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Linguistic Causes Of Dyscalculia?

Graduate school applications periodically ask you to enter medium-length strings of numbers which code for one horrible bureaucratic thing or another, so I was entering the code for Stanford University — 101764 — when I had some of the usual trouble transposing numbers, and had to correct myself. I could very clearly see that the last three digits ran 7-6-4, but I entered it as 6-7-4 twice before I got it right.

I was vaguely aware that I had been saying them wrong to myself in my head. Had I simply allowed my visual understanding of and response to the symbols to take over, I could probably have typed in the numbers correctly. Suddenly it struck me that the problem might be that my language center had taken over, and maybe I was performing a linguistic correction in my head.

Why? “Six-seven-four” sounds better than “seven-six-four.” Try it — the sound you get when saying the former is “sickseven,” which is easier to say than “sevensix.”

Cobbling together some half-baked ideas from Steve Weisler and Neil Stillings’s ever-popular, fan-fucking-tastic introduction to linguistics class, here’s my reasoning: Not all English words pluralized by adding an S are spoken as if there is an S at the end. Words that end in voiced consonants are pronounced as if there is a Z (I don’t remember what the teeth are called — would that be a voiced dental fricative?) at the end: “Liam’s dogs eat cans” would be pronounced “Liam’z dogz eat canz,” not “Liam’ss dogss eat canss.” “Seven,” like “can,” ends in an N (a voiced velar glide?), so speakers of English might be expected to correct themselves when faced with an S following “seven.”

Could my overdeveloped language skills really be making that drastic a jump — actually rearranging word order — to correct a minor incidence of dissonance? Were the same skills that raised my verbal SAT scores also dragging down my math scores?

OK, so now that I’ve worked around to this part of the argument I find my half-remembered theories and misused jargon aren’t really supporting my point, which is seeming increasingly rickety. Perhaps the claim shouldn’t rest on ideas about pluralization; maybe there’s other linguistic theories about word order and euphony that could be called into play. It just seemed to explain my problem with transposing numbers better than a simple diagnosis of dyscalculia; I’ve never actually seen the numbers out of order, just read them out of order.

Any thoughts?

Confidential to hahaha and Sammy: here’s your picture:

d00d u had betr r33d up… or mayB $tart w/a dictionareee… bcuz Strunk 0wnz j00r 3l33t a$$ez yo…

I Know What You Did Last Halloween, Or At Least I Have A Vague Kind Of Sense Of What You Were Up To

The slightly creepy thing about having friends on Petridish is that pictures of you which you barely knew existed, like this one of me, Fuzrock, Dante, and Scott from last Halloween, show up sometimes. Here are more from that set, and there’s also some from this Halloween, including some great shots of Jacob doing his luchador thing. You get a feeling for the Software Pirate concept and for just how homemade my costume was, but alas I’m not seeing any shots of Fuzzy-as-pirate, of Ben as Pontius Pirate, or Katya as a pilot. Goddamn I miss those kids. Kalamazoo and Chicago are richer for having them.

Like, totally.

Ever think Yours Truly is denying her roots and filtering out all that authentic Valley Girl flavor when writing the DSWJ? Well, now you can shove this prose (or any other site’s) right back through the social-climbing, code-switching filter it’s been squeezed through by using this Val-speak translator. The piece about Janeane Garofalo is particularly funny that way. Too bad the site can’t handle XML includes. I want to note that it’s interesting that Valley Girlism is now being considered an 80’s phenomenon. Like, hello?! Has anyone been to New Jersey lately? Totally.

That’s the letter F and the letter U…

“Oh yeah, you know what?” Bert retorts. “Today?s show has been brought to you by the letters ‘F’ and ‘U’! At least Bernice was real! I mean, I wasn’t the one shoving a rubber duck up my ass!”

Found that on an old Columbia U satire rag website. (Sorry, guys, but I have to say they do much better than the Omen.) I was poking around gay-Muppet controversy sites as I’m thinking about ways to expand a pitch about an old feminist song on the show… anyone remember all the female muppets singing “there’s nothing we women can’t be?” If anyone has any memories of that particular sketch please email me, I’d love to have people’s reflections on whether or not messages like that affected their take on gender roles.

Jacob Wins!

Jacob has won the October round of the Dark Horse Comics Strip Search! Now he goes on to compete against the winners for the year. It already looks like there’s some stiff competition — I really like the first entry for this month, titled Tangerine. Yeah, I’m a sucker for plotlines about Brooklyn ghetto ninjas and organic produce, what can I say. Keep watching the Dark Horse site for further developments.

Phone trouble?

Has anyone out there been having trouble with my phone over the last three days or so? I’ve been expecting to hear from people and haven’t, and my land line has been doing this weird thing where it half-rings and then I get a dial tone and the person calling apparently gets a broken-phone busy signal. My cel phone is also underpaid at the moment and so service may be off. Can someone verify? Thanks.

