L'esprit de l'escalier

i love words.

to me, words are beautiful things. some are definitely more beautiful than others, and for different reasons. for example the phrase 'cellar door' is purportedly one of the most lovely phrases in all of the english language.... i don't really see the appeal there, but at least it is reassuring to know that others find some interest and enthusiasm for words.

usually words that i like have whimsical or melancholy tones. sometimes i like they way they sound, the way they feel leaving my mouth, or physically how they look when written out: the combination of letters.

but my favorite words are ones that capture a very specific meaning or feeling or experience.

the english language is wonderful and robust, as thoroughly, daily, and continually tested by the internet. we rip apart sentences and words, rearranging them at will. forcing nouns to be verbs, and stealing words from other languages. we test the ability of our friends to keep up with our attempts at comedic wordplay and pop-culture references. all of this and more make communicating with the english language more of a game than anything else. but almost always, even at the lowest levels of language use *cough*youtubecommentors*cough* the reader/listener can usually get the gist of what the writer/speaker is attempting to communicate.

isn't that by itself fairly amazing? in all fairness, any other language could very well be as flexible as english and i wouldn't know. how lingocentric of me. but context can speak louder than content, or at least match its volume; as can body language, tone, etc. so much of verbal communication is non-verbal, a sometimes staggering and frequently uncomfortable loss for the written word.

At least as you write you are able to reread before you publish... whether or not you take the time and commit to the habit of doing so. thinking before you speak isn't quite the same, as written word seems to pick up a voice of it's own. whereas sometimes you just don't know how what you want to say will sound until you blurt it out and face the immediate criticism from you listeners (including yourself no doubt).

on the other hand, its quite easy to be at a loss for words altogether. i frequently find myself looking for the perfect word - haunted, if you will, by the knowledge and faint memory of a word that fits a situation completely, and being unable to retrieve it. or, being in the heat of an argument (civil or otherwise), being unable to think straight as your conversational antagonist(s) outmaneuvers you or surprises you with a fresh thought you weren't expecting.

so in a roundabout way, we come to the titular phrase that inspired this post.

L'esprit de l'escalier. english transliteration: 'The spirit of the stairway', translation 'staircase wit'

an explanation and history from wikipedia:

***

a French term used in English for the predicament of thinking of the perfect retort too late.

During a dinner at the home of statesman Jacques Necker, a remark was made to [the man who coined the phrase] which left him speechless at the time, because, he explains, "l’homme sensible, comme moi, tout entier à ce qu’on lui objecte, perd la tête et ne se retrouve qu’au bas de l’escalier" ("a sensitive man, such as myself, overwhelmed by the argument levelled against him, becomes confused and can only think clearly again [when he reaches] the bottom of the stairs").

***

what an exquisite embodiment of an experience, captured in french words. its fun to say and i can steal it from another language! so often do i find that i stew and marinate in past conversations, wishing i had said something different, carefully crafting a retort for 'the next time that topic comes up'. HAH. because that happens.

i suppose my mind won't let me let go of missed opportunities; it seems to enjoy the metaphorical staircase floor where things can be slowly pondered in attempt to understand both sides of the argument a little better, at a pace i can control.

surely i will be no champion debater any time soon... and i will take comfort in this old saying credited to Maurice Switzer whilst i churn my thoughts out at my own pace:

"It is better to remain silent at the risk of being thought a fool, than to talk and remove all doubt of it."

... but i suppose a silent world where everyone is afraid of being thought a fool wouldn't get us too far-?