Wed - November 3, 2004
Not in Italy
In which Mike is elsewhere
All positive things heard in favour of Madrid are
true. Seeing Real play was good, getting five meals for €31 was better,
tapas was better still and the Palacio Real was just
fantastico!
...but seriously, had a marvellous time all thanks to B and her organisation and
forbearingness and D's strong sense of planning and direction. Pleasing to meet
both DE and C (or possibly K)A and to plumb the depths of the "six degrees"
model with such amiable interlocutors. Many thanks to all concerned. And to
Iberia for giving me Business on the way back.
Posted at 11:41 PM Read More
Wed - October 27, 2004
Not Italians
In which Mike goes boldly forth
Tomorrow I'm off to Spain, sort-of with D, to see R
(or B, depending upon familiarity). This will be the first time I've ever been
to Spain. Having already confronted the French with my franliano
(Italçais?) I wonder whether the Spanish are wholly prepared for my
Espaliano (Itañol?). I hope to enjoy this visit and to effect a return
with other D later this year or more likely next, to visit her D's H near Malaga
in the S of the country. How much more can I abbreviate? Who
knows....
Posted at 11:23 PM Read More
Finally!
In which Mike is relieved
You know, as a homosexualist, I have often heard the
term "Homosexual Agenda" bandied about (rather like "Activist Judges", which
always made me think of be-wigged and -robed Misters Justice playing leapfrog in
Oxford Street -- I know it's not grammatical, but it's
Pythonesque...)
Nevertheless, I was distressed; because I did not know what the Homosexual Agenda was, so I had no idea how I was supposed to be furthering the cause.
Thanks to some nice Americans who investigated homosexuals, I have finally been able to find out what the homosexual agenda is.
Nevertheless, I was distressed; because I did not know what the Homosexual Agenda was, so I had no idea how I was supposed to be furthering the cause.
Thanks to some nice Americans who investigated homosexuals, I have finally been able to find out what the homosexual agenda is.
Posted at 07:30 PM Read More
Fri - September 17, 2004
W. S. Graham, from New Collected Poems, Faber, 2004.
I, NO MORE REAL THAN EVIL IN MY
ROOF
I, no more real than evil in my roof
Speak at the bliss I pass I can endure
Crowding the glen my lintel marks,
Speak in this room this traffic builds
About my chair and table for my nature.
I feel the glass collide with light and day.
Outside this lull is happening the young
Who cough their stories in the curving siding.
I, no more real than my enclosure
Devise my eye to irrigate my love
For where the slates slew down my roof
The sky tilts back its shingle with no sign.
From inward through my window's needle eye
Children cartwheel from prison in procession
And stage their fear on mulls of rock
And build boundaries with ochre bricks.
Thunder falls round the fieldmice and the house.
Through all the suburbs children trundle cries.
I, no more real than when my hill of head
Finds evil in my dredged up heart,
Press down my padding question on the floor.
What things the young will take for song or grief.
The flagstone under sky is canopy
For other air where other thunder falls.
I, no more real than evil in my roof
Speak at the bliss I pass I can endure
Crowding the glen my lintel marks,
Speak in this room this traffic builds
About my chair and table for my nature.
I feel the glass collide with light and day.
Outside this lull is happening the young
Who cough their stories in the curving siding.
I, no more real than my enclosure
Devise my eye to irrigate my love
For where the slates slew down my roof
The sky tilts back its shingle with no sign.
From inward through my window's needle eye
Children cartwheel from prison in procession
And stage their fear on mulls of rock
And build boundaries with ochre bricks.
Thunder falls round the fieldmice and the house.
Through all the suburbs children trundle cries.
I, no more real than when my hill of head
Finds evil in my dredged up heart,
Press down my padding question on the floor.
What things the young will take for song or grief.
The flagstone under sky is canopy
For other air where other thunder falls.
