We writers, aren't sculpting in DNA, or even clay or mud, but words, sentences, paragraphs, syntax, voice; materials issued by tongue or fingertips but which upon release dissolve into the atmosphere, into cloud, confection, specter. Language, as a vehicle, is a lemon, a hot rod painted with thrilling flames but crazily erratic to drive, riddled with bugs like innate self-consciousness, embedded metaphors and symbols, helpless intertextuality, and so forth. Despite being regularly driven on prosaic errands, (interoffice memos, supermarket receiptes, etc.) it tends to veer on its misaligned chassis into the ditch of abstraction, of dream.
None of this disqualifies my passionate urgency at the task of making the giant octopus in my mind's eye visible to yours. It doesn't make the attempt any less fundamentally human, delicate, or crucial. It makes it more so. That's because another name for the giant octopus I have in mind is negotiating selfhood in a world of other selves--the permanent trouble of being alive. Our language has no choice but to be self-conscious if it is to be conscious in the first place.
Jonathan Lethem
I'm still looking for the crazy wherever I can find it. It's hard enough to kick against the plastic Victorianism of our culture, the social sarcophagus of daily life. Even attempting it can make you crazy, let alone succeeding as well as Dick (Philip) did. I like helpless braggarts, obsessive fools, angry people. My ears prick up at the word pretentious--that's usually the movie I want to see, the book I want to read, the scene I want to make. Nearly anyone I've found worth knowing was difficult enough, vivid enough, to qualify at some point in my life as my crazy friend.
Lethem
The mental room tone of the Radisson is Genius Asperger's (which is not to presume a diagnosis of any of its actual occupants): cognitively astonishing accounts of living in a world to which one does not fully belong, the terms of which one cannot fully discern or trust...surprisingly challenging to enact the unspoken protocols for getting in and out of a crowded elevator (a difficulty that's rampant at the Radisson) but it can see both fascinating and urgent to consider such protocols exist in the fist place, and then to attempt to describe them, to consider how they formed and were taken unassumingly into our bodies.
Lethem
The American novelist is buffeted by two increasingly contradictory imperatives. The first comes as the directive to depict. The Way We Live Now....Cliche though it may be, but the notion that no one is better suited to explain teh dilemmas of contemporary life than the novelist persists...[The] other designated special province of the literary novelist: museum-quality depth. The further literature is driven to the outskirts of the culture, the more it is cherished as a sanctuary from everything coarse, shallow and meretricious in that culture. If these two missions seem incompatible, that's because they are. To encompass both...you must persuade readers that you have given them what they want by presenting them with what they were trying to get away from when they came to you in the first place.
Laura Miller
True art is a gift rather than a transaction
Me
It may be latent in human psychology to model the world on a fall from innocence, since we each go through one. I can't know because I speak an an American, and I do know that as a culture we're disastrously addicted to easy fantasies of a halcyon past, one always just fading from view, a land where things were more orderly or simple. (The model is doubly useful, open equally to our patronizing dismissals of the past and to our maudlin comparisons to a corrupted present.)
Lethem
This, to put it bluntly, is what I want....films that install themselves this way in my sexual imagination, by making me feel that sex is a part of life, a real and prosaic and reproducible fact in the lives of the characters, as it is in my own life, and at the same time makes me that sex is an intoxicant, a passage to elsewhere, a jolt of the extraordinary which stands entirely outside the majority of the experiences of the characters, as it stands in relation to my own experience. Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. I want the paradox. I want it all.
Lethem
Dude, what if bird-watching was not about watching lots of different birds, but watching just one. Pick a bird--not a species, but a sole, actual bird--and follow it anywhere, watch it forever. Like, vertical instead of horizontal bird watching.
William Burroughs
No frame equaled no art.
Lethem
All television shows should have an arc and be capped at five seasons.
Me
If I've bet my life's work on a suspicion that we live at least as much in our wishes and dreams, our constructions and projections, as we do in any real waking life the existence of which we can demonstrate by rapping it with our knuckles.
Lethem
Proximity People
Lethem
People who talk on their cell phone at the counter. People at the counter who make you wait while they take a phone call. People who work and talk on their cell phones, treating their job secondarily. People who drive slowly when you're trying to get to work. People who honk at you when you're just trying to have a nice quiet drive. People.
Me
I've given enough interviews that any striking notion I've ever managed aloud I've also paraphrased awkwardly a few dozen times, and contradicted outright another five or ten, a combination of my eagerness to tell in-person listeners what they want to hear and my discomfort at repeating myself, at least repeating myself exactly.
Lethem
Existence itself seems a contradiction, or at least, a mystery of the sort that would eventually necessitate contradiction.
Me.
Let's face it, you're either serious about what you're doing or you're not serious about what you're doing. And you can't mix the two. And life is short.
Bob Dylan
Bolano has been taken as a kind of reset button on our deplorably sporadic appetite for international writing, standing in relation to the generation of Garcia Marquez, Vargas Llosa, and Fuentes as, say, David Foster Wallace does to Mailer, Updike, and Roth.
Lethem
Instead, he [Thomas Berger]explores the fallibility of the human effort to feel justified or consoled in the gaze of any other being, and the absurdity and heartbreak of the disparity between intention and act. The results are never dreamlike. Berger located the part of our waking life which unfolds in the manner of Zeno's paradox, where it is possible only to fall agonizingly short in any effort to be understood or do to good.
Lethem
Literary competition is not a zero-sum game with a single winner, or even a ranked listed of winners--that all-too-naive image of the canon in which, say, Shakespeare has first place and the gold cup, followed by Chaucer with the silver, in second place, Milton with the bronze, in third...The concept of literary quality is an outgrowth of conflictual process, not a consensual one. In the enlarged democratic field, the nature of conflicts simply becomes more complex. Even among the most serious pursuers of the aesthetic; there is no more than one goal; there is more than one winner. Multiple qualities and multiple achievements are valued--and have been valued throughout the history of the conflicting practices of writing making up the larger field called the literary.
Samuel R. Delany.
There's something embarrassing about knowing what you know, after a while. On certain days it can all seem to plunge into either the category of that which never needed explaining in the first place or that which you're astounded to realize you've never even begun making clear.
Lethem
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Tip #3
Those eyes aren't red on accident. She crazy!
Sometimes we listen to this song, because it's important, based on most of the BBC programming that I've seen, that the gentry need to be able to get down. And whether that's putting your hands together and staring at one another like they do or just breaking it down to a song with a bit of a beat, it's not a bad idea for the dictator to dance.
Tip #3
Teach her about opinions. Teach her that there are in fact a difference between informed and uninformed opinions. Teach her that everyone is entitled to their opinion, but that it's best, if not well thought out, that they keep it to themselves. That way, if somebody ever says, "that's just your opinion" when she says it's in the galaxy's best interest to build a bridge from the center of the Pacific Ocean to the moon, she can then explain the technical nuances involved the project, point out how it will drastically raise jobs in a faltering economy, provide a lengthy slide for children of appropriate ages, and then maybe something about the continual renewal of human ingenuity, she can sway them, and barring that, excommunicate them. The point is, not all opinions are created equal. It's important to teach her to spend a good deal of time before forming them, and then to be open to reevaluating them on an annual or biannual basis. If her assumption is that war is bad, teach her to examine some cases where it may have prevented further deaths. Ideally, teach her that the ideologies of the right and the isms of the left are both pretty dangerous things as seen in our own country of late, and throughout the world during the twentieth century. Teach her that it is okay to admit that she might occasionally be wrong, that learning (cliche though it may be) is a lifetime process, politically, religiously, ideologically etc, so it's important to keep her mind open and her thoughts considered deeply, and repeatedly.
Then teach her the word benevolent dictator and stop worrying, She's currently running in circles around the kitchen table with a small puzzle piece of a bunny in her hand saying, "hop, hop." Good things are coming her way.
Sometimes we listen to this song, because it's important, based on most of the BBC programming that I've seen, that the gentry need to be able to get down. And whether that's putting your hands together and staring at one another like they do or just breaking it down to a song with a bit of a beat, it's not a bad idea for the dictator to dance.
