I dried up on stage yessterday. Like, completely dried.
I was compering a spoken word night, and it was going really well, I had the audience laughing, heckling, doing spontaneous (not forced and awkward) audience participation, and I was riding high on it.
Then I read out the next name on the list 'And now, next up, we have "Sarah"!' Silence. Then, from the back of the room my friend and the night's founder John shouts 'I think it's thee, lass!'
John's great. He organises the open mic running order and, usually I'm on it, except this time I'd specifically said I would compere. I have a big poetry gig on the 12th, and figured it would be greedy to take up an open mic spot. John had flipped into autopilot and stuck me in there as usual. I'd seen it, but sometimes it seems like every fifth person I meet shares my name, so I'd thought nothing of it.
Now, normally I have a good memory for my own work, I don't like reading from a sheet of paper, when actors, singers etc are expected to memorise, so I try to leave the paper offstage. However, when I KNOW I'm performing I'll run through the poems in my head a few times before i go up there. It's not that I worry about forgetting my lines, more that running through the rhythms of my pems in my head calms me, like a mantra. However, last night I hadn't done this, and for the first time I learned the value of it. I couldn't remember a line.
I managed in the end to blurt out the first stanza of one of my poems, and then I lost it again. I spluttered and gabbled and made a few jokes about John dropping me in it aaaaaand....
Nothing.
In the end I managed to whip the last stanza out of the air - omitting the middle two - which, given that there is a narrative to the poem, made no sense at all. Then I finished on one of my much earlier poems - one that's ingrained on my synapses, and got off the stage with dignity.
Then I remembered that I was the compere and awkwardly shuffled back up to the mic to introduce the next, slightly more together, poet.
John SO owes me a pint.
WG
Friday, 2 October 2009
Monday, 28 September 2009
Why labels are really dangerous.
OK, let's kick off my return from the wilderness of the computerless other than the one at work (or, as I like to call it, Firewall City) with a serious post. Not a laugh a minute, this one, sorry.
Roman Polanski has been arrested for having sex with a 13-year-old. It was a long time ago, he is a holocaust survivor, a widower in tragic circumstances and he is an acclaimed film director. He is also charming and well liked.
But...
He had sex with a 13 year old. Taking that on its own and ignoring the allegations that he vaginally and anally raped a 13 year old, it's still enough for me to think that yes, he should do time.
The problem is that those people who are outraged at his surprise arrest in Switzerland think that they know what "A paedophile" is. Paedophiles are nasty men, aren't they, boys and girls. They wear a dirty raincoat and lurk near playgrounds. They are social pariahs and easy to spot on the street.
They also know what a holocaust survivor is. They are saintly sages with an unabashed love of life masking an untouchable tragedy behind the eyes (cf Harold & Maude). Maybe they are impulsive and eccentric, but that's understandable and part of their charm. If they've had other tragic events in their life, so much the saintlier.
And a maverick film director. These are artistic firebrands whose genius excuses bad temper,hedonism and, again, eccentricity.
When these labels conflict in our head, we've got a problem. It's not comfortable to think that perpetrators of sexual violence can be an artistic genius or a survivor of horrors themselves. We are coached to automatically venerate these people. It isn't pleasant to think that the trauma of the holocaust might actually damage a person to the extent that they themselves commit unforgivable acts. After all, that might make us think about all those people we vilify and realise that perhaps they started out as victims and survivors: i.e: saints.
Nobody goes out saying 'I'm going to rape a child/exterminate a race/bully littler kids because I want to be evil'. It's more 'I've got to do this. I'm not really a perpetrator, I'm a victim heroically fighting back'. Hitler didn't go arounf twirling his moustache (he'd have had a job...) and going "Mwuahahaha". In his mind it was "My Struggle", not "My Evil Plan".
In Roman Polanski's mind, he'd lost his childhood, he'd lost his wife, and he was a genius who could do no wrong! Cut him some slack! Who could blame him for getting a little pleasure from a sweet young thing who was hanging on his every word? She was a perk of the job, right?
The majority of paedophiles are not labeled paedophiles. They are labeled Uncle, Daddy, Auntie, Teacher. Maybe they are kind to animals, perhaps tell great stories, could be brilliant cooks, talented muscians, sensitive listeners. They don't all have previous convictions because they haven't all been caught, so criminal records checks on caregivers can only marginally reduce the risk.