Posted at 05:51 PM Read More
Mon - September 13, 2004
Tidiness
In which Mike apologises for his
absence
I have been tidy of late, wherefore I know not, and
have therefore no entries made. But I
have
been to Sweden and Amsterdam and New York, I'm going back there next week, and
then to Madrid, oh, and I've been to Edinburgh twice as well to see T, who is
well and says "Hi!" to everyone. Whether she knows them or not. I have also
refactored a component, cooked dinner for G which didn't end in total disaster
(though there was some unfortunate train-and-bus-based jiggery-pokery and been
to a lovely party in Northampton. I've mentioned Loughborough already, haven't
I? And I went to an outdoor James Taylor concert at Blicking with the parentals,
R and C, and D's mum, who I haven't seen for years but who it was terribly nice
to see again. I've sent letters to D and his mum at two separate wrong addresses
and people have managed to forward them on to their correct recipients, which
warms the cockles, so to speak. I've also read (finally)
A Canticle for
Leibowitz, which was better (and bleaker)
than I thought it was going to be after the first ten pages. And I've finished
the Jasper ffordes as well, which is good, because they're amusing; and I reread
the Road Less
Travelled, because I was feeling sappy-ish at
the time (and
Sybil
by Flora Rheta Schreiber, which I still recommend to anyone who owns or operates
a brain). Still haven't polished off
Fierce
People,
The Man in the High
Castle,
Dead Air, Weathercock, One Flew Over
the Cuckoo's Nest, On the Road, The Rule of Four, Quicksilver, The Count of
Monte Cristo or
Oryx and
Crake, which is a little disappointing, but W
did give me a copy of Simon Gray's The
Smoking Diaries when she left work, which was
very thoughtful and a darn good read. Gray's one of those people who knocks off
little, charmingly vague paragraphs which still manage to be substantial. Only
regret is that not more brain power is available to process that kind of thing
properly. And then when I went to Aylesbury to see M and V, I found Michael
Hamburger's Poems of Paul
Celan which I'm tackling gradually in both
languages (and wishing for a better dictionary, and knowledge of German). Though
Marcela Serrano's L'albergo delle donne
tristi was good in Italian; should try reading
it in English and see if I like it as much - suspect it's a touch sappy and has
a slightly less dreamlike quality in English. Was definitely overinvolved with
it when I first went to see T, though -- kept interrupting her on our tour of
Auld Reekie to say, "But Floreana's going to give up! I can't believe it! Get on
with it, woman! It's so frustrating! 'I touched his hand' is all she manages and
it's PATHETIC!", which was hardly appropriate for halfway up to the Castle. But
do go to Plaisir du Chocolat and have some of their cake and tea. I recommend
the light-and-dark chocolate cheesecake with the rose tea, because that's what I
had and I wouldn't really know about anything else except that the whole place
looked to be 87% cocoa and it made me drool. Oh, and I haven't finished
The Rules of
Attraction yet, but then that might be because
I derived a sort of bitter satisfaction from getting through
Less Than
Zero without therapeutic assistance and I'm
less confident of my ability to resist the transformation into a dribbling wreck
halfway through. And I missed out Salt:
A World History, which I bought in Aylesbury
too (at the same time as the Hamburger Celan) and was one of those things that
make you glad it's other people who write books, because they see things
differently (in this case, in a completely perpendicular way to me) and make you
be interested in things you thought were good if they were a) cheap in Tesco and
b) in the dishwasher rather than hyperprocessed food-analogue. Oh, and I read
that John Clute thing,
Appleseed,
which was good because it was using language honestly to indicate that things
were incomprehensible. Though I suppose you could write it off as simply a bit
of sustained stylism.... but who else could get away with calling an alien
"Mamselle Cunning Earth Link"? Oh, and William Gibson's
All Tomorrow's
Parties, which I liked again, though I have
yet to put my finger on quite why. Chapter headings consisted of notable bits of
phrasing from the chapter itself, which felt a bit "If you write something you
think particularly fine, be sure to strike it out at once" to start off, but
grew on me. Still reading Doris Lessing's
Love,
Again, another one with that odd little
subtitle "A Novel", as if someone needs convincing (who? People who might have
thought, "Oh, look -- Doris Lessing's written another ocelot. Oh no, my mistake,
it's a novel!"?)(or perhaps more treacherously the author? Do we need version
control systems for books? Formalise the dusty scholar's comparison of quarto
Hamlet
to first folio
Hamlet
in search of the ur-text to a diff between revisions 1.1.6.5 and 1.98.5.6.8.7?
