Caveat: Chinese Linguistics at Dawn

My mother knows me very well, and one thing she does when I visit is that she finds and refers me to various random linguistics texts that she also sometimes pursues.  She left a book on the floor of her guest room that was a big heavy text of Chinese historical linguistics, roughly.  

Naturally, me being me, I picked it up and was reading it.  I learned this morning that Chinese is full of substrata language traces, which is entirely plausible if one takes the time to think it through, but is not something I had ever thought about before.  One very fascinating observation:  the Cantonese "dialect" of Chinese shows strong lexical and even phonological traces of a non-sinitic, Thai-related substrata, which means that in some strange way, Cantonese is as closely related to Thai as it is to Mandarin (Beijing dialect).  This makes perfect sense if you look at a map, but it's counterintuitive to the way that we normally like to think about Chinese linguistics.  Not to imply that I know a lot about Chinese linguistics – I know next to zero, and what I do know is strictly theoretical, as in terms of actual speaking ability I'm lucky to be able to say "hello" – but it's quite interesting to me.

Caveat: Phenomimes and Psychomimes

All languages have onomatopoeia:  words like “woof woof” (a dog barking), or “whirr” (a spinning thing or a dragonfly), etc.  But Korean (and apparently Japanese, too) possesses an abundant class of words known as phenomimes and psychomimes.  These are words that use “sound symbolism” (q.v. in wikipedia) to represent concepts that aren’t, per se, auditory, but in a symbolic way. Most of the Korean ones include a great deal of reduplication and vowel harmony – in fact, it could be argued that these are actually some fossilized productive reduplicative semantic feature of proto-Korean, and not really “phenomimes” or “psychomimes” at all – it’s all in the definition of those concepts, I guess. Most of them are adverbial, in syntactic terms.
I love these things.  They’re one of the reasons the Korean language is magical, for me.
Some examples, from my “bible” (Korean Grammar for International Learners, by Ihm Ho Bin et al.):
반짝반짝 [ban-jjak-ban-jjak] sparklingly
슬슬 [seul-seul] gently
주렁주렁 [ju-reong-ju-reong] richly, with fullness
흔들흔들 [heun-deul-heun-deul] shakily
옹기종기 [ong-gi-jong-gi] closely together
방긋방긋 [bang-geut-bang-geut] broadly [as in a smile]
드르르 [deu-reu-reu] excellently, smoothly
부둑부둑 [bu-dok-bu-dok] damp-dry, a bit damp mostly dry
[Update: I have blogged about this topic again with many more examples, 2012-06-04 and 2012-10-19. I have also modified this original post somewhat since it’s one of the number one draws of my blog from the broader internet, when people google “phenomimes” and “psychomimes” with “korean”, and I have been crosslinked, too.]
[Update 2 (2015-10-08): I decided to create a consolidated list of examples, which I can update periodically.]

Caveat: …entre o céu e a terra

My entry earlier this morning started me thinking about Leonardo Boff. He is one of the most charismatic humans I have ever met in person – that was 24 years ago. From his website, a compelling quote is easy to find:

"Hoje nos encontramos numa fase nova na humanidade. Todos estamos regressando à Casa Comum, à Terra: os povos, as sociedades, as culturas e as religiões. Todos trocamos experiências e valores. Todos nos enriquecemos e nos completamos mutuamente. … Vamos rir, chorar e aprender. Aprender especialmente como casar Céu e Terra, vale dizer, como combinar o cotidiano com o surpreendente, a imanência opaca dos dias com a transcendência radiosa do espírito, a vida na plena liberdade com a morte simbolizada como um unir-se com os ancestrais, a felicidade discreta nesse mundo com a grande promessa na eternidade. E, ao final, teremos descoberto mil razões para viver mais e melhor, todos juntos, como uma grande família, na mesma Aldeia Comum, generosa e bela, o planeta Terra." – Leonardo Boff. Casamento entre o céu e a terra. Salamandra, Rio de Janeiro, 2001. pg 9.

Caveat: centro de asfalto, yo impertérrito

Cada fin de semana, me he dedicado a leer un poema.  Hice una vuelta a Miguel Labordeta, poeta vagamente surrealista aragonés de posguerra, sobre quien hice un par de ensayos durante mi época en estudios graduados en U Penn, con el mejor profesor que tuve ahí, Ignacio López.  Creo que entre los poetas específicamente españoles del s. XX, éste ha sido el que más me ha influido, después del infinito Federico García Lorca, por supuesto – y dejando al lado el más voluminoso número de poetas iberoamericanos.