Tip #3
Teach her about opinions. Teach her that there are in fact a difference between informed and uninformed opinions. Teach her that everyone is entitled to their opinion, but that it's best, if not well thought out, that they keep it to themselves. That way, if somebody ever says, "that's just your opinion" when she says it's in the galaxy's best interest to build a bridge from the center of the Pacific Ocean to the moon, she can then explain the technical nuances involved the project, point out how it will drastically raise jobs in a faltering economy, provide a lengthy slide for children of appropriate ages, and then maybe something about the continual renewal of human ingenuity, she can sway them, and barring that, excommunicate them. The point is, not all opinions are created equal. It's important to teach her to spend a good deal of time before forming them, and then to be open to reevaluating them on an annual or biannual basis. If her assumption is that war is bad, teach her to examine some cases where it may have prevented further deaths. Ideally, teach her that the ideologies of the right and the isms of the left are both pretty dangerous things as seen in our own country of late, and throughout the world during the twentieth century. Teach her that it is okay to admit that she might occasionally be wrong, that learning (cliche though it may be) is a lifetime process, politically, religiously, ideologically etc, so it's important to keep her mind open and her thoughts considered deeply, and repeatedly.
Then teach her the word benevolent dictator and stop worrying, She's currently running in circles around the kitchen table with a small puzzle piece of a bunny in her hand saying, "hop, hop." Good things are coming her way.
Monday, February 20, 2012
More advice...and music
This is what an emperor looks like:
We like to listen to this song because it teaches about sharing...which is for weaklings. Also, communism failed, just look at Greece. Dictators need to have the power to do things like shut off sales of oil to European countries in order to up the ante on getting an arsenal of nuclear weapons, none of this mine is yours crap. That said, how bout these guys?
Here are some photos of us training lil s to eat snow. We're training her just in case when she's supreme ruler another Ice Age sets in due to global climate change, of course, I jest, global climate change was invented by scientists in order to get tenure. Anyhow, we just figured if she needed to settle the planet Hoth or something, she'd need to know how to live entirely on snow.
At first she had some reservations. However, when we explained to her that the greatest general in the history of the world, Napoleon, lost a land war in Russia because he and his troops couldn't subsist entirely on snow, she came around.
Even dictators have to smile sometimes....behind sunglasses.
Advice:
Tell your daughter that she can be anything she wants to, if she just sets her mind to it. You'll lie to her about a lot of things, Santa Claus, the Eater Bunny, how hard it is to pull of at a rest stop when she has to go pee, (Hint: nearly impossible), global climate change, where you hid that sack of golden bars during the great stock market crash of the aughts, so why not add this one to the list. She probably can't be a butterfly, or a beam of pure energy, or a jar of canned beets, or the left shoe on Amerigo Vespucci's shoe during his attempt to circumnavigate the globe. She cannot be a cockatoo, a tarantula, a tattoo in the webbing between a person's ring and pinkie finger. She cannot be a cannon at Gettysburg, Besty Ross, the lapel on Sydney Poitier's shirt, or a long plank from an old barn house, but why waste your time reminder her? Tell her she can be anything. Sneak in at night and watch her sleep, her little parabolic form wreathed in pale light, watch her breath in and out, softly, sweetly, now tell yourself she could be any of these things if she set her mind to it.
We like to listen to this song because it teaches about sharing...which is for weaklings. Also, communism failed, just look at Greece. Dictators need to have the power to do things like shut off sales of oil to European countries in order to up the ante on getting an arsenal of nuclear weapons, none of this mine is yours crap. That said, how bout these guys?
Here are some photos of us training lil s to eat snow. We're training her just in case when she's supreme ruler another Ice Age sets in due to global climate change, of course, I jest, global climate change was invented by scientists in order to get tenure. Anyhow, we just figured if she needed to settle the planet Hoth or something, she'd need to know how to live entirely on snow.
At first she had some reservations. However, when we explained to her that the greatest general in the history of the world, Napoleon, lost a land war in Russia because he and his troops couldn't subsist entirely on snow, she came around.
Even dictators have to smile sometimes....behind sunglasses.
Advice:
Tell your daughter that she can be anything she wants to, if she just sets her mind to it. You'll lie to her about a lot of things, Santa Claus, the Eater Bunny, how hard it is to pull of at a rest stop when she has to go pee, (Hint: nearly impossible), global climate change, where you hid that sack of golden bars during the great stock market crash of the aughts, so why not add this one to the list. She probably can't be a butterfly, or a beam of pure energy, or a jar of canned beets, or the left shoe on Amerigo Vespucci's shoe during his attempt to circumnavigate the globe. She cannot be a cockatoo, a tarantula, a tattoo in the webbing between a person's ring and pinkie finger. She cannot be a cannon at Gettysburg, Besty Ross, the lapel on Sydney Poitier's shirt, or a long plank from an old barn house, but why waste your time reminder her? Tell her she can be anything. Sneak in at night and watch her sleep, her little parabolic form wreathed in pale light, watch her breath in and out, softly, sweetly, now tell yourself she could be any of these things if she set her mind to it.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Another Year
Submit Now!!
It's time of the year when we review the previous year. Okay, that time happened a while ago. However, it's probably time to remind myself, and future lil s, who will probably be a nuclear physicist or the emperor from Star Wars, the sort of music she listened to during this year of her life.
We enjoy the rise and fall type stuff, because we think of the rise as a rise to power and the fall as a slow crumbling due to a decline in tax revenue..we also plan to rule the stars up above us.
And, as inspired by the blog: 9,000 things to do with your daughter before she moves out at seventeen with her forty-five year old trucker boyfriend. I'll break down 31 pieces of advice I've picked up to give to my child before the arrival of my next birthday.
One: Tell her she's intelligent. This is important to do because a lot of other outlets are going to tell her that it's important to be beautiful or attractive. However, it's important to let her know that if she's intelligent it won't matter how conventionally pretty she is. Heck, if things go well enough she can be so intelligent that she'll be elected President of the Universe or whatever and then she can tax people who are too beautiful or cause them to wear trash bags or something, because if you're like me, you're hoping your offspring becomes dictator of the Milky Way galaxy.
Interpretative picture of what that will look like:
2. Teach her to sleep with her eyes open. This is an invaluable skill that will serve your little girl/dictator throughout her life/iron fisted rule. I could have made it through many a meeting, lecture, or all of ninth grade history, so much better if I'd possessed this amazing skill. And let's be honest, becoming dictator of the Milky Way is probably going to result in some sleepless nights worrying about whether the population of insects is too high and impinging upon your dominion. You'll need to make up on that sleep at some point in time without the ants catching on and carrying you off.
And some afternoons in late winter, when the tree branches are mere shapes of things back lit by hollow gray skies, you'll lie on the floor next to her as she gazes intently at a green block. Her cheeks will be that same blush of pink that you remember from those first hazy days when you returned home from the hospital. Her reddish gold hair will be falling into her eyes, and you'll brush it away, running your hand along her smooth forehead and she'll look up at you, suddenly, intently, imploring in only the way a small child can. This afternoon will fade away like all the others before it, dropping down into that subterranean well where all our old memories swim, sifting through the dark with flicks of ghostly tails, waiting to surface.
It's time of the year when we review the previous year. Okay, that time happened a while ago. However, it's probably time to remind myself, and future lil s, who will probably be a nuclear physicist or the emperor from Star Wars, the sort of music she listened to during this year of her life.
We enjoy the rise and fall type stuff, because we think of the rise as a rise to power and the fall as a slow crumbling due to a decline in tax revenue..we also plan to rule the stars up above us.
And, as inspired by the blog: 9,000 things to do with your daughter before she moves out at seventeen with her forty-five year old trucker boyfriend. I'll break down 31 pieces of advice I've picked up to give to my child before the arrival of my next birthday.
One: Tell her she's intelligent. This is important to do because a lot of other outlets are going to tell her that it's important to be beautiful or attractive. However, it's important to let her know that if she's intelligent it won't matter how conventionally pretty she is. Heck, if things go well enough she can be so intelligent that she'll be elected President of the Universe or whatever and then she can tax people who are too beautiful or cause them to wear trash bags or something, because if you're like me, you're hoping your offspring becomes dictator of the Milky Way galaxy.
Interpretative picture of what that will look like:
2. Teach her to sleep with her eyes open. This is an invaluable skill that will serve your little girl/dictator throughout her life/iron fisted rule. I could have made it through many a meeting, lecture, or all of ninth grade history, so much better if I'd possessed this amazing skill. And let's be honest, becoming dictator of the Milky Way is probably going to result in some sleepless nights worrying about whether the population of insects is too high and impinging upon your dominion. You'll need to make up on that sleep at some point in time without the ants catching on and carrying you off.
