Fun With Foreign Words!

You know, I'm called a myriad of various and sundry things by Mr M. "Kiddo," that one I like. I like being a kiddo. " Zazu," that one's not bad because it's normally said with an air of affinity. "Beatrix," is OK, because it was taken from "Kill Bill." In fact, put the three together, "Beatrix Z. Kiddo," and I've been called that too, as kind of a formal name. "Podlet," which I guess is the pod's term of endearment. "Elizabeth," that's generally like being chastized by your parents and often has the same effect when used by Monsieur M.

Then there's that one thing he calls me that I don't like. Oh, he thinks it's hilarious, but I'm having a hell of a time trying to glean the laff-riot factor out of it. That name would be LCD.

"LCD" stands, to him, for "Lowest Common Denominator."

This comes about because Mr M knows I like the old smutty double-entendre. And I rarely pass up a chance to use one. If there's a crude joke or aside to be made, I have to make it or die. It's that simple. I'm like Roger Rabbit not being able to resist finishing "Shave and a Haircut" with an explosive "Two Bits!"

Now, I think of myself as a fairly halfway semi-intelligent human being, and I'm capable of understanding and enjoying many complex things. Therefore, I feel "Lowest Common Denominator" is most unfair. I prefer to think of it as simply, "A Flair For The Baser Instincts."

And what all that has to do with what's to come, well, you tell me, because although I'm thinking of them together, they're actually not related. Except inasmuch as they tell how my humor can really wear a simpleton's hat and yet still give me hours of entertainment.

As you well know by now, Mr M and I are clarinet players. We play duets just about every weekend we get together. We have stacks and stacks of music, some mine, most his, some we've bought together, and some we've downloaded from internet sites. Lots we've downloaded from internet sites.

Sometimes these pieces have their original titles attached. Which are not in English. And of course, because I have no control over it, the "Two Bits" syndrome, I feel the need to "translate" the titles of these pieces. It helps me get a feel for the music so I can play it better.

For example, we have our Rossini collection, which contains four pieces of music. I like to think of this as a little operetta about a Renaissance-era family. It starts with "Una Voce Poco Fa." The English translation of this is "One Voice, A Little Fay." I imagine this to be sung by the Lord of the Manor's "other" son, the one they don't mention to company.

Next comes the peppy - nay - rousing "Zitti, Zitti, Piano, Piano," which musically should mean "Eating Ziti Very Quietly," but since it's not a quiet song, I've translated it into a simple "Eating Ziti At The Piano." It's a festive hoedown for the whole family, bouncing around all tomato-faced at the piano, even fay little Herbert.

Then things take a sad turn in the Rossini fold. The next number is "Dunque Io Son," which we all know, of course, translates into "I Drowned Our Son." This one even has lyrics: "I drowned our son/he's only one/O, look out yon/He's in the pond." It brings a tear.

However, things end with a decidedly upswinging mood as our Rossini collection concludes with everyone's favorite "Di Si Felice Inesto." Which translates into "The Happy Incest." I have an idea of lyrics for this one, but there comes a point where words are not the preferred method of communication; I believe I'll take myself up on that offer.

There's another duet we attempt, well, I attempt, Mr M plays it pretty well. It's a two-part piece by a composer named Ponchielli. It's called "Il Covegno." Which we all know in English means "The Convenience Store."

Part one of the piece, a stately and spry introduction, followed by a more melancholy middle part, then a happy end part where the two clarinet lines intertwine in and out and up down, I call "Ahh, The Variety." This represents the heady feeling of walking into the Convenience Store and seeing all the colors of the cigarettes, lighters, potato chip bags, and bric-a-brac. The saddish middle part is all about realizing there's no whole milk, and the deep decision one has to make towards half and half, 2%, skim, or powdered coffee creamer. Then, as the music speeds back up and intertwines back together, this is about walking down the candy aisle, with all the colorful and sugary treats leaping out at you, screaming to be bought.

Part two of the piece starts out at a steady pace, then picks up a little more, with the two clarinets playing the same part, only one is about 1/2 beat behind the other. That builds until the final "presto," played at such a breakneck speed no one with normal fingers can possibly play it, and it all ends with a big arpeggio flourish. This part I call "Gas Drive-Off." The beginning is driving into the lot, to the pumps, with the job at hand to pump some gas and be on one's way. Then as the clarinets start playing against each other, there's the conflict of that sad point when one realizes the credit card is gone and there's no cash in pocket. Of course, the presto furioso is the "Holy shit, I need to get out of here" speeding away, with the manager of Il Convegno shaking his fist in disgust.

I know I'll never play "Il Convegno" well enough to perform it, but I long to, just so I can introduce it and tell its story. I really think that would help the audience appreciate it so much more.

Mr M made a two-CD set of clarinet music to take on our trip to Cleveland. (Wooo hooo! Clarinet music - hit the gas and pass the bong!) It contained "Il Convegno," and others that I was hearing for the first time. One of the songs, by Cavallini, was called "La Calma: Romanza Senza Parole." Which to the trained musical mind translates into "The Romance Has Calmed Since My Parole."

It's only fitting. We play books full of Cavallini duets. When we do, the conversation goes basically like this:

Mr M: What are we going to play?
Me: How about some Cavallini?
Mr M: Mmmm, I'd love some. With alfredo sauce.

And he calls me LCD.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners abound! Thanks for all who played, and some of you even described our weekend pretty well.
Honorable Mention goes to Anonymous (OK, since you're in the winners, own up to your acro) with "Candy, ale, eeriness, vagabonds, stale air."
Runner-up goes to LilyG with "Careening auto ejected various smashed alcoholics." (Now, that says road trip to me!)
Winner this week goes to a brand-new acroer, ESP with "Captain and Elizabeth's visit surpasses anticipation!"
Many, many good ones, I wish they all could have won.
* OK, a few more pictures from the Cleveland trip! I know I told you I couldn't take pictures in the museum - however, outside the Natural History Museum, Sherman just couldn't pass up an opportunity to recreate the dinosaur ride he takes at the beginning of the Improbable History cartoons:



Wanna see the best billboard in the whole wide world? I actually made Mr M drive me down the same piece of off-ramp in downtown Cleveland three times so I could get a picture of it worth printing.



"I scream, you scream, we all scream for green beans!" That wins my award for the best billboard ever in history.