Would I Find Myself in You? (Eurythmics)

Language: Greek

Part of the application process for the job I interviewed for on Thursday is a personality test. This makes me really nervous (in some respects, more so than the interview itself): among other things, I prefer it when my personality is a surprise to people.

A lot of the questions were about the sorts of things you'd expect: whether or not it's okay to steal from an employer (even if they're really, really mean to you), whether or not it's good to be nice to people, etc. The strangest part was a series of items sprinkled in among the other ones about accidents, whether they were preventable, whose fault they were, etc. It struck me as an odd thing to be asking questions about.

But then, the whole thing was kind of screwy, frankly. Any halfway intelligent person could easily figure out the answers that the test was angling for, especially if you know, going in, that there's a scale built in to catch people who are trying to give the most socially correct answer. I suspect I could get into some trouble if I posted one of the exact questions, word for word, but there were things in there like, "I've gone out of my way to be mean to people before." Well, duh. So clearly questions like that are checking to see if you're being honest.

I had initially been toying with the idea of e-mailing and asking to be removed from consideration, because of the personality test thing. It really bothered me, seemed like a weird kind of asymmetric invasion of privacy (and still kind of does). In the end, I decided not to, and went ahead and took the test, and told the truth, because 1) I figure actually getting the job is kind of a long shot anyway¹, and 2) I can't imagine that they're getting any usable, real information out of these things, so to the extent that the test counts for anything, I'm thinking it's just an extra randomizing device, a wild card if you will. So there's no particular reason not to take it if you think, as I do, that I was not especially impressive in the interview: it could only help my chances of getting the job.

This song seemed like the only sensible song choice, given the aforementioned situation.

-Jessi

¹The husband would actually prefer that I not get the job, for reasons which are specific to the job and which I don't want to address at the moment, but which are very possibly valid and which I have some concerns about myself.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Would I find it in you?
Would I find it in you, honey?
Would I say something now that wasn't genuine?
I ask you that, sugar: would I find it in you?

My friends know what's in the shop.
I won't be here otherwise.
I've packed my bags,
I've cleaned the floor.
You're careful with me.
Walk outside the door.

(You consider me: I'll make him, I will make him)

You fall in a straight line - no intervention.
No deceit in your person.
You are the bigger imitation, but
A lot of him is genuine.
I had all of it I can take;
Now I leave it to you.

(You consider me: I will make him, I will make him)

(You are careful with me – you are careful! Ooh, yeah)

I'll be Its Shelter (Taylor Dayne)

Language: Portuguese

Well. The interview was better than I expected, though I was expecting there to be some twitching and drooling, so that doesn't say as much as it might. I have no idea how I did, and even less idea whether I want the job or not than I did going into the interview. But it's over.

Meanwhile, Iowa City expects to have weather later on today. Damaging 75 mph winds, maybe some large hail, possibly a tornado or two (there have already been some tornadoes to the west and north). I wouldn't mind a tornado. The last one was entertaining, and almost nobody¹ died. And I do, after all, need something to take my mind off of the employment thing for a little bit. I guess we'll see how it goes. Nothing visible going on at the moment.

-Jessi

¹Mobile homes really are, when there's a tornado about. Consequently, there was one death in Muscatine County, to the east of Iowa City.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When I have one, hanging clouds in its sky of
light, and I'm not leaving, no, right inside,
and you'd like to give it that sensation, as inside yourself
(above?), don't give so soon.
You're in a friend. What you need to count
(what started somebody, baby) is yourself. It starts
when rain is falling, and will remain that way.
And you're not leaving it to fall in
completely; I'll see that you
cover it with a love. Thus, I'll be deep and warm and true;
oh, I will be there.

[a]
Honey, I'll be its shelter, that's
always this to you. I'll make an examination of the night, with
the shelter that you need.
I'll make everything all right to you,
yes. Everything to everyone! Make in the one, of the one, in the one,
of the nana, of the one, in the one, of the one, in the right one.