And some afternoons in late winter, when the tree branches are mere shapes of things back lit by hollow gray skies, you'll lie on the floor next to her as she gazes intently at a green block. Her cheeks will be that same blush of pink that you remember from those first hazy days when you returned home from the hospital. Her reddish gold hair will be falling into her eyes, and you'll brush it away, running your hand along her smooth forehead and she'll look up at you, suddenly, intently, imploring in only the way a small child can. This afternoon will fade away like all the others before it, dropping down into that subterranean well where all our old memories swim, sifting through the dark with flicks of ghostly tails, waiting to surface.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Tuesdays with Sadie
Parenting Game: Try to get to ten points by the end of the day to earn your child's love.
7:08 A.M. Get out of bed and give her a snack before driving S to the metro to keep her happy. (+1). Anticipation. 1 Total Score: 1
7:45 A.M. Conclude breakfast with her, remembering to roll up the sleeves on her sleeper to avoid mishaps. (+1) Because Lord knows you're not the one who is good at using Shout right away to clean up messes. Total Score: 2
8:45 A.M. Throw the couch cushions on the floor for lil s to play on. (+1). Bending a rule to be a cool dad. Total Score: 3
8:52 A.M. When you realize that she isn't using them, plop down on them yourself and lounge around. (-1) General laziness. Total Score: 2
9:05 A.M. In an attempt to retrieve a ball that she has rolled under the lounge chair, move the entire chair. (+1) caring about your child's games. Score: 3
9:05 A.M. Note that moving the lounge chair has bent the outlet on the lamp into an unrecognizable shape. (-1). Score: 2.
9:15 A.M. Get her down for a nap in a solid amount of time to allow for good sleep. Don't even give her an old pacifier. (+1) General parenting acumen. Score 3
10:17 A.M. Notice right away that she has pooped in a diaper that you'd changed roughly thirty seconds earlier. Change it anyway. (+1) Not letting your child's general malfeasance cause you to punish them. Score 4
10:48 A.M. Note lil s's suspicious silence, but don't immediately react. Finally get up and notice her removing candles from a drawer and munching on bits of the was. (-1). General parenting no, no. Quiet=bad. Score 3
10:49 A.M. Tell her she'll be fine when she starts crying because you took away her candle. Even attempt to play a game. When her face balls up and cries, looking betrayed, say, "This hurts me more than it hurts you." (+1) For applying parenting maxims. Score 4
11:37 A.M. Read that Dr. Seuss book about the wonderful things Mr. Brown can do four times in a row. (+1) Cuz that shi- gets old after the first couple of reads, even if it Dr. Seuss. Score 5
12:58 P.M. Put lil s down outside while you prepare the stroller even though you know she will immediately pick up a piece of gravel and try to eat it. (-1). Score 4
12:58 P.M. Immediately realize your mistake and stand next to her outside, and say, "Throw it," miming it for her. Applaud her wimpy little throw. (+1) Admitting you are wrong. Lying about her throw. Score 5
1:00 P.M. Go for a walk and actually go upstairs to put on her sweatshirt as opposed to her coat because the day is warm. (+1). Going out of my way. Score 6
1:47 P.M. When lil s begins to break down deftly reach for a package of Graham crackers that you'd stowed away on a previous walk for just such an occasion. (+1)
Score 7
2:21 P.M. Slightly graze her head with the door at the end of a game of peek a boo. (-1). Score 6
2:22 P.M. Ignore her please for attention and say, "You're fine," while she rubs her head. (+1) for toughening her up. Score 7
3:00 Put her down for a nap after she appears tired, waiting long enough for it to be plausible. (+1) Score 8
3-3:45 Ignore all the random noise of playing coming from her room (-1) She could be learning the alphabet or something instead. Score 7
4:13 P.M. Note that she's putting her hands in the toilet, and, even though the water is clean, wash her hands in the sink anyway. (+1) General hygiene. Score 8
5:30 P.M. Wake lil s up from a nap and allow her to keep her pacifier and lovie while driving to pick up S at the metro (+1). Score 9
5:47 P.M. Despite being a bit late on leaving for work kiss both S's before leaving. (+1) General good human being type stuff. Score 10
7:08 A.M. Get out of bed and give her a snack before driving S to the metro to keep her happy. (+1). Anticipation. 1 Total Score: 1
7:45 A.M. Conclude breakfast with her, remembering to roll up the sleeves on her sleeper to avoid mishaps. (+1) Because Lord knows you're not the one who is good at using Shout right away to clean up messes. Total Score: 2
8:45 A.M. Throw the couch cushions on the floor for lil s to play on. (+1). Bending a rule to be a cool dad. Total Score: 3
8:52 A.M. When you realize that she isn't using them, plop down on them yourself and lounge around. (-1) General laziness. Total Score: 2
9:05 A.M. In an attempt to retrieve a ball that she has rolled under the lounge chair, move the entire chair. (+1) caring about your child's games. Score: 3
9:05 A.M. Note that moving the lounge chair has bent the outlet on the lamp into an unrecognizable shape. (-1). Score: 2.
9:15 A.M. Get her down for a nap in a solid amount of time to allow for good sleep. Don't even give her an old pacifier. (+1) General parenting acumen. Score 3
10:17 A.M. Notice right away that she has pooped in a diaper that you'd changed roughly thirty seconds earlier. Change it anyway. (+1) Not letting your child's general malfeasance cause you to punish them. Score 4
10:48 A.M. Note lil s's suspicious silence, but don't immediately react. Finally get up and notice her removing candles from a drawer and munching on bits of the was. (-1). General parenting no, no. Quiet=bad. Score 3
10:49 A.M. Tell her she'll be fine when she starts crying because you took away her candle. Even attempt to play a game. When her face balls up and cries, looking betrayed, say, "This hurts me more than it hurts you." (+1) For applying parenting maxims. Score 4
11:37 A.M. Read that Dr. Seuss book about the wonderful things Mr. Brown can do four times in a row. (+1) Cuz that shi- gets old after the first couple of reads, even if it Dr. Seuss. Score 5
12:58 P.M. Put lil s down outside while you prepare the stroller even though you know she will immediately pick up a piece of gravel and try to eat it. (-1). Score 4
12:58 P.M. Immediately realize your mistake and stand next to her outside, and say, "Throw it," miming it for her. Applaud her wimpy little throw. (+1) Admitting you are wrong. Lying about her throw. Score 5
1:00 P.M. Go for a walk and actually go upstairs to put on her sweatshirt as opposed to her coat because the day is warm. (+1). Going out of my way. Score 6
1:47 P.M. When lil s begins to break down deftly reach for a package of Graham crackers that you'd stowed away on a previous walk for just such an occasion. (+1)
Score 7
2:21 P.M. Slightly graze her head with the door at the end of a game of peek a boo. (-1). Score 6
2:22 P.M. Ignore her please for attention and say, "You're fine," while she rubs her head. (+1) for toughening her up. Score 7
3:00 Put her down for a nap after she appears tired, waiting long enough for it to be plausible. (+1) Score 8
3-3:45 Ignore all the random noise of playing coming from her room (-1) She could be learning the alphabet or something instead. Score 7
4:13 P.M. Note that she's putting her hands in the toilet, and, even though the water is clean, wash her hands in the sink anyway. (+1) General hygiene. Score 8
5:30 P.M. Wake lil s up from a nap and allow her to keep her pacifier and lovie while driving to pick up S at the metro (+1). Score 9
5:47 P.M. Despite being a bit late on leaving for work kiss both S's before leaving. (+1) General good human being type stuff. Score 10
Monday, February 13, 2012
Musical meanderings on "Someone Like You"
Why is Adele's music good? Apparently it's good because of its amazing scientific ability to generate emotion, which, in turn, stimulates our dopamine receptors to desire more of that feeling. Even if it is sad. Go ahead and take a listen and see if you can identify the exact moment when Adele uses her scientific ability to trick you into liking this song. I'll post the article first, but I'd actually be interested if other people could identify the most emotive part of the song before consulting this article. Also, is there anything less sexy than trying to talk about why a song works? This is sort of like explaining a joke or stopping a bout of passionate foreplay to explain exactly why you're enjoying the experience. I heard an interview with the co-writer of the song, and he explained in a much more artistic fashion just why this song might work. Essentially something along the lines of a meaningful connection with the lyrics and emotion conveyed in the song and the depth of the artist's actual sadness. Anyhow, that's why it's way sexier to be an artist than a scientist, though Lord knows it's less profitable. (This probably doesn't apply as much to those scientists who get to do cool stuff like solve world disease problems or the frontiers of physics). That said, go ahead and also just enjoy listening to the woman.