The absolute insistence from some quarters that Polanski's achievements in cinema, his advanced age and his troubled past should make him immune to prosecution makes me fear for young people who have been victims of abuse. If we only believe that people are rapists and paedophiles when they fit our profile of rapists and paedophiles, (or worse, know what they did but accept it because they are talented in another area,) then what chance do those suffering abuse have of bringing their abusers to justice?
WG
Roman Polanski has been arrested for having sex with a 13-year-old. It was a long time ago, he is a holocaust survivor, a widower in tragic circumstances and he is an acclaimed film director. He is also charming and well liked.
But...
He had sex with a 13 year old. Taking that on its own and ignoring the allegations that he vaginally and anally raped a 13 year old, it's still enough for me to think that yes, he should do time.
The problem is that those people who are outraged at his surprise arrest in Switzerland think that they know what "A paedophile" is. Paedophiles are nasty men, aren't they, boys and girls. They wear a dirty raincoat and lurk near playgrounds. They are social pariahs and easy to spot on the street.
They also know what a holocaust survivor is. They are saintly sages with an unabashed love of life masking an untouchable tragedy behind the eyes (cf Harold & Maude). Maybe they are impulsive and eccentric, but that's understandable and part of their charm. If they've had other tragic events in their life, so much the saintlier.
And a maverick film director. These are artistic firebrands whose genius excuses bad temper,hedonism and, again, eccentricity.
When these labels conflict in our head, we've got a problem. It's not comfortable to think that perpetrators of sexual violence can be an artistic genius or a survivor of horrors themselves. We are coached to automatically venerate these people. It isn't pleasant to think that the trauma of the holocaust might actually damage a person to the extent that they themselves commit unforgivable acts. After all, that might make us think about all those people we vilify and realise that perhaps they started out as victims and survivors: i.e: saints.
Nobody goes out saying 'I'm going to rape a child/exterminate a race/bully littler kids because I want to be evil'. It's more 'I've got to do this. I'm not really a perpetrator, I'm a victim heroically fighting back'. Hitler didn't go arounf twirling his moustache (he'd have had a job...) and going "Mwuahahaha". In his mind it was "My Struggle", not "My Evil Plan".
In Roman Polanski's mind, he'd lost his childhood, he'd lost his wife, and he was a genius who could do no wrong! Cut him some slack! Who could blame him for getting a little pleasure from a sweet young thing who was hanging on his every word? She was a perk of the job, right?
The majority of paedophiles are not labeled paedophiles. They are labeled Uncle, Daddy, Auntie, Teacher. Maybe they are kind to animals, perhaps tell great stories, could be brilliant cooks, talented muscians, sensitive listeners. They don't all have previous convictions because they haven't all been caught, so criminal records checks on caregivers can only marginally reduce the risk.
The absolute insistence from some quarters that Polanski's achievements in cinema, his advanced age and his troubled past should make him immune to prosecution makes me fear for young people who have been victims of abuse. If we only believe that people are rapists and paedophiles when they fit our profile of rapists and paedophiles, (or worse, know what they did but accept it because they are talented in another area,) then what chance do those suffering abuse have of bringing their abusers to justice?
WG
Monday, 31 August 2009
A pie I wish I had baked.
While I await the glorious convergence of linguistic inspiration and time to blog, I'd like to entertain you with someone else's work, Specifically, Tom Bliss, whom I heard on Radio 4 a few months ago. It's a recipe for Pie made entirely out of English and Welsh placenames and is loads of fun to read aloud, as my friend Hannah and I found, giggling over the laptop the other night. If the unbritish among you have trouble sounding it out, you can see and hear Bliss performing it . here
Disclaimer. I don't own this poem, or know Tom Bliss. This post is just random fandom.
WG
Middle English and Welsh Pie
Takely: Appleby, Plumly, Cheriton, Pirton and Cantelop Melonby. Washington, Cutmill and Unstone. Ingoe Bole - and Masham.
Pickwell: Blewbury, Goosey Bury, Shawbury, Shrewsbury, Blackbourough, and Llanberis. Tipton Shellow Bowells and Churn.