I arrested you. You sufficiently started the strong arms.
Anything that you cross with it starts to
move away; any thing that you need, it's only a touch, you know.
When a heart needs a heart from the side, it
must be mine, in keeping with the times (if that's
the inside of love). So I started
it. I stroke for you each day, cousin.
I'll be giving this to it for the love.
Oh, when mine just isn't sufficiently there, it'll be as it seems.

[a]

I'll see that you completely
cover me with a love. So, that'll be deep and warm
and true: oh, I'll be there.

[a]

The Sky is a Place on the Earth (Belinda Carlisle)

Language: Italian

This song has absolutely nothing to do with what's going on. They don't actually write very many songs about dealing with the Iowa unemployment office, it turns out.

So here's the sitch: I'm still unemployed. That might change soonish, because, like I've mentioned, I have an interview tomorrow¹. But nevertheless. And part of collecting unemployment in the state of Iowa is that one has to call a 1-800 number every week and report how many potential employers one has contacted, and whether or not one turned down any offers, and etc.

So about a week ago, I got a semi-threatening letter in the mail telling me that I had reported, a few weeks ago, that I was not "able and available for work," and that someone would be calling me on June 6 between the hours of 10 and 11 AM to discuss this. This is a sort of serious issue, because, apparently, they don't have to give me money if I in fact wasn't available to work.²

So, long story slightly less long, I was here this morning, and they didn't call on-time. Nor did they call late, either. The actual notice they sent doesn't have a phone number on it for contacting them (there was a letter that came with the notice, but I had apparently thrown that part away last weekend, because I can't find it anymore). So I called the local office. The guy I spoke with wasn't even sure that there was supposed to have been a call in the first place; he said that there was nothing in the computer that he could find that indicated anything was going on. He was then going to give me the number of the person at the State office who was dealing specifically with my case, but his computer cut off the last two digits of the phone number, so he gave me a different number, of someone who is in the general dealing-with-problems department, at which point I thanked him and called that number. Which is how I found out that said person is on vacation until next Monday.

So, to summarize: I didn't get the call they said I'd get. I couldn't do anything about this by calling someone at the local office directly, but that's okay because I may or may not have a problem in the first place. Furthermore, the local office can't give me the number of someone who actually has anything to do with my case, but they can give me a different number, for someone who may or may not be able to help, who isn't there, and who may or may not call me back on Monday.

And round and round we go.

-Jessi

¹I remain almost incapacitatingly nervous about this.

²For what it's worth, I was available that week. I suspect computer error or typo.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When the night falls down,
you and an aspect of them come around,
and the world is alive
with the sound of kidskin
on the way outside.

When the room walks in,
and the pulled ones begin to move that close,
and they're spinning with stars here,
and a wave of love is rising --

[a]
Ooh, child, you know what the value of that one is?
Ooh, the sky is a place on earth
that says, "in the sky, love comes in the first place."
We'll make the sky a place of the earth,
Ooh, the sky is a place on earth

When I think alone, it
centers my capacities, and catches up to you.
When they're lost in that sea,
I feel your voice, and transport it [to them].

This world was just the beginning!
In understanding the miracle of the child,
I was frightened: living before that
frightened me, but not that pit.

[a]

Sensuality of Big Times (Bjork)

Language: Greek

I have a job interview on Thursday. This is, in theory, a good thing. The job itself looks pretty craptacular, but it's only 20 hours a week, and pays as well as my last two jobs did at 40 hours. Which helps.

The problem is, I am a terrible interview. Which some of you will be saying at this point, Geez, Jessi, way to give up ahead of time. But: you don't understand. You couldn't.

I've tried going into interviews with the idea that I'll be glib and charismatic and likeable and corporate and witty, and I inevitably wind up being myself regardless¹. And I've tried going with the idea that I'll just be myself, and if they don't like that then fine, it probably wouldn't have worked out anyway. That is an even worse interviewing strategy. I should, it seems, never be encouraged to be myself.