“Letanía del imperfecto”

Sed antigua abrasa mi corazón de lentitudes.
En música y llanto mi ubre roída de pastor.
Tumbas de aguas y sueño,
soledad, nube, mar.
Doncellas en flor, cementerio de estrellas,
cuadrúpedos hambrientos de paloma y de espiga,
en náusea y en fuga de amargos pobladores oscuros,
mineros desertores de la luz insaciable.
Cráteres de lluvia. Volcanes de tristeza y de hueso,
despojos de pupilas y hechizos desgajados.
«Me gustas como una muerte dulce…»
Arrebatado. Sido. Aurora y espanto de mí mismo.
Viejos valses con calavera de violín
en la cintura de capullo con sol ciego de ti.
«Pero me iré…
debo irme… pues el jardín no es leopardo aún
y tu caricia una onda vaga tan sola
en los suelos secretos del atardecer…»
Canes misteriosos devoran mi perdón.
Mi distancia se pierde en las columnas de tu abril jovencito.
Cero. Vorágine. Desistimiento.
Nueva generación de hormigas dulces cada agosto.
Viento y otoños por los puentes romanos derruidos.
Golpeo a puñetazos besos de miel y desesperanza
en pavesas radiantes de futuras abejas.
Veintisiete años agonizantes
sonríen largamente a lo lejos.
Buceo. Soles y órbitas indagando los cubos del olvido.
El misterio. Eso siempre.
El misterio a las doce en punto del día
y en su centro de asfalto
yo
impertérrito.

— Miguel Labordeta Violento idílico (1949)

 

“Violento idílico” (1949)

Caveat: Machine Translation for Your iPhone

This looks really amazing. 

I have some thoughts, however.  First, I’m not really up on how this works, these days, but 20 years ago I wrote my senior thesis in the field linguistics on syntax-related computational parsing issues that had a significant bearing on the field of machine translation, so I’m quite aware of the complexities involved.  I’m a big fan of google translate, too – but there are huge limitations. 

I would run out and get this app just for the novelty factor, except for two major issues that prevent me:

1)  I’m still 100% boycotting all things Apple.  Give me a few more years. 

2) Right now, it appears to only work for Spanish-English/English-Spanish, and I already got that app directly installed in my brain, during my time in Mexico in the 80’s.  And even if it was providing Korean-English, if the quality of the translation is similar to google translate (and I suspect it could only be worse, since google is state-of-the-art), then Korean-English is nowhere near the level of reliability or useability as, say, much more closely-related language pairs like Spanish-English – most of what you get out of google translate for Korean-English/English-Korean, in either direction, is still utter gobbledy-gook – just hints of meaning, essentially syntaxless strings of word-glosses.

(Hat tip Sullyblog)

Caveat: Trying to Understand Slavoj Žižek

And it wasn't because of his ideas.  It was just the accent.

Slavoj Žižek is a well-known, contemporary, post-modern philosopher of the so-called "continental" school that I often like to read.  I have read (or attempted to read) several of his books, and find his thinking fascinating.  If I was a "practicing philosopher" – as opposed to a strictly recreational one – his is the sort of philosophy I'd be trying to practice.

So I was excited to find a two hour presentation of his on FORA.tv.  An amazingly smart fellow-foreigner-in-Yeonggwang, a Quebecker named Matty, pointed me at the website FORA.tv a week or so ago – there's a lot of interesting things there, and I can tell it will be a place I visit regularly. 

Unfortunately, as compelling as I find Žižek's thought in writing, his spoken English is quite difficult to understand.  It was like listening to someone you really want to understand in a language you don't know very well – in other words, exactly like every single day of my life, here in Korea.  I hope I can find the text of his presentation on "God becoming an atheist" and other Lacanian approaches to Christianity – which is, as best I can figure out, what he was talking about.

While at FORA.tv, I also found a much more enjoyable presentation by the linguist Daniel Everett, on the issue of disappearing languages and his seemingly somewhat Whorfian take on why they should be preserved.  I might disagree with that aspect, but I like that he's challenging Chomsky on such issues as the universality of syntactic recursion, and he's a compelling presenter.

I don't really trust my little apartment's thermostat, but it alleges that the temperature inside has dropped below 20 C, for the first time that I've noticed.  So far, I haven't turned on the ondol (floor heating) – it seems to be well-insulated and/or to benefit from the heat of the neighbors' apartments (unlike most Korean apartments that I've ever experienced or heard about).  I was watching the news last night in Korean, and they say (well, I think they say – there's always some room for misunderstanding) that snow and cold are coming.