I'm thinking this because I wonder if she starts off with a nice clean A4
notebook, a biro and a title (say, "Love, Again") and writes down "Love, Again",
and that kind of gets the idea out of her, it's a running away a bit now and
needs to be hunted down a little, pegged back to the page, so she writes in a
nice clean hand, "A Novel", gives it the weight of a little self-importance,
just enough to start the words falling onto the page nicely, and then whoosh!
it's 18 months later and she's returned the galley proofs and seen the cover
designs and approved the list of people who will be asked to burble on about it,
and then just as the presses start rolling in distant Taiwan, sits bolt upright
in bed and thinks, "'A Novel'! Arse! I meant to get them to cut that out! Greer
will have it for breakfast!" and then pulls lovely linen sheets, crisp and
ironed, back over her head and drifts off into a calm sleep?) And James Frey's
A Million Little
Pieces, which is quite honest, but oddly
popped out of the self-help section at me -- this may be valid if your idea of
self-help is reading about someone having root canal work without anaesthesia...
but then I suppose that's a small part of why I enjoyed reading it, simply
thinking "What a relief that that's not me" at fifteen-minute intervals. A good
read nonetheless. It's not that I usually hang around the self-help section - I
always think it's a bit odd to read books about self-help
that other people have
written, because then all you're getting is
(at best) How I Helped Myself (and You Can Too, If You Have The Same Problems
For The Same Reasons And Are Essentially In An Identical Situation, In Fact
Stuff It This Is Good For Me Because I'm Making A Packet But It's Irrelevant To
You) -- but I was looking to see if they had a copy of
Getting Things
Done, which sounded like a good read and a
sensible sort of a thing to get to grips with for a person like me -- that is, a
chronic procrastinator who carries around todo lists a mile long which never get
any shorter in his head. But then again I read a summary and it seemed to be
quite familiar territory: have a tickle file if you've got a lot of
time-critical stuff happening, empty your inbox at the end of every day, if it's
a two minute job do it now and then you never have to worry about it or remember
to do it or get tempted to merge it with three other two-minute jobs and have it
take thirty-five minutes, make definite decisions about things that get on your
to do list -- do, delegate or defer and fill your bin once a day, and thought I
could probably do that just with a bit of self-discipline. I do sound a bit
daft, muttering "It's only a two minute job, do it NOW" to myself, but it seems
to be keeping the flat a bit cleaner and my inbox a bit emptier, and friends a
bit more communicated with, which is splendid. Must ring J as I promised, and
mail S, come to think of it. Oh, and I spent a Saturday in a jacuzziful of
lesbians and have just spent a Saturday night watching mates do live-action
Elephant Polo. Nice.
Posted at 08:15 PM Read More
Sun - March 21, 2004
Sunday lunch -- beauty!
In which Mike overeats
The lovely Sharon cooked. I have long been envious
of her ability to rustle up a feast from nothing. Excelling herself in this
instance, she somehow produced a light lunch for eight from just twenty
chickens, eight pigs'-worth of sausages and about fifteen pounds of mash.
Moreover, she's had her garden done up and I did enjoy the group photo of
archæologists the other night so I thought we'd go for it
again:
L to R -- back row: Aaronboy, Paulboy, Vanessabird, Shazbird; front row: Lindabird, Fridabird.
It was very nice food and I had big seconds which I finished about three hours after everyone else, and I put away a sizeable quantity of wine, and I fear for my ability to wake up in time for work tomorrow. With this in mind I have pre-positioned everything of which I anticipate I shall be in need in a small area of the kitchen and am hoping that this will enable me to undertake the complex task of providing myself with a commuter-mugful of coffee to imbibe on the way to work. If I can't, all may be lost for my projects. Sigh.
L to R -- back row: Aaronboy, Paulboy, Vanessabird, Shazbird; front row: Lindabird, Fridabird.
It was very nice food and I had big seconds which I finished about three hours after everyone else, and I put away a sizeable quantity of wine, and I fear for my ability to wake up in time for work tomorrow. With this in mind I have pre-positioned everything of which I anticipate I shall be in need in a small area of the kitchen and am hoping that this will enable me to undertake the complex task of providing myself with a commuter-mugful of coffee to imbibe on the way to work. If I can't, all may be lost for my projects. Sigh.
