He aquí los pensamientos aleatorios de un epistemólogo andante.
I dream of a world where chickens can cross the road without having their motives questioned.
피할수 없는 고통이라면 차라리 즐겨라
As of June, 2013, I have assumed a new identity: I am a cancer survivor. "Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose."
"A blog, in the end, is really not so different from an inscription on a bone: I was here, it declares to no one in particular. Don't forget that." - Justin E. H. Smith
재미없으면 보상해드립니다!
"All things are enchained with one another, bound together by love." - Nietzsche (really!)
Leviticus 19:33-34
Donc, si Dieu existait, il n’y aurait pour lui qu’un seul moyen de servir la liberté humaine, ce serait de cesser d’exister. - Mikhail Bakunin
Solvitur ambulando.
"Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to soliloquize. Where was I?" - the villain Heinz Doofenshmirtz, in the cartoon Phineas and Ferb.
My name is Jared Way. I was born in rural Far Northern California, and became an "adoptive" Minnesotan. I have lived in many other places: Mexico City, Philadelphia, Valdivia (Chile), Los Angeles. And for 11 years, I was an expatriate living in South Korea. In the summer of 2018, I made another huge change, and relocated to Southeast Alaska, which is my uncle's home.
For many years I was a database programmer, with a background in Linguistics and Spanish Literature. In Korea, worked as an EFL teacher.
In June, 2013, while I was in Ilsan in South Korea, I was diagnosed with cancer, and underwent successful treatment. That changed my life pretty radically.
Currently, you could say I'm "between jobs," somewhat caretaking my uncle (to the extent he tolerates that) and getting adapted to life in rural Alaska after so many years as an urban dweller.
I started this blog before I even had the idea of going to Korea (first entry: Caveat: And lo...). So this is not meant to be a blog about Korea, by any stretch of the imagination. But life in Korea, and Korean language and culture, inevitably have come to play a central role in this blog's current incarnation.
Basically, this blog is a newsletter for the voices in my head. It keeps everyone on the same page: it has become a sort of aide-mémoire.
For a more detailed reflection on why I'm blogging, you can look at this old post: What this blog is, and isn't.
If you're curious about me, there is a great deal of me here. I believe in what I call "opaque transparency" - you can learn almost everything about me if you want, but it's not immediately easy to find.
A distillation of my personal philosophy (at least on good days):
I have made the realization that happiness is not a mental state. It is not something that is given to you, or that you find, or that you can lose, or that can be taken from you. Happiness is something that you do. And like most things that you do, it is volitional. You can choose to do happiness, or not. You have complete freedom with respect to the matter.
"Ethical joy is the correlate of speculative affirmation." - Gilles Deleuze (writing about Spinoza).
Like most people, I spend a lot of time online, although I try to limit it somewhat. Here is a somewhat-annotated list of the "places" where I spend
time online.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Knowledge and News
I spend about half of all my time online reading Wikipedia. It's why I know stuff.
I get most of my world news from Minnesota Public Radio which includes NPR, BBC and CBC, depending on when I listen.
I don't really "do" social media. I have a membership at Facebookland but I never log in
there. I don't like it.
I have a membership at The Youtubes but I mostly use it for work. I also listen to music on youtube, frequently - I prefer it to typical streaming services, for example.
Humor and Cat Videos
Cat videos and other internet novelties: Laughing Squid.
Geofiction - this has evolved into a significant "hobby" for me. I like to draw imaginary maps, and there is a website that has enabled this vice.
I worked as a volunteer administrator for the site OpenGeofiction on and off for a few years. I created (but no longer maintain) the site's main wiki page: OGF Wiki. I am not currently working as administrator but I remain active on the site.
The above work has required my becoming an expert in the Openstreetmap system. Openstreetmap is an attempt do for online maps what wikipedia has done for encyclopedias. I have considered becoming an openstreetmap contributor, but I feel that my current location in Korea hinders that, since I don't have a good grasp Korean cartographic naming conventions.
Starting in April, 2018, I decided somewhat capriciously to build my own "OGF stack" on my own server. This was not because I intended to abandon the OGF site, but rather because I wanted to better understand the whole architecture and all its parts. I built a wiki on the Mediawiki platform (the same as wikipedia). This wiki has no content. I built a map tileserver and geospatial database, which contains a very low resolution upload of an imaginary planet called Rahet. And I built a wordpress blog, which is a separate, low-frequency blog intended to focus on my geofictional pursuits rather than this more personalized, general purpose blog. All of these things can be found integrated together on my rent-a-server, here: geofictician.net
TEFL - my "profession," such as it is.
Online English Grammar reference Grammarist. Useful for settling disputes over grammar.
Thou silver deity of secret night, Direct my footsteps through the woodland shade; Thou conscious witness of unknown delight, The Lover’s guardian, and the Muse’s aid! By thy pale beams I solitary rove, To thee my tender grief confide; Serenely sweet you gild the silent grove, My friend, my goddess, and my guide. E’en thee, fair queen, from thy amazing height, The charms of young Endymion drew; Veil’d with the mantle of concealing night; With all thy greatness and thy coldness too.
Finaliza septiembre. Es hora de decirte lo difícil que ha sido no morir.
Por ejemplo, esta tarde tengo en las manos grises libros hermosos que no entiendo, no podría cantar aunque ha cesado ya la lluvia y me cae sin motivo el recuerdo del primer perro a quien amé cuando niño.
Desde ayer que te fuiste hay humedad y frío hasta en la música. Cuando yo muera, sólo recordarán mi júbilo matutino y palpable, mi bandera sin derecho a cansarse, la concreta verdad que repartí desde el fuego, el puño que hice unánime con el clamor de piedra que exigió la esperanza.
