That´s one of the things I love, is that, as far as it´s always seemed to me from how you express and explain things, you just see and think so much and just so, almost in every way precisely what I would have thought, too (and when not, still with such... right-ness about everything), and it´s always seemed to me that you get it all across perfectly -clearly and with energy and excited but at the same time thoughtful and sincere about what you´re saying- and anyhow  things really are that dense and connected and fast in the mind and so why not talk how your brain goes?

The more I trust you, the more you let me down

That settles it

Al Green will always make me think of you.

now we know how the two-headed cat works

Or maybe I should just chalk it up to our sharing-a-brain thing…

So happy and sad and proud of myself and sad…

The Baby already has all the stuff I was going to get him.

Well, except the Iĉiro jersey.

And now this awesome, giant, perfectly sized box I got to ship it all in is going to go to waste…

On why they’re known as Mutant Turtles and not Ninja Turtles in Japan

“Fuck it, nigga; our whole country’s ninjas.”

I want ariadnæ’s parents to meet my parents but I want Speedbump to be a part of my family.

No quiero envejecernos así

Tonight while watching “The Simpsons” I kept calling Lisa by Speedbump’s name (I kept screaming at the TV ’cause I was concerned about her future)

The worst thing I’ve ever heard of

Trunk ’n treat

Saw “The Descendents” last night (not about the band). Dreamt about hearing Speed Bump’s husband tell me how it was easier to wine and dine a prostitute than deal with her… Tried to get her, then, to go talk to him when he got home, felt like she’d been so worn down she wasn’t making a real effort. But I pushed her to, but I saw he wasn’t really taking any interest in what she was doing, either. One of us was drawing a picture.

If he’s willing to go to counseling he’s at least willing to try. I wish Speed Bump would see that and genuinely do the same thing. But she’s holding a part of her heart back.

The dream also involved watching a college softball team at a mall in Orange County, being dressed up in Giants gear possibly at a Mariners (?) game, and the family of the Spanish-language announcer.

I just want to scream, “Hello!
My god, it’s been so long
Never dreamed you’d return
But now, here you are
And here I am”

Sage advice

Once it was mentioned to the Prophet (pbuh) about two women who found difficulty in fasting. The Prophet (pbuh) called those women and asked them to vomit in separate bowls, when fresh meat and blood was found in the vomit of those women. The Prophet (pbuh) said that these women did backbiting. One of the adverse effects of sin while fasting is it becomes very difficult to fast. The one who fasts embracing taqwa won’t even feel like he is fasting. The fasting will trouble a person to the extent he dirties his eyes and tongue.
Allahu alam

Who’s “loathe to admit it?” I’m not the only one saying capitalism is fundmentally incompatible with democracy, for years.

It would be nice, I think, once, to imagine that she was taken away from me by some malevolent force in this awful age, but I know the truth of that: she went away, simply, because I wasn’t enough back then, because those were the days before I yearned for anything…

It’s weird that it doesn’t really seem that weird that I haven’t talked to my brother in almost a year.

Another Therria dream. This time it didn’t even start out as one—it was about finding an office/place and then the bridge exploding from a perspective where it’s not really in real life, but then somehow I was trying to show her how much I’d missed her + get us to make up.

Pretentious, but that’s why he’s so good

God is just out my back door, yet I choose not to visit. I would rather sit alone and scheme on how to be remembered, on what more that I can do here to cement the evidence that I once walked these roads with you. It is a futile exercise. I know it is, and yet I persist.

It’s nice to be reminded—even though that was why I made the decision, and was pretty sure it was the right one—of this every now and then.

At a deeper level, Islam lags because it failed to offer a way to institutionalize free inquiry. That, in turn, is attributable to its failure to reconcile faith and reason. In this respect, Islamic societies have fared worse not just than the West but also than many societies of Asia. With a couple of exceptions, every country in the Middle Eastern parts of the Muslim world has been ruled by an autocrat, a radical Islamic sect, or a tribal chieftain. Islam has no tradition of separating politics and religion.