Posted at 11:29 PM Read More
Sat
- March 20, 2004
The Evils of Drink
In which Mike faces a linguistic
challenge
So. When a mate says unto you, "We must meet,
verily; for I am in London for two days and not Mainz" and you think to
yourself, well, that's handier for just an evening, what do you expect? Do you
expect maybe a meal, a few glasses of wine, and perhaps light conversation in
Italian? Or do you expect
this?
Ich hatte kein Deutsch seit mindestens zwei Jahren gesprochen. Ich kann mich nur an drei oder vielleicht vier Sätze errinnern. Ich errinnere mich sogar nicht an wie man "errinern" buchstabiert. Und ich habe auch mein Wörterbuch verloren. Lieber Christoph, zum nächsten Mal, dimmi in anticipo che l'italiano non mi basterà! Comunque mi sono divertito un sacco.
-- Professors Rummel Senior, should you see this, rest assured that he was really terribly well behaved.
Ich hatte kein Deutsch seit mindestens zwei Jahren gesprochen. Ich kann mich nur an drei oder vielleicht vier Sätze errinnern. Ich errinnere mich sogar nicht an wie man "errinern" buchstabiert. Und ich habe auch mein Wörterbuch verloren. Lieber Christoph, zum nächsten Mal, dimmi in anticipo che l'italiano non mi basterà! Comunque mi sono divertito un sacco.
-- Professors Rummel Senior, should you see this, rest assured that he was really terribly well behaved.
Posted at 02:07 PM Read More
Sun - February 15, 2004
Delia's Toasted Sandwiches Recovered from Obscurity!
In which Mike acknowledges his debts...
For those of you who enjoyed "Tuna and Pasta Bake,
Oh My!", here's the original from which I shamelessly lifted the idea. And, it
turns out, some of the phrasing -- though I hadn't even seen it for about three
years when I wrote. Weird, eh? Must be the urbane genius of the original. Note
also my mangling of the original title -- apologies.
This recipe is copyright Tom Witney.
Lesson 1: Scrambled Toast.
For this simple, yet time consuming, snack you will need:
one sandwich toaster (I find that geriatric ones work best for this
recipe)
4 slices of bread
some of that marvellous low fat olive spread
fillings of your choice
The first thing to do is to make sure that you clean the sandwich toaster
thoroughly using plenty of detergent. We don't want any nasty grease do
we?!
The next step is to decide on which fillings you want to use. My
favourites are mozzerella, sun dried tomatoes, olives, parmesan, fresh
basil leaves, lime and coriander. (If you're common <how quaint!> don't
worry. I've heard that mild cheddar and HP sauce work wonderfully.)
Now we're ready to start cooking. Take your 4 slices of bread, I always
make sure I use fresh granary - it gives a lovely nutty flavour, and
spread thinly with some low fat olive spread. (Again, the common people
reading need not fret. Sunblest and lard work just as well I've been
told.)
When the sandwich toaster is good and hot, put in the bread spread side
down and assemble the fillings. Close the toaster and leave until the
cheese has melted and the bread is thoroughly welded into the toaster.
Taking care to burn yourself several times, laboriously scrape the bread
and fillings from the toaster and arrange on a plate using a sharp knife.
If you do it properly this can take up to half an hour!
When you've scraped all you can, you should find yourself with a plate of
slightly cheesy breadcrumbs and a knackered sandwich toaster. Delicious!
Leave the toaster to soak overnight, then attempt to chip the rest of the
cheese from the cooking surface. Spend a good hour or two over this.
Then throw the damned thing away!
Unfortunately this meal only serves one, but it makes a marvellous starter
at dinner parties (Common people: you can stop reading this now and go
back to The Sun crossword). Make your guests the toast in the usual way in
individual sandwich toasters. Serve hot and still in the toaster. Your
guests can experience the frustration and anger themselves as they try and
scrape the remains of their dinner from the awkward corners!
Enjoy! And remember. The time consuming nature of this dish makes it
ideal for times when you're really busy. Like exam term perhaps.
Next week: Delia shows us how to burn eggs!
This recipe is copyright Tom Witney.
