#doomlaut

Jim Cramer's best song about sitting on one's own hand?  Perhaps.

Audio Axe-handle to the Back of the Head!

Whät Wë Tälk Äböüt Whën Wë Tälk Äböüt Röck."

One of my former bosses is noted for saying that you can sleep with your ideas, but you should not marry them.  Some of them make awfully compelling cases for themselves, though, my abuse of diacritics notwithstanding.

I guess technically it is owned by my former boss.  A guy who, when he hugged me the other night, made me realize that the surrogate children of academic families are maybe not as good as the real thing, but not as far off as one might imagine. (I had, at one point, worried that maybe it was me--that being part of an island-family where all extended relations were abroad to the point of almost not being real--that I would just imprint on nice strangers like a small duck. Which may also occur.  But it doesn't seem to be JUST me.)  There were a lot of things this weekend that have made me slightly less worried about life in general.  Which was not the anticipated point of this weekend, but a very happy result.  You can only plan your experiments so much.

I am at my desk.  But it is not my desk.  But it is not anyone else's desk.  And the detritus of 7 years of my stuff is still in and on and around it.  Like some sort of bizarre shrine/printer station.  Schrödinger's desk.  Ümläüts för Ëvëryönë: A Diacritical Look at Light Metal Problems.  Thërë havë bëën billiöns öf sömëtimës barëly përceptiblë physical and chëmical changës, but, the vërsiön of me that ëxists whën I am at this dësk? If I cöuld, I would böttlë it.  "Welcöme back tö agë 21," it wöuld say. "Bë circumspëct in yöur dëcisiöns." And maybe it would whisper, "Hey.  Stop some of the bullshit.  Against all odds, they like you anyway.  And they know you're clever: make sure they know you care.  Maybe by finishing the manuscripts you started here."

"Don't stop being curious, but don't get caught.  Like the guy who foot the bill for your first couple months here said, 'BE GOOD · IF YOU CAN'T BE GOOD, BE CAREFUL.'"

Marm in a bottle.  Nearly insufferable.

rebarbative |rəˈbärbətiv| adjective formal unattractive and objectionable. ORIGIN late 19th cent.: from French rébarbatif, -ive, from Old French se rebarber ‘face each other “beard to beard” aggressively,’ from barbe ‘beard.’

2 weeks ago tonight, I had a 2 hour conversation with my favorite former officemate in a Cheesecake Factory* in Denver.  It was mostly about the psychology of humor and why people enjoy different things about things.  And mostly about how he and I tend to fixate on and love the same weird things about things. 

i.e.:  "I had bad dixresis the other night.  2 big dots."

IF x=e: ORIGIN late 16th cent. (denoting the division of one syllable into two): via Latin from Greek diairesis ‘separation,’ from diairein ‘take apart,’ from dia ‘apart’ + hairein ‘take.’

IF x=u: ORIGIN late 17th cent.: modern Latin, from di- [through] + Greek ourēsis ‘urination.’

The etymology of homophone-2 includes an example of homophone-1!  Intellectually delicious equivalent of lobster stuffed with tacos! 

He probably would have paused to run to the bathroom to avoid Lizzing too.  We both drank too much Southeastern Pennsylvania water as kids, and both watched too much tv since then.  But then again, he'd probably still be figuring out how to transcribe for maximum hilarity.  I have little problem with editing after the fact.  That's why the concept of reblogging terrifies me.

(* We were both tacitly adults who were both eating on government (different branches) per-diems, but the gradstudent/hobo lifestyle is still so ingrained, nearly years after the fact, C.F. was an appropriate level of fancy.  Our other officemate who'd been there earlier that week would have been horrified, but Handsome McFancypants had already gone back to SF.  P.S.: I think lobster stuffed with tacos would be delicious, but carrot-cake based cheese-cake is the MD/PhD of cakes. That is to say, while ideal in theory, CCBCC is not actually as good as either Carrot cake or Cheesecake; Fat Kid Lesson Learned.