-lit, and full of dusty displays and ancient merchandise. Somehow I always find myself in the upstairs hallway by the Salon. In the dream, I look up and see brown water-stains on the walls from years of roof-leaks, sagging ceiling tiles, paint chips suspended like paper graffiti in hanging strands of cobweb, strips of water-logged wallpaper all over the floor.
It's always the same, and always very creepy, and I wake up with a sad-sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Weird.
Bresee's
The other Christmas album... albums... I liked were by Mannheim Steamroller.
But for some reason, every time I listen to Mannheim Steamroller, I see myself sitting on the rug in front of the stereo in my host-family's house in Santander, Spain, looking at the LP album cover of Supertramp's Breakfast in America.
Go figure.
But for some reason, every time I listen to Mannheim Steamroller, I see myself sitting on the rug in front of the stereo in my host-family's house in Santander, Spain, looking at the LP album cover of Supertramp's Breakfast in America.
Go figure.
CHIPOTLE
How do You pronounce it?!
I find it fascinating that people don't seem to know what to do with that word.
Must be a cultural defect. Like asparagus.
I find it fascinating that people don't seem to know what to do with that word.
Must be a cultural defect. Like asparagus.
I love chocolate
all kinds-
every kind of chocolate concoction there is.
But I don't like Butterfinger candybars. Ick.
Must be a genetic defect. Like cilantro.
every kind of chocolate concoction there is.
But I don't like Butterfinger candybars. Ick.
Must be a genetic defect. Like cilantro.
Christmas
Some little-known facts about me:
For two holiday seasons I worked in the Christmas Shop at Bresee's Department Store. I decorated all the fake trees, and created the product displays, and I got to hang out with Santa! I took photos of all the kids when they came to see Him, and I dressed up as Mrs. Claus, complete with wire-rimmed glasses and a weird moldy-smelling bonnet.
And I had to listen to Christmas carols for 7 hours a day, which is why I know all the verses by heart.
My favorite album was Christmas Rock:
DECK the (crash)
HALLS!
with (crash)
BOUGHS of HOL-LY!
FA la la la
LA!
la
LA!
la
LA! LA!
For two holiday seasons I worked in the Christmas Shop at Bresee's Department Store. I decorated all the fake trees, and created the product displays, and I got to hang out with Santa! I took photos of all the kids when they came to see Him, and I dressed up as Mrs. Claus, complete with wire-rimmed glasses and a weird moldy-smelling bonnet.
And I had to listen to Christmas carols for 7 hours a day, which is why I know all the verses by heart.
My favorite album was Christmas Rock:
DECK the (crash)
HALLS!
with (crash)
BOUGHS of HOL-LY!
FA la la la
LA!
la
LA!
la
LA! LA!
12/13/07
quote of the week #7
(David Gray)
Grant me a wish, just one more kiss
And baby, kiss me till the daylight's through
These are days of make-believe
But there ain't nothing any fool can do
Grant me a wish, just one more kiss
And baby, kiss me till the daylight's through
These are days of make-believe
But there ain't nothing any fool can do
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