Pointer Sisters, "You Gotta Believe." The remarkable video is by Nina Paley, who has been blogged here before.
Lyrics.
[Intro] Doodle wop a-rat-a-tat boom I'll make the sound of a jet plane zoom Doodle wop a-rat-a-tat boom I'll make the sound of a fire
[Hook] You got to believe in somethin' Why not believe in me? You got to believe in somethin' Why not believe in me?
[Verse One] What have I, I done to you To make you mean And treat me the way you do? Go on and wave your flag, brother Start your revolution I'm willin' to let you do your thing Tell me why are you plannin' a compromise?
[Hook]
Take the chain off your brain Take the chain off your brain Stop, take a look at yourself Stop ridiculin' everybody else
I don’t have much to say today.
So I will share this fine musical interlude – who knew that “Soviet Electronic Music” was even a genre? Personally, I feel it’s aged pretty well.
What I’m listening to right now.
Зодиак & Эдуард Артемьев, compilation of various tracks. [daily log: walking, 7km]
I had a flu some weeks back, and I feel I have not ever really recovered.
This whole week I have slept at least two hours longer than my normal sleep time each night, which for me a reliable sign that something is amiss with my general health. Despite my occasional bouts of hypochondria, I don't think worry about cancer is well-placed, since just a few weeks ago I passed my semiannual inspection successfully. I'm just feeling unhealthy and consequently rather glum about life.
I should add to the above the fact my normally predominant escapist hobby – my geofiction – has been on indefinite hold due to a strong sensation of burnout with respect to what you might call the internal politics of the website where I was engaged in that.
So I have been feeling adrift and painfully uncreative – allowing a possible exception for my daily effort at poetry, but with the caveat that even there, I am "depleting my reserves" rather than doing much that is new.
So what am I doing with my time, outside of work and sleep?
I have been reading history. Almost exclusively, and for many hours each day. I began, a few weeks back, with a curiosity about the Byzantine Empire, I have been wandering off wherever my interest leads: Sassanids (Persian pre-Islamic); Avars and Lombards and Franks and Visigoths; Khazars and Göktürks. It's notable that with the internet as it is today, one hardly needs to go out and buy books to pursue these eccentricities.
From this reading, I have only this generalization to draw:
The world is always just about to end. There is nothing new under the sun.
I thought she might not. She seemed a forever type of person. But actually everyone dies.
She was a great writer. And a philosopher, though not in the conventional sense. I don't need to review her life or work – others can do that better than I can. But her writing has influenced me profoundly.
I was 12 years old when I first read the Earthsea series of fantasy books. And I really doubt that I have spent a single day in my life since then when that imagined world hasn't crossed my mind in some way or another. It's a visceral thing – I don't know that the philosophical and psychological ideas there were so impactful – though they're undeniably present in the books. I only mean that I imagined that world quite vividly, in reading those books. and so now I think of it, much as one remembers a memorable trip, perhaps. For example, I think every day of the years I lived in Mexico, or the two months I spent in South America, or my one month studying in Paris, or my six months in Chicago. They were profound and memorable experiences, which shaped who I am. Likewise, the reading of those books, at that time in my life, left a similar type of indelible impression.
Her novel The Dispossessed had a more philosophical impact on me. I consider it a great philosophical novel. The "sci-fi" aspect is nearly irrelevant, except as a way to set the scene – the same story could have been written in a different way, set on Earth in some slightly altered historical context. I would put this book in my Universal Recommended books list.
On Monday, the US commemorated Dr Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday. Dr King's memorial has become the somewhat anodyne fillip to an annual dialogue about race and civil rights, couched in terms guaranteed to offend no one. But he was pretty offensive to those aligned against him, in his era – and those people were offensive right back at him. Not least, consider this bit, written shortly after his assassination:
Those who mourn Dr. King because they were his closest followers should meditate the implications of the deed of the wildman who killed him. That deed should bring to mind not (for God's sake) the irrelevance of non-violence, but the sternest necessity of reaffirming non-violence. An aspect of non-violence is submission to the law.
The last public speech of Martin Luther King described his intention of violating the law in Memphis, where an injunction had been handed down against the resumption of a march which only a week ago had resulted in the death of one human being and the wounding of fifty others.
Dr. King's flouting of the law does not justify the the flouting by others of the law, but it is a terrifying thought that, most likely, the cretin who leveled his rifle at the head of Martin Luther King, may have absorbed the talk, so freely available, about the supremacy of the individual conscience, such talk as Martin Luther King, God rest his troubled soul, had so widely, and so indiscriminately, indulged in. – William F. Buckley, April 9, 1968.