The decline of Islam and the rise of Christianity was a development that was and remains deeply humiliating for Muslims. Since Islam tended to ascribe its political power to its theological superiority over other faiths, its fading as a worldly power raised profound questions about where a wrong turn was made.

It is really an unfortunate coincidence of our monotheistic heritage that we labour under the delusion that “all religions say basically the same thing.”

UGH

Yet another list for me, but for y’all, but for myself

• http://multitonguekids.blogspot.com/
• http://babybilingual.blogspot.com/
• http://wannajugarwithmigo.blogspot.com/

Also:

• Bringing Up Baby Bilingual by Jane Merrill, unfortunately out of print, 1984; too old for an ISBN; currently >$150 on Amazon.
• The Bilingual Family: A Handbook for Parents by Edith Harding and Philip Riley
  

LUCKY BONUS: Multilingual parenting FAQ

Bringing up a bilingual child is ordinary, not unusual. My own experience of child bilinguals has been mainly in Singapore and India. In these countries (and many others, especially in Asia and Africa) speaking more than one language is taken for granted. Most children grow up in families where two or more languages are spoken, in communities where they hear many languages every day.

In Singapore nearly all children come to nursery school at age 3 already able to speak 2 languages. Many can speak 3. A child growing up with only one language is quite rare.

If you live in a place where there is a clear dominant language in the society, which is the language of the children your child will be playing with, or which is the language of education, you can be sure your child will learn that language. YOU don't need to worry about it at all. If you speak a language that is not used much in the community you live in, and especially if you use the dominant community language with your partner, you are going to have to work hard to develop your child's skills in that language, especially if you and your partner speak in the community's dominant language.

Maybe I’ll expand on this later but pretty sure there was a Language Log posting about the English pronunciation of Beijing and specifically the J and maybe it has something to do with the stress being on the final syllable?

M$ b0rked Babel Fish

La lengua Hmong está ahora entre los idiomas traductor de Microsoft compatibles. Gracias a la en todo el mundo comunidad Hmong.

Pruebe Report Contextual y entrada Universal en los laboratorios de idioma de Microsoft Translator.

Microsoft traductor comercial API está disponible a través de Windows Azure Marketplace. Regístrese aquí.

Comunidad herramientas para personalizar las traducciones e invitar a los traductores están disponibles en la página web del widget.

The combination of the conversation with Ariadnæ and the trading of Ichiro (after I was about to send The Baby an (not cheap) Ichiro jersey) have made me kind of down tonight.

Talking with Ariadnæ about raising having kids + now I’m sad ’cause I realize I really don’t want to raise a person with anybody but you and Ariadnæ said, “I don’t know, my sister + her husband set the bar pretty high,” and I’m just thinking, Pssh, amateurs! they suck! we could do better than that

O continuum das normas escritas na Galícia: Do espanhol ao português

Moito, moito, moito interessante.

current obsession: o gal(l)ego

For my own reference, but yours, too

Free e-maily services:

• Yahoo!
• Hotmail
• GMX/Mail.com
• Topmail
  choice of Spanish-language occupational domain names like Mail.com, gives you an MSN account
• Lavabit
  POP3, seems pretty 133t, security/privacy, [review]
• Fastmail
  choice of multiple domain names
• Gawab
  árabe
• Hushmail
• Pobox.com
  Is that still a thing?
• SquirrelMail
• Round Cube

And now I’ve had enough of this for now.

This whole article + comment thread is so full of win, but quotes like this especially:

One of the great problems with our time is that thanks to the Internet and technology in general, creating art is easier—leading everyone to think they are an artist…

“Art is not supposed to be easier! There are a lot of things in life that are supposed to be easier. Ridding the world of heart attacks, making the roads smoother, making old people more comfortable in the winter, but not Art. Art should always be tough. Art should demand something of you. Art should involve foot-pounds of energy being expended. It’s not supposed to be easier, and those who want it easier should not be artists. They should be out selling public relations copy.”

