Wednesday, May 30, 2007

(I Had) The Time of My Life (Bill Medley/Jennifer Warnes)

Language: Portuguese

Okay. Well. I don't want anybody to get the impression that I'm going to start putting up new posts all the time again, but today I ran into two pieces of information that I thought was important enough that Sammie, in particular, would want to know. And, rather than just sending her an e-mail like a normal person, I Babelfished a song and turned it into a post.

The two pieces of information are:

1) The video game, The Sims, a game to which I am somewhat addicted (if the sequel, Sims 2, counts as the same thing), which has no English-language dialogue, and which has no real plot whatsoever (though it's flexible enough that one can impose a plot on it from without, if desired), is being made into a movie. Which was weird enough, but then I read about . . .

2) The movie, Dirty Dancing, which I have only seen once (if even that -- I may have missed some of the beginning and ending, plus I saw it on TV, not in a theater, so some of it may have been edited out) but which I don't recall having any car chases or gunplay or flesh-eating monsters, is being turned into a video game.

I'm sure there are other examples of ridiculous merchandising crossovers. But still. I think "Dirty Dancing: the Video Game" has got to take the prize for something or another.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Now I 've had the time of my life, that
none felt before. I'm never like,
"Yes, I swear that it's the truth,
and I must owe all."

('Cause I had the time of my life,
and I must owe all.)

I've waited so long that
I've now, finally, found somebody
to be that for me!
We saw the writing in the wall
while we felt magical. This is a fantasy.

Now, with passion in our eyes,
we don't have a disguise; thus: we've no way that could be --
Because of the hand examination, we became that which
we seemed to understand.
We remembered only that urgency.

[ b ]
You are a thing that
I cannot start sufficiently.
So who says that I, you, it, something
could be loved? Because this is


With my body and soul,
I want one more of it than you do. He'll always know.
So we only go to leave, that's it --
we lose the controls, are distrustful.
Yes, I know what that is, in his mind.
Today when you say, "Sojourn the night with me,"
I can only remember. . . .

[a] [a] etc.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Most Beautiful Peace (Devo)

Language: Russian

I've been sick for the last day and a half. Some kind of food poisoning thing, I think. So I've slept for about eighteen hours out of the last twenty-four, and when I was awake, I had fever and chills, and then there was a bunch of gross stuff that I predict you aren't going to want to hear about.

So I hope it was a beautiful Memorial Day -- for you. It wasn't for me.


UPDATE: It was actually probably not food poisoning, technically. Wikipedia and (apparently) some other sources differentiate between "food poisoning" and norovirus infection, the critical distinction being the presence of an actual toxin or not. So, cholera could be food poisoning, because the symptoms of cholera are triggered by a protein toxin produced by the cholera bacterium, but noroviral infection can't be, because the virus, though it will fuck you up just like a chemical or bacterial toxin, is classed as a virus, rather than as a poison / toxin. This strikes me as a really dumb distinction to draw, but apparently some people draw it.

See also my Krill, Numinous Krill post on the subject.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

This which we live in is the most beautiful peace.
The people from sweet, romantic places
show the beautiful road everywhere.
Models worry them.
I want to say,
"This will be the most beautiful peace
for you."
It's a wonderful time to be here,
to be living famously.
Wonderful people everywhere
comb hair, their hair, and
make me to want to say,
"There will be a wonderful place
for you."
They tell me I speak!
A girl and boy with new clothing on
can shake it to me for the entire night, at length.
Hey hey!
That's not for me.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Frozen Snowman (Jack Rollins and Steve Nelson)

Language: Greek

This is, of course, not at all the right time of year for this song. But I like to feel that I'm not a slave to the calendar, when it comes to these things. If I want to put on a Halloween costume in February, or sing Christmas songs in May, then I'm fucking well going to do it, and you can't stop me, you bunch of fucking sheep. So there.

I should also mention that I may be sophisticated and highbrow, but I'm also not above making (or being amused by) jokes about bodily functions: see the second line of the second verse, below. Though obviously Babel Fish deserves some of the credit for that one. There's also a bit of sodomy double-entendre sneaking in there in spots, in the second verse.

It's all about freedom for me today. Christmas music! Poop jokes! Chocolate cake for breakfast!1 Wheeee!


1Really. I did. Also a banana and a shitload of coffee. There might be a dill pickle in the cards later, too: I'm deciding.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Frozen Snowman's soul was pleasant,
with a corncob pipe, and a nose of buttons, and two eyes formed from coal.
Frozen Snowman says it's a fairytale,
constituted by the snow, but the children know that life came in one day. It was the
old silk that they found: a certain magic should've existed in that,
for when they placed him in his head, it began to dance around!
Oh, the Frozen Snowman's one life was as it could be.
(The children also say that it could laugh and play with them,
the thing being precisely the same as you and I.)

The hurt, thumpety, hurt, thumpety hurt, hurt,
goes and examines the frozen ones.
Hurt thumpety, hurt, thumpety hurt, hurt,
beyond the hills of snow.

