EchoSpiegelUnterhaltung

I want to define EchoSpiegelUnterhatung. I can't pronounce it. I can't make any claim to it's validity as a real word because you won't find it in a German dictionary, nor did I make it up. I don't know who coined it, but I found it on the archived site of Exquisite Corpse from 1999: (http://www.corpse.org/archives/issue_2/critical_urgencies/wevespe.html), a website run by Andrei Codrescu, a writer, poet, and political commentator who contributes occassionally to NPR. Here are some of his thoughts on growing old: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=120583680

Exquisite corpse is a dadaist-inspired weblog, with a strong focus on alternative journalism, dada poetry, and art. My bag.


Here is what Peter Weverka wrote in his article "Speaking the Unspeakable" about EchoSpeigelUnterhatung:

"echo+mirror+talk: In crowded urban settings, at bus stops or
in cafes, an eavesdropper sometimes overhears a conversation in which the
talkers know they are being listened to, but far from being offended, the
talkers actually change the tenor of their conversation for the benefit of the
eavesdropper. The result is a theatrical performance with an audience of one.
Often the performers try to bait the audience with outlandish political opinions
or vulgarity. The audience, in the same way that the audience at a real
performance must not disturb the players, cannot change facial expressions or
show any evidence of listening, no matter how provocative the players are. This
little theater, in which the actors try to make the audience speak and the
audience pretends it isn't listening, goes by the name EchoSpiegelUnterhaltung
(echo+mirror+talk) in German. "

When I read this, I was immediately reminded of one of my own episodes of EchoSpiegelUnterhaltung. I was sitting in a Thai restaurant in New Brunswick with my long-time friend, Edward Allan Bartholomew. We put on a bit of theater for a yuppie couple that sat next to us in the cramped dining room in which I pretended to have a case of swine flu and neurosis about seating arrangements.

"Let's switch seats."

"Why?"

"I want to see the room, I don't like having a lot of people behind me."

"But you have a nice view of the window."

"Please."

"Okay."

"You know, I liked the window view better, can we switch back?"

etc...

Of course we change the tenor of our conversation when others are listening, and of course we put on different personas- different bodies- when we feel the need for a new skin; hopefully, the couple sitting next to us understood echomirrortalk, understood the importance of theater, and understood we didn't mean to cause them to pay the check early and book it.

Theater is not confined to a stage. If one were to lower the dais a few feet, how would we separate it from authentic interaction? Where does it stop being theater and become sincere? How much of what we say in daily life is more acting than genuine emotion? How low must the stage be before actors become pedestrians we eavesdrop upon?

An inch or two, I think.