—Harlon Ellison

Found a sex shop that accepts bitcoin. But their splash page has an ad for a “toy for your wife.” As if women can't pick out their own sex toys. Won't be getting my money; Next

crying because The Baby will probably never get to meet my parents again

Obama “gaffe”

I don’t get it. Does “Polish death camps” not mean “death camps in Poland?”

Yet another making-peace-with-therria dream.

Note to self: You have never had your last one despite how long it’s been since the previous.


Also, some sort of dream about Speedbump, where she gave me a card with the bridge and was having to deal with raising two kids.

I know I've said it before but

Tina Fey makes me miss therria.

LIKE CRAZY.

You could invent the next Facebook… and that’s what I’m afraid of.

What on earth have his parents parked him in front of to distract him while they eat/read/have sex/pretend for one precious moment that their life hasn’t been ruined by a baby?

http://joshreads.com/?p=582

Horrible thought

What if they do get divorced
and the kids don’t take to me
don’t understand how much I care about them
because I didn’t take the opportunity to get close when I could have

Ristretto Image Viewer hangs on startup after attemping to enable “Show thumbnail bar” option and eats up processor %cpu

Well, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one with this problem

Note that you can deactivate the thumbnailbar without starting ristretto with
the following command:

xfconf-query -c ristretto -p /window/show-thumbnailbar -s false

I haven’t forgotten
They don’t mention it anymore
but whenever my aunt + uncle say to visit + “bring a friend, or a girlfriend”
I think about when they took us to dinner
and how close we felt
and how much I miss you
and how I wouldn’t mind them seeing you again

but you weren’t The One

I want to play catch with the baby.

I see me, and I don’t see how you can like this

I’d like to think that if you were in town I wouldn’t be in your arms tonight

Oh, God, please don’t ever get divorced

Te quiero, te quiero, te extraño, fuck!

I want so much for the baby(ies) to be healthy

I wish I weren't, but if I’m honest with myself I’m desperate to meet this new person

I hate these days where I wonder if I made the right decision

Finding your arms again after all those months was like coming up for a gulp of air

I want to tell stories to the company with you

She still have that birthmark on her ass?

Hyperpolyglots may begin with talent, but they aren't geniuses. They simply enjoy tasks that are drudgery to normal people.

Wow… Moar.

It's okay to take a victory, walk away, and save yourself for another day.

The black bloc doesn't dialogue with anybody, won't talk to anybody that wants to question their tactics, and hides behind large crowds in order to do things they wouldn't normally be able to do, like trash a bank in broad daylight.

THIS

It's about all of us working and acting together. Not about just letting a few angry folks get their jollies off so they can feel like a romantic revolutionary hero.

Installer guy just told me I’ll make a good parent someday

Dream where I was visiting Speedbump at her (new) house somewhere, thought The Poet was gonna come home, but he didn't... I feel like the guy who ended up showing up was somebody to check the EMFs or something from a tower, like, right centred in their house... I think that's about when I left + it was night + I think we were somewhere in the States + maybe I was looking for a Ninja Turtles shirt for Lefty... which is when I think when I ran across Emu and Blondie... They, I think, were working on some article, when I saw the byline later, I was sad... In the dream, he took her last name and also part of her last name changed; that's just how they did it out there... And I wasn't, like, heartbroken, just that general melancholy feeling I get when I find out someone's gotten married... Which lately seems like everyone. Also in my dream was buying a Ninja Turtles shirt for Lefty in... where were we? Seattle? Somewhere else... And whoever'd bought it on my behalf had worn it and I was like, "Eh..." I walked into a restaurant and he was there, on his way to a show, or, no, a baseball game...