 

Slavoj ŽižekB

Caveat: … the vast Libyan dessert

… or, catching the internet with its pants down.

It’s pretty hard to capture the ephemerality of hilarious spelling mistakes and typos on well-maintained websites. But I did it. And with only a little bit of guilt, I post the result here. I mean no disrespect to Max Fisher of The Atlantic, where I found the error – in this age of automatic spell checking, errors of this sort are easily made and missed – I’m guilty of much worse ones, myself. But I do find a delicious irony in the specific error made, given that he used to be a food writer.

So having said that, the absolute best part of his article about last year’s secret nuclear standoff between the US, Russia and Libya was the serendiptous typo that allowed him to write, “U.S. officials worried about the security of the casks. It would have been easy for anyone with a gun and a truck to drive up, overpower the guard, use the crane to load the casks onto the truck, and drive off into the vast Libyan dessert.”

I so enjoyed the poetic image of a gang of terrorists driving truckloads of enriched uranium around a Candylandified Sahara.

Sadly, the error was very rapidly corrected. In the time I took to write this post, the delightful dessert was Orwellianly transmogrified into a workaday desert. But I had the amazing fortuity to have done the page “refresh” in a different window, and hadn’t closed the original.  Consequently, I am able to present, with great pride, exceedingly rare “before and after” screenshots of the error in question, below. [Click thru images to view original full size]

Before:

picture

After:

picture

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Caveat: 14) 이 세상이 곳에 머물 수있게 해 준 모든 인연들의 귀중함을 잊고 살아 온 죄를 참회하며 절합니다

“I bow in repentance of any misdeeds lived, forgetting the preciousness of all my ties to the things that allow me to stay here in this world.”

This is #14 out of a series of 108 daily Buddhist affirmations that I am attempting to translate with my hands tied behind my back (well not really that, but I’m deliberately not seeking out translations on the internet, using only dictionary and grammar).


12. 먹을 수있게 해 준 모든 인연들을 잊고 살아 온 죄를 참회하며 절합니다.
       “I bow in repentance of any misdeeds lived, forgetting my ties to all those things that I am able to eat.”
13. 입을 수있게 해 준 모든 인연 공덕을 잊고 살아 온 죄를 참회하며 절합니다.
       “I bow in repentance of any misdeeds lived, forgetting the public virtues of – and my ties to – all those things that I am able to wear.”
14. 이 세상이 곳에 머물 수있게 해 준 모든 인연들의 귀중함을 잊고 살아 온 죄를 참회하며 절합니다.

I would read this fourteenth affirmation as: “I bow in repentance of any misdeeds lived, forgetting the preciousness of all my ties to the things that allow me to stay here in this world.”

This translation is a little less literal that some previous efforts. The best I could make out, literally, of the first clause (which is more comfortably the second clause in the English), is something like: “forgetting the preciousness of all ties that are able to stay here in this world.” And that probably means: “forgetting the preciousness of all ties [such] that [I am] able to stay in this world.” But using “…to the things that allow me…” seems to work better in English, if I’ve understood it correctly.

The roles attached to Korean verbs often seem quite oblique to me, not attaching to clear semantic notions of subject/object (is this the dreaded ergativity at work, maybe?). Consequently, although the grammatical subject of the verb “머무르다” (“stay”) seems to me to be “모둔 인연들” (“all ties”), which is relativized by the suffix -ㄴon the periphrastic “-ㄹ 수있게 해 주다” (lit. something scarily like “Be-Able-To-ly Do Give” (and oh, I love those serialized verbs!) which is to say, “be able to”), I nevertheless suspect the semantic subject is the elided speaker “I,” and the “all ties” drops into an oblique role represented by “things that allow…”

[UPDATE: So it occurs to me, on rereading this much later, that I have misunderstood this aphorism – this one, and all those that have the same structure “…misdeeds lived, forgetting…”. The “forgetting my X” is in fact an example of the “misdeeds lived” – which is to say, you’re repenting for failing to experience the feeling in question.]

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Caveat: up to page 9 – empirical syntax?

Twice before, I’ve referenced my efforts to read a recently-acquired book entitled Understanding Minimalism (Hornstein, et al.). In my last entry about it, I’d made it up to page 5, and I was making some initial complaints.