Buckley, in essence, blames the actions of Dr King's murderer on the message he advocated and preached. It is deeply disturbing that in Buckley's view, "submission to the law" is a component of non-violence. This confuses the admonition to "render unto Caesar" for a quite different notion: "submit to Caesar." This is definitely not what any notable advocate of nonviolence has ever had in mind, including Jesus himself.
In light of this, please don't believe that dogwghistle racism and "blaming the victim" are in any way new to the right's discourses contra civil rights. I once thought rather highly of Buckley, but over the years I have seen more and more evidence to support the idea that he was, behind his high rhetoric, yet another defender of the Jim Crow status quo ante.
The only thing actually new in our current Emperor is a certain incisive vulgarity – the content of the message is little changed. Yet it is the content of the message we need to be concerned about, not the manner of presentation.
Our current president: "Why do we want all these people from Africa here? They're shithole countries …"
Ronald Reagan (or his speechwriter, I suppose): "I've spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don’t know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my mind it was a tall, proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, windswept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace; a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity. And if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here. That's how I saw it, and see it still."
Say what you wish about Ronald Reagan. In terms of actual policy, Reagan was not that far removed from the current administration, to the extent either has any coherent policy besides a kind of reactionary anti-liberalism. But at least his rhetorical instincts were good – even in his twilight years (the above is from his Farewell Address).
The phrase “jump the shark” is a contemporary idiom that means that moment when something that was for a long time a serious artistic undertaking is transformed into a kind of parody of itself, as the work’s creators pursue novelty. Originally it was applied to TV shows and other works of a serial or episodic nature – e.g. book series, etc. Nowadays, the idiom seems applicable to anything where an initially earnest project becomes self-parody. I believe the expression arose in a critical discussion of a certain episode of the TV series “Happy Days.”
So this happened to that project called “United States of America.” The USA has jumped the shark. I have evidence.
Exhibit A:
It doesn’t even matter if this is intentional satire or if it “real.” It is out there.
Some points to consider:
History repeats itself, “the first as tragedy, then as farce.” – Karl Marx.
At what point does satire, parody, or fiction also become reality (e.g. we have a president who emerged from the realm of “reality TV” – which has always been a type of fiction)?
Finally – we must never, ever misinterpret stupidity or ignorance as evil.
Slightly related:
Perhaps Obama’s biggest mistake: the blogger “Atrios” at Eschaton blog speculates that Obama should bear some of the blame for the current mess in the White House: “Do not sanction powers you do not want your successor to have.”
Today is the centennial of the October Revolution – so named based on the old Russian calendar, despite the November 7th anniversary date on the Gregorian Calendar.
When I was growing up, the Soviet Union seemed eternal, and if not triumphant, certainly persistent. The notion that now, in my own middle age, the Soviet Union fell and disappeared more than a quarter century ago remains a stunning bit of history. In terms of impact on human history I believe that – in the modern era at least – the Bolshevik Revolution has been basically unparalleled, despite its unqualified long-term failure. Nor do I mean to necessarily praise it in saying that – it let loose demons that are still abroad in the world, if perhaps we could charitably grant that its "heart was in the right place," in the distorted view of its protagonists.
"People on the side of The People always ended up disappointed, in any case. They found that The People tended not to be grateful or appreciative or forward-thinking or obedient. The People tended to be small-minded and conservative and not very clever and were even distrustful of cleverness. And so the children of the revolution were faced with the age-old problem: it wasn't that you had the wrong kind of government, which was obvious, but that you had the wrong kind of people." – Terry Pratchett
I guess this quote is from one of Pratchett's Discworld books – which, frankly, I never managed to read all the way through, and I enjoyed what I did read so little that I would be hard pressed to tell you what they are about. But he's nevertheless good at some great, quotable thoughts – he will live on through his many aphorisms, perhaps.
There is a category of things that could be called "Fictional Victorian Doppelgängers for Famous Men." It has at least one member: Wilhelm Heinrich Sebastian Von Troomp. You can read about it at Politco Magazine. These works of childrens' literature by author Ingersoll Lockwood seem very bizarre, but not that different in genre from the subsequent Oz books, really, though apparently of lower quality. But the name of the protagonist is discomfiting.
I did something yesterday that I haven't done in a long time: I became immersed in a rather mind-numbingly stupid game.
