Conversations as poems

Basil discusses his quest with a sceptical Sybil

...

Basil: I am on a quest.

Sybil: Which is…?

Basil: I want to find perfectly formed conversations.

Sybil: Are there such things?

Basil: Just as there are many perfect poems, especially short ones, like haiku, so I think short conversations can a kind poem.

Sybil: Conversations as poems? Like when you say to the Chinese baker, “One wholemeal,” and she replies, “Two dollar fifty, love.” Short, but hardly poetic.

Basil: No, not that, it needs a bit more, like words, sensitivity of mood, rhythm.

...

Conversation as performance

Janet and Penelope are just coming out of a presentation, one which is controversial for them, at a pragmatics meeting where the speaker has talked about conversation, referring to H.P. Grice and suggesting that human language is ultimately reducible to formulaic ritualized procedure.

Janet: I’m sure Grice wouldn’t agree, if he were still alive.

Penelope: I know, we don’t just request and exchange information and maneuver people.

Janet: Of course not. Life isn’t just a series of questions and answers like Noam asking how long until the next bus and Steven answering truthfully, briefly, relevantly and clearly: “Five minutes.”

Penelope: Or a little more interestingly and in a entirely different context, Arthur Dent asking how long they have for the Earth to be destroyed and Ford Prefect answering truthfully, briefly, relevantly and clearly: “Five minutes.”

Janet: Oh, yes. Well. Hmm. Context does change things.

Penelope: Anyway. Talk is meat and potatoes, conversation is dessert.

Janet: A good conversation is not just Gricean maxims. The Gricean principles are only about effective conversation, the appropriate amount of talk, timing, truth and so on. Grice says nothing about creativity or pleasure in talk.
...

Grice's maxims and the art of conversation

A good conversation is not just Gricean maxims. The Gricean principles are only about effective conversation, the appropriate amount of talk, timing, truth and so on. Grice says nothing about creativity or pleasure in talk.

Same with pasta. Anyone can cook it, even men, but it is an art to cook a great tortellini or an orichietti or lasagna. And risotto is an art.

Exactly. A good conversation is one from which you withdraw with a glow. You applaud it at the end. It’s one replete with ready responses, ripe ripostes, even rude retorts. Conversations containing those are art. They are hard to measure, there may even be diversions.

The sad thing is, it’s so hard to recall those really great exchanges.

Such conversations are glistening speech bubbles, flashes of froth, and gone with the wind.

What were we talking about?

Grice. oh, and pasta.
...

Nested Conversation

"Caw Caw Caw."
"What do you think they are saying?"
"I think that's an identity signal. 'Like I am here.'"
"So what does a question like 'Are you there?' sound like?"
"Maybe the same. 'Caw Caw Caw,' with a rising intonation, maybe?"
"Caw Caw Caw Caw Caw Caw Caw!"
"What do suppose THAT signified?"
"Hmmm, sounded like he was irritated."
"Could he be telling us to buzz off?"
"Could be warning his mates about something."
"You notice something? The caws are generally odd numbers. 'Caw.' Or 'Caw Caw Caw.'"
"You're right. You rarely hear a 'Caw Caw', or a 'Caw Caw Caw Caw.'"
"Caw Caw Caw Caw Caw."
Now THAT call I've heard before. They make it when there's food around."
"Loosely translated as 'Come and GET it!' perhaps?"
"But only if there's a lot. They're not so vocal when pickings are slim."
"Caw."
"A single caw?"
"Can mean a lot of things. Like 'Gotta go.'"

Blogs and Websites

“I started a new blog recently,” I volunteer into a conversation during a meeting break yesterday.

“Blog?” asks the friend.

“Hmm. A sort of online daily commentary.”

“A website?” he probes.

“Not exactly a website. More like an online diary. Except that a diary, in the past, was a personal record by the writer, probably only read by him or her. A blog is more for public viewing because the writer posts his or her thoughts and opinions on the Internet and hopes others will read what he or she writes. However, most blogs only have a readership of one or two people. That writer, and his or her mother. Mostly, not even the mother.”

“So, how is a website different from a blog? In structure?” persists the friend.

“Well a website tends to be one way. A bit didactic, like a teacher lecturing in a classroom. Listeners can ask questions, but in general the info flow is one way. Some people contend that a blog is intended to be like a conversation. Someone writes their opinion and readers leave comments. If the bloggist is famous and gets lots of readers, like thousands, chances are someone will leave a comment augmenting or amplifying, or challenging or questioning what the writer says. Especially if it is a contentious issue.”

“But a conversation is spoken, isn’t it?”

“Well, you can refer to an online exchange as a conversation, but yes, writing comments means the exchanges occur asynchronously, not in real time. The writing often looks like someone is writing as they would speak.

“So a blog becomes like a website. Static?”

“ Well, not really. Usually it is the intention of a website designer to organize information with main topics and subtopics so the visitor can find information quickly. A blog tends to be chronologically linear, that is, the writer writes about one topic one day and usually changes to a completely different topic next day. Much like a newspaper columnist.”

“So you can’t find anything on blogs? They are just random ramblings?”

“Well, some bloggists tag keywords so you can search for something they have written about. But many who are only writing for themselves and their mother are less than rigorous about labeling their content.”

“So it might be a good place to exchange information with others who share your interest?”

“Exactly. Many blogs have links to other similar blogs and bloggists leave comments on each others blogs so it comes close to a discussion.”

The future is here. It's just not evenly distributed. William Gibson.