The article is here.
Also, this existed before the article and before the NPR interview.
The article is here.
Also, this existed before the article and before the NPR interview.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Egregious error
I posted a few days ago about eternity as it related to trash cans, and I quoted a PM Dawn song. Well, to be fair I quoted the misquoted, "time without shoes" of a sibling, however, I failed to post the original song, which is an egregious error. Somehow the line, "watch you walk out of my life and not do a damn thing" rang true and evocatively for me at twelve years old. I'm not entirely sure if it was the forbidden damn, or the emotion they managed to render in delivering the lyric. It's almost impossible to tell, but I'm leaning toward the latter. Anyhow, it's unfair to do that to PM Dawn. I don't listen to those mix of the eighties, nineties, and today stations. However, if those stations don't play this song then I'll just have to start my own radio station, which will play loads of amazing songs like PM Dawn's "I'd Die Without You."
Oh, Whitney
I'll never forget belting this out on the way back from a basketball tournament in tenth grade. It wasn't easy for a virtually tone deaf tenth grade boy to keep up with you on this one.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Can Christians be Republicans?
I'm wondering this evening if it's possible for people to be good upstanding Christians and still vote Republican. It concerns me that our political debate has become so vexed that any free thinking person of faith really has to ask themselves if they can, in good conscience, vote Republican. It seems narrow minded. Shouldn't an upstanding Christian be able to vote either way. Why are all Christians Democrats?
Let's tackle the question of poverty. Jesus spends the majority, text wise, talking about the need to help the poor and the needy. He makes no mention of boot straps, no mention of welfare queens. Instead he implies that what a person does to the lowest among them they do unto Christ himself. So, how can I vote for a candidate who says that he doesn't care about poor people. How can I vote for a party that considers programs like welfare and social security things that should be chopped immediately? I don't know. It's a tough call. I want some Christians to be able to be Republicans, but it gets tough at times.
Obviously Jesus was a small business owner who enjoyed the luxury of low taxes during the rise of the Jerusalem empire, but was he a big supporter of government? Why did he say that thing about rendering unto Caesar? Didn't he mean, big government keeps me from making a quality ottoman? It seems that Jesus wasn't particularly concerned with his tax rate. It seems that he was more concerned with helping those in needs. I don't think he even shipped any jobs over to China because they do cheaper labor. I mean, when you start to think about it, maybe Jesus was just a communist, like Obama. So, how am I supposed to vote Republican when Jesus didn't seem to tell people to buy boot straps or lower his taxes, so he could create more jobs.
What did Jesus believe about national security? What's all this about loving everyone? What if we bombed them instead? Well, he wasn't too big on national security. In fact, rumor has it, he wasn't even an American. He was an Arab. Well, this puts most of us in an awkward position in less we take his message at face value. Apparently Jesus doesn't want us to wage war and make a bunch of threats to other nations and plant army bases wherever possible. It just wouldn't be Christian now would it? Was what happened in Hiroshima or Nagasaki the right Christian response? Is America God's real chosen nation? It seems like Jesus would once again be on the side of the more liberal leaning democrats. Certainly he wouldn't be trumpeting a weakness on national security as any sort of weakness at all. In fact, it would seem that he'd probably imply that weakness can be strength, that our promises are for the next world anyhow. Again, how am I to reconcile being a war mongering patriotic, remember render unto Caesar, not worship Caesar and his forefathers, person with voting Republican. It's tough. Did Jesus regard the Scriptures as secondary to the Constitution? No. Well, this is awkward. Maybe I can find another way for those last few Christian hold outs to still be able to vote Republican in good conscience.
The environment. Are we responsible for this world or not? Jesus seemed to imply that we should care mostly about the next world. Unfortunately, I don't think this means that he would try to drill into the molten core of the earth to extract the last bit of fossil fuels. I mean, in Revelation, it appears that the city has a river running through it accompanied by abundant trees. It does not say, a highway strung through it with abundant 7 elevens. Maybe Jesus wouldn't condone an economy that is 70 percent dependent on Consumerism. In this way, maybe he wasn't Republican or Deomcrat. Maybe He was a guy, the son of God, and not a super relevant American political figure at all. It's not clear to me that Jesus would have said burn up all your resources now even though you're already the richest nation in the world because you deserve it. In fact, he might have cautioned a little more posterity.
Is Jesus a free market capitalist who loves big business? No. He didn't like big business. He was not cool with Pharisees. He tended to see rich people as responsible for the poor, and as having a hell of a time getting into heaven with all that loot. (Camel in the eye of a needle here). Well, why not strip yourself of your belongings? We can't all be Warren Buffet, but perhaps we could encourage the Warren Buffets to give it away rather than "creating more jobs" by stowing away money by the millions or billions.
1) Taxes-Democrats. Likes poor people.
2) National security-Not particularly patriotic, more in the camp of loving people than drone bombing them.
3) Social programs-Still thinks we should help poor people.
5) Probably- a communist at heart and secretly Russian.
6) Kind of apolitical- though leaning a bit left as environmental degradation and corporate greed often lead to impoverished lives and diseases for the poorest of the poor.
7) Not a free market capitalist. Not in favor of large corporations.
Well, we need a way out. And I think I've found a second way. Sure Jesus wouldn't have exactly loved the death penalty, but I'm pretty sure, deep down, he was a social conservative. I mean, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone," and all aside, He did flip over some gambling tables in the temple. He's also not a fan of divorce. He doesn't really have solid opinions on things like abortion, gay marriage etc. But, it's fair to say His views are more conventional, and maybe that's the way out for the roughly ten percent of Christians that vote Republican. Perhaps, just knowing that Jesus has family values, though how exactly a Democrat doesn't have family values is a bit opaque, is enough to vote Republican. And that's why I'd like to encourage those last bastions of Christian right wingers. Sure, it ain't easy to be a Christian and Republican, you probably feel isolated in a group of Christians who keep bringing up poor people, and inequity, and tax rates, and the crass individualism and insularity of American culture, but, stay strong. You may not have two legs to stand on, but doggonit, you might have half of one. So go out to the ballots and don't vote Democrat like the rest of your Christian friends just because it's cool to help poor people and have health care and not start multiple wars. Fight on, you few! As for me and my family, we'll be voting with our conscience, with the numbers, with our hearts, Democratic (or Green Part if I feel totally compelled even though the vote outcome is depressing on election day, and I'd even consider Libertarian at some point if we could get some more traction of what we have there).
Conclusion: Sort of a communist.
Let's tackle the question of poverty. Jesus spends the majority, text wise, talking about the need to help the poor and the needy. He makes no mention of boot straps, no mention of welfare queens. Instead he implies that what a person does to the lowest among them they do unto Christ himself. So, how can I vote for a candidate who says that he doesn't care about poor people. How can I vote for a party that considers programs like welfare and social security things that should be chopped immediately? I don't know. It's a tough call. I want some Christians to be able to be Republicans, but it gets tough at times.
Obviously Jesus was a small business owner who enjoyed the luxury of low taxes during the rise of the Jerusalem empire, but was he a big supporter of government? Why did he say that thing about rendering unto Caesar? Didn't he mean, big government keeps me from making a quality ottoman? It seems that Jesus wasn't particularly concerned with his tax rate. It seems that he was more concerned with helping those in needs. I don't think he even shipped any jobs over to China because they do cheaper labor. I mean, when you start to think about it, maybe Jesus was just a communist, like Obama. So, how am I supposed to vote Republican when Jesus didn't seem to tell people to buy boot straps or lower his taxes, so he could create more jobs.
What did Jesus believe about national security? What's all this about loving everyone? What if we bombed them instead? Well, he wasn't too big on national security. In fact, rumor has it, he wasn't even an American. He was an Arab. Well, this puts most of us in an awkward position in less we take his message at face value. Apparently Jesus doesn't want us to wage war and make a bunch of threats to other nations and plant army bases wherever possible. It just wouldn't be Christian now would it? Was what happened in Hiroshima or Nagasaki the right Christian response? Is America God's real chosen nation? It seems like Jesus would once again be on the side of the more liberal leaning democrats. Certainly he wouldn't be trumpeting a weakness on national security as any sort of weakness at all. In fact, it would seem that he'd probably imply that weakness can be strength, that our promises are for the next world anyhow. Again, how am I to reconcile being a war mongering patriotic, remember render unto Caesar, not worship Caesar and his forefathers, person with voting Republican. It's tough. Did Jesus regard the Scriptures as secondary to the Constitution? No. Well, this is awkward. Maybe I can find another way for those last few Christian hold outs to still be able to vote Republican in good conscience.
