I was punchy today, as last night I did much homework/studying types of activities, fretted about these homework/studying types of activities, but also I dillydallyed as well, chatting (on the phone, yet – how retro) with KSP and writing (what I hope you found) a comical little story.  However, the extra homework paid off, as I was ahead of the game on today’s work, which was nice.  I also found the feared Phonology exam was not as scary as I thought (though this does not necessarily mean I did well on it, as I am a pessimist by nature, and can take that as a sign I did not do well on it).  Sadly, le Musée d’Ecureuil canceled our appointment, as they feel it is insensitive to bereaved families (the museum is located in a funeral home) to be exposed to ironic gawkers.  Imagine that.

Nevertheless, KSP and I soldiered on, deciding to enjoy a late lunch and a mid-afternoon beer, both of which I was in much need.  As always, we yukked it up, touching on various subjects, one (or two, depending on how you count it) of them being our respective crushes.  We, of course, dissected each interaction with precision, if not outright skill.  I told her that after our phone conversation last night (when I was convinced that GSS wasn’t interested), I reanalyzed the data (which is what I do in school these days – what works for vowels surely can work for men, right?  right?), and I have swung over to the slightly more positive side of the spectrum.  KSP agreed that it certainly is tough to accurately judge what’s going on right in the middle of things, as your perspective is skewed.  But then we joked that we needed to send in a trusted man to observe quietly, and report back.  Certainly KSP could analyze my interactions with GSS, and I her interactions with her crush, 2A; ultimately, as women, we are not going to see the same details that another straight male would see.  We needed a guy to come in and tell us like it was.  That was good for a few minutes of comedy, as we imagined one of our friends, lurking behind potted plants or behind pillars, studiously taking notes.  I also joked that, since nearly all of our straight male friends are in long-term relationships, we would have to get their significant others to recruit them.  We both had the image of one friend in particular, conscripting her husband into the task, as it would be the sort of thing she would embrace with enthusiasm.

Of course, that was all beer-and-nachos chitchat.  We will never be able to get the sort of expert opinion that we need.  We are left to our own devices, which is always alarming, especially since both of us have taken probably one too many literature courses (hell, I’ve taken them in two languages); we see subtext everywhere, which is bad for parsing the male conversation.  Not that there is never subtext, but it is likely that it would be impossible to place that much of it in any one human conversation.

Which reminds me of a bit from one of my favorite movies, Barcelona, where two guys are talking about literature.  I don’t have it memorized, so this is only a paraphrase, but the one guy complains that people talk too much about subtext.  He then asks what they call the level above the subtext.  You mean the text?  His friend asks him.  Yeah, why don’t people talk about that, he asks. 

Wise words for me to remember.  What about the text, indeed.