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Foreplay for the Soul
Someone has said that conversation is sex for the soul. –Isabel Allende.
My attempt at a nap this afternoon was interrupted by one of my European crew’s frequent but irregular conference calls—one of those affairs when someone buys a cheap international calling card (or decides to use free weekend minutes on their mobile phone) and the whole lot of us spend way too long discussing, debating, teasing, snarking, and/or storytelling. It usually ends when: (a) the card runs out, (b) three people—somehow, it’s always three of us—get a heated debate the others can’t properly mediate and we all hang up until cooler heads prevail, or© someone remembers that they need to be doing something else right now and that sets of a memory trigger in the rest of us.
We tried doing it online in a chat session for a while, but some couldn’t read fast enough (or ran into trouble when the conversation moved into non-English territory) while others couldn’t type fast enough. Also, people complained when they couldn’t run to their bookshelves and read supporting arguments during debates (“Damn it. Buy a copy of ‘Huis Clos [No Exit]’ and read it yourselves. This didn’t seem so bloody long when I read it, but by the time I finish typing it out, you lot will be discussing Simone de Beauvoir, anyway.”), so we moved back to the phone. Which I generally prefer, but there are days when I miss the simplicity of an automatically generated transcript.
Like today, for instance. Baumfrau and Fiore took advantage of the fact that Discourse and Paintbrush hadn’t joined in today (up in Paris this weekend for a wedding) to nail me for something that’s been bothering them for a while: “why does [Paintbrush] get quoted and referenced more than the rest of us put together? You talk to [Syntax] almost as much, and he’s been referenced, what, twice?”
(See what happens when friends who know each other all read your website?)
Still, they had a point. So, to amend for this awful, awful transgression, I present the following excerpts from Baumfrau, Birnenblüte, Fiore, Quartalstag, and Syntax (with clarification when necessary). All of this insanity came out of today’s conversation, and are as close as I can remember—we were jabbering too fast to take notes—in all its geeky, incomprehensible glory. And I promise—cross my heart—that these people will be quoted more in the future. And Balaenae, too, whenever he joins in.
On Names, Aliases, and Origins
Birnenblüte: So the new name you cooked up yesterday; which one of us is that?
Elenita: “Us” in general, or the people in your house?
Baumfrau: Why would it be someone in our house?
Elenita: Because everyone has names, except [Birnenblüte] now.
Fiore: [Balaenae] doesn’t.
Elenita: Oh, he does; just haven’t used it.
Quartalstag: Why is our house the no-name house?
Baumfrau: Yeah, why were we last, anyway?
Birnenblüte: Maybe she just felt mean.
Elenita: I did not! But you guys said you wanted language-specific names, and the German ones take longer.
Fiore: Why do they take longer than mine? It’s not like you speak Italian.
Syntax: I came up with yours, sweetie.
Fiore: Oh. Then what is it?
Birnenblüte: Yeah. What’s the issue with German names?
Elenita: I need to come up with ones without any umlauts because they’re such a hassle to type. And most of my first choices had umlauts in them, so I had to think up new ones.
Syntax: Umlauts aren’t that bad.
Elenita: They are if you have to type them often, which is why I chose not to post as Läni.
Quartalstag: You could’ve just ignored it.
Elenita: But the constant error would’ve bugged me.
Syntax: But it’s not like Läni’s really a German name.
Baumfrau: You know that the umlaut’s used most frequently in the subjunctive [mood] to begin with. And that’s just slightly less popular than the Genitive [case] in everyday usage. It’s not like this is Swedish, where Ä is an entirely different letter.
Syntax: Actually, that’s Danish. Swedish has Å’s.
Elenita: Germany, Sweden Denmark! Maybe I’ll use it without the umlaut and just let people think I’m from Hawaii.
Obviously, Birnenblüte got an alias with an umlaut, but that’s because having her in my debt is a very, very good thing. And because the list of things she offered to do to not get the alias I was going to give her was highly entertaining.
Luck, Fate, and More on Names
Quartalstag: So, why am I “Quartalstag”, anyway? “Baumfrau” was easy, but I’m stuck on mine.
Elenita: Your birthday’s a Quarter Day. [“Quarter day” is the direct German translation.]
Baumfrau: Oh, I miss Quarter Days. Nobody [in France] celebrates them.
Birnenblüte: We’re not big on them [in Germany], either.
Elenita: Well, know them, anyway. Supposedly, people born on them are fated to be exceptionally lucky.
Fiore: No wonder he always wins at poker.
On Going Flat-Hunting
Syntax: Any luck finding a flat yet?
Baumfrau: Honestly? I’m procrastinating.
Fiore: I thought you wanted to move back to London.
Baumfrau: I don’t know. I keep thinking about all the things I’m going to miss. And the reverse culture shock won’t be fun; after so long, England really isn’t home anymore.
Elenita: So what are you going to do?
Syntax: Are you considering backing out of your contract?
Baumfrau: Nothing like that. But having to visit all sorts of dingy flats won’t improve my mood. Maybe I’ll just pick the closest thing to work that isn’t terribly dodgy; after all, I won’t have a car, either.
Syntax: The tube, love, remember?
Baumfrau: Yeah, yeah. God, I’ll miss the Autobahn, too. And I’m not sure I remember how to drive on the left anymore.
Quartalstag: Just keep driving on the right. I’m sure any number of drivers will give up their nice apartments to make you stop.
Baumfrau: Or I’ll end up in the local gaol.
Elenita: Well, either way, you’ll have your housing dilemma solved for you.
And I’m going to stop here because my fingers hurt.
Ladies and gentlemen, these are some of my closest friends—the ones who have known me since I still believed I had monsters in my closet. Under their influence is it any wonder I turned out insane?
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