In fact, I was led to this game from a philosophical discussion of the AI Paperclip Maximizer problem, in a blog I often read. I suggest you read that, first (it's short).
The game is called, naturally, "Universal Paperclips." It's in the genre of what are called "clicker" games – basically, just webpages with a few clickable controls that allow one to manipulate a kind of limited universe.
The object of the game is to fill the universe with paperclips. You start making one paperclip at a time. Click. Click. Click.
After some time, you develop automation, and then an artificial intelligence to do work for you. And then space exploring-drones, matter-to-paperclip conversion technology, paperclip-to-drone conversion technology. Etcetera. It's entirely text-based. And I spent 10 hours yesterday, filling the universe with paperclips. I believe the specific number of paperclips I produced was on the order of 30,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 (30 septendecillion = 3 x 10^54). Perhaps that's current best guess as to the mass of the universe, in grams (and maybe each paperclip weighs about a gram, right?).
But then the game told me I had run out of matter. So I had to stop. Fortunately, it was bedtime.
It was addictive, but it was mostly a one-shot experience, I think – once you've filled the universe with paperclips, you feel satisfied but there is little incentive to keep repeating the experience. That means I don't feel bad recommending the experience to others.
Hoc etiam magis haec animum te advertere par est corpora quae in solis radiis turbare videntur, quod tales turbae motus quoque materiai significant clandestinos caecosque subesse. multa videbis enim plagis ibi percita caecis commutare viam retroque repulsa reverti nunc huc nunc illuc in cunctas undique partis. scilicet hic a principiis est omnibus error. prima moventur enim per se primordia rerum, inde ea quae parvo sunt corpora conciliatu et quasi proxima sunt ad viris principiorum, ictibus illorum caecis inpulsa cientur, ipsaque proporro paulo maiora lacessunt. sic a principiis ascendit motus et exit paulatim nostros ad sensus, ut moveantur illa quoque, in solis quae lumine cernere quimus nec quibus id faciant plagis apparet aperte.
– Titus Lucretius Carus (Roman poet, 99BC-55BC),
The above are lines from Book II, lines 125-141, in Lucretius' De Rerum Natura.
Here is a prose translation to English, by John Selby Watson, 1851.
For you will see there, among those atoms in the sun-beam, many, struck with imperceptible forces, change their course, and turn back, being repelled sometimes this way, and sometimes that, every where, and in all directions. And doubtless this errant-motion in all these atoms proceeds from the primary elements of matter; for the first primordial-atoms of things are moved of themselves; and then those bodies which are of light texture, and are, as it were, nearest to the nature of the primary elements, are put into motion, and these latter themselves, moreover, agitate others which are somewhat larger. Thus motion ascends from the first principles, and spreads forth by degrees, so as to be apparent to our senses, and so that those atoms are moved before us, which we can see in the light of the sun; though it is not clearly evident by what impulses they are thus moved.
This is about Brownian motion. It was written a bit less than 2100 years ago.
In fact, hanging out at my mom's house, I have a lot of free time. A true vacation, I guess.
So I read books, as I tend to do.
I have nearly finished this history of the Roman Republic which I picked up at random the other day.
Sometimes I am struck by the parallels, culturally, militarily, or whatever, between late Republican Rome and the modern United States. Who shall be our Caesar? Julius Caesar was little more than a charismatic gangster, according this particular historian I'm reading. And it all makes sense. President Turnip is no Caesar, but is he a Marius? A Crassus? One of those guys, perhaps. Study your Roman history – I bet it's relevant.
Actually, in the moment, I have nothing much interesting to say. I'm trying to get ready for my departure, Saturday. I have a lot of things to do, because I procrastinate a lot. So my focus is poor.
Meanwhile, for your entertainment, I recommend this humorous and insightful article about the current state of the US political economy (in the vaguely post-marxian sense, I guess), vis-a-vis culture.
Sometimes my friend Bob, an academic professor of music and conductor in Wisconsin, sends me snippets of Spanish song lyrics to translate, because he actually needs them for his work. He knows I don't mind this, and even enjoy it.
Perhaps I should add to my blog's various tag-lines, at left, the phrase "The Only Spanish-to-English translation service operating in the Korean Peninsula!" I would be pretty confident this is true, though who really knows what Kim Jeong-eun is up to in his secret cultural propaganda factories in the basements of Pyeongyang.