The environment. Are we responsible for this world or not? Jesus seemed to imply that we should care mostly about the next world. Unfortunately, I don't think this means that he would try to drill into the molten core of the earth to extract the last bit of fossil fuels. I mean, in Revelation, it appears that the city has a river running through it accompanied by abundant trees. It does not say, a highway strung through it with abundant 7 elevens. Maybe Jesus wouldn't condone an economy that is 70 percent dependent on Consumerism. In this way, maybe he wasn't Republican or Deomcrat. Maybe He was a guy, the son of God, and not a super relevant American political figure at all. It's not clear to me that Jesus would have said burn up all your resources now even though you're already the richest nation in the world because you deserve it. In fact, he might have cautioned a little more posterity.
Is Jesus a free market capitalist who loves big business? No. He didn't like big business. He was not cool with Pharisees. He tended to see rich people as responsible for the poor, and as having a hell of a time getting into heaven with all that loot. (Camel in the eye of a needle here). Well, why not strip yourself of your belongings? We can't all be Warren Buffet, but perhaps we could encourage the Warren Buffets to give it away rather than "creating more jobs" by stowing away money by the millions or billions.
1) Taxes-Democrats. Likes poor people.
2) National security-Not particularly patriotic, more in the camp of loving people than drone bombing them.
3) Social programs-Still thinks we should help poor people.
5) Probably- a communist at heart and secretly Russian.
6) Kind of apolitical- though leaning a bit left as environmental degradation and corporate greed often lead to impoverished lives and diseases for the poorest of the poor.
7) Not a free market capitalist. Not in favor of large corporations.
Well, we need a way out. And I think I've found a second way. Sure Jesus wouldn't have exactly loved the death penalty, but I'm pretty sure, deep down, he was a social conservative. I mean, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone," and all aside, He did flip over some gambling tables in the temple. He's also not a fan of divorce. He doesn't really have solid opinions on things like abortion, gay marriage etc. But, it's fair to say His views are more conventional, and maybe that's the way out for the roughly ten percent of Christians that vote Republican. Perhaps, just knowing that Jesus has family values, though how exactly a Democrat doesn't have family values is a bit opaque, is enough to vote Republican. And that's why I'd like to encourage those last bastions of Christian right wingers. Sure, it ain't easy to be a Christian and Republican, you probably feel isolated in a group of Christians who keep bringing up poor people, and inequity, and tax rates, and the crass individualism and insularity of American culture, but, stay strong. You may not have two legs to stand on, but doggonit, you might have half of one. So go out to the ballots and don't vote Democrat like the rest of your Christian friends just because it's cool to help poor people and have health care and not start multiple wars. Fight on, you few! As for me and my family, we'll be voting with our conscience, with the numbers, with our hearts, Democratic (or Green Part if I feel totally compelled even though the vote outcome is depressing on election day, and I'd even consider Libertarian at some point if we could get some more traction of what we have there).
Conclusion: Sort of a communist.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The Memory Chalet
Tony Judt-The Memory Chalet 1948-2010 (The year this last book was published)
"To be blunt, what distinguishes me from many others who--have comparable memories is that I have a variety of uses to which I can put them. For this alone I consider myself a lucky man."
"It might be thought the height of poor taste to ascribe good fortune to a healthy man with a young family struck down at the age of sixty by an incurable degenerative disorder from which he must shortly die. But there is more than one sort of luck. To fall prey to a motor neuron disease is surely to have offended the Gods at some point, and there is nothing more to be said. But if you must suffer thus, better to have a well-stocked head: full of recyclable and multipurpose pieces of serviceable recollection, readily available to the analytically disposed mind."
"My nights are intriguing, but I could do without them."
"If there is something distinctive about my version of contemporary European history in Postwar, it is--I believe--the subliminal emphasis on space: a sense of regions, distances, differences, and contrasts within the limited frame of one small subcontinent. I think I came to that sense of space by staring aimlessly ot of train windows."
"But proximity can be delusory: sometimes it is better to share with your neighbors a mutually articulated sense of the foreign. For this we require a journey: a passage in time and space in which to register symbols and intimations of change and difference--border police, foreign languages, alien food."
"there is nothing noble about unskilled physical work. It is hard and dirty and mostly unrewarding; the incentive to avoid supervision, cut corners, and do the minimum is rational and irresistible."
"We remain in thrall to the industrial-era notion that our work defines us: but this is palpably untrue for the overwhelming majority of people today...The majority of jobs are tedious: they neither enrich nor sustain...well-paid pundits are quick to lecture "welfare queens" on the moral turpitude of economic dependence, the impropriety of public benefits, and the virtues of hard work. They should try it some time."
"I was raised on words. They tumbled off the kitchen table onto the floor where I sat: grandfather, uncles, and refugees flung Russian, Polish, Yiddish, French and what passed for English at one another in a competitive cascade of assertion and interrogation...Talking, it seemed to me, was the point of adult existence. I have never lost that sense."
On America "It is an old-new land engaged in perennial self-discovery (usually at other's expense): an empire sheathed in preindustrial myths, dangerous and innocent."
"But "the market" --like "dialectical materialism" is just an abstraction: at once ultra-rational (its argument trumps all) and the acme of unreason (it is not open to question). It has its true believers--mediocre thinkers by contrast with the founding fathers, but influential withal; its fellow travelers--who may privately doubt the claims of the dogma but see no alternative to preaching it; and its victims, many of whom in the US have dutifully swallowed their pill and proudly proclaim the virtues of a doctrine whose benefits they will never see."
(Identity studies)
"The shortcomings of all these para-academic programs is not that they concentrate on a given ethnic or geographical minority; it is that they encourage members of that minority to study themselves--thereby simultaneously negating the goals of a liberal education and reinforcing the sectarian and ghetto mentalities they purport to undermine."
"...more than two centuries after Samuel Johnson first made the point, patriotism--as anyone who passed the last decade in America can testify--is still the last refuge of the scoundrel."
"I have never thought of myself as a rooted person. We are born by chance in one town rather than another and pass through various temporary homes in the course of our vagrant lives--at least that is how it has been for me. Most places hold mixed memories: I cannot think of Cambridge or Paris or Oxford or New York without recalling a kaleidoscope of encounters and experiences. How I remember them varies with my mood. But Murren never changes. Nothing ever went wrong there.
There is a path of sorts that accompanies Murren's pocket railway. Halfway along, a little cafe--the only stop on the line--serves the usual run of Swiss wayside fare. Ahead, the mountain falls steeply away into the first valley below. Behind, you can clamber up to the summer barns with the cows and goats and shepherds. Or you can just wait for the next train: punctual, predictable, and precise to the second. Nothing happens: it is the happiest place in the world. We cannot choose where we start out in life, but we may finish where we will. I know where I shall be: going nowhere in particular on that little train, forever and ever."
"To be blunt, what distinguishes me from many others who--have comparable memories is that I have a variety of uses to which I can put them. For this alone I consider myself a lucky man."
"It might be thought the height of poor taste to ascribe good fortune to a healthy man with a young family struck down at the age of sixty by an incurable degenerative disorder from which he must shortly die. But there is more than one sort of luck. To fall prey to a motor neuron disease is surely to have offended the Gods at some point, and there is nothing more to be said. But if you must suffer thus, better to have a well-stocked head: full of recyclable and multipurpose pieces of serviceable recollection, readily available to the analytically disposed mind."
"My nights are intriguing, but I could do without them."
"If there is something distinctive about my version of contemporary European history in Postwar, it is--I believe--the subliminal emphasis on space: a sense of regions, distances, differences, and contrasts within the limited frame of one small subcontinent. I think I came to that sense of space by staring aimlessly ot of train windows."
"But proximity can be delusory: sometimes it is better to share with your neighbors a mutually articulated sense of the foreign. For this we require a journey: a passage in time and space in which to register symbols and intimations of change and difference--border police, foreign languages, alien food."
"there is nothing noble about unskilled physical work. It is hard and dirty and mostly unrewarding; the incentive to avoid supervision, cut corners, and do the minimum is rational and irresistible."
"We remain in thrall to the industrial-era notion that our work defines us: but this is palpably untrue for the overwhelming majority of people today...The majority of jobs are tedious: they neither enrich nor sustain...well-paid pundits are quick to lecture "welfare queens" on the moral turpitude of economic dependence, the impropriety of public benefits, and the virtues of hard work. They should try it some time."