Watchet Caerphilly. Wendy Mold.. Outwell. Wendy Sea Palling Wormington, or Crawley Bugthorpe, Kilham and Binham.
Findon Knutsford: Haselbech and Cheshunt. Cracoe Penn, and Chopwell.
Bowling; Honing, Runnymede and Melton Cadbury. Then Stourton, and Lickey End. Addingham Timble Salt, and St Just Pinchbeck Curry, then Pannal and Mixbury Evenly.
Makeworth Doughton: Floore, Buttercrambe and Egham (Henlade) - and Beetham. Alfold and Needham, then Rollright Thingwall, and Coverham Puddington.
Lightthorn Furness Chimney, and Burntwood Heaton Ovenden Cookham.
Bakeup, Bakewell - Butley Doynton Burnham! (Wrexham).
Wensbury Dunnington - Tickton, Tockwith Tring! Orpington Ovenden.. Greet! Monmouth Pyworthy Over Kingston - for Mumby, Tuesley, Wembly, Thursley, Fridaythorpe, Thatcham Deighton and Sunderland.
Aynho. At Tees Thame, Kettlesing. Earl Grays Once Brewed, Ham Sandwich in Towcester, Then Clothall Over Tably (Calder Vale), and Carrington Hoton Dishforth Over Tably.
Addingham Clotton Milcombe, and Roseberry Topping. At Lastingham.. (Tanton Tatterford) Reading! (Waitby.. There’s Morecombe)!
Fetcham Glasson, and Filton Brimton Beer (Beer - Maida Vale).
Collingham Hungerford Guist Over, Yelling “Combe Gedding.” Askham Richard, Askham Bryan - Pattishall Wantage, and Sittingborne Downham.
Sevinton Pyon Plaitford. Devizes, and Passenham Roundhay!
Biggin Hill Eton. Wilden Tasely Darliston! Tewin and Swallow, Butley Noke Burpham or Belchford (or Trumpington)! Decorum Mattersey.
Fullford Tumby? Goodleigh. If Tirely, then to Charing Cross, and Knapwell. (Little Snoring).
Remenham: Mabe Burthouse, or to Much Hadham, or Nuneaton (Nuneaton? Shirley Nottingham!), Donyatt Sling in Minskip - Tinwell, and Selling... Onnelley Tebay!
Unthank. Blisworth Clapham?
Tom Bliss (2008?)
Disclaimer. I don't own this poem, or know Tom Bliss. This post is just random fandom.
WG
Middle English and Welsh Pie
Takely: Appleby, Plumly, Cheriton, Pirton and Cantelop Melonby. Washington, Cutmill and Unstone. Ingoe Bole - and Masham.
Pickwell: Blewbury, Goosey Bury, Shawbury, Shrewsbury, Blackbourough, and Llanberis. Tipton Shellow Bowells and Churn.
Watchet Caerphilly. Wendy Mold.. Outwell. Wendy Sea Palling Wormington, or Crawley Bugthorpe, Kilham and Binham.
Findon Knutsford: Haselbech and Cheshunt. Cracoe Penn, and Chopwell.
Bowling; Honing, Runnymede and Melton Cadbury. Then Stourton, and Lickey End. Addingham Timble Salt, and St Just Pinchbeck Curry, then Pannal and Mixbury Evenly.
Makeworth Doughton: Floore, Buttercrambe and Egham (Henlade) - and Beetham. Alfold and Needham, then Rollright Thingwall, and Coverham Puddington.
Lightthorn Furness Chimney, and Burntwood Heaton Ovenden Cookham.
Bakeup, Bakewell - Butley Doynton Burnham! (Wrexham).
Wensbury Dunnington - Tickton, Tockwith Tring! Orpington Ovenden.. Greet! Monmouth Pyworthy Over Kingston - for Mumby, Tuesley, Wembly, Thursley, Fridaythorpe, Thatcham Deighton and Sunderland.
Aynho. At Tees Thame, Kettlesing. Earl Grays Once Brewed, Ham Sandwich in Towcester, Then Clothall Over Tably (Calder Vale), and Carrington Hoton Dishforth Over Tably.