It doesn't help that this is a job nobody in his/r right mind could possibly actually want. I mean, it's not the sort of thing kids dream about becoming.² Which makes faking enthusiasm hard. (And, in truth, I'm not good at projecting enthusiasm even when it would be appropriate. I'm not, fundamentally, a person prone to enthusiasm. On me it looks wrong.) And it involves some dealing with the public, which I would really like to never have to do that again. But of course I still need a job. Unemployment's going to be over within a month or so, I think.

This song wouldn't seem to have anything to do with the situation I've just described, but I have trouble finding a Babelpopped line that doesn't relate, in some fashion. Though one wouldn't know it from the original song, of course.

-Jessi

¹(who is, often if not always, witty. But I've never done charismatic well, or corporate. And, as the cartoon above points out, I don't look very good on paper, either.)

²I'm not sure I should say anything about what the job actually is, publicly. At least not yet, not this publicly. You understand.

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

I can feel that something important is ready, is scheduled to happen:

The gentle and noble sensuality of big times takes courage.

I know that I'm a little too familiar, but
I was included also. The two meet, and much is presented,
and something is precisely itself.

The gentle and noble sensuality of big times takes courage.

Since this weekend, I do not want to know my future, and

The gentle and noble sensuality of big times takes courage.

The People are People of People (Depeche Mode)

Language: French

Went to the Iowa City arts festival yesterday with the husband and some of his family. It was a lot like all the other years. If we had significant wall space, or a yard, or enormous amounts of money, then it might have been more interesting, but as it was, it was mostly just hot and crowded, and I was having a bad day anyway. And a lot of the art sucked (though this guy was there, and his stuff is kind of interesting in-person. I don't know that it translates well to the internet.), too, in all the predictable ways.

I told the husband after that we really did need to stop scheduling events with his family that involve going to big, crowded places. We had a bad experience in downtown Minneapolis at the end of March, going to Macy's with the same family group. It was advertised as a special show all about Africa, and especially plant life in Africa, but although there were in fact a lot of plants, the science was extremely superficial, when they made any kind of effort at all, and some of it was also just plain incorrect. (This is the sort of thing that makes me nervous when people say that the answer to our declining public school system is increased corporate involvement.)

The Minneapolis trip, at least, got better. Love love love the Como Park Zoo and Conservatory. This visit in Iowa City, not so much: there wasn't all that much time to do anything with them, and they weren't having such a great time themselves; the three-year-old girl with the group apparently threw up all the way down from Minnesota, which may or may not have been motion sickness.

-Jessi

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

[a]
People are people;
thus, why is it that
you and I should get the length
so terribly?

We're various colors
and different faiths,
and the different people
have various needs.
It's obvious you hate me,
although I did anything falsely;
I never even met you, so
what could I have made?

[b]
I cannot understand
what encourages a man
to hate another man:
help me to understand.

[a]

Help me to understand.

Now you punch and you give a kick and you shout with me.
I count on your common decency, that
has a gloss. Up to now it doesn't ,
but I'm sure that it exists.
It's taken them right there, to travel in a moment
from your head to your fist.

[b]

[a]

[b]

[b]

Well (Morphine)

Language: Dutch

Many, many years ago (about ten), Stan and I would invite people over about once a week to . . . well, I'm not sure what we were inviting people over to do. Drink, I suppose. I mean, it wasn't like we were quilting. Though drunk quilting is fun by itself (ask the Amish). But I digress.

I guess the term is "hang out." And when, on those occasions when we'd extended lots of invitations that people accepted, and the apartment was full of people in varying states of sobriety, there was a spell where sooner or later someone would propose a game of Murder in the Dark.

Murder in the Dark is, for those of you who don't know, where one randomly assigns a person at the party to be a detective, and another person is the murderer. This is traditionally done by writing on slips of paper, though if memory serves we usually used playing cards (for the uniformity and opacity). If you drew a jack, I believe, you were the detective, and if you chose something else (ace of spades?), you were the murderer. Everybody else got 2s and 3s.