HornsteinetalNow I’ve progressed to page 9, and I’m regaining some positivity about why it is I decided to try to undertake reading this book. I have long felt that the “traditional” Chomskyan approach to syntax theory is epistemologically naive. It relies far too much on a sort of ideologically blinkered introspection with respect to the “syntactic evidence,” and thus disregards the real linguistic production that’s out there in the “real world” – with all its strange, un-sentence-like constructions, incompletions, ellipses, mispronunciations (or typos, in text-based communication), etc., ad nauseum.

All these things are fully understandable, and “typical,” unsophisticated native-speakers rarely are able to enunciate, much less elucidate, judgments of “grammaticality” such as abound in most linguists’ efforts at syntactic theory (as I discover, almost daily, when trying to get Koreans to help me understand their language, in my own efforts to acquire it).

So this “minimalist project” is appealing to me because it promises a return to empiricism. Here is a quote from page 9, spanning the end of one paragraph and the beginning of another, that expresses something I’ve wished I could do myself, before (if I was actually a linguist and not just a dilettante):

…one minimalist project would be to show that all levels other than LF [Logical Form = representation of meaning in the brain] and PF [Phonological/Phonetic Form = actual spoken language passing through the air] can be dispensed with, without empirical prejudice. More concretely, in the context of a GB [Government and Binding]-style theory, for example, this would amount to showing that D-Structure (DS) and S-Structure (SS) [DS and SS are components of “traditional” Chomskyan syntax, e.g. Government and Binding and antecedent theories] are in principle eliminable without any empirical loss.

I remain suspicious about what level of empiricism will be achieved – there still is a reliance on “introspective judgments of grammaticality” which I always have disliked.  And worse, there is the mere fact of labeling the “internal representation” end of any linguistic faculty as a “Logical Form.” The problem with this conception is that it flies in the face of most of what we understand from neurology or empirical psychology: human brains don’t do much logic, on the inside. “Logic” such as is used in LF engines in syntactic theory is artificial, external, mathematicized, philosophical. It’s precious Montague semantics and beloved lambda calculus. Such things may have some “real” correlates in neuronal/synaptic architecture, but I don’t think we’re going to make much progress with the “brain as logic engine” model – if we were going to make such progress, we’d also be making progress with artificial intelligence (which is simply the inversion: “logic engine as brain”) – which we’re most definitely not.

I would prefer a more neutral conception of the “internal representation,” that doesn’t betray such preconceptions – as the term “Logical Form” does – about how it might actually work. Semantics strikes me as by far the shakiest of the foundations of contemporary linguistic theory – we really don’t seem to know a lot about how semantics work.

What is meaning? In passing, I will return to pointing at Taylor’s important work, Linguistic Categorization – which addresses the important intersection between semantics and what one might call meta-syntax – what do we really know (as unreflective speakers, not as epistemologically well-grounded linguists) about the grammaticality of what we are saying?

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Caveat: Chomsky

I am drawn to Chomsky, intellectually.  Yet I find actually attempting to consume his intellectual production, in either linguistics or in ideology (politics), extremely annoying.  He's an annoying, self-righteous narcissist.  But an undeniable genius. 

There's a very interesting interview with him, recently published at Tablet.  It focuses on his specifically Jewish identity raised as a "cultural Zionist." 

In conclusion, though… he's not a moral relativist:  "You can’t get out of your skin. But when we get down to the moral issue, it’s independent of one’s personal background."  

Caveat: Catalan Nationalist Ska

It reveals the language geek in me, that I think the Catalan language is cool. Just because it is – it’s like Spanish or French (really, a sort of linguistic average between them, in some ways) – but with less of the historic imperial guilt that comes with loving those languages.

pictureNevertheless, I’m not sure the world reallly needs more nationalism, regardless of which formerly-oppressed ethnic group it’s elevating. Nationalism can be endearing in a hopeless-case, long-struggle variety, and end up losing a great deal of its charm once instituted as a long-term, triumphalist government (case-in-point:  1920’s Korea contrasted with nowadays, anyone?). Even Catalan nationalism is a bit unusual, though – consider it’s one of those rare nationalist movements that seems to be predominantly on the left, ideologically. Perhaps that’s an inverted legacy of the Falangist Franco dictatorship, which suppressed all things Catalan for so long.

Still, the below is a catchy little song, all things considered. And it’s in Catalan! How cool is that?