When I was watching Bart throw pebbles at Milhouse' window last night, I thought of Therria and I was sad.

The Poet es un padre como el mío… y por eso no me gusta.

Some sunny winter rural landscape with red barns next to the road that was England but was actually probably Norway and our driver got car-jacked by a man with a "shotgun" but the barrel of which, pressed against the driver's side window as he stared at it, frozen, looked more like the tip of an AK. Don't know why we were driving through the English countryside; I may have been hitching + ariadnae may have been involved. Oh, yeah, we were, because we were having awesome sex while my old roommate Garrett was showering + we were hoping her shower wouldn't end so we wouldn't be heard. Oh, and maybe emu was in the dream; the house's walls were white, not wood, but, yeah, there was something about a train that took me out there + talking to some Norwegian abt wanting to paint it.

Then there was some newsstories about debris on the tracks on BART... in the Atlantic? which was also conflated this story about submarines in the Atlantic, and you'd think shit would be chill out there, 'cause we're at peace with Europe, but not really - there's still territorial disputes. Conflated with guys up in the north like near Sweden/Finland/Norway but also an island but also somehow, like, territory contested between the U.S. and Germany, and guys building cabins + stuff. Like Iceland was Svalbard but also Antarctica.

Gay shit, the past

I want you to teach me how to watch tennis.

I hate your preeminence in my own personal mythology

It terrifies me you won't be challenged

I was somehow on vacation with my sister... We were in some upscale shopping place outside, kind of like Town Centre, and I was pulling together this train of two kids each on little plastic cars, avoiding rich parents and their little kids... They were rich Baby Einstein-type kids + I corrected their Italian, telling them "non più" in reference to having more kids... They were impressed I looked the way I did + spoke Italian. I'd told my sister, "This is why you don't have more than two!" as I was trying to pull these kids through this narrow pathway with everyone sitting + dining on either side... loud enough to hear... Tried to go through this narrow area with only stairs near a fountain... Then somehow I got to near my sister, I think she was poolside further down or something... and I was looking at Google Maps, looking up a racetrack... Well, it turned out Google let you monitor the race in realtime, with like little dots 'n shit for the cars, with a zoom in to the pits...

Oh, also, I'd been in an airport with ... Blondie? Ariadnae? That maybe looked kinda like Lihue Airport, or but maybe like HNL, or maybe w/ my sister... Nei, I think I was with Blondie, 'cause I saw this other guy, and he had a cane, too, but he recognized me, we couldn't place each other... He said Speedbumps name, and it was like, #Yeah... but then I looked up some of his stuff on the Web, in some really rich multimedia environment, come to think of it (i.e. it was a dream and I was practically in the Metaverse), and it turned out we'd met each other through trivia with Lefty or something; I saw some of Lefty's newly popular YouTube videos on this guy's site (which was like a room)... So then I guess we flew to wherever + I was with my sister somehow... So then my ssister's somewhere were she can't see us, and I'm with speedbump, and I hear this Google Maps broadcast come back from commercial, maybe a McDonald's CBO commercial, and the voice (I guess sounding like Univision's NFL feed) counted down, but in English- "Ten, nine, eight..." And I said to Speedbump, man, if Spain is like this... I can't remember what I said. But then we started making out, and she gets this naughty gleam in her eye, I think when I talk shit about Spain again, when the announcer counts down again, and I'm making fun of his accent... And she starts bajándose, possibly stripping, and I'm looking out to make sure my sister's far/hidden/preoccupied enough she can't see, and I'm looking to just, fucking, go for it, I want to call Speedbump a filthy slut, but also something that conveys + maybe makes her feel guilty for, you know, having a husband/leaving me, but nothing sufficiently naughty/sexy and yet venomous/contemptuous is coming out, + I'm still scouting/watching out for my sister, and just when she's about to slide my cock into her mouth, I'm awakened by Blondie listening to some horrible game show at, really, not just, never an appropriate volume for bad European TV (redundant) at 8 in the morning.

ugh. ANOTHER making-up-with-therria dream… I seriously thought I was over this.

