Anyone eyeing this old fossil of an LJ, please amble over to The Eightfold Path of Naniwa, my new blog.

Ah, those familiar Texas hour-long downpours. How did I ever live without them?

pizzas
barbecue
lasagna
chutney
fajitas
meatloaf
gyros
enchiladas
Ben & Jerry's
bread
moremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoreplopplopplop

Last week I misplaced my postal savings account's passbook, a neat little thing onto which the ATM can routinely print out all transactions. I still had the ATM card, so I was not separated from my money, but I still needed to get it replaced. (Honestly, it's probably in my room somewhere, but better safe and all that.)

While I was out yesterday, a slip was left for me. I originally assumed it meant they attempted delivery but failed; closer perusal suggests it was in fact a request of me to arrange when and how I would like it delivered. I was somewhat astonished at the wide range of methods they offered. Not only was there a number to call, I could also fill out and mail or fax the form on the reverse side, visit an Internet site, or go to a special service window.

And neither was the form restrictive. It provided spaces in which one could request delivery to one's workplace, or a neighbor, or a local post office.

I like the Japanese postal system, which may be cut loose from the government very soon. I presume it runs a deficit, but the real question is, and will remain no matter its fate, how well it serves the public.

To switch subjects: I recently delved into the complicated history of English second-person (=2P) pronouns for the benefit of some etymophiles in a blog's comments, and was pleased to see a respondent identifying him/herself as a grad student in pre-1500 English literature confirm my story. (Not bad considering I simply closely examined the OED entries for "you" and "thou.") It's a very interesting story -- which is to say, for me and about five other people -- and so I'll repeat it here.

I had already known, you see, that "you" used to be the polite 2P in English, and "thou" the familiar which died out. But I hadn't been aware that the existence of a polite 2P pronoun was itself relatively recent.

Old English, like Modern English, did not distinguish. Below are its 2P declensions. (I have written them as their later equivalents, and removed the forms which died out (including a dual, for the love of God) for better understanding.)

	Singular	Plural
Nominative	thou	ye
Possessive	thine	your
Dative	thee	you
Accusative	thee	you

That is, back then what we now recognize as "you" was the 2P plural! And not the main plural, but only its accusative and dative forms.

In Middle English, then, starting around 1400, we began our brief flirtation with a polite 2P. Just as Latin had done in its later years, we reapplied the grandeur of the plural to implicitly praise individuals. (At about the same time, we began to use "you" as a nominative in place of "ye" -- "you are" must once have sounded as horrible as "me am," a nice tribute to language change.)

But this process seems not to have reached a state of equilibrium. Perhaps, I wonder, there was a positive-feedback loop wherein the more people perceived the benefits of addressing someone with a polite pronoun, the more they perceived a benefit to using it with people slightly lower in status than the current norms suggested. At one point, the OED says, "you" was used to address superiors; later on, both to superiors and to equals; and so it squeezed and squeezed from the top until "thou" had been obliterated, except perhaps in a few dialects, and the Quakers.

This contrasts with Latinate languages. Some kept the Latin vos, as French with its vous. Others replaced it with new constructs: Spanish adopted vuestra Merced, "Your Grace," and later shortened it to usted; Italian took a similar noun phrase which was then replaced with a pronoun, Lei, "she" (because the noun is feminine). But as far as I know they all kept the familiar, some descendant of Latin tu.

The contrast is not so stark, actually. It does seem that when status is injected into personal pronoun systems, their stability over time (usually quite high) decreases. It's all the more so in Japanese. There, pronouns are needed far less often grammatically, and almost all of them have a lot about personal identity lodged in them, necessitating a lot of knowledge of their implications for proper use. They might as well be nouns with pronominal associations, if that makes any sense. They typically started life as nouns, too: 私 watashi, the most neutral 1P pronoun, once meant "personal matters"; 僕 boku, a more relaxed young-male 1P, was "servant"; 君 kimi, a relaxed 2P that can be intimate or demeaning, was "lord." As the centuries pass, they never seem to stay the same. There is generational variation even today, old people stereotypically saying "washi" for "watashi."

This general phenomenon, in Europe and in Japan, probably exists because social pressures can change language much faster than other processes. Disconnect pronouns from social matters, and they will change mostly just as a part of overall pronunciation change in the language, like Old English "ic" and "we" becoming "I" and "we."

