For years, I’ve had this recurring gig from Alexander Kaletski’s novel Metro in my head as, “Nobody ever believes Sashulka,” instead of Andrewlka, as it should be. Oops.
Nobody ever believes…
Reply
Category Archives: Lexicon
Claridge’s
“Claridge’s is a great training ground. One story we do like is that of the young couple who forgot some clothes during one visit and found them at their next visit, laundered and dry-cleaned, hanging in the same wardrobe.”
— Rene Lecler, The 300 Best Hotels in the World (1978)
Oft told story. I usually embellish by saying the couple are of modest means, and don’t return to Claridge’s for some years. As is frequently the case, the story needs no embellishment by me.
Doonesbury, “air pudding”
Lexicon. Music that blends into the background. Originally used by Trudeau about New Age (or newage, rhymes with sewage), but Classical, or Jazz, or coffee-shop guitar… All will do. (Which only reminds me of Larry Niven’s bon mot, “The applause should be louder than the music. Play better, or softer.”)
Minkin, Playing with Money
Back to Gumperstown. The bank. “What’s my balance? I think I’m overdrawn.” Foxes to the right of him, foxes to the left of him. Goddamn branch hires tellers the way restaurants hire waitresses. Sell some tit with the sausages to stimulate appetites, better tips, return trade. But a bank?
“You’re not OD’d.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You’re not overdrawn. This is your balance.” She passed him a slip of paper that read $126.23.
“Absolutely ridiculous, madam. I haven’t had that much in there in months. Why do I give you my money to play with?”
Lexicon. I usually rephrase as, “Why do I let you people play with my money?”
From Stephen Minkin’s excellent 1979 novel about play (“Ludics”), and Northern California in the late ‘70s, A No Doubt Mad Idea.
Waldrop, Alternate Titles
“Friends who know me get real tired of hearing me talk about the stories I’m going to write. And what they hear me call them are usually not the titles you know them by.”
“Like, “The Ugly Chickens” was referred to as “the dodo story.” “Flying Saucer Rock and Roll” was variously called “the doo-wop story” or “the piss-drinking story.” “I’m going to write a doo-wop story,” I would say. “Ike at the Mike,” on the other hand, was always called “Ike at the Mike.” “The alternate-Africa story” meant “The Lions Are Asleep This Night.””
“In my imagination, “What Makes Heironymous Run?” was always “the painter story,” and that’s what it says on the working title of the file folder with the research in it. (The research consisted mostly of looking at about 2000 Renaissance paintings until my eyeballs melted like lumps of Crisco in a skillet.)”
Howard Walrop
Introduction to “What Makes Heironymous Run?”
All About Strange Monsters of the Recent Past
Lexicon, to a degree. “You know… The Africa story.”
NB: Yes, I know Bosch spelled his name Hieronymous. But in Strange Monsters, Waldrop spelled it Heironymous. Vast, multitudes, etc.
In the Icebox
“Another of this wonderful woman’s wonderful sayings (I told you—I got a million of ‘em; don’t make me prove it) was “Milk always takes the flavor of what’s next to it in the icebox.” Not a very useful saying, you might think, but I suspect it’s not only the reason I’m writing this introduction, but the reason I’m writing it the way I’m writing it.
Does it sound like Harlan wrote it?
It does?
That’s because I just finished the admirable book which follows. For the last four days I have been, so to speak, sitting next to Harlan in the icebox. I am not copying his style; nothing as low as that. I have, rather, taken a brief impression of his style, the way that, when we were kids, we used to be able to take a brief impression of Beetle Bailey or Blondie from the Sunday funnies with a piece of Silly Putty (headline in the New York Times Book Review: KING OFFERS EERILY APT METAPHOR FOR HIS OWN MIND!!).”
— Stephen King, from his introduction to Harlan Ellison’s Stalking the Nightmare
Primatonormative
Lexicon. Pretty simple. If the concept of heteronormative exists — and it clearly does — then the idea of placing the agenda of what great apes want also exists. Thus, primatonormative.
Here we have our cat Boots, obviously thinking our primatonormative agenda doesn’t interest him:
Among the *many* problems…
Lexicon. A reworking of the renowned “Spanish Inquisition” sketch by Monty Python. That sketch has an original structure of:
- “Our chief weapon is…”
- “Our two weapons…”
- “Our three weapons…”
- “Our four — no — Amongst our weapons…”
Our version goes more like…
- The problem with {x} is…
- Among the problems with {x} Is…
- Among the many problems with {x} is…
(It’s possible this comes from Douglas Adams, instead, but he may have been riffing on the Pythons himself.)
Pushing my luck
Lexicon. Almost always me. I came up with it in the early days of our relationship. Every now and then I will lightly push Ulrika, on the arm or something. The canonical exchange:
“What are you doing?”
“Pushing my luck.”
And I do feel I’m a genuinely lucky guy.
I’ve got a license
Lexicon. Usually used to justify a public display of affection, or something similar. The license, of course, is our marriage license (31 years old, at this writing).