Yesterday, Bob sent me a song in the genre of candombe (see the wiki thing). He was hoping I could translate it and/or offer some cultural observations. Here's what I sent back to him this morning.
Here's an in-line translation, mostly "on the fly" with a few checks with the RAE (Royal academy of Spanish Dictionary website). There are a few disorganized notes below the translation.
Candombe del seis de enero
Verse 1
Es por todos sabido que el 6 de enero Everyone knows that January 6th es el dia de los Reyes Magos is the day of the Three Magi [Epiphany] y en honor de uno de ellos, el más negro and to honor one of them, the darkest, se programa una fiesta en el barrio. a party is arranged in the neighborhood
Es por todos sabido que es el más negro Everyone knows that the darkest, el rey de los santos candomberos the king of the candombe saints San Baltasar es un santo muy alegre Saint Balthazar is a very happy saint dice la mama Inés y mueve los pies. that's what Mama Inés says, and she moves her feet
Refrain
Listos corazones Ready hearts van con el candombe come with candombe y con este ritmo a profesar, and with this rhythm, to show los rojos colores the bright colors con festón dorado, with golden edging le gustan al rey San Baltasar. they love Saint Balthazar
Verse 2
La comuna convoca y lo venera The troupe gathers and venerates por la estrella lucero que el ciclo espera under the Wandering Star that the calendar will bring San Baltasar se hamaca sobre las aguas Saint Balthazar rocks over the waters de un mar de promesantes que canta y baila. of a sea of worshippers who sing and dance
Conversa el ronco bombo mientras avanza the husky drum speaks as it moves forward repican tamboriles en las comparsas tambourines sing out in the dance-lines fiesta criolla de negros y blanqueados a high-caste party of blacks and whites together cuando cambian de toque cambian de estado. when the rhythm changes, the whole mood changes
Refrain
– by Yábor (Uruguayan folk singer, b 1950) – in-line translation is mine
Possibly controversial translations:
* criollo as high-caste – normally criollo is translated as "Creole" but that, in colloquial English, is tightly associated with Franco-Carribean culture, which obviously is something different than what we have here. So I went back to the original Spanish meaning (actually originally Portuguese), which is a reference to a specific rank within the complex caste system that existed in Spanish colonial America – the criollos were the locally born white folk, thus at the top of the caste system. But criollo also developed a broader meaning of "locally born" as opposed to "foreigner" (immigrants and "peninsulares" i.e. Spaniards) – especially during the 19th century. So in that sense, the "fiesta criollo" might just mean "a party for and by locals". In the first half of the 20th century, it even became a kind of term of pride that was essentially unifying as opposed to divisive. Probably that's what's intended, here, but by using the term "high caste" I'm getting at the word's problematic roots.
* toque as rhythm – that's not a dictionary translation, but it seems to fit the context. It really might be wrong, but "when the touch changes" feels meaningless to me, so I made a guess based on my feel for broader semantics of the word toque – much wider than English "touch" – and my vague recollections of interactions with Spanish-speaking folk musicians (a few in the 1980s, and one, a close friend of my dad's, in the 2000s).
The most notable thing about this song, to me, is the clear implication that whites participate and enjoy, too ("a high-caste party of blacks and whites together"). This is underscored by the insistence that Saint Balthazar is the "darkest" – it's announcing a kind of "Africa Day" for the whole community, which is unifying in a pre-PC way. That's how I read it, anyway. Cynically, if Yábor is the author (and I think he is), as a white Uruguayan folk singer, he would naturally want to emphasize this aspect if he decided to author a candombe. In that sense, this song most definitely is a bit of cultural appropriation, but perhaps no less authentic or meaningful for that – it represents a genuine if somewhat starry-eyed effort at racial unity in the complex landscape of Latin American racial politics (which, we must always remember, work differently than US racial politics, as much as we want to notice the obvious parallels and similarities).
This blog post will not be very substantive.
Just a thought-for-the-day (in the form of an old-school SAT-style analogy – now obsolete, this will really only be culturally identifiable to you if you took the SAT before 2005):
Korean curry : Indian curry :: American tacos : Mexican tacos i.e. Korean curry is to Indian curry as American tacos are to Mexican tacos.
The Mormon church that has been under construction in my neighborhood is nearing completion – I’ve commented on itbefore, partly because I’d developed a kind of special feeling or affinity for the vacant lot (so rare in Ilsan) that had previously occupied the space for most of the years I’ve been here.