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Caveat: Principles & Parameters

Before I plow into actually trying to read the book on Chomsky's Minimalism, after having skimmed through the first few pages, I want to record my "before" snapshot:  where do I stand in current understanding and/or lack-of-understanding of contemporary syntactic theory?

I last studied syntactic theory in the early 90's, when I was exposed to John R Taylor's book Linguistic Categorization, which for me personally was deeply influential.  Because of that, though, I already find on page 5 of Understanding Minimalism (by Hornstein et al.) something I find deeply suspect:  "[the Principles and Parameters Theory] now constitutes the consensus view of the overall structure of the language faculty." 

Really?  Maybe… if the definition of "consensus" = "what Chomsky thinks."  Which is not, per se, beyond plausible.  But…. although Chomsky is without a doubt a seminal and key thinker in the field of linguistics, I don't see him as infallible, nor do I see him as the sole source-of-truth.  Am I being overly sensitive to what I have always perceived as an embedded authoritarianism in Chomskian syntax?  Probably.

I have no quibbles with the principles and parameters theory, actually.  It's scientifically trivial, in fact, as long as you leave open what those principles and paramaters might be.  My personal "gut instinct," though, is the principles and parameters in question are not specific to a "language faculty" as Chomsky and his followers have always advocated, but rather instantiations of more general "rules of cognition" that are innate to the human brain by virtue of it's neurological anatomy and chemistry.  Which is to say, language truly is "thinking out loud."  This is not a totally naive view, but it's perhaps not part of the "consensus" in the field, either. 

OK, out of time.  More later.

Caveat: overlooking what their students are halfway good at

I was in a store yesterday and I noticed the clerk (a young, college-age woman) was studying some rather difficult looking material, with a notebook open to a set of handwritten notes on what looked like a medical topic.  The notes were completely in English, with lots of long words and full sentences, hand-drawn diagrams and charts, all with a neat, miniature penmanship.  Yet she saw me and failed to produce an English sentence, although she clearly wanted to. 

I was struck by the realization (a realization I've had before, too) that although most Koreans exit their primary and secondary school systems still unable to speak English, despite a decade of obligatory English class, nevertheless many do manage to acquire a substantial level of skill in reading and writing.

And then this morning, I found a comment by a Korean (well, I assume the person is Korean, since the screenname used for the comment is "The Korean") on a blog post on problems with English education in Japan and Korea by a blogger named "chrisinsouthkorea."  The comment is worth quoting in its entirety (moreso than the original blog post, which basically says the same thing a thousand vaguely disgruntled foreign teachers on a thousand blogs have said about English education in Korea).  It's quite insightful and worth seeing for anyone teaching English in Korea.

I would suggest that English test should be strongly focused on reading and writing. (Maybe you included these concepts in "comprehension ability.") But my main point is that speaking is a really overrated ability. And a part of the reason why it is so overrated is because (I trust you won't misunderstand my intention when I say this) NSETs [Native Speaker English Teachers] tend to focus on their own frustration with being unable to communicate with their students such that they overlook what their students are halfway good at.

I don't [think] NSETs really get to see the practical application of all that English education in Korea. Broadly speaking, (of course this could differ individually,) Korean people learn English so that they can work at a company that deals with foreign clients. After all, Korea is one of the most export-dependent country in the world. They do NOT learn English to make small talks with Anglophones. In this context, reading and writing with high-level vocabulary and grammatical structure is the most critical skill to learn, not speaking.

There's another point, worth adding:  reading and writing skills are much easier for non-preschool-age humans to acquire than speaking skills.  Witness my own substantially better competence with written Korean over spoken Korean, or consider the fact that although I can enjoy reading a novel in French, for example, I'd be hard pressed to have even a basic-level conversation in the language.  And although I can get the gist of a newspaper article in Dutch, I don't even know how to say "hello."

Caveat: Objectivism

"Objectivism: the spongy white bread at the Great Buffet of Human Ideas" – John Scalzi, in his screedtastic bloggings on the topic of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged.  I would add:  spongy white bread is delicious and comforting, but not good for you, and may contribute to health problems if not to an early death.

Perhaps this is what Scalzi has in mind.  I think I can agree with a large proportion of what he's saying, which is hard for me to find among people who actually enjoy Rand's writing.  His main insight:  Rand writes "nerd revenge porn" – which is why fans of Rand are mostly to be found somewhere on the Aspergers spectrum.  I will not be so proud as to deny I might be along there somewhere, myself.