Addingham Clotton Milcombe, and Roseberry Topping. At Lastingham.. (Tanton Tatterford) Reading! (Waitby.. There’s Morecombe)!
Fetcham Glasson, and Filton Brimton Beer (Beer - Maida Vale).
Collingham Hungerford Guist Over, Yelling “Combe Gedding.” Askham Richard, Askham Bryan - Pattishall Wantage, and Sittingborne Downham.
Sevinton Pyon Plaitford. Devizes, and Passenham Roundhay!
Biggin Hill Eton. Wilden Tasely Darliston! Tewin and Swallow, Butley Noke Burpham or Belchford (or Trumpington)! Decorum Mattersey.
Fullford Tumby? Goodleigh. If Tirely, then to Charing Cross, and Knapwell. (Little Snoring).
Remenham: Mabe Burthouse, or to Much Hadham, or Nuneaton (Nuneaton? Shirley Nottingham!), Donyatt Sling in Minskip - Tinwell, and Selling... Onnelley Tebay!
Unthank. Blisworth Clapham?
Tom Bliss (2008?)
Tuesday, 11 August 2009
the HELL?
All the blogs on my reading list have been deleted? how could this happen? Grrr.
I am following nobody. In most scenarios that sentence would be a good thing. Not now, though.
I am following nobody. In most scenarios that sentence would be a good thing. Not now, though.
Ich bin ein Berliner?
My head is still stuck in a 'I wonder what that is in German' place at the moment. It's actually good from a wordgeekiness point of view because it makes me analyse what I say in English more.
While in Germany I had a conversation with a lovely woman called Kate from Australia about the benefits of being 'adjectivised' (I let this blatant example of verbing pass, because she made a good point.) being adjectivised is a good thing. It means to be described with, you know, describing words. As I have mentioned previously, we do not talk about 'queers(n)', but we can talk about 'the queer(adj) community'. Similarly, Kate prefers to be called lesbian, not A lesbian. atheist, not AN atheist.
It's fair enough, especially if one's identity is tied up with words that have been - or are - used in a derogatory fashion. Using nouns to describe someone, apart from breaking pretty basic, primary school literacy rules, is less that one step away from name-calling.
With this in mind, I started feeling uncomfortable listening to the German spoken around me. Germans (oops, German people! Is that a WW2 leftover? We don't talk about Frenches, 'Spaniard' rather than 'Spanish person' is derogatory, but The Germans is... fine?) talk about 'Schwulen and Lesben', literally 'gays and lesbians'. They refer to the Turkish community as 'die Turken' - the Turks. It just makes my skin crawl a little bit. Even though it was clear that this did not carry the dodgy connotations this would have in England.
But then something else occurred to me.
You would talk about lesbians, for example, but you would never say 'sie ist eine Lesbe' - 'she is a lesbian'. You would say 'sie ist Lesbe' - 'she is lesbian'. The word taking on a sort of 'nounjective' quality (think 'I am woman, hear me roar'). You could say 'sie ist lesbisch', making the adjectivisation complete. But this, I think, would be less, not more respectful.
This of course (wild tangent alert!) is where JFK went wrong in Berlin.
By saying 'Ich bin EIN Berliner' he removed his humanity. The indefinite article made it clear to the Germans that an inanimate object was being discussed. unfortunately for Kennedy, the inanimate object which is a synonym for 'citizen of Berlin' is 'iced doughnut'. Hence much sniggering ever after.
But you can see why he did it.
Because in the USA, if you think about it, the opposite is true. In England too, for that matter.
If you say 'I'm American' or 'I'm English'. It's a statement of fact. Whatever.
But 'I'm AN American', 'I'm AN Englishwoman'. Aha! Suddenly we're talking nationalism, civic pride; indeed, faintly racist territory. But in Kennedy's case, he was just trying to show his own pride at being associated with Berlin, and tried to apply an American nuance to the German language.
Which is a warning to us all: Try to be nationalistic in an unfamiliar language, and you might end up a doughnut.
Ich binein Word Geek.