"I was raised on words. They tumbled off the kitchen table onto the floor where I sat: grandfather, uncles, and refugees flung Russian, Polish, Yiddish, French and what passed for English at one another in a competitive cascade of assertion and interrogation...Talking, it seemed to me, was the point of adult existence. I have never lost that sense."
On America "It is an old-new land engaged in perennial self-discovery (usually at other's expense): an empire sheathed in preindustrial myths, dangerous and innocent."
"But "the market" --like "dialectical materialism" is just an abstraction: at once ultra-rational (its argument trumps all) and the acme of unreason (it is not open to question). It has its true believers--mediocre thinkers by contrast with the founding fathers, but influential withal; its fellow travelers--who may privately doubt the claims of the dogma but see no alternative to preaching it; and its victims, many of whom in the US have dutifully swallowed their pill and proudly proclaim the virtues of a doctrine whose benefits they will never see."
(Identity studies)
"The shortcomings of all these para-academic programs is not that they concentrate on a given ethnic or geographical minority; it is that they encourage members of that minority to study themselves--thereby simultaneously negating the goals of a liberal education and reinforcing the sectarian and ghetto mentalities they purport to undermine."
"...more than two centuries after Samuel Johnson first made the point, patriotism--as anyone who passed the last decade in America can testify--is still the last refuge of the scoundrel."
"I have never thought of myself as a rooted person. We are born by chance in one town rather than another and pass through various temporary homes in the course of our vagrant lives--at least that is how it has been for me. Most places hold mixed memories: I cannot think of Cambridge or Paris or Oxford or New York without recalling a kaleidoscope of encounters and experiences. How I remember them varies with my mood. But Murren never changes. Nothing ever went wrong there.
There is a path of sorts that accompanies Murren's pocket railway. Halfway along, a little cafe--the only stop on the line--serves the usual run of Swiss wayside fare. Ahead, the mountain falls steeply away into the first valley below. Behind, you can clamber up to the summer barns with the cows and goats and shepherds. Or you can just wait for the next train: punctual, predictable, and precise to the second. Nothing happens: it is the happiest place in the world. We cannot choose where we start out in life, but we may finish where we will. I know where I shall be: going nowhere in particular on that little train, forever and ever."
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Saturday with Sadie
One of my parenting foibles has to do with wipes. For the record, it’s not that I don’t use them properly. As any parent knows, improper use of wipes just results in a diaper rash, which requires more attention, petroleum jelly, and rectums than any sane person is going to want to deal with. No, my problem with the wipes has something to with infinity. I blame both science and religion.
Most religions have an idea of what comes after we kick off from this world and into the next. A number of them involve an infinite time span filled with various types of bliss, virgins, harps, planets, alien overlords etc. In each case human beings, me specifically, are forced to consider an infinite amount of time strumming a harp, having coitus, or playing a game of chess with alien overlords. In each case the problem is not the action itself, most people understand how to play a harp, where babies come from, and how many planets you get to rule in the afterlife. However, the problematic thought experiment is the infinite: time without ceasing. (I’ve got an aside here that would go in a footnote if blogger allowed it. As a child my half-sister misinterpreted lyrics to a P.M. Dawn song “Die Without You” as “Time without shoes,” which, as eternities goes doesn’t seem to be that bad, but one would have to consider the length of time that it would take for your feet to toughen up, and whether we’d be walking about on cushy clouds or rocky half-formed planets full of Vulcans to determine whether it would all that bad. This is just a long way of saying, it’s hard to imagine the infinite).
Science has also recently piled on to infinity, claiming that we’re probably just one tiny blip of a universe in an incredibly expansive, dare I say infinite, multiplicity of universes. It’s apparently the only way that string theory can really hang together. In either case, I am forced to consider that there might be an infinite number of universes, and infinite number of me’s, having the same relatively quite Saturday afternoons, which, as an aside, I sort of hope not. I hope other me’s got into heavy duty cartography or film development or something. It would be a shame if we all worked in libraries throughout the universe. Anyhow, either way, here I am again, presented with the infinite, not as a conception, but actualized.
I promise this eventually, now in fact, ties back into parenting. During one of our minor rows in the course of raising lil s, S claimed, through tears, that the wastebasket in lil s’s room gets so full. This moment was followed by old-fashioned sobbing, so I can’t quite finish the quote. However, her point was, the wastebasket in lil s’s room occasionally needs to be emptied. And yet, in the few days that S has been gone I’ve noticed something about the wastebasket: its capacity for baby wipes is infinite. No matter how many wipes I add to the top I can always add two more without changing its overall composition. I believe some people would credit it to the fact that eventually my wife will empty it, or perhaps that the wipes lose mass as the moisture in them dissolves, thus making it seem as though no room has been lost after a period of three hours or so elapses, but I consider it a mystery of the universe—a bona fide miracle on the scale of the Babylonian hanging gardens; when filled with baby wipes, trash cans have infinite space.
Most religions have an idea of what comes after we kick off from this world and into the next. A number of them involve an infinite time span filled with various types of bliss, virgins, harps, planets, alien overlords etc. In each case human beings, me specifically, are forced to consider an infinite amount of time strumming a harp, having coitus, or playing a game of chess with alien overlords. In each case the problem is not the action itself, most people understand how to play a harp, where babies come from, and how many planets you get to rule in the afterlife. However, the problematic thought experiment is the infinite: time without ceasing. (I’ve got an aside here that would go in a footnote if blogger allowed it. As a child my half-sister misinterpreted lyrics to a P.M. Dawn song “Die Without You” as “Time without shoes,” which, as eternities goes doesn’t seem to be that bad, but one would have to consider the length of time that it would take for your feet to toughen up, and whether we’d be walking about on cushy clouds or rocky half-formed planets full of Vulcans to determine whether it would all that bad. This is just a long way of saying, it’s hard to imagine the infinite).
Science has also recently piled on to infinity, claiming that we’re probably just one tiny blip of a universe in an incredibly expansive, dare I say infinite, multiplicity of universes. It’s apparently the only way that string theory can really hang together. In either case, I am forced to consider that there might be an infinite number of universes, and infinite number of me’s, having the same relatively quite Saturday afternoons, which, as an aside, I sort of hope not. I hope other me’s got into heavy duty cartography or film development or something. It would be a shame if we all worked in libraries throughout the universe. Anyhow, either way, here I am again, presented with the infinite, not as a conception, but actualized.
I promise this eventually, now in fact, ties back into parenting. During one of our minor rows in the course of raising lil s, S claimed, through tears, that the wastebasket in lil s’s room gets so full. This moment was followed by old-fashioned sobbing, so I can’t quite finish the quote. However, her point was, the wastebasket in lil s’s room occasionally needs to be emptied. And yet, in the few days that S has been gone I’ve noticed something about the wastebasket: its capacity for baby wipes is infinite. No matter how many wipes I add to the top I can always add two more without changing its overall composition. I believe some people would credit it to the fact that eventually my wife will empty it, or perhaps that the wipes lose mass as the moisture in them dissolves, thus making it seem as though no room has been lost after a period of three hours or so elapses, but I consider it a mystery of the universe—a bona fide miracle on the scale of the Babylonian hanging gardens; when filled with baby wipes, trash cans have infinite space.
Friday, February 3, 2012
The Past
During the course of a day I have roughly ten million thoughts. Whether that's an exaggeration or an estimation is sort of unclear to me. I wish there was a way to make a catalog of my thoughts, pin them down one by one, push pins on a world map. That's why it's sometimes hard to give them form at the end of the day, make a shape of things. It would make as much sense to try and give shape to the ocean. And yet, we have waves, do we not, small signifiers of that great sign behind them.
Quoting:
“Against other things it is possible to obtain security, but when it comes to death we human beings all live in an unwalled city”
Epicurus 300 BCE
“We are terrified of future catastrophes and are thrown into a continuous state of misery and anxiety, and for fear of becoming miserable, we never cease to be so, always panting for riches and never giving our souls or our bodies a moment’s peace. But those who are content with little live day by day and treat any day like a feast day.—
Poggio Bracciolini 1416
And the destructive motions cannot hold sway eternally and bury existence forever; nor again can the motions that cause life and growth preserve things eternally. Thus, in this war that has been waged from time everlasting, the contest between the elements is an equal one: now here, now there, the vital forces conquer and, in turn, are conquered; with the funeral dirge mingles the wail that babies raise when they reach the shores of light; no night has followed day, and no dawn has followed night, which has not heard mingled with those woeful wails the lamentations that accompany death and the black funeral –On the Nature of Things—
Lucretius 50 BCE
“We do not go; we are carried away, like floating objects, now gently, now violently, according as the water is angry or calm: Do we not see all humans unaware of what they want, and always searching everywhere, and changing place, as if to drop the load they bear?”