I went over to Kawasaki today for an interview, and after happening to catch an express train and getting there only 30 minutes after I got on the subway, I had some time to kill. Although I was only in the vicinity of the station, it seemed a very nice place. Like Yokohama, another place on the harbor farther down the line, it felt better laid-out, more open, like a city designed for people to live in and enjoy. (Japan has some issues with city planning going back to the end of World War II, but I've read Yokohama is one of the exceptions.) The abundance of sidewalks may have contributed to this.

Maybe the next time I'm in Japan, one of those cities in that area around the bay would be a nice place to commute from.

If you're following TV or radio to find out about the attacks in London, they essentially have to follow a pipeline method: they give you one piece of information, then another, then another, until eventually they come back to the beginning, updating as necessary. Even Internet news is report-by-report, and it summarizes. If in this information-scarce time you want to be able to gulp down everything that's been put out, in as much detail as exists, go to the Wikipedia site. All the times, locations, casualties, are given in detail, along with all the other related bits of news (like unfounded scares elsewhere in the city), the translation of the forum post claiming responsibility, world leaders' statements, information for Londoners, and much more. Basically, when someone knows something not yet on the page, they put it up, and it evolves quickly.

I myself helped -- I saw the world leaders' statements, and realized I could dig up what Koizumi said and translate it. Once I had done that, I refreshed the page, to make sure nobody else had done it. They hadn't, but four statements (from Lebanon, Morocco, Chile, and Hamas) had been newly added in that interval.

I notice something mildly interesting in the timeline: the first explosion was at 8:51, almost exactly the same as 8:46, the time the first plane hit the WTC.

And by way of countermeasures for rationality, here's a piece that interested me this morning: an American general pointing out in a speech that our current struggle is no more a "war on terror" than World War II was a "war on submarines." Terror is a tool, one of many.

I had a dream last night that was perhaps not odder than many dreams, but fairly odd, and its influences were clearer than usual. The premise was that I was appointed to Supreme Court to be O'Connor's unlikely replacement. The story that unfolded drew heavily from one comic I've been reading lately, less heavily but clearly from this blog post, and possibly from one more comic and a Monty Python sketch.

I won't burden the reader with a blow-by-blow, though.

I was just researching this for pedantic reasons, and I decided I might as well share it here. The complicated origin of the word "incumbent," courtesy of the OED!

The word comes from Latin, of course; it's from the verb incumbere, which means "lie upon, lean or press upon, etc." From there we get the principal meanings of the words. It can be just physical, meaning lying upon or pressing one's weight on something -- say, an "incumbent figure." Then it can be used figuratively, often about a pressing duty, as when we say "It is incumbent on me to [verb phrase]." But it also sometimes extends to emotions ("Ambition, and Covetuousnesse are Passions... that are perpetually incumbent, and pressing." -- Hobbes, Leviathan) or things impending or threatening ("The proselytes will return to their original sentiments as soon as the incumbent danger is removed." -- Gouverneur Morris, Life and writings).

So that's the principal meaning. But it's not how we most often use the word now. How did it come to mean "presently holding an office"? This is where it gets interesting.

Apparently, in England at some point, the medieval Latin verb incumbere was given a new meaning: "to possess, occupy." This was among ecclesiastics, and it was only used for the possession of ecclesiastical positions. In the meanings listed previously, "incumbent" was an adjective, but here it started out as a noun, from the substantive incumbentem, meaning of the person possessing, and only later became an adjective as well. And then it shifted to secular offices.

So consider this: although the word is from Latin, it has this meaning only in English-speaking countries!

And from the Concepts That In A Sane Language Would Be Described With More Than One Word Dept.: "merkin." Look it up.

One is a follow-up to the earlier post on my changed appetite. Two days ago, I had in front of me a decent-sized bowl of honeydew, my first melon in some time. After quickly eating half of it, I realized I suddenly had the preference to put it aside for a little while. This is a normal reaction, of course, but those who know how I eat should be astonished.

Two is a new word I learned: rantipole. I first saw it as an archaic synonym for "tomboy," but in fact its meaning is much broader: a rowdy boy or girl; a rowdy person in general; or an adjective or verb for the same characteristic. The OED has no idea of its etymology, and suggests it might be a coinage based on "rant" from the 17th century, when they were constantly making up silly words.