Lesson 1: Scrambled Toast.
For this simple, yet time consuming, snack you will need:
one sandwich toaster (I find that geriatric ones work best for this
recipe)
4 slices of bread
some of that marvellous low fat olive spread
fillings of your choice
The first thing to do is to make sure that you clean the sandwich toaster
thoroughly using plenty of detergent. We don't want any nasty grease do
we?!
The next step is to decide on which fillings you want to use. My
favourites are mozzerella, sun dried tomatoes, olives, parmesan, fresh
basil leaves, lime and coriander. (If you're common <how quaint!> don't
worry. I've heard that mild cheddar and HP sauce work wonderfully.)
Now we're ready to start cooking. Take your 4 slices of bread, I always
make sure I use fresh granary - it gives a lovely nutty flavour, and
spread thinly with some low fat olive spread. (Again, the common people
reading need not fret. Sunblest and lard work just as well I've been
told.)
When the sandwich toaster is good and hot, put in the bread spread side
down and assemble the fillings. Close the toaster and leave until the
cheese has melted and the bread is thoroughly welded into the toaster.
Taking care to burn yourself several times, laboriously scrape the bread
and fillings from the toaster and arrange on a plate using a sharp knife.
If you do it properly this can take up to half an hour!
When you've scraped all you can, you should find yourself with a plate of
slightly cheesy breadcrumbs and a knackered sandwich toaster. Delicious!
Leave the toaster to soak overnight, then attempt to chip the rest of the
cheese from the cooking surface. Spend a good hour or two over this.
Then throw the damned thing away!
Unfortunately this meal only serves one, but it makes a marvellous starter
at dinner parties (Common people: you can stop reading this now and go
back to The Sun crossword). Make your guests the toast in the usual way in
individual sandwich toasters. Serve hot and still in the toaster. Your
guests can experience the frustration and anger themselves as they try and
scrape the remains of their dinner from the awkward corners!
Enjoy! And remember. The time consuming nature of this dish makes it
ideal for times when you're really busy. Like exam term perhaps.
Next week: Delia shows us how to burn eggs!
Posted at 09:57 PM Read More
Mon - January 12, 2004
Mon - December
8, 2003
Ciao a Marghe, Shipneck Frafo e Paola!
In cui Mike parla l'italiano - In which Mike gets to
speak foreign, badly
(o almeno le tre parole che si
ricorda).
Solo per dire ciao alle mie amiche italiane se si arrivino senza la più pallida idea di che cosa sto parlando. Speditemi email! (Altrimente, frafo, puoi darmi una critica precisa dall'articolo sottostante titolato <<Comparison>>
Baci!
Future services will be conducted in English, for the benefit of the loyal non-italophone congregation.
Solo per dire ciao alle mie amiche italiane se si arrivino senza la più pallida idea di che cosa sto parlando. Speditemi email! (Altrimente, frafo, puoi darmi una critica precisa dall'articolo sottostante titolato <<Comparison>>
Baci!
Future services will be conducted in English, for the benefit of the loyal non-italophone congregation.
Posted at 10:35 PM Read More
Sun - December
7, 2003
Two thoughts
In which Mike has... [surprise!]
[Edit: that's 'bias in the face of
inhabiting friends', not what I originally published. Apologies to all
concerned, mainly me, who can no longer take me quite
seriously.]
Thought one:
Noticed this evening that I cannot help but observe much of life with a raised eyebrow. Then thought perhaps this is Valid, as it's possible that Life occurs with a raised eyebrow. Much would be hereby explained.
Thought Two:
Floor in the flat only shakes when double-deckers go past. Admittedly less profound (not that Thought One scored very highly, but.)
Thought Three:
[Hey, it's my blog, criticise at your own peril] Loughborough not nearly as bleak as painted. In fact broadly pleasing (although confess to bass in face of inhabiting fiends).
This week I have had proper Nürnberger Glühwein at Kateandwendyandjenny's, finally seen The Nightmare Before Christmas, had good chats, been to Loughborough and seen lovely K & D again, had a highly filling and pretty darn good Sunday lunch, been on a train that was on time and comfortable, had good Thai twice, cooked a successful Mahshi Cousa Bi Mishmish (yes, I gave gay men a dinner entitled, "Courgettes Stuffed with Meat"; insert your own caption here) and done some work which, well, worked, and read a good book (The Rules of Attraction). What a week! Correspondence courses from the Mike School of Social Success may soon be available. Or I may suffer another amusing attack of Foot-in-Mouth Disease. Though I fear there's still no taking Jo's "He needs a short, shark shop." Good night.
