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kalebeul anythingarian bubbles and troubles from the land of the fretting nun
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/ kalebeul / 2006 / 06 / 30 /

Quillo/chav/all suffix and no root/blah

This Cádiz lexicon says (also here) that quillo is used indiscriminately to attract attention, rather like “¡Oye!” in Spanish and its English cognate, “Oi!”, or, alternatively, like the English “Love”. In Barcelona (and presumably in other Spanish cities) quillo is also used derogatively, to express perceived age, ethnic and class distinctions, rather like the Spanish/Catalan [...]

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Goodbye Word Cup

Here’s yet another intriguing Tunisian blog. Karim, the original, is meanwhile tracking the degradation and destruction of the southern Mediterranean coastline, following where Spain showed the way.

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More transformations

For freaks: Antonio Nebrija’s 1492 Gramática, the first systematic study of Spanish, summarises the various types of metaplasm referred to here, making clear here that he regards them as acceptable corruptions. Valdés attacks Nebrija for his Latinate affectations, but it’s unfair to regard them respectively as descriptivist and prescriptivist extremists.

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Dopey cyclists

There’s little doubt now that Tyler Hamilton’s going to lose his Olympic gold. I continue to find it difficult to believe–particularly given the Mike Anderson story–that it was just close friendship and the proximity of hills and flats that brought him and Lance Armstrong together in Gerona in doping-plagued Spain. Die an honest death: stick [...]

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In Belgium they speak Belgian, so in Catalonia…

Joan Camp thinks there’s a language called Belgian, and that it’s essentially the same as Flemish.

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Hampshire Bowman

I hear it is being torn apart to make it into a boring restaurant with bar, just like all the other pubs in the region. Hohum, back to drinking cider out of a plastic bag on a bench.

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Apparently some ladies & gents with whom I sing when the big geezer is off doing other stuff are going to be on the telly quite a lot.

Apart from the odd bit of arranging, the barrel organ is the thing at the moment, when I get time. It’s a somewhat more lonely path, but I’m not very good at dance steps or 80s music anyway.

Kalebeul wouldn’t watch a hagiography of a faghating totalitarian fuckwit like St Paul, so it sees no reason this weekend to take cinema seats away from Barcelona’s chiliastic masses in their nostalgic lust for Hispanic dictators and good-looking saints. Paul Berman’s piece from 2004 applies. Even the regime sociologists seem to have noticed that Cataloonia has lost track of reality.

Graffiti of Camarón de la Isla and guitarist, somewhere in Barcelona, I think in Carmelo, so overlooking the place where he died:

More here.

Kabe-Otoko/Wall Man, neither human nor demon, observes the world from within walls:

Velen verzeggen Schiedam, maar sluiten dadelijk een verbond met Barcelona.” Is it about drinkers swearing by Dutch gin/jenever, only to turn to Spanish wine and brandy?


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