While in Germany I had a conversation with a lovely woman called Kate from Australia about the benefits of being 'adjectivised' (I let this blatant example of verbing pass, because she made a good point.) being adjectivised is a good thing. It means to be described with, you know, describing words. As I have mentioned previously, we do not talk about 'queers(n)', but we can talk about 'the queer(adj) community'. Similarly, Kate prefers to be called lesbian, not A lesbian. atheist, not AN atheist.
It's fair enough, especially if one's identity is tied up with words that have been - or are - used in a derogatory fashion. Using nouns to describe someone, apart from breaking pretty basic, primary school literacy rules, is less that one step away from name-calling.
With this in mind, I started feeling uncomfortable listening to the German spoken around me. Germans (oops, German people! Is that a WW2 leftover? We don't talk about Frenches, 'Spaniard' rather than 'Spanish person' is derogatory, but The Germans is... fine?) talk about 'Schwulen and Lesben', literally 'gays and lesbians'. They refer to the Turkish community as 'die Turken' - the Turks. It just makes my skin crawl a little bit. Even though it was clear that this did not carry the dodgy connotations this would have in England.
But then something else occurred to me.
You would talk about lesbians, for example, but you would never say 'sie ist eine Lesbe' - 'she is a lesbian'. You would say 'sie ist Lesbe' - 'she is lesbian'. The word taking on a sort of 'nounjective' quality (think 'I am woman, hear me roar'). You could say 'sie ist lesbisch', making the adjectivisation complete. But this, I think, would be less, not more respectful.
This of course (wild tangent alert!) is where JFK went wrong in Berlin.
By saying 'Ich bin EIN Berliner' he removed his humanity. The indefinite article made it clear to the Germans that an inanimate object was being discussed. unfortunately for Kennedy, the inanimate object which is a synonym for 'citizen of Berlin' is 'iced doughnut'. Hence much sniggering ever after.
But you can see why he did it.
Because in the USA, if you think about it, the opposite is true. In England too, for that matter.
If you say 'I'm American' or 'I'm English'. It's a statement of fact. Whatever.
But 'I'm AN American', 'I'm AN Englishwoman'. Aha! Suddenly we're talking nationalism, civic pride; indeed, faintly racist territory. But in Kennedy's case, he was just trying to show his own pride at being associated with Berlin, and tried to apply an American nuance to the German language.
Which is a warning to us all: Try to be nationalistic in an unfamiliar language, and you might end up a doughnut.
Ich bin
Saturday, 25 July 2009
Bilingual Brainmelt
I've spent the last week in Berlin, which has been toll. Toll actually means crazy and the German word for rabies is 'Tollwut' which means 'crazyfury' - but in this case it's a good thing, because it also roughly translates as 'ace'.
Now, review that sentence in your head, and then consider that EVERY SENTENCE going through my head currently sounds like that and you'll understand why I have a headache. My brain starts off in English and then....then I realise I've forgotten large chunks of my native language and relpaced them with German. Then I'll get distracted on a little linguistic detour on the etymology of the word which, being German, is pretty easy to map. Last night I was sitting in a bar drinking Pilsener Urquell (which it turns out I say SO BADLY in German that no bartender has a clue what I'm asking for and I'm reduced to flailing over the bar like some unfortunate and desperate drunk mumbling 'da, da, Bier. OOOOrkvell!' until they twig and start speaking in English to me to save embarrassment.) ANYWAY (y'see?) I'm looking at the Urquell label, and at a bottled water someone's drinking called Spreequell. (The Spree is the river in Berlin. you say it 'shpray', well, I do.) and I realise...huh... 'Quell' means source, or spring. Urquell, is like "the original source" - which is also the name of a brand of bubblebath. so if you drank an Urquell in an Original Source bath, you could potentially get confused. What everyone else sees is that weird English girl who understands a surprising amount of German for an Engländerin, but can't talk for shit, giggling at her beer bottle. I'm gonna kvell, already. Which is where THAT Yiddish gem comes from. See? You see? Siehst du? And this is why I haven't updated the blog much. Mein gehirn ist ganz kaputt.
