"Like the telephone, the punchy “hello” was a liberator and a social leveler. “The phone overnight cut right through the 19th-century etiquette that you don’t speak to anyone unless you’ve been introduced,” Mr. Koenigsberg said. And “hello” was the edge of the blade. “If you think about it,” he said, “why didn’t Stanley say hello to Livingston? The word didn’t exist.” Neither did the simple and elegant “dude,” so Stanley was thrown back on the formal “Dr. Livingston, I presume.”"

NYT: Great ‘Hello’ Mystery is Solved

Apparently today I am compulsively researching the minutiae of telephone history? (For example, did you know that 212 is NYC’s area code because it’s the easiest combo to dial on a rotary phone? Followed by - yep, you guessed it - 213 for LA and 312 for Chicago? THE MOAR YOU KNOW.)

thought abhors tights

At first read a bit cutesy and a few things I’d contest (like that simplification of female fashion which though I appreciate the sentiment is surely more complex, and the sort of dismissal of exterior thought as somehow lesser, and of course I’d want more on the semiotics of it all and the parallels between clothing and language, and also more about the clothing as armor/protection, which is something I’ve discussed before a bit.)  But come on, Umberto Eco wrote this in 1976 about how his tight jeans squashing his junk made him think about the relations between clothes and thought and women/constructed sartorial femininity and language.  How could I NOT waste a quarter of an hour typing most of the two pages out for y’all?  And besides, it gave me a reason to google funny things like “pants” and “trousers” for the sake of providing you all with the highly relevant Wallace and Gromit image above.  

The jeans didn’t pinch, but they made their presence felt…. As a result, I lived in the knowledge that I had jeans on, whereas normally we live forgetting that we’re wearing undershorts or trousers. I lived for my jeans, and as a result I assumed the exterior behavior of one who wears jeans. In any case, I assumed a demeanor… I discussed it at length, especially with consultants of the opposite sex, from whom I learned what, for that matter, I had already suspected: that for women experiences of this kind are familiar because all their garments are conceived to impose a demeanor—high heels, girdles, brassieres, pantyhose, tight sweaters.

I thought then about how much, in the history of civilization, dress as armor has influenced behavior and, in consequence, exterior morality. The Victorian bourgeois was stiff and formal because of stiff collars; the nineteenth-century gentleman was constrained by his tight redingotes, boots, and top hats that didn’t allow brusque movements of the head. If Vienna had been on the equator and its bourgeoisie had gone around in Bermuda shorts, would Freud have described the same neurotic symptoms, the same Oedipal triangles? And would he have described them in the same way if he, the doctor, had been a Scot, in a kilt (under which, as everyone knows, the rule is to wear nothing)?

But the problem of my jeans led me to other observations. Not only did the garment impose a demeanor on me; by focusing my attention on demeanor, it obliged me to live towards the exterior world…I thought about the relationship between me and my pants, and the relationship between my pants and me and the society we lived in. I had achieved heteroconsciousness, that is to say, an epidermic self-awareness.

I realized then that thinkers, over the centuries, have fought to free themselves of armor. Warriors lived an exterior life, all enclosed in cuirasses and tunics; but monks had invented a habit that, while fulfilling, on its own, the requirements of demeanor (majestic, flowing, all of a piece, so that it fell in statuesque folds), it left the body (inside, underneath) completely free and unaware of itself. Monks were rich in interior life and very dirty, because the body, protected by a habit that, ennobling it, released it, was free to think, and to forget about itself… And when even the intellectual must dress in lay armor (wigs, waistcoats, knee breeches) we see that when he retires to think, he swaggers in rich dressing-gowns, or in Balzac’s loose, drolatique blouses. Thought abhors tights.

But if armor obliges its wearer to live the exterior life, then the age-old female spell is due also to the fact that society has imposed armors on women, forcing them to neglect the exercise of thought. Woman has been enslaved by fashion not only because, in obliging her to be attractive, to maintain an ethereal demeanor, to be pretty and stimulating, it made her a sex object; she has been enslaved chiefly because the clothing counseled for her forced her psychologically to live for the exterior. And this makes us realize how intellectually gifted and heroic a girl had to be before she could become, in those clothes, Madame de Sevigne, Victoria Colonna, Madame Curie, or Rosa Luxemburg.

….A final reflection—in imposing an exterior demeanor, clothes are semiotic devices, machines for communicating. This was known, but there had been no attempt to illustrate the parallel with the syntactic structures of language, which, in the opinion of many people, influence our view of the world. The syntactic structures of fashions also influence our view of the world, and in a far more physical way than the consecutio tempomm or the existence of the subjunctive.

— Umberto Eco, Lumbar Thought, 1976

…the reviewer’s rhetoric echoes a familiar view of technology as a binary opposition, with human connection on one side and computers on the other….To my mind, the relocation of social life to the internet is less a signal of the domination of machines or the loss of human connection than the perfect argument against anyone who claims the internet is making us stupid…. Internet socialization is far closer to a 19th century mode of intimacy than to a dystopian future of tragically disconnected robot prostitutes. There’s a Jane Austen-ish quality to online social life. The written word gains unmatched power and inarguable primacy.