Last Chance — Vote Jacob!

Old buddy Jacob Chabot, of Rick and Saurus, The Beetle, and Surly Boy fame (who also drew the new sausage graphic) has entered a Dark Horse Comics contest where four rising-star artists go head-to-head each month, competing for an eventual end-of-the-year prize and possible anthologization. Voting for Jacob and his competitors will continue until the end of October. Stop through and cast your vote! If you have time, check out the contenders and then decide Jacob’s the best and vote for him; if you don’t, just support your local artist and vote for him anyway. Oh, and if you want more new stuff, check out the latest installation of the Beetle vs. the Speak and Spell from Hell.

Electronica Primer

Can anyone find me a better primer on genres of electronic music than this one? I’ve never gotten a good explanation, mostly because writing about music is like dancing about architecture. Also desirable would be a reason why anyone would be so anal as to divide genres based on BPM and the use of hi-hats, but mostly I’d like to be able to identify and explore the kinds of music I like. (ahaha. irony. Boards of Canada is a favorite.) Extra points if you can define “mowaxy.”

Failed Celebrity Encounters #10: Janeane Garofalo Gives Me The Finger

Sometime in the middle of Eugene Mirman‘s comedy night down in the East Village I realize a particularly forceful laugh coming from a back corner is Janeane Garofalo. I knew she was there. I knew she was probably going to be doing some standup that night, but I’m still not prepared when I make the inevitable pass by her as we exit the theater at the end of the show after she’s done her routine and the show is over. I grin haplessly and think about how she is so totally short and beautiful and how I was going to say something about how she’s my favorite thing since sliced bread and I loved her in Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion especially, but all that comes out is more grin and I think I’m starting to drool, maybe. Perhaps thinking I am hungry, she comes up with an open Tupperware container.

“Would you like a cookie?” she says, and puts the box under my nose like a feedbag. I can’t see the cookies well. They look folded, or made out of strips of something yellow. I say something to the effect of “How very strange!” and feel dumb.

“They’re fingers,” she says. I take one. It is in fact a crone-finger-shaped almond cookie and the almond is the fingernail. I have vague intimations that either she is Martha-Stewart-like evil genius of cookies or else brilliant silly ideas still occur to her the way they used to when we are all teenagers, and then I am smitten with the migraine feeling that I am reading too much into five seconds of interaction because I have been encouraged by filmmakers to read a lot into things when I have seen Janeane Garofalo before, you know, on the movie screen.

Did I save the cookie? No, I ate the goddamn cookie! What am I going to do, let it fossilize on my shelf? Sell it on EBay? I had a moment of hesitation, because there used to be days when I wouldn’t eat even my own genius decorated Christmas cookies and even when the plates of them went stale I insisted my mother photograph them before she threw them out, but I ate this cookie. It was a good cookie. Janeane wasn’t skimping on the almonds.

* * *

Yeah, so I took the site down the other day, it’s not Josh Crawford’s fault. I had this moment of paranoia that it may have led to a serious setback in my employment situation. I mean, it could, at any time. I’ve been getting more questions lately about how I work up the cajones to put such personal stuff on the site, and the’ve been asked in a worried tone, not an awe-filled one. It’s not a matter of balls… really, it’s a lack of self-preservation instinct.

I don’t have anything to write about anymore, anyway, now that I’m not getting arrested or taunted by small children on a regular basis. I’m pretty unhappy with the amount of navel-gazing I’ve been doing here lately. Like with the essay about community and romantic relationships, I feel like it’s some big topic I just have to have understood about myself, and then it isn’t. The stuff that garners the best comments and discussion is the stuff that isn’t about me anyway. Somewhere along the line I’d started living for the comments.

I had this idea a while back that I’d start using my blog for rigorous public self-criticism. In addition to cutting the self-important bullshit it felt like it might be a nice parody of most blogs. Maybe I’ll still do that. I have one or two archival pieces in the wings that should do the trick.

Also been thinking I want to do a blog that just rips the ad industry trade rags to shreds on a regular basis. Now that I’m out of my last job I don’t have access to a subscription anymore, and I don’t have the cash to spring for a subscription to Ad Age or Creative… If anyone wants to subsidize this project, my PayPal account is under my (initials and entering year) Hampshire address…

The Negro Problem!!! Fuck, fuck, fuck!!!!!

Dammit, I knew about The Negro Problem some eight years ago, and did I do anything about it?! No! I just got all politically correct like the nervous little suburbanite I was, and refused to go see the band even after I met one of its (former?) members, Jill Meschke, backstage at a TMBG concert (she’s a friend of John Linnell’s). I could have had another interesting pre-fame phenomenon to write about, but nooooo… now I’ve waited, and Rolling Stone, the Village Voice, Salon, and all sorts of other fucking outlets have written about them. And I still haven’t heard the goddamn band, so I can’t recommend them! Except they have an accordion player, or used to. Fuck.