WortGeek
Now, review that sentence in your head, and then consider that EVERY SENTENCE going through my head currently sounds like that and you'll understand why I have a headache. My brain starts off in English and then....then I realise I've forgotten large chunks of my native language and relpaced them with German. Then I'll get distracted on a little linguistic detour on the etymology of the word which, being German, is pretty easy to map. Last night I was sitting in a bar drinking Pilsener Urquell (which it turns out I say SO BADLY in German that no bartender has a clue what I'm asking for and I'm reduced to flailing over the bar like some unfortunate and desperate drunk mumbling 'da, da, Bier. OOOOrkvell!' until they twig and start speaking in English to me to save embarrassment.) ANYWAY (y'see?) I'm looking at the Urquell label, and at a bottled water someone's drinking called Spreequell. (The Spree is the river in Berlin. you say it 'shpray', well, I do.) and I realise...huh... 'Quell' means source, or spring. Urquell, is like "the original source" - which is also the name of a brand of bubblebath. so if you drank an Urquell in an Original Source bath, you could potentially get confused. What everyone else sees is that weird English girl who understands a surprising amount of German for an Engländerin, but can't talk for shit, giggling at her beer bottle. I'm gonna kvell, already. Which is where THAT Yiddish gem comes from. See? You see? Siehst du? And this is why I haven't updated the blog much. Mein gehirn ist ganz kaputt.
WortGeek
Friday, 3 July 2009
Man Crisps?
Just a little thought on an adcampaign I noticed last night. McCoy's crisps new slogan is 'Man crisps'. The implication being that these crisps - which are thickly cut and strongly flavoured and really rather nice - are more rugged and masculine and therefore intended for men. They are possibly the diametric opposite of 'Snack-a-Jacks' - tasty,low fat rice treats which are apparently only ever consumed by women in offices. Look at the two pictures above. Both are basically for prawn cocktail crisps, except that McCoy's have steered away from the slightly camp sounding 'prawn cocktail and gone for a rugged 'Sizzling King Prawn'. Alan Carr would order a prawn cocktail in an overly chintzy bistro run by Felicity Kendal in some thus far thankfully unimagined Carry On Film resurgence. Sizzling King Prawns are something Ray Mears might rustle up on an improvised beach barbecue. The idea of 'prawn' is also less of a threat to anyone's heteromasculinity if it's got the word 'King' next to it.
Then there's the colour. In the language of crisp packets, we all know pink = prawn, but McCoy's have gone for that trademark 'faded salmon' shade that guys can wear to the office without getting queerbashed, where as the packaging on the Snack-a-Jacks is more reminiscent of a mid-range bubblebath than anything edible. Then again, ladies don't EAT, do they? No, they simply float around on a cloud of perfume, flicking their hair and giggling, and clutching pink accessories that may or may not contain 'lo-cal' snacks.
All this is par for the course. I can only assume that, marketing wise, targetting a specific market (and excluding other potential customers) is as lucrative as - or more lucrative than - making your product accessible to everyone. Especially when the market has been effectively aimed at only one gender in the past. Rather than convince the potential male chocolate market, for example, that contrary to what the ad media have been telling you for years, chocolate is not just for the womenfolk and kids, and they are more than welcome to buy Galaxy bars and Maltesers, you concentrate all the masculinity on one brand and hope the guys'll go for that. Hence the aforementioned and reviled Nestle ad : Yorkie, it's not for girls.
How's that for retrograde and offensive?My initial reaction to this campaign was 'it's not for girls? Well I'm a WOMAN and I can have a Yorkie if I like. No hang on, they're Nestle, whom I boycott, and anyway their chocolate is substandard. And even if I DIDN'T boycott Nestle, I certainly would NOW. They don't want my business, I'll take it elsewhere.' OK, they were my initial, secondary and tertiary reactions, if we're splitting hairs.
And I kind of feel the same way about McCoy's. 'Man crisps'? Obviously too thick and rugged for my pretty little mouth. Fine. Keep 'em. But I don't like the sense of manipulation that gives me. If I buy them, an overtly sexist company gets my money. If I boycott, their marketing becomes a self fulfilling prophecy and I look like I think they really are 'man crisps'. Similarly with snack-a-jacks, If I choose a pack of those, having boycotted the 'sizzling testosterone' or whatever it is, I'm merely fulfilling the gender stereotypes set up for me by a room full of corporate cocks. It's a real dilemma of the modern world. Sort of. Unless I just stick to Kettle Chips.
WG
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