My main thought on being a nerd:  being a nerd is like being an acoholic or a drug addict – you cannot be cured, but you can be recovering.  I am a recovering nerd.  As long as I accept this, I can make progress.  Rand's writing is a different approach:  it says that being a nerd is holy, and there's nothing to recover from.  In essence, it denies the normality of human collective social experience.  Rand is to being a nerd as William S. Burroughs is to being a herion addict.  Personally, I think both are wonderful writers.  But I don't think they're offering viable life-philosophies.  It's fantasy.

Caveat: The Yeonggwang Culture & Language Gang

The name sounds very ambitious. I suppose anytime one tries to form a club or social grouping, that’s rather ambitious. I’ve been working on this for a month or two. I guess I’m hoping we can have an institution of “foreigners” in the Yeonggwang area who meet to study a little bit, find out more about the culture or language without the overwhelming aspect of trying to do so with actual Koreans.

We’ve been meeting every Tuesday. One day, we made kimbap.  Another time, we watched a movie. Each class, we try to talk a little bit about the language – but everyone’s at a different level, so it doesn’t always go smoothly, in that respect.

Today, only two people (along with myself) showed up. We sat in the Paris Baguette (a Korean chain bakery store, about the closest Yeonggwang gets to cafe culture) by the bus terminal and drank some coffee and talked about verbs for a while.

I hope the group can be successful, but it’s hard building any kind of expat community on any kind of basis, here, because there are so few, and interests are so diverse. A guy named Jim has done a fabulous job with his Friday night pizza & beer gatherings, and I often go to those, too. But I was trying for something that would provide some group encouragement and motivation for the language study – I figured even though I was more advanced, I would nevertheless benefit from a motivational standpoint. And I have.

Having so few people able and interested in participating is a little bit disappointing. But … 아자 아자… I hope this can work.

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Caveat: 須藤元気 (Genki Sudo)

pictureOne of my fellow foreigners-in-Hantucky (who I don’t know well at all but whom I follow in facebookland) posted a video, there, by Japanese polymath Genki Sudo. I was impressed, and couldn’t resist putting him here. The guy is the real-life-person who most reminds me of the Buckaroo Banzai character (well, except for the brain surgery and battling-aliens-to-save-Earth parts). He’s a martial artist / wrestler / Buddhist activist and author / musician / dancer / calligrapher / graduate-student-in-public-administration and who knows what else – regardless, like any competent 21st century denizen, he’s an effective self-promoter. I have to agree with Carl-teacher – the best part in the video is when the kids are joining in. Watch it (the embed didn’t work that well, you can link out to youtubeland) –  it’s worth it.

What I’m listening to right now.


須藤元気 [Genki Sudo], “World Order.”

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Caveat: Let us go and post an entry

More internet zaniness, from someone called copperbadge.  Really quite impressive – a commenter said:  "You've given Love Song a modern voice, for the intarweb generation, but the sentiment seems the same.

I will reproduce the first stanza here:

THE .DOC FILE OF J ALFRED PRUFROCK
with deepest apologies to T.S. Eliot

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a laptop, put in sleep mode on a table
Let us go through certain half-deserted streets
The blinking-light retreats
Of restless nights in free-wifi cafes
And public libraries with internet
Streets that follow like messageboard argument
of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming blog post
Oh, do not ask, "What, yaoi?"
Let us go and post an entry.

In the room the players come and go
Talking of their scores on Halo.

Caveat: “Now abideth beauty, truth, and intensity; but the greatest of these is intensity.”

The French novelist, Michel Houellebecq, in an interview published in Paris Review, quotes Saint Paul.  But then he makes his own version.  I'm impressed.

“Now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.” For me the sentence would be “Now abideth beauty, truth, and intensity; but the greatest of these is intensity.”

I may be an American, with a "mexican soul" as some have accused, and with an intractable fascination for things Korean and Japanese, but philosophically I have always been incurably French.

Caveat: OMG! Creepy… Palin said something I completely agree with.

Please forgive me.  Really, she did.  Here it is:

" 'Refudiate,' 'misunderestimate,' 'wee-wee'd up.' English is a living language. Shakespeare liked to coin new words too. Got to celebrate it!"
Tweet, July 18, 2010

I found this Palinism just as I was feeling annoyed with snobby "English Nazis," too.  Ironic that the most popular voice of the most reactionary sector of American society should put such eloquent, less-than-140-character voice to my reaction to the grammar reactionaries.

Caveat: Cute Monsters, Kimbap, Cake, etc.

Thank you, all, for the happy birthday wishes!