I was swimming in some sort of lake or lagoon or I don't know what you'd call it, like way out in some rural place like into Napa County or Sonoma or something, I think out past 37, and... I can't remember much else, but there was a girl there, I think, on this property that was her family's... I don't know if I was supposed to be there, but at some point I got out of the water, her brother(s) and his friends were there; I think I or we or her was hiding from them or something at some point... Anyway, I liked the blonde girl with curly hair, although I think I remember being worried about how young she was; maybe that's why I was trying to avoid her brothers, or maybe they were trying to keep her from seeing me, but anyway, eventually she got my e-mail or something like that... I guess 'cause the dudes stole my clothes or something (?), for whatever reason, I'm in this light, IKEA-coloured wood grained room, with windows, sitting around circular tables with... Ryan? We've been talking a while, he's got long hair and a moustache now, I'm looking at him and trying to see the old him behind the long hair + moustache... Of course it mightn't have looked like him, it was a dream. And at some point I'm with Monica, in the back of a hatchback... Is her car really like that? On a steep hill kind of like the road that goes the other way past Justin's house... And I guess we were on our way to a show... Like a real show, at some sort of actual venue... I don't know if this was before, because the backstage of this venue was down a hall that turned 90 to the left and ended up in that same room... So at some point I was in the room in my boxers, after swimming, and I figured, fuck it, why not, so I slipped 'em off... For whatever reason, some Asian girl sitting across from me peeked under and came over... so she made some appreciative comment, and I tried to spit game back, but she was way too smart for me... I tried to save it by being like, "Well, look, I've always sucked at chemistry, I HATE chem," but then none of the other shit she fired back I knew, either... She knew like 3 or 4 foreign languages, none of which I knew... She, I think, said something in Mandarin so I tried to at least save face by being like, "" but she didn't, and I think her friend informed her I wasn't that great... So she kept walking, despite being impressed by my subtabla junk... Then I was out in the audience for this show, walked out to sit in the crowd from backstage (now clothed?). There were like two drum kits on risers, a bunch of everything, this huge Arcade Fire-type band... They launched into their first number, and it kicked ass... At the end, they started smashing up a bass... I had jumped up on stage, then finished it off... I walked backstage after the song, as if I were part of the act... Not so many people back there now, of course... So at some point I came back out, I think maybe I was escorted by security? But this time I entered through like the front, or the opening hallway/vestible to the venue...


And I was going to write part I of my dream yesterday, which I was happy I still remembered, but then I had to google blind girl porn and now I forget. :7 But part II was me hanging out with Speedbump - I think maybe Number Two was there, now, off in a carrier to the side - and I was playing with her and The Baby, and he just looked at me in my eyes, and I realized, look, this kid's verbal now, I can't have him talking to dad about "We saw Drummer Boy" and have him asking about whatever... So I turned to Speedbump and I said, "Look, I can't do this anymore; I have to go now." And she was sad, but that was that. And it had to be that.