I guess the architecture is solidly Mormonesque – whatever that is, although I do believe there is, at least, an identifiable (post hoc) Mormon architectural style. What was more depressing was that half of the lot is given over to an at-grade parking lot.
Believe it or not, I’ve contemplated the cultural semiotics of Mormon parking lots before. This may be partly due to having grown up across the street from the local Mormon church, and thus for me, as a child, the concepts of expansive parking lots and Mormonism became deeply intertwined. For me, as a child, the Mormon church’s parking lot was simply the parking lot. It became the archetype of an American sort of over-engineered, low density, space-wasting, parking-in-front approach to parking.
I had imagined that local Korean building codes would preclude the construction of such a parking lot for this church. Apparently, I was naive.
It’s not that Koreans don’t build low density parking lots. It’s that in my experience, if Koreans build an at-grade, open space parking lot (as opposed to a high density parking structure), these constructions seem to be, inevitably, fairly contingent, strictly temporary affairs. If they have a vacant lot, by all means, slap down some asphalt, paint some lines, put up an attendant’s booth, and charge money to park there. These can be found all over Ilsan, in fact, as well as the rest of Seoul. Perhaps that was partly why I was so surprised that the vacant lot where this new church has been built remained simply vacant for so long.
As I said, however, these low-density parking lots are not, normally, viewed as particularly major undertakings, and they lack any feeling of permanence. There are several in Ilsan that are not even properly paved – they’re just gravel. I kind of intuit that the expectation is that eventually the lot will get built with something, with the inevitable multi-level parking structure integrated into the new building.
But these Mormons – they’ve created a parking lot in the boldest of North American, low density, highly engineered traditions. There are little rows of trees, there are elaborate curbs and bays, there is even the modern “permeable parking lot” concept whereby grass can grow between the gaps and water can drain down – thus preventing the loss of so much rainfall for the groundwater. These are all things that seem so utterly American to me, and quite alien to the way Koreans approach parking in my experience.
Not only that, there’s a giant fence completely enclosing it. Most Korean parking lots are quite pedestrian-friendly – I cut across or through both open low-density lots and parking ramps all the time, as I walk from one place to another.
What does it mean that Mormon churches always have such substantial and, more interestingly, prominently visible parking lots? Partly, it’s about the fact of being a wealthy but most definitely minority religion. Their churches thus have to draw from a widely dispersed community, where most members might be coming from quite some distance away. Thus, they all have cars and they all need a place to park. But it’s also a kind of declaration of suburban American values. I can’t say I’m scandalized, but a part of me had expected something different of Mormons in the Korean context. I gather I was mistaken.
Anyway, I hope they enjoy parking their cars. [daily log: walking, 7km]
Someone has created a version of the first part of the Biblical Book of Genesis using ONLY words that start with the letter 'A.'
1. An advent: ancient archangels architect abstract astronomy and arid asteroids. 2. All asteroids are amorphous and absent; And all asleep across aquatic anarchy. And astral angels advanced across area. 3. And Almighty asked," Appear." And all appeared aglow. 4. And Almighty approved. Aura and absence: an antagonistic arithmetic. 5. An afternoon and aurora, an aeon. 6.And atmosphere and all awash abscinded. 7. Astral air above; aquatic area abased. All as Almighty asserted. 8. Angel's abode appeared. Another afternoon, another aurora. Another aeon. 9. And Almighty authored aquatic archipelagos. Arable acreage appeared. 10. And Almighty approved.
I have been re-reading some Melville short stories. In college, during that brief period when I thought I was an English Major, I had a seminar on Melville in which we read many of these stories. This is the first time I have returned to them.
"Bartleby the Scrivener" is, of course, a famous and compelling story. Actually, I see it as a kind of case study of major (catatonic) depression, written avant la lettre so to speak. It's quite brilliant, and anticipates Kafka and 20th century nihilism too.
I was more interested in reading the diptych, "The Paradise of Bachelors and the Tartarus of Maids." Many have observed that it is a kind of allegory on the theme of the incipient capitalist mode of production – although 'allegory' seems a strong word, as it is really just a fictionalized description of the way things work. What I was struck by, however, is that it's not necessarily about early capitalism, per se. It's just about capitalism – the parallels between the situation in the two scenes – the dining scene in London and the factory in New England – and, say, capitalism as it exists in modern China, are striking. There is also, in these parallels, the notable gender-based division of labor, which is an aspect worth thinking about. Why are most of the workers in sweatshops, whether in 19th century New England or 21st century Asia, women? This question clearly preoccupied Melville profoundly. Another aspect that struck me but that critics don't seem to frequently mention: what's with the emphasis on the "paleness" of everything, at the factory? Is this some kind of oblique, inverted reference to the situation of slavery, and its relationship in turn to 19th century emergent capitalism? I feel there must be an awareness there – the decade is 1850s – abolition was in the air.