This blog post will be a disorganized miscellany.

1. We made “monsters” in my first-grade afterschool class on Monday.  This picture shows some of my favorites.

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2. On Tuesday, our “Yeonggwang Study Group” of foreign teachers, that’s been taking shape to try to study some Korean Language together, met at Anelle’s and learned how to make kimbap (a sort of Korean take on what Americans call “California Roll” and often incorrectly identify as sushi, which is something completely different).  Kimbap has things like radish, ham, crab, cucumber and carrot rolled together with rice in a sheet of seaweed.  Here is a picture of my first-ever kimbap that I made.

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3. I have so far received 16 happy-birthday wishes on facebook, as well as several non-facebook induced emails. Not only that, but several of my English-teaching colleagues at Hongnong Chodeung Hakgyo threw a sort of surprise party for me, with a little fruit-topped cake bought from the Yeonggwang Paris Baguette shop. I was deeply flattered and touched. Birthdays are hard for me – they always have been. I have a deeply disharmonious relationship with the passage of time, and birthdays are a notably overt marker of this. But it’s pleasing to be “appreciated” by a little party, especially since it was a genuine surprise – I really wasn’t expecting it.

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Caveat: “Do you like dolphins?” – Castro Comes Clean

There has been an interesting series of articles / interviews with Fidel Castro, by Jeffrey Goldberg at The Atlantic.  Among other thoughts:  Ahmadinejad needs to mellow out, and Cuba's communist model has failed.

My favorite part of Goldberg's interview experience – a glimpse of banal humanity behind the old dictator: 

"Do you like dolphins?" Fidel asked me.

"I like dolphins a lot," I said. 

I've always had a deep fascination for the "repentant dictator."  Perhaps this grew out of my time in Chile, and the weirdly dysfunctional relationship that the people of that country had with their erstwhile savior and/or tormentor, Pinochet.  Yesterday, I blog-mentioned Chun Doo-hwan, who was dictator of South Korea in the 1980's.  What would it be like to talk to him, now, about what Korea is like, now?  I would be fascinated.

Caveat: About 23 Years

I have been reading (re-reading?) parts of Michael Breen's "The Koreans."  Living here, day-to-day, it's easy to forget that South Korean democracy (such as it is) is about 23 years old.  That 's not very old.  The dictator Chun Doo-hwan only allowed for direct presidential elections in 1987, and those elections were flawed because the state-run media (and the state pork machine) helped ensure that his hand-chosen successor, Roh Tae-woo, would be elected (although the opposition didn't help itself by splitting the opposition vote). 

So in fact, although the constitutional changes 23 years ago could be said to represent the beginning of South Korean democracy, in fact, the first "normal" presidential elections weren't held until 1992.  South Korean democracy is still imperfect – but I view North American democracy as rather imperfect, too.  Still, those traditions, at least, have many generations of consistency and relatively smooth alternations of power.  South Korea is still quite fragile, I think.

It's interesting to realize that for anyone in South Korea who is approaching middle-age, these events were formative experiences of their youth and college years.  Most of us English-speaking foreigners who work and live in Korea these days are teachers.  Consider the fact that all of those cryptic, middle-aged teachers and administrators you work with have vivid memories of riots, police repression, surreptitious jailings and beatings, disappearances.  Your vice principal may have been throwing flaming molotov cocktails, while in university, at his principal, who was a youthful riot-police captain, ordering his men to shoot tear gas and beat the students with clubs.  Or vice-versa.  Perhaps some of the puzzling things we see Koreans doing could be better understood if we take these things into account.

Caveat: 14..14…14…

I was walking past the mental hospital the other day, and a group of patients were outside in an enclosed yard, shouting, '13….13….13'

The fence was too high to see over, but I saw a little gap in the planks and so I looked through, to see what was going on.. Some dude poked me in the eye with a stick.

Then they all started shouting '14….14….14'…

Caveat: “Seu-naeng-naep” Part I – Konglish Challenge Quiz

When the Korean Language borrows words from English, those words undergo very regular and scientifically predictable sound changes (by the "science" of linguistics, specifically the sub-field of phonology).   It is inappropriate (and intellectually lazy) when foreigners (i.e. foreigners in Korea, meaning non-native-Korean speakers) refuse to understand this and make fun of it, or attribute "konglish" pronunciation to laziness or ineptitude on the part of Koreans attempting to use English vocabulary.