The lights are then turned off, and everyone mills around in the dark until the murderer kills somebody. This is achieved by either finding a way to whisper to the intended victim, "You're dead," or else a strong, unambiguous squeeze or something, at which point the victim counts to some number (three? five?) and then cries out and falls on the floor. Everyone is then supposed to freeze in place, the detective (or someone standing nearby) turns on the lights, and the detective tries to identify the murderer by asking questions of everyone (except the victim, who is dead -- being the victim was kind of the crappy assignment, because it meant that you had to just lay there on the floor and not move while everybody else got to do something). Everyone except the murderer has to tell the truth, whatever this might be.

Only the detective or the murderer could "win" any given round, but that was okay because we weren't ever really playing for points or anything anyway. It was all about the mind games, and the chance to work through your issues with whomever by "killing" them, or at least groping them briefly. Pretty much the perfect game for college students, really. But, shit, it was fun. I'd play it now, too, except that the occasion doesn't present itself anymore.

The reason why I go to the trouble to explain and describe all this is, there was a designated mix tape¹ that went with the game, which we started and stopped when the lights went off and on, and this was the song that started it off. So now the song conjures up all these mental images of being totally dark, except for the orange streaks of people's cigarettes waving around randomly (sort of a hazard of the game: people did burn one another sometimes, accidentally) and the occasional faint outline of a window.

Booze! Cigarettes! Sublimated aggression! Whee!

-Jessi

¹(the "Strychnine" tape: for reasons we will leave unexplored here, all my mix tapes were referred to by chemical name. "Estradiol" was another early favorite, though it didn't have a game that went with it.)

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

You're well, well, well,
(well you are),
well well, well .
You tell me something is well:
tell me something,
tell me something.
You can read my opinion: tell me something,
tell me something,
tell me something.
You can read my opinion; you're something to me.
Tell your brain to read my opinion one more time.
Your brain can call me,
your brain, your brain calls to me one more time.
Your brain calls,
your brain, your brain calls to me one more time.
You push, you push,
push this way.
Well, you push,
you push well, push well:
It's something to tell your brain one more time.
Something calls me: you?
My opinion is possible.
Tell your brain to read to me one more time,
to call your brain,
your brain,
call your brain to me one more time.
Your brain, your brain,
call your brain to me one more time.
Well, you're good
this way? Well, good.

The Star-Star-Spangled Flag (Francis Scott Key)

Language: Spanish (obviously)

I am not, by nature, a big joiner of things. I've never had any "school spirit," never given a damn about any particular sports team (save for a brief period around kindergarden when I was fond of the Miami Dolphins football team, but that was bleed-over from being interested in dolphins; I never developed any comprehension of football because of it), and as an adult, don't belong to any organizations where the process for membership is any more arduous than donating money (and even then, I'm prone to let the membership lapse). I prefer the Democratic Party, but I don't consider myself a member (any political party I'd consider myself a member of wouldn't piss me off so damn often). I throw away the Baylor Alumni magazines when they arrive, and keep meaning to write and try to get the Alumni Association to stop sending them to me.

I am, consequently, not given to big displays of pride. I like Iowa, and am native to Iowa, but there's something kind of unseemly about being proud of Iowa.¹ My ethnic heritage is, for all intents and purposes, meaningless to me, and I am endlessly baffled by the husband's level of identification with the Irish. In fact, as a general rule, I don't understand why anybody takes pride in anything that they themselves didn't have a pretty free hand in creating or shaping. I mean, I get that it's more emotional than rational, that I'm getting nonsensical answers because I'm asking the wrong questions, but still.

I can, however, be very easily embarrassed by groups that I have (even very loose) affiliations with. The most typical occasions for such embarrassment are Baylor University (my almometer²) or the Democratic Party, both of which are doing dumb things all the time, but the shame's not limited to those two by a long shot.