At this rate I'll be published before the year is out, without even having had to go to the trouble of writing anything. O joy!
Thought one:
Noticed this evening that I cannot help but observe much of life with a raised eyebrow. Then thought perhaps this is Valid, as it's possible that Life occurs with a raised eyebrow. Much would be hereby explained.
Thought Two:
Floor in the flat only shakes when double-deckers go past. Admittedly less profound (not that Thought One scored very highly, but.)
Thought Three:
[Hey, it's my blog, criticise at your own peril] Loughborough not nearly as bleak as painted. In fact broadly pleasing (although confess to bass in face of inhabiting fiends).
This week I have had proper Nürnberger Glühwein at Kateandwendyandjenny's, finally seen The Nightmare Before Christmas, had good chats, been to Loughborough and seen lovely K & D again, had a highly filling and pretty darn good Sunday lunch, been on a train that was on time and comfortable, had good Thai twice, cooked a successful Mahshi Cousa Bi Mishmish (yes, I gave gay men a dinner entitled, "Courgettes Stuffed with Meat"; insert your own caption here) and done some work which, well, worked, and read a good book (The Rules of Attraction). What a week! Correspondence courses from the Mike School of Social Success may soon be available. Or I may suffer another amusing attack of Foot-in-Mouth Disease. Though I fear there's still no taking Jo's "He needs a short, shark shop." Good night.
At this rate I'll be published before the year is out, without even having had to go to the trouble of writing anything. O joy!
Posted at 10:59 PM Read More
Sun - November 23, 2003
Another thing
In which Mike makes an important
advertisement
in common with all other blogs, I may have neglected
to mention that Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots by the Flaming Lips is one of the
most convincing things I've heard for years, something I will undoubtedly listen
to for several years to come, it's unfair that I keep forgetting to buy Breeders
stuff, and hasn't Phil Collins stopped making noises
yet?
Oh, all that and Chlamyphorus truncatus is the single most wondeful mammal since, like, ever.
Oh, all that and Chlamyphorus truncatus is the single most wondeful mammal since, like, ever.
Posted at 01:21 AM Read More
Audience
In which Mike discovers exactly how many people can
hear you scream in cyberspace
Greetings, lasses and
fellows.
I learn slowly and repeatedly that more than two people who aren't sub-personalities of mine actually look on a reasonably regular (if infrequent) basis at these hallowed pages.
This is deeply curious and yet warmly flattering, somehow.
The end result of this is that I'm going to have to spend an hour or ten getting CSS down pat and then sorting this blog out to look like something I'd like to look at myself. I'm feeling Trebuchet-ish, just because it would mean all us poor work-enforced PC users could reliably see something more stylish than WinXP; and I'm definitely going to write something which will work cross-browser (as in, Safari, KHTML, Konqueror, MacIE5.2 and then minority browsers like, uh, Lynx, and PCIE6, or Gecko-based tools. Hmm. I may be rethinking that one sometime.)
Meantime I hope you all enjoy it. As a reward for such patience, have a look at this (if I say so myself) stunningly lovely photograph [wildly large file warning!! 856K!!] I took on holiday in Maine. Mwah!
I learn slowly and repeatedly that more than two people who aren't sub-personalities of mine actually look on a reasonably regular (if infrequent) basis at these hallowed pages.
This is deeply curious and yet warmly flattering, somehow.
The end result of this is that I'm going to have to spend an hour or ten getting CSS down pat and then sorting this blog out to look like something I'd like to look at myself. I'm feeling Trebuchet-ish, just because it would mean all us poor work-enforced PC users could reliably see something more stylish than WinXP; and I'm definitely going to write something which will work cross-browser (as in, Safari, KHTML, Konqueror, MacIE5.2 and then minority browsers like, uh, Lynx, and PCIE6, or Gecko-based tools. Hmm. I may be rethinking that one sometime.)
