Japanese Slang. Peter ConstantineЧитать онлайн книгу.
originally planned Japanese Slang Uncensored as a tough, reveal-it-all sequel to my first language book, Japanese Street Slang. My intention had been to reveal more of these tough forbidden street words that could never slither under the blocks of a self-respecting printing press. But as I continued moving down in Japanese society from interview to interview, I became fascinated with what my word suppliers did for a living. The deeper I slipped, the stronger the speakers' personality and modus vivendi shone through the words. Making a dazzling list of alphabetized taboo terms might be fun and linguistically rewarding, but I realized that in order to really get to the roots of the slang I would also have to dig down to the social foundation of the group I was listening to.
As I began writing Japanese Slang Uncensored I became increasingly convinced that the strongest slang would pale if it were not presented along with its speakers. I decided to use these secret, “hidden words” to reveal the shadowy sections of Japanese society that few upstanding Japanese and even fewer Westerners ever have the opportunity to explore.
1
IN THE darker corners of Japan's street scene, till tappers, pickpockets, heistmen, and bank crackers are tightly knit, along with thieves of every description, into a web of underworld associations and networks. Age-old street hierarchies still prevail, and modern Japanese thieves, much like modern Japanese businessmen, are classed according to their experience, track record, age—and whom they know. Some criminal corporations are rich; their eriito (elite) or top executives govern ten, twenty, and even thirty city blocks with an iron fist. Other groups are shoddy and small and work out of a street or alley, snatching handbags,lifting wallets, and stripping cars. But whatever their rank or affiliation, professional purloiners would be outraged should they be referred to as dorob (thieves), sett (larcenists), gt (burglars), or oihagi (robbers).
• Agari da'tte, tondemo n! Ore wa akainu daze! Me, a riser? No way! I'm a red dog! (Me, climb into houses? No way! I'm an arsonist!)
Newcomers to the Japanese street soon realize that thieves come in two sizes: the shinobikomi, “those who enter crawling” (smooth criminals who work with circumspection), and the odorikomi, “those who enter dancing” (brash criminals with guns). While successful dancers are applauded for their devil-may-care recklessness, the experienced crawler is admired for the light-fingered strategy with which he or she will calculate a heist. A house is chosen, inhabitants watched, police movements in the neighborhood monitored, and locks and alarm systems studied. When a crawler finally moves in on his target he carefully accounts for the weather, the time, and the presence or absence of a victim.
Crawling
In classical criminal slang an unattended house full of choice loot was referred to as akisu (empty nest), and “crawling” thieves who specialized in these houses were secretly known as akisunerai (empty-nest targeters). But the police uncovered the word, adopted it, and soon began using it in official reports. Akisunerai spread like wild fire. It was snatched up by newspapers, detective novels, gangster movies, cartoons, and finally even dictionaries.
With akisunerai flushed out of hiding, new code words appeared on the streets. Empty houses were rebaptized nukesu (void nests), nuke for short, and ai (chance). Tokyo's Korean gangsters introduced their own exotic word, hotsuraiki. The more theatrical thieves took to calling their empty houses butai (stage). A sneak thief, they argued, could always guarantee a spectacular entry, a breathtaking performance, and a dashing exit. Some gangs took the thespian idea even further and began referring to breaking and entering as butai o fumu (stepping onto the stage) and even butai e kamaru (barging onto the stage).
• Yappa shu ni sankai ij butai o fumu mon ja nai yo—tama n'ya rerakkusu shin to. You know I really wouldn't step on stage more than three times a week—one has to relax too, you know.
• Aitsu ga butai o funda no wa, are ga saigo datta no sa. That was the last time he stepped onto the stage.
• Aitsu ja butai e kamaru'tte koto ga d y koto nan no ka chitto mo wakatcha in! He really has no idea what barging onto the stage is all about!
• Asu ore ga butai e kamaru no o matte mira yo! Just you wait till I barge onto that stage tomorrow!
The crawlers and sneak thieves who barged into these houses were also given new names. They reappeared as nukeshi (void specialists), nuke-chan (little Mr. Void), akishi (empty specialists), kisukai (from akisukai, “empty-nest buyer”), sukai (nest buyers), and, more elegantly, gaikin (commercial travelers). Shinobi (creeping into) was molded into a whole line of new words. Shinobishi (creep specialist) became the rage and after the police adopted it, it was pruned down to nobi and nobishi (nobi-master), and then, for optimum security, was further disguised as nobe and nobeshi.
The law, however, was quick to pick up on these words too, and feverish bands of burglars churned out ever more outlandish expressions. Sneak thieves became yaya (house-ters), yashiya (mansioners), tobi (kites), konch (bugs), and sagashi (seekers). Some clans even resorted to effervescent nonsensical names like zabu (bubbles), nagajirashi (long teasers), and nagashari (“noodles,” a word of dubious Buddhist priestly origin, literally “long Buddha's bones”). The idea that many of the older diehard professionals had the habit of carefully tiptoeing from room to room in their socks gave rise to the jejune quip shirotabi (white tabi-socks—traditional socks that younger and more fashion-conscious criminals would not be caught dead stealing in). In naughtier cliques, the now standard expression for sneak thief, akisunerai (empty-nest targeter), has been flipped into a rebarbative ketsunerai (ass targeter) and ketsusagashi (ass searcher). The logic behind this witty switch is that ketsu (ass) and ana (hole) are written with the same character. A sneak thief, the gangsters argue, prods about in the dark searching for a hole to enter.
The even earthier criminals go all out and refer to breaking and entering as kamahoru (ass fucking) and burglars as kamahori (ass fuckers).
• Aitsu mo karekore ketsunerai yatte yonj nen k! Well, he's been an ass targeter for forty years now!
• Ketsusagashi'tte no wa mattaku hone no oreru shigoto daze! Being an ass searcher is real stressful, you know!
• Kamahoru nante ore mo iya da yo! Shikashi uchi nya kak to gaki ga matte yagaru kara na! I've had it with ass fucking! But what can I do, I have a wife and kids at home!
• Ana Kbe kara kita kamahori nakanaka yaru na. That ass fucker from Kobe's real good.
Chaster bands have given their boys the swash-buckling names of the legendary neighborhood criminals of yesteryear. Tay
Gangs with a high ethnic Korean membership went in for a simpler linguistic solution. While their all-Japanese counterparts scraped for clever new secret terms, these gangs simply peppered their clandestine speech with exotic Korean expressions. Sneak thieves were given long and impenetrable names that were sure to baffle even the most streetwise police unit: chimruhetsuta, banchiorutokii, utsuharakachiya, and konkurusarubisa. Some of the more pronounceable Korean gang-words for stealers, such as sartgui (mouse), the hybrid chiuya (chiu, Korean for