Sometimes I think about economics and philosophy, but I don't make much progress.
I have some thoughts about what you might term a "marxian analysis" of the modern post-manufacturing economy, and about what, exactly, the tech behemoths like google, facebook, etc., are doing, in the "modes of production" sense. These companies seem to traffic in the commodification not of products but rather the commodification of wants and needs for other commodities. This is a kind of "meta-commodification," where instead of exploiting consumer desires in order to generate surpluses, instead they operate entirely within the streams of surpluses, manufacturing consumer desires which they can sell to others to exploit. It's really a logical step in the succession of the economic modes of production, when viewed this way, just as credit is a logical extension of money, which is in turn a logical extension of exchange. But it seems to be something genuinely different from what came before, and certainly it is not classically marxian.
Having said all that, these thoughts seem to be merely a kind of epiphanic brainstorm, and thus I have nothing of substance to report.
So then I just have to post some song or something, instead, which likely is only related to the preceding if you're really good at apophenia.
What I'm listening to right now.
Cassadee Pope, "Wasting All These Tears."
Lyrics
I tried to find you at the bottom of a bottle Laying down on the bathroom floor My loneliness was a rattle in the windows You said you don't want me anymore
And you left me Standing on a corner crying, Feeling like a fool for trying I don't even remember Why I'm wasting all these tears on you I wish I could erase our memory Cause you didn't give a damn about me Oh, finally I'm through Wasting all these tears on you These tears on you
You ain't worth another sleepless night And I'll do everything I gotta do to get you off my mind Cause what you wanted I couldn't get What you did, boy I'll never forget
And you left me Standing on a corner crying Feeling like a fool for trying I don't even remember Why I'm wasting all these tears on you I wish I could erase our memory Cause you didn't give a damn about me Oh, finally I'm through Wasting all these tears on you These tears on you
And you left me Standing on a corner crying Feeling like a fool for trying I don't even remember Why I'm wasting all these tears on you I wish I could erase our memory Cause you didn't give a damn about me Oh finally I'm through Wasting all these tears on you Oh these tears on you
I tried to find you at the bottom of a bottle Laying down on the bathroom floor
I ran across this quote. I suppose it summarizes my own reasoning as to why I am optimistic about the whole concept of development – in the sense that peoples and nations have no predestination in matters of whether their society develops or not, and to what degree, because policy decisions actually matter. You can't be pessimistic about improving the lives of people in the world, when there is proof that it is more than just random chance, and that decisions taken in a society, by individuals, can lead to substantial differences in outcomes.
"I’m not convinced with these arguments about some nations being predetermined in their development and alien to the concept of democracy and the rule of law.
"The reason I’m quite comfortable with this denial . . . We can move from theory to practice. While we can talk about history and certain influence of historical events to modernity, we can look at the places like Korean Peninsula. The same nation, not even cousins but brothers and sisters, divided in 1950, so that’s, by historical standards, yesterday." – Garry Kasparov, in interview with economist Tyler Cowen.
I guess Kasparov is responding to the idea that Russia is somehow predestined to be authoritarian. Clearly he is rejecting that notion. And I agree. I live within the most stunning example of this line of reasoning. Indeed, it is probably one of the reasons I choose to live here – it imbues me with optimism about human character and destiny.
The "hover text" (a feature of XKCD cartoons), says, "They say you can't argue with results, but what kind of defeatist attitude is that? If you stick with it, you can argue with ANYTHING."
Somehow, this quite seems like it could easily be attributed to certain prominent politicians.
Someday, I want to create a story or novella with the title, "Art and the Maintenance of Motorcycle Zen." It would be a kind of sincerely felt, but also maybe vaguely comedic tribute, to Robert Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. In fact, it wasn't that long ago that I was jotting down a few snippets that might pertain to such a story.
I am reminded of this today because I have heard that Pirsig has died. I have to say that Pirsig's book, and even some of his other activities, have had multilayered influences on my life.
I first read his book as a high school senior, I think. And it was a required text in my "freshman seminar," my first year at college. The book is easily in my personal list of "10 most influential books in my life." It might be the most influential book.