And lately, like for the last ten years³, being an American has been a first-class ticket to Shameville (with a six-hour layover in Disbelief City), though when I look back into the country's history, I'm not convinced that things haven't always been this bad. But even so: more people than just me have noted that we're going through an especially dark time in American history right now. I think I remember something about a record number of people (72%?) in some recent poll saying that the U.S. was "on the wrong track," which could just mean that people think gas prices are too high, or that the Pussycat Dolls are obviously inferior to the Spice Girls⁴ -- but there's more than that. Or at least I hope people are picking up on more than that.

If this makes me unpatriotic, then so be it, I guess. Though I'm at least not flying the Nazi or Confederate flags (which, let's remember, we've fought Nazis in a war somewhat recently, and they were the bad guys. And the Confederates wanted to rip the country in half. I mean, if you want to talk about lack of patriotism, then let's talk, motherfucker.). I worry about shit like that picture, what it means. Suppose 1993 is as good as the country's going to get, in my lifetime. What then?

-Jessi

¹Feeling that it's unseemly to feel proud of Iowa is itself a very Iowan thing, as is feeling a certain smugness when comparative state statistics are released showing Iowa to be superior to some of the more self-aggrandizing states (Texas, I'm looking at you) in some way.

²(a David Foster Wallace coinage, as far as I know)

³(Roughly the beginning of my political awareness; previously I had been congenitally Republican.)

⁴(true. Destiny's Child also pales in comparison, though in fairness I would probably like DC better had I not been endlessly involuntarily exposed to it when it was popular. The Spice Girls, in turn, are inferior to TLC, Bananarama, En Vogue, Salt-n-Pepa, the Pointer Sisters, the Supremes, Wilson Phillips, and any number of other girl groups. In fact, I think the Spice Girls -only- beat out Destiny's Child and Pussycat Dolls, now that I think about it.)

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

Can you see, by the early light of dawn or an opinion of yourself,
what we hailed in the last of the twilight, flashing so proudly
that ample rays and shining stars fought with the dangerous?
We watched on embankments, so we flowed gallantly.
And the red fulgor of the rockets, the pumps that exploded in air
gave the night a test: our flag was still there.
are you of the opinion that the star-spangled flag still shakes stars
on the home of the free, brave one and the Earth?

(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.

-Jessi

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

[a]
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 --
private.
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

[a]

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. . . .

[b]
***
[a] [a] etc.

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.

-Jessi

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."
Hey!
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.

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!

-Jessi

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."

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.

-Jessi

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

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.

[a]
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.

[a]

(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.

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.

Video:



-Jessi

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

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

[a]
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.

[a]

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).

[a]

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

Geniuses in a Bottle (Christina Aguilera)

Language: Italian

There's no news at all: I just finished this, and, at least in the middle of the night, it tickles me, so I'm posting it. The actual reworked lyrics are semi-gibberishy ("I just have to polish the sense."), but how can you not love a title like that?

I'm not entirely happy with the picture, though I'm a little bit alarmed that there's a whole industry devoted to trying to make babies incrementally smarter in the future. Not because I object to smart babies. (I'd be a little concerned about smart babies banding together and taking over the country, but one, they don't have the fine motor control, and two, I don't know if I'd notice a difference.) I think all babies, across the board, should be either just as smart as they are, or else smarter. I object to the industry because I don't really believe that any of these videos and toys and mobiles and what have you have been demonstrated to do anything at all.

But I suppose parental anxiety will keep the business booming. Everybody wants to have an edge over that damn Pfeiffer kid down the block. And anxiety sells. Still.

I miss Mr. Rogers.

-Jessi

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

Oh, that --

I think they've been blocked strongly,
for a century of sunny nights,
waiting for someone to free them.
Been licking your lips and jumping, it kisses my sense,
but that doesn't mean that I'm going to give it one.
Child, child, child
(child, child, child.).

[a]
Oh, whoa,
my body has a saying: "You go to their leaves."
Oh, whoa,
but my heart isn't saying it.

[b]
If you wish to be with me, child, a price has to be paid.
They're geniuses in a bottle; I just have to polish the sense. (You got it!)
Come to: I can make your desire align with me, if you wish.
You have to make a large impression; you have to like what I obtained.