It also has an appropriate sexual meaning, which should be easily uncoverable thanks to the wonder of the Internets.

Hereby prohibited by my law and lash: the phrase "a very Gallic shrug." Just "Gallic shrug" is permissible, but "very" attempts to add a facade of smug knowingness that would be risible even were it not so overused. And "Gallic"? "French" is less pretentious.

I got to see Kuroda Haruhiko speak at the Foreign Correspondents' Club of Japan today. He's been perhaps the biggest Japanese player in the regionalization I'm studying -- he was director general of the International Bureau, then vice-minister for international affairs, and since recently has been the president of the Asian Development Bank.

I'm not going to go into what he said, it would be boring, but one thing I found interesting was how much he talked about the more minor regional initiatives going on -- one in South Asia, one in Central Asia, something trying to better link the two with Afghanistan as a hub, and something called the Greater Mekong Subregion. He spoke about these much more than those centered in East Asia. One thing that floats to mind: it's been agreed that India will be allowed into the coming East Asian Community, so maybe this is a sort of cross-promotion.

The Club itself is a cool place. I can imagine my being a member some day. It's fairly elite, but it's got a lot of events and facilities, and I met interesting people. There were some difficulties with my getting in to see the talk (it was thanks to someone who wasn't there), but as I had hoped, the atmosphere was very collegial, so a person in charge waved those difficulties aside.

And part of the meal plate I bought as part of entry? BAGEL WITH CREAM CHEESE AND LOX! Heaven. I didn't think I'd get to eat that for a very, very long time.

Who'd have thought? I stick my toe into my own little preferred corner of fandom and before I know it, I seem to have helped stir something up. No need to put yourself through this unless you a) are a very bored geek, or b) care way too much about me. Actually, who am I kidding, even those aren't good reasons. This is for me. And I'm paying too much attention to this as it is, don't expect me to narrate the pieces together.

A
B
C
D
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It's from a couple of months ago, but I'd been planning to post it. Near the end of the short semester the Center rented us all kimonos and sent us off to have fun going around the city for a day. Not only was it a fun way to sightsee, the city also encourages it: we picked up coupon books in the subway stations that let us ride the subways free, and reduced various entrance fees.

The kimonos were quite an experience. They were normally elaborate, with people from the rental place there to put them on for us. We men's were only different in color; I chose blue.


Yours truly

With the women, though, it was a different story. They were matched up beforehand, not just for measurements' sake but so it would go with their personal appearance. And I don't know word one about fashion, but I was astounded at how well-chosen they were.


My group


Poses


More poses

With us were Professor Copeland and Lisa Honda, one of the indispensable staff. When we made it to some late plum blossoms, they demonstrated some traditional bekimonoed poses.


くすくす

And Josh, having brought a bamoo staff with him, did a couple of shots posing as a scruffy wandering swordsman.


Not quite Kenshin, but it's a start

Seeing him, it occurred to me to join him in another role, the haughty titled samurai.


Trying to be extremely straight-backed, but it didn't come out perfectly

One more item: one of the women requested a male kimono instead, and they accommodated her. Technically it's also worn by girls at graduation, but it is essentially male. I think it worked out pretty well.



Some people, including men, mentioned being constricted by the belt, but mine was very comfortable. Despite its many layers it didn't heat me up. The women received bags as part of the set, but I discovered that the male storage space was actually the sleeves! They're very wide, but half closed up, so there's no danger of anything falling out. I put in maps, my wallet, my camera, a book, there was room for everything. If you look at the sleeves in my pose, you should see some of it poking out, or at least notice how they hang down tautly.

We got some very satisfying stares. It's not a terribly uncommon thing for foreign women to dress up in kimonos and go sightseeing here, but the presence of men greatly increased the gawk value, I was told. (Kimonos are less common with Japanese men as well.)

There should really be cut-price kimonos. Now they're almost entirely for nostalgia and a few formal occasions, carefully prepared by artisans whose number is limited. The price range is comparable to that for decent used cars in the US -- almost a thousand dollars at minimum. Renting them for the day, as we did, cost at least $50 a head. Why doesn't anyone get ahold of cheaper material, simpify the process a bit, and halve the price? There was a time when commoners wore similar clothes, but it seems they've been irretrievably gentrified.