Some of this influence and importance derives from the very weird parallels between the book and my life. And it's an eerie set of parallels, because I read (and re-read) the book before many of those parallels occurred (ECT? check. Zen? check. Philosophical road tripping? check.). So the question naturally arises: did I, perhaps, subconsciously "follow" the book?
Certainly there is one very significant instance, where I think the book might have had a conscious influence. The main character, like Pirsig, is from Minneapolis. And perhaps this raised my awareness about that part of the world sufficiently that it made it possible for me to imagine going there – which is what I did for college. Not many California kids would move to Minnesota, sight-unseen, and so I think the book's presentation of the midwestern landscape embedded it higher up in my awareness, such that I might consider it. I guess it's difficult to say for sure – I remember tracing the route of his motorcycle journey in a road atlas, during my first reading. A line, drawn from Minneapolis to the west coast, that, incidentally passed through my home town on the Pacific, which is actually mentioned in the book (although not as a destination – just in a "passing through" way). That line was effectively reversed when I went to college less than a year later.
The other impact Pirsig had on my life came much later, and was indirect, I suppose - essentially unrelated to the book. He was one of the founders of the Minnesota Zen Center. When I moved back to Minneapolis in 2006 (the year before deciding to come to Korea), I attended the Zen Center a dozen times or so. Its location on Lake Calhoun was within walking distance of where I was living, and since I was working to transform my life and habits, I was walking or jogging past it daily - going around that lake was one of my new habits.
So Robert Pirsig is gone.
But, in the Buddhist spirit, I shall interpretatively paraphrase my friend Curt: "Death is nothing."
"Philosophical zombie" is
a concept you may know.
I'd like to now propose a twist
to how those stories go.
Most typically these zombies are
like strange automata.
They act like people, react too -
but it is just data.
So nothing's felt and nothing's hoped;
there is no inner spark.
These zombies might seem like humans,
but their sad minds are dark.
Now here's the change I'd like to make:
let's add a soul inside,
but not connected to the flesh -
it will only reside.
Like those sad paralytics who
stare helpless and afraid,
this second mind lacks any link,
must wait for any aid.
So here's the first, with agency,
the second with the why,
together they must walk the earth,
as we do, you and I.
– six quatrains in ballad meter – an essay on phenomenology in six stanzas.
The following is my own thought, but the idea was initially prompted by some points made by Robin Hanson (economist) on an old post at his blog.
Wealth leads to delusional behavior, because the wealth "cushions" us from the consequences of behavior that runs counter to reality. Thus the best cure for a delusional culture is to try to impoverish it. Arguably, if the culture is sufficiently delusional, it will probably end up impoverishing itself. Thus the whole seems to be a kind of self-correcting equilibrium. But a helluva ride for the people involved. Roman Empire, anyone?
Two quotes. Their only relation is that of propinquity.
"The silent wilderness surrounding this cleared speck on the Earth struck me as something great and invincible, like evil or truth, waiting patiently for the passing away of this fantastic invasion." – Joseph Conrad
"I do not understand the squeamishness about the use of gas. I am strongly in favor of using poison gas against uncivilized tribes. It would spread a lively terror." – Winston Churchill
I guess I've posted the Churchill quote before – I only realized that after I prepared this blog entry, but I have decided not to let that prevent me from posting it again, as it seems, still, sadly relevant.
Saint Zeno is the patron saint of children learning to talk.
Many people don't realize that the name of my birth state has a rather unusual etymology. California was named by Spanish explorers after a fictional place, which is named in a novel they were familiar with, Las sergas de Esplandián, by Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo. Montalvo, in turn, made up the name, probably under the influence of La Chanson de Roland, from a few centuries earlier, where we can read,
Morz est mis nies, ki tant me fist cunquere Encuntre mei revelerunt li Seisne, E Hungre e Bugre e tante gent averse, Romain, Puillain et tuit icil de Palerne E cil d'Affrike e cil de Califerne;
I suppose these medieval and renaissance authors were trying to evoke the "enemy" of Christiandom, i.e. the Caliphate. Thus California has the same "conceptual etymology" as ISIS, via a very different path.
"Certified skydiving instructors know way more about safely falling from planes than I do, and are way more likely to die that way." – Randall Munroe, author of the comic xkcd. This quote is the "hovertext" accompanying this cartoon.