[c]
Child, they are geniuses in one bottle.
It has just got to polish the sense, honey.
They are geniuses in a bottle, child,
come, come, I come to leave it outside.

The game of music and the level of the down-low,
a dance, and then we are good.
Someone has that need, of waiting for it.
My heart is beating to the speed of the light,
but that doesn't mean that this evening; it has one being.
Child, child, child
(child, child, child)

[a]

[b]

[c]

[a]

[b]

If you wish to be with me, child, a price has to be paid.
They're geniuses in a bottle; I just have to polish the sense. (You got it!)
Come to: I can make your desire align with me, if you wish.
Child, I am free and regulated. You come with me, and

They are geniuses in a bottle, child.
I come, I come, I come to leave it outside.

I Fuck Upward (Cracker)

Language: Russian

More of the same, for me personally. I'm kind of undecided about whether the song wound up essentially unchanged after being Babelfished, or wound up kind of broken and incoherent. It's possible that the original was incoherent too, obviously.

But in the end, I suppose I have to go with neither. In the original, after all, the speaker is being all cynical and suspicious, and this has turned it into self-castigation. Which, the two are not as far apart from one another as you'd think, but even so, it's not entirely gibberish, and it's different enough from the original.

It's odd that now that I have more or less any and all time to do whatever I want, I find I don't have any time for writing Babelpop! posts. Things happen, and I sometimes really mean to, but then I don't, and there's not really anything terribly positive to say anyway, so why bother, right? But I feel neglectful all the same. Maybe we'll turn it around. Or maybe I'll get a job and just not give a crap about whether or not I've mangled song lyrics on any particular day.

-Jessi

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

Here I am now, the youngest old person in the world
and I came to bring my burden to you,
each sleepless night without you in my handles
to be drilled and calm and (sometimes) sober

I mess up by being kind-hearted
I mess up by being wise

I'm here now, I'll be the earth angel
and I came to bring my burden to you.
I was here; now, I'll be the game warden of love.
Someone accepted my gin and tonic.

I mess up. I am content, located on the bank.
It is wise; I will inspire.

I fuck upward with peace, and you won't get me to fall in love.
I fuck upward with peace, and you won't get me to fall in love.
(Which, I didn't get it in me,
I didn't get it in me; it's more.)

I fuck upward with peace and love
I fuck upward with peace and love
I fuck upward with peace and love
I fuck upward with peace and love
I fuck upward with peace and love (I fuck any)
I fuck upward with peace and love (I fuck by any)
I fuck upward with peace and love (I fuck by any)
I fuck upward with peace and love (I fuck by any)

The Little Girl of the Rubber Link (Kate Bush)

Language: Dutch

Well. Thanks to the one of you who wrote to ask how I was doing.

The answer is mostly, not all that well, though I'd be worse if I weren't collecting unemployment. I've never been very good at rebounding from problems, hence the song. Though I'm very good about being in denial that there are problems. Having had more practice with that.

Anyway. So I'm still around. And maybe I'll even get back to posting again semi-regularly, some day.

-Jessi

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

To see which trees
bend in the wind
has more meaning than my destiny: then they found me.
You see, she tries against herself.

[a]
A rubber link plays at marbles to resist;
the rubber link bends the beats.
If I could learn what a rubber link is,
I'd return to my feet.
The rubber links my trousers,
the rubber stops linking the ponytails:
if I could learn to twang, such as a rubber link,
I'd be the little rubber link girl.
Me, the little rubber link girl!
Me, the little rubber link girl!
Oh, I have wanted to be a little rubber link girl.

When I slip
from my catapult,
I got my feet to land firmly. With
the body, let the wear in, for delays.

[a]

Give as a rubberband;
twang, such as a rubber link;
crack, such as a rubber link.

Oneffenheid-a-kopie
Oneffenheid-a-kopie
Oneffenheid-a-kopie

[b]
You won't keep one rubber link,
you won't keep two rubber links,
you won't keep three rubber links.

Here I go . . . .

[b]