Montaigne 1580
“As you entered it. The same passage that you made from death to life, without feeling or fright, make it again from life to death. Your death is part of the order of the universe; it is part of the life of the world. Our lives we borrow from each other..And men, like runners, pass along the torch of life—
Lucretius 50 BCE
Quoting:
“Against other things it is possible to obtain security, but when it comes to death we human beings all live in an unwalled city”
Epicurus 300 BCE
“We are terrified of future catastrophes and are thrown into a continuous state of misery and anxiety, and for fear of becoming miserable, we never cease to be so, always panting for riches and never giving our souls or our bodies a moment’s peace. But those who are content with little live day by day and treat any day like a feast day.—
Poggio Bracciolini 1416
And the destructive motions cannot hold sway eternally and bury existence forever; nor again can the motions that cause life and growth preserve things eternally. Thus, in this war that has been waged from time everlasting, the contest between the elements is an equal one: now here, now there, the vital forces conquer and, in turn, are conquered; with the funeral dirge mingles the wail that babies raise when they reach the shores of light; no night has followed day, and no dawn has followed night, which has not heard mingled with those woeful wails the lamentations that accompany death and the black funeral –On the Nature of Things—
Lucretius 50 BCE
“We do not go; we are carried away, like floating objects, now gently, now violently, according as the water is angry or calm: Do we not see all humans unaware of what they want, and always searching everywhere, and changing place, as if to drop the load they bear?”
Montaigne 1580
“As you entered it. The same passage that you made from death to life, without feeling or fright, make it again from life to death. Your death is part of the order of the universe; it is part of the life of the world. Our lives we borrow from each other..And men, like runners, pass along the torch of life—
Lucretius 50 BCE
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Just some things
"Hail The Returning Dragon, Clothed In New Fire"
An essay about AIDS in 1996 by David Foster Wallace
This has been what's "bad" about casual sex from the beginning: sex is never bad, but it's also never casual.
Our sexual recognition of what is can start with the conscientious use of protection as a gesture of love toward ourselves and our partners. But a deeper, far braver recognition of just what kind of dragon we're facing is now starting to take hold, and— far from Armageddon— is doing much to increase the erotic voltage of contemporary life. Deep down, we all know that the real allure of sexuality has about as much to do with copulation as the appeal of food does with metabolic combustion. Trite though it (used to) sound, real sexuality is about our struggles to connect with one another, to erect bridges across the chasm s that separate selves. Sexuality is, finally, about imagination. Thank s to brave people's recognition of AIDS as a fact of life, we are beginning to realize that highly charged sex can take place in all sorts of ways we'd forgotten or neglected—in a conversational nuance; in a body's posture, a certain pressure in a held hand. Sex can be everywhere we are, all the time.
From an old letter to an editor that winds up being both a defense of literary theory, and a good example of a worthwhile letter to the editor. My own hometown, Chico, CA, has a section in the newspaper called, "Tell it to the ER" in which people can call and rant about school districts, the president, or the raccoon population and be assured that their "thoughts" (charitably used) will be published.
David Foster Wallace
I enjoyed Jacques Barzun's essay "A Little M atter of Sense" (June 21). Doubtless the inflate d jargon of some contemporary criticism perpetrates a kind of double fraud: a critic trying to sound smarter than h e is ;a critical piece w hose demands on readers' patience and dictionaries are out of all proportion to reward. But there are serious problems in M r. Barzun's position—one w hose common-sense surface barely covers a reactionary and kind of reductive approach to the issue of "sense" in technical esthetics.
Literary criticism is itself an artistic endeavor, and w ill naturally sometimes sacrifice transparency for creative richness; literary theory, on the other hand, is a branch of esthetics, which is essentially philosopy, and is often engaged in honest efforts at such rarefied heights that things are going to get unavoidably abstract and technical; literary criticism and theory, by their natures, operate in dialogue with art, with each other, and with themselves; such a tangle of reference and referents cannot but lead to some occlusion and prolixity. It’s the price of admission.
So, I also came across this interesting study that links lower intelligence with racism (something that nearly everyone can get behind as generally bad)
This is one of the few cases where my external linking is really key to making reading further worthwhile, but I'll try my best to mediate. The study also concludes that right wing ideologies help to contribute okay I'll just excerpt
"Despite their important implications for interpersonal behaviors and relations, cognitive abilities have been largely ignored as explanations of prejudice. We proposed and tested mediation models in which lower cognitive ability predicts greater prejudice, an effect mediated through the endorsement of right-wing ideologies (social conservatism, right-wing authoritarianism) and low levels of contact with out-groups. In an analysis of two large-scale, nationally representative United Kingdom data sets (N = 15,874), we found that lower general intelligence (g) in childhood predicts greater racism in adulthood, and this effect was largely mediated via conservative ideology. A secondary analysis of a U.S. data set confirmed a predictive effect of poor abstract-reasoning skills on antihomosexual prejudice, a relation partially mediated by both authoritarianism and low levels of intergroup contact. All analyses controlled for education and socioeconomic status. Our results suggest that cognitive abilities play a critical, albeit underappreciated, role in prejudice. Consequently, we recommend a heightened focus on cognitive ability in research on prejudice and a better integration of cognitive ability into prejudice models."
Well, this is awkward. Now we've got this larger model, conservative, which we don't all agree is a bad thing set up as a bit of a boogeyman. It seems to me that, "cognitive ability" is a bit of a slippery slope and was used by imperialists to justify all sorts of atrocities, so I'm loathe to conclude, even if it's study supported, that conservatives are actually less intelligent. I'm more interested in the study's conclusion that these people participate in less out groups and that they lack abstract thinking abilities. My own life experience tells me that being in a group of people who challenge your beliefs is a fantastic way to expand your horizons. I'm not ready to conclude that people who believe differently than I do on a political spectrum are stupid. However, I am willing to conclude that life experience is a hell of a teacher, and that one of the things I'd institute if the country every woke up and made me right wing authoritarian ruler is a mandatory semester overseas during everyone's junior year of high school, a massive foreign exchange program. It's fair to say that people do need to be woken up to different ideas, sexuality, cultures, etc. in order to foster a more tolerant world. Okay, so that's all I'll say, because I'm lazy. The whole thing deserves a thorough going over. The gist, more variety=good, naming large swaths of people with whom you disagree unintelligent=dodgy.
An essay about AIDS in 1996 by David Foster Wallace
This has been what's "bad" about casual sex from the beginning: sex is never bad, but it's also never casual.
Our sexual recognition of what is can start with the conscientious use of protection as a gesture of love toward ourselves and our partners. But a deeper, far braver recognition of just what kind of dragon we're facing is now starting to take hold, and— far from Armageddon— is doing much to increase the erotic voltage of contemporary life. Deep down, we all know that the real allure of sexuality has about as much to do with copulation as the appeal of food does with metabolic combustion. Trite though it (used to) sound, real sexuality is about our struggles to connect with one another, to erect bridges across the chasm s that separate selves. Sexuality is, finally, about imagination. Thank s to brave people's recognition of AIDS as a fact of life, we are beginning to realize that highly charged sex can take place in all sorts of ways we'd forgotten or neglected—in a conversational nuance; in a body's posture, a certain pressure in a held hand. Sex can be everywhere we are, all the time.
From an old letter to an editor that winds up being both a defense of literary theory, and a good example of a worthwhile letter to the editor. My own hometown, Chico, CA, has a section in the newspaper called, "Tell it to the ER" in which people can call and rant about school districts, the president, or the raccoon population and be assured that their "thoughts" (charitably used) will be published.
David Foster Wallace
I enjoyed Jacques Barzun's essay "A Little M atter of Sense" (June 21). Doubtless the inflate d jargon of some contemporary criticism perpetrates a kind of double fraud: a critic trying to sound smarter than h e is ;a critical piece w hose demands on readers' patience and dictionaries are out of all proportion to reward. But there are serious problems in M r. Barzun's position—one w hose common-sense surface barely covers a reactionary and kind of reductive approach to the issue of "sense" in technical esthetics.
