From the daily archives:

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Noted Abroad

December 17, 2009

Noted Abroad in Dark Sky Magazine

Funny Looking

by Charlie Geer

“Fany Look” is one of many beauty salons here in Puente Genil. You might reasonably assume Fany Look to be a beauty salon owned by an individual named Fany. It ain’t necessarily so. What the proprietor may be going for with “Fany” is “Funny.” We’ve already seen that, because the “uh” sound does not exist in Castilian Spanish, it is often replaced with an “ah” sound, represented by “a.” To spell “funny” f-u-n-n-y in Spain would leave us with something like “foony look,” which would sound kind of, um, funny. Instead what we might have is a Spanglés version of “Funny Look.”

Which, as a name for a beauty salon, sounds kind of, um, funny.

What the owner may really be going for is “Fun,” as in Fun Look. Because the words fun and funny look and sound so much alike, ESL speakers often confuse them. The two words are related, of course, but each has its own implication. For example, a fun person is not necessarily funny. Think of the kids in high school who organize pep rallies and such. They might be considered “fun” kids, as in kids who generate diversion, but down deep, organizers of pep rallies and such are perhaps rather serious kids with an eye toward beefing up the extracurricular-activity section of their college applications. Correspondingly, a funny person is not necessarily fun. There are a lot of clinically depressed humorists out there. More than a few accomplished comedians have major substance-abuse problems. The expression “tears of a clown” might serve us here, except that clowns are not necessarily funny. Or fun.

As far as a funny look goes, where I’m from, You look funny, boy is not meant to suggest that you look like you may have potential as a humorist. It is meant to suggest that you find somewhere else to be, and soon. Not many people go into a beauty salon and say, I’ll take the funny look. A person may come out of a beauty salon looking kind of funny, but there’s no accounting for taste. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then maybe funny is, too.

At this point we have likely spent much more energy on the name Fany Look than the owner ever did. In the time we’ve spent considering the name Fany Look, the owner has served a goodly number of people, and earned a goodly amount of money. We, on the other hand, have earned not a single céntimo. But hell, it’s been fun.

Addendum: It’s been fun, yes, but totally irrelevant. Further research reveals that the proprietor of Fany Look is a lovely young woman named “Estefanía,” for which “Fany” is the nickname. The confused party in this case, then, would be yours truly, resident smart ass. Hopefully that will seem funny one day. For now, my apologies and regards to Fany. If I had any hair left, I’d be sure to get it styled at Fany Look.

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Two Poems by John Boisvert

December 17, 2009

Half Sister

Since you’re going to Texas anyway, she says,
You should burn down my house.
Burn it down, and I’ll give you a thousand dollars.
I think about a brilliance of orange hallways,
televisions boiled to resin, a plume of great distance.
But how to do it? How do you be circumstantial,
how do you be innocent?
I think of watching from across the street as
Rob Hoffman put his heels into Ryan Cutts’ gut
for a few crumpled dollars when we were boys,
the Mexican boys who put me down like that
for my dollars that same year.
My half-sister and I didn’t grow up together;
there are many years between us, and
we never knew each other as kids.
Which is why, now that I’ve agreed to be
the trigger man in her insurance fraud,
we sit across from each other not knowing
which of us is joking, and which is truly capable.

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Thursday’s Flurry of Words

December 17, 2009

Online Feast in Dark Sky Magazine

Give Us A Steady Diet of Literature

Fatten up. That’s what we’re doing. We brought a tempeh concoction for lunch but instead were met with doughnuts, Christmas cookies, and lemon pound cake. Not bad. Of course, it helps when your day job involves approving loans. Do such fringe benefits make you want to quit the literary world for the world of banking? We hope not. Stick with your happiness. And stick with us. We’ve got David Mamet’s new play on NPR (spoiler alert: David Alan Grier went to Yale’s School of Drama). Next we move from the stage to the screen, where The Rumpus takes on Up In The Air. If you’re like us, and you feasted on the novel Master and Margarita, you might enjoy a new translation of The Golden Calf. But like an expanding waistline, fear lurks in the feast: The Independent covers lingual doom and the LA Times talks fairy tales, which offer a scary, delicious look into the past. [Stomach growls] – Andrew Geer

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