The Secret Life of Terminals

[My galpal dropped this in my inbox this morning... a klieg light on the secret life of terminals. I've decided to leave the page citation there since, after all, this is right from the book.]

dear mr. arras,

i decided to see what you have been doing on your blog lately. i had fun reading it. i think i would go absolutely mad trying to have an opinion amidst all the chaos.

one thing, however, from a linguist's perspective - you write: "When nouns and noun phrases get pared down like this they can often, ironically, become..." etc.

I would just like to point out that only noun phrases can be pared down in the sense you are talking about, not nouns (or other terminal nodes, as they're called), unless truncation of the actual words is what you have in mind, and on that account the excerpt from Silliman could look more like what I pasted below (i just "pared down" nouns and other terminals) . In that kind of system each truncated word would necessarily signify the full word, plus some extra meaning added by the device of truncation, of course...but that's not how our poor human language works. (i'm just busting you for fun, my friend!).

      Tits
               are oft mislead,
               subtits do are.
                                       Check
                               out the drive
                               in the necar
               though my rear
                               at a stop lit
                               (one ever sees
               the lower body),
            thi bony ma
                wit a white beard,
                        tricolor rasta,
            hisha cheeks
          cause tyes to reed.
               I dee he's a gentle son.
          Rolls off ing
                      turn right,
                        ack cinders top the gavel.
                                                 ere come a mom
                                                never
                                    Ire my poem hen
                                                tis a parent
                                    it is errible
                                                 ma fraud,
                                  o never
                                       choose tear
                                    read this,
                butt his mom asses. (N/O 60)

Posted by Brian Stefans at July 15, 2003 05:45 AM | TrackBack