Meantime I hope you all enjoy it. As a reward for such patience, have a look at this (if I say so myself) stunningly lovely photograph [wildly large file warning!! 856K!!] I took on holiday in Maine. Mwah!
Posted at 12:53 AM Read More
Sat
- November 22, 2003
Comparison
In which Mike runs alongside a bandwagon, without
actively jumping on it
I give in, surrender and generally crumple in the
face of overwhelming evidence: I am the kind of scarily anal person I have come
to fear.
I'm sure you can think of many things which may have occasioned this. In the ranks of the World's Most Relaxed People, acquaintances tend to give me, generally speaking, a low rating, somewhere alongside Mr. Richard Prior, Mr. Elton John, and other notable nose-powderers.
But in fact, you're all wrong (and very smutty and bad to boot: I know how your minds work). Two tiny words have caused this, it's not the fault of either of them individually, and it's a Sin! I am coming to loathe every bit as much as I loathe Mr. Jim Davidson.
Are you there yet? No? Then -- much as it hurts -- I'm going to have to say it out loud. Are you ready? (PG: children should definitely not be reading this --) "equally as".
Ouch. "One was bad; the second, equally so," yes. "One was every bit as bad as another," by all means. "One was equally as bad as the other," no. Please don't. It grates, it jars, it's redundant and obfuscates and is the kind of thing that gives English a bad name. (NB that here, I start to improvise my own grammatical language, since I never learnt a satisfactory formal one -- and that's a reflection upon my learning, not upon the satisfactoriness or otherwise of formal grammars.)
'As' and 'equally' are both (to me, remember) comparators, meaning that they serve to compare. "Equally as" seeks to use "equally" to qualify "as". In point of fact, this is not wholly so strange as it sounds; we qualify comparison all the time in such phrases as "nearly as bad," "almost as silly", "every bit as incomprehensible" and "just as parakeet". What we don't tend to do, though, is to use a comparator to do it.
Now, let's not get all frowny about qualifying a comparison. Adverbs (like, but not including, 'equally') can fit in: "He was, stupidly, as nice as me" is fine -- 'stupidly' is used in parenthesis and applies to 'to be' in the third person imperfect (well, it's imperfect in German "war" and Italian "era" - in English that's what we call an educated guess, save that it's not) past form, "was". "He was stupidly as nice as me" is something you'd probably parse unconsciously to have the same meaning as the first example -- that is, you'd automatically read in a parenthesis that's not actually in the text. Now try this with "equally". What's the problem?
Well, if I'm not talking complete nonsense, the problem is that you thought to yourself "He was, equally, as nice as me" and immediately thought "equally to what?" Now, if it had been preceded by a short sentence, to form, for example, "John was foolish. He was, equally, as nice as me," you could get some sense out of it: you'd think "Yes! I see a reason for the inclusion of the word, 'equally'! So far as John was foolish, to that same extent was he as pleasant as the speaker! Huzzah! Reginam nostram Elizabetam benedicat! and similarly mangled bits of SJC grace!"
But when you say "equally as", you imply two comparisons. And two comparisons between two things is kind of the ultimate definition of redundancy. "Not only am I mowing the lawn, I am also mowing the lawn!" you might excitedly cry on the occasion of your first guest slot in a suburban American situation comedy, only to see many very intense and highly-paid people looking your way, as though judging you harshly for being so very... repetitive. I am one of them.
Life is, if not nearly as short as generally advertised, at least currently something of fixed term, in which we should, according to my own ill-evolved ethics, spend as much time (not, note, "equally as much") doing things like "valuing our friendships", "talking late into the night", "loving imprudently" and so on, as is possible. The phrase "equally as" tries to achieve the debatably virtuous goal of saying the same thing twice and fails even at that; it adds nothing to a sentence except duration and confusion. Over the course of years "equally as" and phrases like it (note: not "equally as like it") have probably wasted whole minutes of my life (unlike this little rant, which has naturally taken me no time at all).
In summation: I like you. Please don't say "equally as" because it makes two things: 1) no sense, and 2) me mad. (Ah! Zeugma!, or Oh! Ovary! as someone famouser than me putted it.)