Personal relationships now, to a much greater degree than, say, 30 years ago, hinge on our ability to write — if not necessarily well in a formal, Strunk & White manner, then at least effectively. This change makes us not disconnected so much as it makes us archaic. Austen’s characters easily expressed extreme emotion in long letters and then in person sat twitchily near one another, paralyzed with manners…. Our physical reactions when together are often cover-ups for what we could so candidly admit in writing.

I actually LITERALLY SQUEALED IRL while reading this, possibly because I live for defenses of antisocial textual introverts (hi world!!) and because I effing love media and above all things loathe Kids Today/The Internet Is Ruining Our Lives articles (not that there aren’t PROBLEMS but really this isn’t THE END OF EVERYTHING) and above all things really dig anything about language and bodies and text and bodies of text and ‘textual intimacy’ and I mean, yeah

Fitzgerald’s Jane Austen comment is interesting to me as well on a number of levels — we all know how I feel about Janie by now (and I’m guessing a lot of y’all are also familiar with the good time provided to us by our dear friend Eve K.S.) — and I think there’s a lot of interesing stuff going on there regarding technology alienation repression society norms blah blah blahdy blah blah, but for the most part just a really big YES THANK YOU.

 [via champagnecandy]

While y’all are busy gushing over pencil skirts and skinny ties (not that I’m not), here’s another fun little bit of linguistic assholery about linguistic anachronisms in Mad Men. More at Visual Thesaurus, too.

written on the body

Articulacy of fingers, the language of the deaf and dumb, signing on the body, body longing. Who taught you to write in blood on my back? Who taught you to use your hands as branding irons? You have scored your name into my shoulders, referenced me with your mark. The pads of your fingers have become printing blocks, you tap a message on to my skin, tap meaning into my body. Your Morse code interferes with my heart beat. I had a steady heart before I met you, I relied upon it, it had seen active service and grown strong. Now you alter its pace with your own rhythm, you play upon me, drumming me taut.

Written on the body is a secret code only visible in certain lights; the accumulations of a lifetime gather there. In places the palimpsest is so heavily worked that the letters feel like Braille. I like to keep my body rolled up away from prying eyes. Never unfold too much, tell the whole story. I didn’t know that you would have reading hands. You have translated me into your own book.

— Jeanette Winterson

…or my way of showing off my heavy-handed uber-metaphorical new ink (hay guys text and bodies and bodies of text and gay stuff and alphabets and language and metaphors about blindness and touch and vision and writing and maps and codes and history and histories and fiction and stories and more heavy handed overintellectual queer garbage zomgz)

Here’s some lingustistic geekery about the verbification of Google, Bing’s hopeless aspirations that we’ll all be Bing-ing instead one day, and the weird legal issues involved with brand names becoming generic nouns and/or verbs (kleenex, xerox, netflix, youtube etc….While we’re at it, band-aid, velcro, astroturf, q-tips, rolodex, tampax, and saran wrap are surprisingly also brand names that became generic…and there are plenty more.) Fun fun fun!

LINGUISTICS TATTOOS. Oh boy.  Why had THIS (namely, IPA and other FUN STUFF LIKE THAT! I hope some of my old college roommates are reading this and have terrible flashback memories of me sitting at my desk chanting words over and over again to transcribe them: ‘kitten. kitten. kitten. kitten. is that ʔ or t??’) not yet occurred to me as a goldmine of faux-hyperintellectual-brouhaha body art inspiration?!?! And a whole gallery of nerdy awesome science tattoos. Via LanguageLog, obvi.

My minor/correllate in college was this completely fabricated (and completely awesome) linguistics/anthropology/media studies track which I somehow got the anth department to approve and call “langauge, new media, and expressive culture.”  Which basically came down to a lot of crap about, like, what languages people use on their Facebook walls, how blogs perpetuate certain linguistic style amongst their commenters to create a community (Gawker vs Perez vs HRO), the fact that abbreviations for texting/tweeting etc are creative adaptations to constrants and not the end of the English language (fuck you, prescriptivists), what the actual logic of cat macro text (“LOLSPEAK”) is and academizing other various 4chan garbage and memes, and then an awful lot using Google for statistics on when and where phrases or alternate spellings became popular.  Man, was that all useless and awesome or what.

Point of all that was that I totally miss it a few years later, which is why things like this make me cream my linguistpants.  (Also, you know, links including Monty Python sketches never hurt anyone.)  Top records / videos / films of the year? Yawn (though I’m sure I’ll post my own lists at some point.)  Top searched words of the year at Merrimam-Webster??! Hell yes! Dictionary.com’s top lists are a bit less reassuring though - I’m not sure if I should be depressed or proud of the American public that so many of them needed to look up the definition of “socialism.”