Frozen Snowman knew that the sun was boiling hot that day,
thus he said, "Have a certain amusement now, before I melt (and have the runs)."
The village was under his hand – in with a broomstick!
They ran all around the square.
They said, "Touch me if you can!"
This led them right under the city's roads, in the circulation.
He only stopped a moment, when he heard them holler, "attitude!" and
the Snowman should have pressed for temporarily freezing in the street,
but he said goodbye: " Don't shout; I will be behind you again some day."

Friday, May 25, 2007

Do We Take Manhattan First? (Leonard Cohen)

Language: Dutch

Today's song is more or less in honor of Lynneguist, whose blog I ran into today, via a link from Francis Strand's blog, a link which could have mentioned me in passing but didn't and which I mention in an attempt to shame Francis, though it will not.

But anyway. Last I knew, Lynne was a Leonard Cohen fan, and probably still is, and she was nice enough to say nice things about the very blog you are reading right now, so I thought a shout-out of some kind might be in order, positive feedback being rare. And also I hadn't posted in a while so I was due.

Was this babelpopping successful? Well, as with most of them, yes and no. There are certainly some strange moments. I cannot, for example, explain the insertion of the word "bowl" in the third line. I'm also a little unsure what a "triplex viol" might be. I picture a viol with three sets of strings, 120 degrees apart from one another, that has to be played by three performers at a time. And probably somebody should build one of those, despite the obvious safety hazards. But it could mean something else entirely.

In other news, I went on a long walk today with the husband, and now my head hurts. This is either some kind of heat / sunburn / exhaustion thing, or I'm having a reaction to the DEET that we sprayed on to protect us from mosquitoes. Or both.

The mosquitoes seem especially motivated this year. Both times we've been in foresty areas in the last week or two, they've just flown at us from all directions. This had particularly bad results for me the first time, hence the DEET today.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Now they've condemned me to twenty years of trouble
for trying the change system within myself.
I come, I reward them, I bowl,
then we take Berlin. (We'll take Manhattan firstly.)

I'm accompanied by an indicator in the sky;
my skin conducted me by this birthmark.
The weapons of mine are conducted by our beauty.
We take Manhattan firstly, then we take Berlin.

I'd love a baby beside you,
your body and your spirit, and I'd love your clothing to live,
but you see that mail there, moving by the line? (Really?)
I told you, I told you, I told one of those about you.

Ah, you loved me as a loser, but now you're worried that I might've been made to win.
You don't have the manner, but you know to discipline me. Only stop --
first, let my work start. How many of these night baths for me?
We'll take Manhattan, then we take Berlin.

I don't love the manner of your company, sir,
and I don't love these drugs you keep: I'm not thin.
Do we love Manhattan first? (Take
what happened to my sister.) Then we take Berlin.


(Me and you:) Those points that you thank me for,
the monkey and the triplex viol, are sent
now. I managed to exercise each night.
We take Manhattan firstly, then we take Berlin.

I'm accompanied by an indicator in the sky;
my skin conducted me by this birthmark.
The weapons of mine are accompanied by our beauty.
We take Manhattan firstly, then we take Berlin.

Ah, remind me, for I used to live the music.
Remind me: I brought all your grocers in well.
Take the wounded first, father, and on the day, everyone
will take Manhattan; then we take Berlin.

Saturday, May 05, 2007

Experiment IV (Kate Bush)

Language: French

I'm going through a spell lately where watching music videos, almost any music videos, makes me cry. Today it was "Someone to Love," by Fountains of Wayne, but it's been all kinds of things before. Songs that aren't sad, songs when I feel otherwise happy, anything. Jessica Guilford + music video = tearing up.

I don't know why this would be. Maybe it says something about the kinds of videos people are making today. Maybe it says something about the kinds of videos I'm drawn to investigate. Maybe I'm just dangerously emotionally volatile: that happens sometimes (though it wouldn't explain why it's specific to music videos). It's not like I have a job, to occupy myself with. And yes, I am still looking.

In any case, the video for this song seems to be one of the exceptions, possibly because it's old, or because it's so cheesy. So I like it. Also I always liked it anyway. Way better than that "Wuthering Heights" crap. Plus, bonus: Hugh Laurie ("Dr. House") appears at about 1:21 to 1:11, and then again around 0:44. You . . . well, you wouldn't have him pegged for a good actor from those shots, let's say.

I think the Babelpopped version of the lyrics is an obvious and inarguable improvement on the original.



- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

We secretly work for the soldiers.
Our noise experiment was almost ready to begin:
we only know what we're making in theory.
The music is made for pleasure, to make it quiver --
it was music we made here, until

They said to us that all they wanted
was a noise which could kill somebody at a distance.
Thus, we advanced more meters, and the deficit --
it is a manufacturing error.

Terrifying cries of the mothers, a painful, piercing cry -
we recorded it, and put it in our machine.


As in, love could be a feeling.
The bad one could smell it; thus,
it could be smelled. So, good.
The sleeping ones could sing it with you,
dreaming, but this is your enemy!

We will not be blamed.
There will not be any there to 'sell the wick'
(somebody that can strike the right switch).


And additionally: inform the public that they are to remain.