But it nevertheless can be challenging to figure out what is meant, or even to realize that one is hearing an English word at all.  I like the example above, "seu-naeng-naep."  I won't write it in Hangeul, because that might give it away to the more savvy and/or to the vaguely bilingual among my readers.  I was only able to figure it out because of the context in which I heard it, combined with above-referenced access to Korean phonological rules.

The Konglish Challenge Quiz question is:  what English word for a product advertised on TV, is being named by the term "seu-naeng-naep" (revised romanization; IPA [sɯnɛŋnɛp])? 

In "Part II" I'll give the answer.

Caveat: 제목: 공룡액자

I don’t know why exactly, but I love this picture that my first-grade student Eun-ji made for me.  She wrote 제목: 공룡액자 in upper left and bottom center.  It means “Title:  Dinosaur Picture,” roughly.  She wrote my name, 왜제렏 (my own prefered transliteration), but then appeared to have second thoughts and crossed it out (or else maybe she experienced the vandalism of one of her peers?), and wrote 선생님께 (to teacher) instead.

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And here is a picture of the sixth grade town-building class.  These are five girls who refuse to leave – the picture was taken 20 minutes after the end of class, and they’re still messing around with arranging things in the town, discussing things they want to do, decorating their houses and businesses, etc.

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Caveat: 음주산행 절대금지

I hiked up to the top of 월출산 (wol-chul-san = Moon Rise Mountain) with my friend Mr Kim. It took 7 hours – about 3 hours longer than we had anticipated – we went very slowly, like ants (우리는 개미처럼 천천히 가고 있었습니다) . We spent a lot of time pausing and trying to communicate with one another, me teaching English, him teaching Korean.

I became frustrated with “faucalized consonants” (or sometimes called “tense” consonants, and mistakenly understood by many as geminates because they are written as “doubles” of the regular series:  ㅅ[s] / ㅆ [s͈]… ㄱ[k] / ㄲ[k͈] … ㅂ[p] / ㅃ[p͈] … ㅈ[t͡ɕ] /ㅉ[t͡ɕ͈] … ㄷ[t] /ㄸ[t͈]). Not even the linguists seem really to understand these sounds. To my English-trained ear, I am simply incapable of hearing how they’re different, but there are many minimal pairs where understanding the distinction is important. I can’t produce the sound consistently either, although I can sometimes make myself understood by pronouncing a geminate or by using the “ejective” series that I worked so hard to master during my phonology classes as a linguistics major: p’, t’, k’, q’, s’ (these ejectives are common in many African Bantu-family languages, like Xhosa, I think).

Memorably, I was trying to say the word “dream”: 꿈 [k͈um] (standard romanization <kkum>), but Mr Kim was simply incapable of figuring out what I was talking about, because he was only hearing me say 굼[kum], which, standing alone, is a nonsense syllable. I was almost in tears when I realized I simply couldn’t express the sound correctly. Will I ever be able to do it? I wish I could meet a Korean-speaker who was also a trained linguist (or, a trained linguist who was also a Korean-speaker would do, too), who could teach me what to do with my vocal tract to make these sounds reliably. Most Koreans, when faced with the idea that the difference is hard to hear for non-native-speakers, will simply pronounce the faucalized versions louder, because that is part of how they’re perceived psychologically, I think.

Anyway… here are some pictures.

Approaching the mountain in the car from Yeongam Town.

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A small temple under construction.  I like the detailed woodwork on the eaves.

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A small purple flower.

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I’m not sure what “shemanism” is (sounds vaguely West Hollywood), but it’s definitely not allowed.

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The Cloud Bridge (구름다리)

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A dragonfly.

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“Hiking while drunk prohibitted.”

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Looking east.

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At the summit.

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A man surfing the internet on his cellphone at the summit (because we’re in South Korea, of course).

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On the way back down:  Six Brothers Rocks.

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Me, trying to look very tired (because I was very tired).

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A waterfall.

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Caveat: Where is your house?

Mr Kim, from last weekend, invited me to go hiking today.   I was thrilled to hear myself attempting to give him directions to my apartment in Korean, yesterday evening, on the phone.   Well, not thrilled.  But it gives me some optimism, when I use the language at all in a successful way, that I may someday "get there" – wherever "there" is: some kind of communicative efficacy, anyway.

"Where is your house?" he asked.  I answered in English, and realized he wasn't understanding.  I tried to explain in Korean, then.  I wasn't even using full sentences.  But he said he understood.  Now, we have a real-life test of that understanding, as I wait for him to show up to pick me up.

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