Hey, hey Captain Jack Meet me down by the railroad track With that rifle in my hand I'm gonna be a shootin' man A shootin' man The best I can For Uncle Sam
Hey, hey Captain Jack Meet me down by the railroad track With that knife in my hand I'm gonna be a cuttin' man A cuttin' man A shootin' man The best I can For Uncle Sam
Hey, hey Captain Jack Meet me down by the railroad track With that grenade in my hand I'm gonna be a killin' man A killin' man A cuttin' man A shootin' man The best I can For Uncle Sam
Hey, hey Captain Jack Meet me down by the railroad track With that bottle in my hand I'm gonna be a drinkin' man A drinkin' man A killin' man A cuttin' man A shootin' man The best I can For Uncle Sam
Hey, hey Captain Jack Meet me down by the railroad track With that book in my hand I'm gonna be a studyin' man A studyin' man A drinkin' man A killin' man A cuttin' man A shootin' man The best I can For Uncle Sam
– a US Army Marching Cadence
The original "Captain Jack" was a Modoc Indian, Kintpuash, who is the only person to have killed a US Army General officer during battle – although the Army later executed him for "war crimes," I don't think it's so clear that he was employing tactics any dirtier than the US soldiers were.
So in the marching cadence, the soldiers' plan to meet Captain Jack down by the railroad tracks strikes me as an ambivalent situation. Like many US military cadences, there is an anti-military subtext hovering below the surface.
I remember decades ago, in some social group or another (I don't really recall exactly which, but I was young), "Captain Jack" was a kind of facetious answer to any "who" question, e.g.
Q: "Who did you see there?" A: "Captain Jack."
"Captain Jack" is also, apparently, an old slang term for heroin or other narcotics – which lends yet another angle of meaning to the popularity of this cadence especially during the Vietnam era.
A different version of the cadence is heard in this youtube.
Note not just the variation in specific types of "A __-in' man", but the addition of the lines "Re-up? You're crazy! / Re-up? You're outta your mind!"
This song is old, but that Talking Heads Remain In Light album is easily one of my personal favorites of all time. I have never tired of the Talking Heads, since I first discovered them when I was in high school.
What I'm listening to right now.
Talking Heads, "Crosseyed And Painless." I believe this song seems like a kind of prophesy – perhaps an anthem for our new "post-fact" era.
Lyrics.
Lost my shape Trying to act casual! Can't stop I might end up in the hospital I'm changing my shape I feel like an accident They're back! To explain their experience Isn't it weir Looks too obscure to me Wasting away And that was their policy I'm ready to leave I push the fact in front of me Facts lost Facts are never what they seem to be Nothing there! No information left of any kind Lifting my head Looking for danger signs There was a line There was a formula Sharp as a knife Facts cut a hole in us There was a line There was a formula Sharp as a knife Facts cut a hole in us I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… The feeling returns Whenever we close out eyes Lifting my head Looking around inside The island of doubt It's like the taste of medicine Working by hindsight Got the message from the oxygen Making a list Find the cost of opportunity Doing it right Facts are useful in emergencies The feeling returns Whenever we close out eyes Lifting my head Looking around inside. Facts are simple and facts are straight Facts are lazy and facts are late Facts all come with points of view Facts don't do what I want them to Facts just twist the truth around Facts are living turned inside out Facts are getting the best of them Facts are nothing on the face of things Facts don't stain the furniture Facts go out and slam the door Facts are written all over your face Facts continue to change their shape I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting…
I don't know what cuteness is, exactly. But it seems like a real – if subjective - perception that is shared by most humans. Probably, the perception of cuteness is linked to the evolution of the parent-child bond.
Regardless, I think many would agree that this robot is cute.
Others might feel it's creepy – I guess it might be creepy, too. But the creepiness is something that dawns on you slowly, only as you think more deeply about what this little robot represents: human capacity to create a wholly autonomous, life-like being.
The topic of immigration periodically looms in my political imagination. I have never done much about it, however. I once tried to build a website on the topic of “open borders,” but my own inertia doomed that effort (the site only lived about a year).
I’m pretty sure I wrote somewhere, but I can’t find where, that I have sometimes thought that the issue of immigration and open borders will be a new kind of abolition movement. I was gratified to read this post at a blog called spottedtoad, which appears to argue the same idea, more cogently than I ever could. It may fade, but at least at the moment, the issue is becoming more noticeable and more politically polarizing in the US. This is not dissimilar to the way abolitionism took hold of political discourses in the first half of the 19th century.
In the meantime, I leave with that same Herman Melville quote I’ve cited before:
“If they can get here, they have God’s right to come.”