Literary criticism is itself an artistic endeavor, and w ill naturally sometimes sacrifice transparency for creative richness; literary theory, on the other hand, is a branch of esthetics, which is essentially philosopy, and is often engaged in honest efforts at such rarefied heights that things are going to get unavoidably abstract and technical; literary criticism and theory, by their natures, operate in dialogue with art, with each other, and with themselves; such a tangle of reference and referents cannot but lead to some occlusion and prolixity. It’s the price of admission.
So, I also came across this interesting study that links lower intelligence with racism (something that nearly everyone can get behind as generally bad)
This is one of the few cases where my external linking is really key to making reading further worthwhile, but I'll try my best to mediate. The study also concludes that right wing ideologies help to contribute okay I'll just excerpt
"Despite their important implications for interpersonal behaviors and relations, cognitive abilities have been largely ignored as explanations of prejudice. We proposed and tested mediation models in which lower cognitive ability predicts greater prejudice, an effect mediated through the endorsement of right-wing ideologies (social conservatism, right-wing authoritarianism) and low levels of contact with out-groups. In an analysis of two large-scale, nationally representative United Kingdom data sets (N = 15,874), we found that lower general intelligence (g) in childhood predicts greater racism in adulthood, and this effect was largely mediated via conservative ideology. A secondary analysis of a U.S. data set confirmed a predictive effect of poor abstract-reasoning skills on antihomosexual prejudice, a relation partially mediated by both authoritarianism and low levels of intergroup contact. All analyses controlled for education and socioeconomic status. Our results suggest that cognitive abilities play a critical, albeit underappreciated, role in prejudice. Consequently, we recommend a heightened focus on cognitive ability in research on prejudice and a better integration of cognitive ability into prejudice models."
Well, this is awkward. Now we've got this larger model, conservative, which we don't all agree is a bad thing set up as a bit of a boogeyman. It seems to me that, "cognitive ability" is a bit of a slippery slope and was used by imperialists to justify all sorts of atrocities, so I'm loathe to conclude, even if it's study supported, that conservatives are actually less intelligent. I'm more interested in the study's conclusion that these people participate in less out groups and that they lack abstract thinking abilities. My own life experience tells me that being in a group of people who challenge your beliefs is a fantastic way to expand your horizons. I'm not ready to conclude that people who believe differently than I do on a political spectrum are stupid. However, I am willing to conclude that life experience is a hell of a teacher, and that one of the things I'd institute if the country every woke up and made me right wing authoritarian ruler is a mandatory semester overseas during everyone's junior year of high school, a massive foreign exchange program. It's fair to say that people do need to be woken up to different ideas, sexuality, cultures, etc. in order to foster a more tolerant world. Okay, so that's all I'll say, because I'm lazy. The whole thing deserves a thorough going over. The gist, more variety=good, naming large swaths of people with whom you disagree unintelligent=dodgy.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Lil s vs. dad, day one
6:24 A.M. I hear lil s pounding on her crib, mind you, I went to be at about 1:15 because I closed the previous night at the library. Was I excited? Well, obviously. I quickly hopped out of bed grabbed three random toys from her pack and play and tossed them in her crib and turned on the light. Back to bed.
6:57 A.M. Apparently tired of looking at books and playing with spongy toys, lil s is crying again. Everything she had in her crib is now lying on the floor.
7-7:30-I try and convince myself that I can nap for a bit. What's that noise I hear? It sounds suspiciously like a small baby playing in toilet water. And that's why you put the toilet seat down. I walk in the bathroom and witness her swirling her hand around in the toilet. She proudly displays her hand. "Icky" means nothing to this girl.
We head downstairs for breakfast. This is maybe the one part of the day that goes off without a hitch. Post-breakfast she's up and around trying to dig through the trash for treasures, I moved it, dropping a large glass measuring cup on the ground etc. before I convince her to read a book or two. At which point, she decides that what's way better than politely listening to a book is practicing her jumping by using my stomach as a launching/landing point.
Things are going rough, so I move to the couch. She cutely comes over and says "Up" in her super high-pitched voice, and I consent. Now that she's close to me she launches her attack on my glasses, prying them first from my face and then after I say, "Hey, those are daddy's glasses" and try to gently take them away without problems, except that she grips them tightly, and proceeds to bend the two frames into a ninety degree angle. Was I amused? I think not. I put her on the ground and told her she was no longer welcome on the couch. Her response, "Up?"
It's nap time. Enough trouble. I've had my five hours of sleep, so I'm counting on something from 1.5 to 2 hours. She sleeps for an hour and wakes up in a pile of poop. I wake up bleary eyed looking for a pair of ear plugs. Once downstairs she heads straight for her toys, tossing them out behind herself in a frenzy. It's time to take control of the day.
10:15-11:30 Walk time. We share a graham cracker on the way whilst enjoying a sunny day. After, I stop off in a small green space and let her run around. Is there anything cuter than a child who has just learned to walk chasing after their own shadow and laughing with glee? Probably not. Something about seeing lil s running outside fills my heart with all sorts of rich and complexly loving and tender feelings. She's exquisitely adorable.
Indoors we put together a rapid fire lunch. I squeeze in a shower, change a diaper, get here out of her shoes, do the dad thing. She gets lunch. I get lunch. We've made peace. My glasses now fall off my face if I forget to bend them every five minutes or so. I slap on a tie and am ready to head out the door, grab some milk to drink post-workout and.....
I'm sitting on the couch waiting for our nanny when I suddenly realize that my as- is wet. Am I peeing? No, that's right, lil s has crept up behind me and spilled the container of milk on the couch and all over my pants. In the kitchen I discover that she's also dropped her milk bottle on the floor, and the contents have leaked out all over the floor. It's time for work! And we're off to a great start. At some point I also put her in her first time out, which consisted of me holding her arms down in place for two seconds while she yelled at me. I think it worked.
6:57 A.M. Apparently tired of looking at books and playing with spongy toys, lil s is crying again. Everything she had in her crib is now lying on the floor.
7-7:30-I try and convince myself that I can nap for a bit. What's that noise I hear? It sounds suspiciously like a small baby playing in toilet water. And that's why you put the toilet seat down. I walk in the bathroom and witness her swirling her hand around in the toilet. She proudly displays her hand. "Icky" means nothing to this girl.
We head downstairs for breakfast. This is maybe the one part of the day that goes off without a hitch. Post-breakfast she's up and around trying to dig through the trash for treasures, I moved it, dropping a large glass measuring cup on the ground etc. before I convince her to read a book or two. At which point, she decides that what's way better than politely listening to a book is practicing her jumping by using my stomach as a launching/landing point.
Things are going rough, so I move to the couch. She cutely comes over and says "Up" in her super high-pitched voice, and I consent. Now that she's close to me she launches her attack on my glasses, prying them first from my face and then after I say, "Hey, those are daddy's glasses" and try to gently take them away without problems, except that she grips them tightly, and proceeds to bend the two frames into a ninety degree angle. Was I amused? I think not. I put her on the ground and told her she was no longer welcome on the couch. Her response, "Up?"
It's nap time. Enough trouble. I've had my five hours of sleep, so I'm counting on something from 1.5 to 2 hours. She sleeps for an hour and wakes up in a pile of poop. I wake up bleary eyed looking for a pair of ear plugs. Once downstairs she heads straight for her toys, tossing them out behind herself in a frenzy. It's time to take control of the day.
10:15-11:30 Walk time. We share a graham cracker on the way whilst enjoying a sunny day. After, I stop off in a small green space and let her run around. Is there anything cuter than a child who has just learned to walk chasing after their own shadow and laughing with glee? Probably not. Something about seeing lil s running outside fills my heart with all sorts of rich and complexly loving and tender feelings. She's exquisitely adorable.
Indoors we put together a rapid fire lunch. I squeeze in a shower, change a diaper, get here out of her shoes, do the dad thing. She gets lunch. I get lunch. We've made peace. My glasses now fall off my face if I forget to bend them every five minutes or so. I slap on a tie and am ready to head out the door, grab some milk to drink post-workout and.....
I'm sitting on the couch waiting for our nanny when I suddenly realize that my as- is wet. Am I peeing? No, that's right, lil s has crept up behind me and spilled the container of milk on the couch and all over my pants. In the kitchen I discover that she's also dropped her milk bottle on the floor, and the contents have leaked out all over the floor. It's time for work! And we're off to a great start. At some point I also put her in her first time out, which consisted of me holding her arms down in place for two seconds while she yelled at me. I think it worked.
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