This is why I hate feminists

I think Blondie woke me up a bit right before I quite finished this dream, and I was a little disappointed not to get resolution. I was going around with some other people, I think my brother was there, or maybe not him, but some of his stuff at the pawn shop on 4th St., he was going to come get it at some point... and in that group of people who went off... can’t remember if this was first, but I was at something I guess maybe resembling the “community centre” I was working on on the island, but it was set in S.A., and I think run by Mr DigiQ who shares the mayor of Waikīkī’s name... but anyway, can’t remember how we met, but I was at this community centre, I’d had a bunch of papers I’d written or designed, arty shit to, like, post, or wheatpaste, or something, I think, or just put up around the centre, and when I came back to get the pile these kids had photocopied a bunch of this one they liked (I’d though they were all hand written, but the one they’d photocopied was typewritten), and I didn’t say anything about being the author or involved, but when I went to pick up the pile I heard one of the kids saying something about writing it in “Sanscript.” So I asked him to repeat and he like, “You know... um...” referring to a handwriting style (possibly from writing on Blondie’s back/discussing styles?) So I got out a pencil and, writing on this shitty, tear-y brown learning-to-write, big-lined first-grade handwriting paper, in hella straight-letter handstyles, I wrote out SCRIPT, SaNSKRIT and told him he better look up Sanskrit... So this cute, younger redhead girl came to get me (OH. Geez, now I know where that’s from) and walked me out to near the edge of the block, and posted this notice that basically said, Drummer Boy, you didn’t do X, Y, and Z, and we’re through. On this same newsprint-y brown paper, written in black marker. And I just looked at it, and it seemed pretty final. And I was sad, and I shrugged, and I started to walk off. And she started screaming at me as I was walking away, like, “That’s it?! You aren’t even going to say anything?” And I was like, Well, look, you pretty looked like you’d made up your mind. In fact, I remember I threw down, I think, a handful of thin colouring pens (reminiscent of the screwdrivers), and screamed, incredulous, like, “What do you mean that’s it!?” You know, you wrote this notice you declared it was over, that seemed pretty final. Oh, and the other thing was, I had started to be like, “Seriously? We hung out once before this, and now you’re posting this big (it was really a little smaller than A4) flyer about how we’re ‘breaking up?’ What is this, high school? Why couldn’t you just stop calling me like a grown-up? Or if you did like me, start?” And I started to make excuses (lying) about how I’d been in Oakland and SoCal through lots of the month (probably in fact I’d been with ariadnae, but I couldn’t remember any of this; where, exactly, I’d been, in the dream). And working, which was true; 12-hour days so I could get 6 hours sleep and wake up + do it again. + she wasn’t interested; she wasn’t having it. So when I shrugged, and gave up and walked off, and she screamed “That’s it?,” I was pissed. I ran up to her like what the fuck am I supposed to do - I guess I must have had to run across the street to get to her, and we ended up sitting on the edge of the top of a curved, wheelchair-friendly dip in the sidewalk to the crosswalk, but it was pretty high up, probably like a metre at least or something, and hella nice manicured grass patches alongside the sidewalks, that salmon-coloured sidewalk in upscale places, some kind of mattress retailer or something to my left, behind her on her right. And she sat and I was standing with my hands in my pockets, and I was like, look, you need to learn to articulate your discontent, and she was like, I don’t know how, and I was like, it’s a learned skill. And I didn’t know how much younger she was, but I went off on some sort of rant on positive conflict resolution in relationships, and let her know, look, when we met, I liked you, I really liked you, but it was seriously like this one time, and, OK, let’s do it some more and learn to discuss things because I don’t want to engage you like you did when you put up that letter, because I need you to tell me what you want, rather than laying down some ultimatum or discontent and then expecting it to be my role to wave a wand and make it better. + that’s when she said she didn’t know how to articulate her discontent and later, some other girl with lighter, oranger hair came up who I can’t figure out/remember who they were/based on, but some friend of this girl (“Melany”?) I was talking/breaking up/making up with, and I couldn’t resist the urge to whisper in the girl I was making up with’s ear, “I like your [shade of] red hair better than hers,” and while I can’t remember if that’s true in real life or the dream (it seems to me I prefer oranger shades to darker/browner ones), I do think I found her just more attractive. Now somehow where we’re sitting is right in front of the store windows, their fluorescent light from inside illuminating us on the pavement below the window, her friend’s back to one of the little stucco posts that jutted out, between the windows, the world beyond of course completely unmapped, unknown, and irrelevant. And of course I was not slick at all about whispering in this girl’s ear, and her friend was like, C’mon, what’d you say; don’t do that, and I think that’s about the time I woke up.

I do hope we lived happily ever after, though.