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A tribe living on Brazil's Maici River has only three pronouns, no words for colors, no use for numbers, and not much of a past tense. But its language is generating debates among linguists like you wouldn't believe.
As a kid, I loved the Heinlein novel with that title, which began, IIRC, with the hero "testing" his spacesuit by jogging through his neighborhood in it—at night, so he wouldn't attract attention. North Dakota is probably a better choice.
It's a bit of a shame about the blog: I often don't get started on an entry until late in the day. For instance, I'm starting this entry at 5:23pm. At 5:23pm, most people are on their ways home, while I'm here, feeling like I'm just getting started. And I put a lot of effort into these words. It takes some time. Even the shitty entries take awhile. I hope this doesn't sound like a complaint. I'm not complaining. I actually enjoy these circumstances. I'm relaxing now. Tarkio's keeping me awake with banjos and bells, and, aside from the random e-mail, there are no more interruptions…
Kurt Andersen says that it's probably too late for Kaavya Viswanathan to claim "the similarities were part of a deliberate postmodern intertextual take on 'real' genre novels." Umm hmmm.
Through the courtesy of Fred's two feet—and the Kaavya Viswanathan kerfluffle. Or something.
My wife insisted that I post this, "the best exam answer ever." Not that it did the guy any good.
Damn. Today it's 5:45pm and I'm just getting started. At least I'm not alone; Elizabeth is still here, worrying about page numbers and layouts so that JA can worry about other things.
"But you're on it," he says. "I don't have to worry, right?"
"That's right, sir," she says.
He sighs: "Okay."
It's nice to have some company.
It's also nice when the morning commute is gentle. This morning, leaving from the other side of the Hudson River, I walked the one colorful block down to the F train and found there was a seat waiting just for me, a seat reserved…