I'm sure you can think of many things which may have occasioned this. In the ranks of the World's Most Relaxed People, acquaintances tend to give me, generally speaking, a low rating, somewhere alongside Mr. Richard Prior, Mr. Elton John, and other notable nose-powderers.
But in fact, you're all wrong (and very smutty and bad to boot: I know how your minds work). Two tiny words have caused this, it's not the fault of either of them individually, and it's a Sin! I am coming to loathe every bit as much as I loathe Mr. Jim Davidson.
Are you there yet? No? Then -- much as it hurts -- I'm going to have to say it out loud. Are you ready? (PG: children should definitely not be reading this --) "equally as".
Ouch. "One was bad; the second, equally so," yes. "One was every bit as bad as another," by all means. "One was equally as bad as the other," no. Please don't. It grates, it jars, it's redundant and obfuscates and is the kind of thing that gives English a bad name. (NB that here, I start to improvise my own grammatical language, since I never learnt a satisfactory formal one -- and that's a reflection upon my learning, not upon the satisfactoriness or otherwise of formal grammars.)
'As' and 'equally' are both (to me, remember) comparators, meaning that they serve to compare. "Equally as" seeks to use "equally" to qualify "as". In point of fact, this is not wholly so strange as it sounds; we qualify comparison all the time in such phrases as "nearly as bad," "almost as silly", "every bit as incomprehensible" and "just as parakeet". What we don't tend to do, though, is to use a comparator to do it.
Now, let's not get all frowny about qualifying a comparison. Adverbs (like, but not including, 'equally') can fit in: "He was, stupidly, as nice as me" is fine -- 'stupidly' is used in parenthesis and applies to 'to be' in the third person imperfect (well, it's imperfect in German "war" and Italian "era" - in English that's what we call an educated guess, save that it's not) past form, "was". "He was stupidly as nice as me" is something you'd probably parse unconsciously to have the same meaning as the first example -- that is, you'd automatically read in a parenthesis that's not actually in the text. Now try this with "equally". What's the problem?
Well, if I'm not talking complete nonsense, the problem is that you thought to yourself "He was, equally, as nice as me" and immediately thought "equally to what?" Now, if it had been preceded by a short sentence, to form, for example, "John was foolish. He was, equally, as nice as me," you could get some sense out of it: you'd think "Yes! I see a reason for the inclusion of the word, 'equally'! So far as John was foolish, to that same extent was he as pleasant as the speaker! Huzzah! Reginam nostram Elizabetam benedicat! and similarly mangled bits of SJC grace!"
But when you say "equally as", you imply two comparisons. And two comparisons between two things is kind of the ultimate definition of redundancy. "Not only am I mowing the lawn, I am also mowing the lawn!" you might excitedly cry on the occasion of your first guest slot in a suburban American situation comedy, only to see many very intense and highly-paid people looking your way, as though judging you harshly for being so very... repetitive. I am one of them.
Life is, if not nearly as short as generally advertised, at least currently something of fixed term, in which we should, according to my own ill-evolved ethics, spend as much time (not, note, "equally as much") doing things like "valuing our friendships", "talking late into the night", "loving imprudently" and so on, as is possible. The phrase "equally as" tries to achieve the debatably virtuous goal of saying the same thing twice and fails even at that; it adds nothing to a sentence except duration and confusion. Over the course of years "equally as" and phrases like it (note: not "equally as like it") have probably wasted whole minutes of my life (unlike this little rant, which has naturally taken me no time at all).
In summation: I like you. Please don't say "equally as" because it makes two things: 1) no sense, and 2) me mad. (Ah! Zeugma!, or Oh! Ovary! as someone famouser than me putted it.)
Posted at 12:41 AM Read More
Mornings
Trains
Cardigans
DEATH!
Tidiness
Return of the Mac
Let Jag
Irons II: The Revenge
Irons
FriendsReunited and the Ridiculous
Tuna and Pasta Bake, Oh My!
... of which more later
Drinking with Lesbians - cancelled
Acid Green Perfection
Calendar
| Sun | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat |
Categories
Archives
XML/RSS Feed
Statistics
Total entries in this blog:
Published On: Nov 03, 2004 11:41 PM
Published On: Nov 03, 2004 11:41 PM