The unmasking of Deep Throat was one of those bright moments in the future I was greatly looking forward to. Now, it's a little anticlimactic. The main reason is that it's not someone currently powerful, or someone we still remember as a key figure. Gimme Rehnquist! Gimme Safire! Darn. And just as disappointing, it's someone who had been the top choice of many, with a lot of reason, and whose motives were not all glittering altruism as we imagine.

That said, it feels like a lot of the politics regarding Deep Throat was long bottled up. I was never conscious of much badmouthing of him specifically -- certainly there were many people who wanted to, but that would just have pinned them as Nixon apologists, attacking him only for the results he produced. Now he has a face, a history, and people can finally disguise their apologism with ad hominem attacks.

Also, perhaps, with him unidentified, that glamorous, honorable image was better able to rise to hegemony.

Anyway, there's nothing like having a porn title on literati lips for a generation.

If there was ever any doubt in your mind that economics wasn't a science, this passage from a leading econometrics textbook should dispel it.

[On seeking variables:] The first and most important ingredient in such a search is economic theory. If economic theory cannot defend the use of a variable as an explanatory variable, it should not be included in the set of potential independent variables. Such theorizing should take place before any empirical testing of the appropriateness of potential independent variables; this guards against the adoption of an independent variable just because it happens to "explain" a significant portion of the variation in the dependent variable in the particular sample at hand.

A fantastic Japanese food blog. Trust me when I say this guy is no greenhorn JET ranting about something he accidentally bought -- he knows Japan, has a lot more experience than me, and is great at poking into weird little corners of the supermarket. And he's a great writer to boot. If you've enjoyed Jerry Holkins or Simon Travaglia, he's a must-read.

I recommend starting with his excoriation of a certain vile beer-like fraud.

I follow Louisiana politics at a level of remove, through the cartoons at Suspect Device. It's all a horrible joke, of course -- corruption, irresponsibility, and just plain idiocy through the roof. But I just came across something even more breathtaking. The Agriculture Secretary has his own independent power base, including a financial one a la Robert Moses, the Louisiana Agriculture Finance Authority. One of his pet projects is building a sugar mill for farmers. Well, no surprise that the idea is dubious and the projections for its success are twisted -- one expects that sort of thing from lots of states. But it's so divorced from normal government standards that let alone just no bid process or safety standards -- he's been sending common department workers to help build this thing.

(This LAFA's fisc is derived from slot machines at racetracks, incidentally.)

Comics here, here, and here. For articles, browse a little from here.

That's last month's news. In more recent articles, the same guy came up with a new idea to finance these things: issue bonds guaranteed by the regional farmer's cooperative. Yeah, they could sure pay that.

Just goes to show there's always something new to shock you over in the great Bayou State.

The Japanese leek (naganegi) is interesting to work with: a much more viscous and pungent oil emerges than from other sorts of onions, and when chopped up finely, the coloration ranging from white to dark green is extremely picturesque, a ubiquitous garnish for ramen and so forth.

(This might be true of regular leeks too, but I don't have experience with them. Are regular leeks two feet long even when cut down to the edible parts prior to sale?)

I noticed last week that the main Tokyo Metropolitan Library (a five-minute walk from my place, a mitzvah) has flagpoles but no flag. It doesn't surprise me in the least. The Tokyo government has been something of a trend-setter for the left since the late 60's. The rising sun was only recently made the national flag, and I can definitely see them avoiding putting up flags for their own buildings if there's no obligation.

Or maybe even if there is! It was made illegal in the late 40's for government employees to strike, but try telling that to millions of well-unionized workers. They strike anyway.

I might be overthinking this, of course.

In other news: I have something interesting I want to put up in translation, but I'm pondering how to edit it for content. Influenced by this post, I'd prefer not to put anything up here I wouldn't want, say, a prospective boss to see -- no matter how few people might be reading it at the moment.

Have you ever noticed one typical feature of dreams is dual identity? There exists one thing, which is simultaneously another very different thing, and this does not seem contradictory until afterwards. For example, last night my dream was a drama of a huge starship populating a vast new region of space -- and the starship was also Sesame Street.

I should plug Slow Wave. Lots of four-panel comics made out of dreams people submit.