Had to look it up in the urban dictionary, Sheila, but now I know what LMAO means. At least I guess you were laughing your ass off, there are some other meanings.

It suddenly strikes me how a message over the intercom of an Air France Airbus in 1995 has spin off in 2017. A chain reaction of meaning flying all over the world via Media and Medium, transforming from neural currents in a French brain circuit to air currents in a French throat, to sound waves in the air to an electrical circuit in microphone, transmitter, cables and loudspeakers, to sound waves in the air, to my ear drums and the intricate hypersensitive machinery connected to it, to neural currents in my brain, to a living memory system, to a movement of my left hand, commanding a black ballpoint to wriggle the string of words I remember on paper, to copy them 22 years later by drumming fingers on a glass surface, causing electrical currents in an iPad and soon in our WiFi system, the glass fiber network connecting us with transmitters and cables and things I hardly understand, called the Internet, to a digital memory structure, to several digital memory systems, again via the Internet to the screens of your computing and communicating device, to light waves in the air, to your eyes, to trigger neural currents in your brain, moving muscles in your body causing currents of air to escape in the atmosphere around you in the form of sounds we use to call laughing, and at the same time initiating chemical reactions in your brain, making you happy and grateful, and moving you to a new chain of reactions, of which I am part by now. Apart from this your brain automatically compared the words of the French captain with the correct idiom and grammar you learned and stored in your memory system, and you are immediately aware of his attempt to speak correct American-English.

I am sure you have noticed how much I am lost in translation all the time, just like the French captain. I know American-English and English-English differ a lot. I do often not know where they differ though. Not being a natural American or English speaker, I use a kind of mixed up English. Forced by a dictatorial auto corrector, residing in Seattle and/or Silicon Valley, constantly influenced by a flood of American-English on the Internet and wherenot, I have been unlearning the (English-English) rules I sloppily learned in high school, more than 50 years ago.

Language is a medium of the soul, just like music. Souls are sensitive buggers.

Friend of life and beauty and foe of spoilers of life and beauty. Golden marriage. Grandfather. Pianist and micro poet. Dutch, European.

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