Friday, March 19, 2021

“One rancid corn dog”

[“Herb Caen Was My Co-Pilot!” Zippy, March 19, 2021. Click for a more nostalgic view.]

That’s a Doggie Diner dog head, dreaming of 1970s San Francisco. The head is a familiar element in Zippy, as is M. Proust. In 2007, Zippy visited Proust’s grave in Père Lachaise.

Related reading
All OCA Proust posts : Proust and Zippy posts : Zippy posts (Pinboard)

Acorn 7

Acorn, an image editor for macOS, just received a major update. For a limited time, Acorn is available for $19.99, half the regular price. I just updated, and the new Acorn 7 looks great. One big improvement: the floating palettes that popped up all over the screen are gone, replaced by a single window with a toolbar. But a choosy user can have it the old way too.

My only connection to Acorn is that of a happy and enthusiastic user. I like the free app Seashore too, but for some tasks, it has to be Acorn.

Recently updated

#Sedition3PTruck Chris Miller has been censured by the Illinois House.

Insurrection

A chilling episode of the podcast Criminal : “If it ever happens, run,” an account of an 1898 coup in Wilmington, North Carolina. Draw your own parallels.

Thursday, March 18, 2021

Proustian music

“Two new compact disks, both of them more or less perfect and charming, evoke the ambience of the Proustian musicale”: in The New Yorker, Alex Ross reviews recordings by Steven Isserlis and Connie Shih, and Théotime Langlois de Swarte and Tanguy de Williencourt.

Related reading
All OCA Proust posts (Pinboard)

[But disk, New Yorker ? Really?]

Instant Hallmark

Turn mealtime into a Hallmark movie. For instance, while eating a blueberry muffin:

“Cancel the Blueberry Festival?! Berry Hollow wouldn’t be Berry Hollow without the Festival!”

Work and fame

One piece of advice:

“Work, achieve renown,” he said to me.
That’s Charles Morel, violinist, speaking to the narrator of In Search of Lost Time, who’s said that he finally wants to get to the work of writing. “Who’s that from?” the narrator asks. “From Fontanes, to Chateaubriand.”

Another piece of advice:
Work your ass off to change the language & dont ever get famous.
That’s from “Experiments,” a list of writing practices compiled by Bernadette Mayer and members of a St. Mark’s Church Poetry Workshop.

Sources: Marcel Proust, Sodom and Gomorrah, trans. John Sturrock (New York: Penguin, 2005). Bernadette Mayer et al., “Experiments,” in In the American Tree, ed. Ron Silliman (Orono, ME: National Poetry Foundation, 1986).

Related reading
All OCA Proust posts (Pinboard)

[Translator’s note: “‘Work, work, my dear friend, achieve renown.’ Chateaubriand cites the words as having been written to him in 1798, by the Marquis Louis de Fontanes (1757–1821), a mediocre writer with whom he had become friendly during his exile in England.”]

Sardines in film

[John Kellogg as Dan Monroe, newspaper reporter. From Tomorrow Is Another Day (dir. Felix E. Feist, 1951). Click for a larger view.]

Some reporter. He’s eyeing an ex-con and missing the big story: a sardine sandwich, only 25¢. There’s a tiny “¢” next to “25.”

Related reading
All OCA sardine posts (Pinboard)

Typewriters in film

A short marvel of imagination and editing, by Ariel Avissar: The Typewriter (supercut).

Mike Brown at Oddments of High Unimportance passed on the link, found in Sameer Vasta’s newsletter Weekend Reading: Flashing Palely in the Margins. Thanks, Mike and Sameer.

Wednesday, March 17, 2021

Performative

When I hear the word performative on the news, I think back to graduate school, where I spent considerable time thinking and writing about speech-act theory. In speech-act theory, the word performative is both noun and adjective. Performatives, or performative utterances, are statements that satisfy these conditions:

A. they do not “describe” or “report” or constate anything at all, are not “true or false”; and

B. the uttering of the sentence is, or is a part of, the doing of an action, which again would not normally be described as, or as “just,” saying something.

J.L. Austin, How to Do Things with Words, 2nd. ed. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975).
“I bet you a nickel,” “I bequeath you one thin dime”: given the appropriate circumstances, to say it (or write it) is to do it. That’s a short explanation of performative utterances.

Performative as an adjective invoked on the news is quite different. Here is Merriam-Webster’s definition:
disapproving : made or done for show (as to bolster one’s own image or make a positive impression on others).
A Merriam-Webster citation, from Alia E. Dastigir:
But when expressing outrage is as easy as posting a hashtag, a meme, or an empty black square, there’s a question of whether that outrage is genuine or performative.
So in speech-act terms, a performative is a statement that does something. In current everyday use, performative describes a statement that pretends to do something, that is merely a performance, that substitutes for doing anything of substance. One can of course bet or bequeath merely to bolster one’s image or make a positive impression. Still, such a bet or bequest is genuine, unless the bettor or bequeather is acting in bad faith. But something “made or done for show” is inherently ungenuine, not a matter of commitment to one’s statement, not a matter of obligation to another person (as a bet or bequest must be). It’s only an attempt to convince another of something about one’s self. Look at me: see how good I am?

Thus performative has become what H.W. Fowler’s Modern English Usage calls a “worsened word,” a formerly neutral or commendatory word that has acquired a pejorative meaning. Alas, that shift makes perfect sense when discourse, of all sorts, is too often a form of cheap performance. (Cue some senator reading Dr. Seuss.) One might imagine a book about the role of such performance in our politics. I bet it would do well.

A related post
Dear Abby and J.L. Austin

[“Worsened words” is an entry in the second edition of Modern English Usage, revised and edited by Sir Ernest Gowers. Among Gowers’s examples of worsened words: academic, epithet. Please notice that my “I bet” is not a performative. It’s a way I stating what I would anticipate. No stakes, no taker of a bet.]