Hace frío sin ti. Cuando yo muera, cuando yo muera dirán con buenas intenciones que no supe llorar. Ahora llueve de nuevo. Nunca ha sido tan tarde a las siete menos cuarto como hoy.
Throw away thy rod,
Throw away thy wrath:
O my God,
Take the gentle path.
For my heart’s desire
Unto thine is bent:
I aspire
To a full consent.
Not a word or look
I affect to own,
But by book,
And thy book alone.
Though I fail, I weep:
Though I halt in pace,
Yet I creep
To the throne of grace.
Then let wrath remove;
Love will do the deed:
For with love
Stony hearts will bleed.
Love is swift of foot;
Love’s a man of war,
And can shoot,
And can hit from far.
Who can ’scape his bow?
That which wrought on thee,
Brought thee low,
Needs must work on me.
Throw away thy rod;
Though man frailties hath,
Thou art God:
Throw away thy wrath.
- George Herbert (English poet, 1593-1633)
Marcho día y noche como un parque desolado. Marcho día y noche entre esfinges caídas de mis ojos; miro el cielo y su hierba que aprende a cantar; miro el campo herido a grandes gritos, y el sol en medio del viento.
Acaricio mi sombrero lleno de luz especial; paso la mano sobre el lomo del viento; los vientos, que pasan como las semanas; los vientos y las luces con gestos de fruta y sed de sangre; las luces, que pasan como los meses; cuando la noche se apoya sobre las casas, y el perfume de los claveles gira en torno de su eje.
Tomo asiento, como el canto de los pájaros; es la fatiga lejana y la neblina; caigo como el viento sobre la luz.
Caigo sobre mi alma. He ahí el pájaro de los milagros; he ahí los tatuajes de mi castillo; he ahí mis plumas sobre el mar, que grita adiós.
Caigo de mi alma. Y me rompo en pedazos de alma sobre el invierno; caigo del viento sobre la luz; caigo de la paloma sobre el viento.
That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by. This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
Being in the US again is weird, sometimes. I have a bit of reverse culture shock. Seeing US television and flipping through radio stations as I drive my rental car can be slightly disorienting.
This song was on a radio station as a I drove around Eagan, today. It's a song one of my students found and prepared for one of my "CC" classes, at Karma. Is it possible to feel nostalgic even though I'm only two weeks removed from being there?
What I'm listening to right now.
Taylor Swift, "Delicate."
Lyrics.
This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink Dive bar on the East Side, where you at? Phone lights up my nightstand in the black Come here, you can meet me in the back Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you Oh damn, never seen that color blue Just think of the fun things we could do 'Cause I like you This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me Yeah, I want you We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Delicate Third floor on the West Side, me and you Handsome, your mansion with a view Do the girls back home touch you like I do? Long night, with your hands up in my hair Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share 'Cause I like you This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me Yeah, I want you We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Delicate Sometimes I wonder when you sleep Are you ever dreaming of me? Sometimes when I look into your eyes I pretend you're mine, all the damn time 'Cause I like you Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Yeah, I want you Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) 'Cause I like you Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Yeah, I want you Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate Delicate
[daily log: walking, 2km; moving stuff around, a lot]
Me registro los bolsillos desiertos para saber dónde fueron aquellos sueños. Invado las estancias vacías para recoger mis palabras tan lejanamente idas. Saqueo aparadores antiguos, viejos zapatos, amarillentas fotografías tiernas, estilográficas desusadas y textos desgajados del Bachillerato, pero nadie me dice quién fui yo.
Aquellas canciones que tanto amaba no me explican dónde fueron mis minutos, y aunque torturo los espejos con peinados de quince años, con miradas podridas de cinco años o quizá de muerto, nadie, nadie me dice dónde estuvo mi voz ni de qué sirvió mi fuerte sombra mía esculpida en presurosos desayunos, en jolgorios de aulas y pelotas de trapo, mientras los otoños sedimentaban de pálidas sangres las bodegas del Ebro.
¿En qué escondidos armarios guardan los subterráneos ángeles nuestros restos de nieve nocturna atormentada? ¿Por qué vertientes terribles se despeñan los corazones de los viejos relojes parados? ¿Dónde encontraremos todo aquello que éramos en las tardes de los sábados, cuando el violento secreto de la Vida era tan sólo una dulce campana enamorada? Pues yo registro los bolsillos desiertos y no encuentro ni un solo minuto mío, ni una sola mirada en los espejos que me diga quién fui yo.
- Miguel Labordeta (poeta español, 1921-1969)
[daily log: walking, 7.5km; carrying heavy box to post office, 0.5km]
This heartwarming little video appeared in my facebook feed the other day (h/t my own dad - heh). Given that I'm recently returned to facebookland, despite ambivalences, right?
I was curious about the song's provenance, because it seemed a good, positive song for my CC classes at Karma. So I did some google-fu, and found it.
What I'm listening to right now.
Matisyahu, "One Day."
Lyrics.
Sometimes I lay Under the moon And thank God I'm breathing Then I pray Don't take me soon 'Cause I am here for a reason
Sometimes in my tears I drown But I never let it get me down So when negativity surrounds I know some day it'll all turn around
Because All my life I've been waiting for I've been praying for For the people to say That we don't wanna fight no more There will be no more wars And our children will play One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day)
It's not about Win or lose 'Cause we all lose When they feed on the souls of the innocent Blood-drenched pavement Keep on moving though the waters stay raging
In this maze you can lose your way (your way) It might drive you crazy but don't let it faze you, no way (no way)
Sometimes in my tears I drown But I never let it get me down So when negativity surrounds I know some day it'll all turn around
Because All my life I've been waiting for I've been praying for For the people to say That we don't wanna fight no more They'll be no more wars And our children will play One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day)
One day this all will change Treat people the same Stop with the violence Down with the hate One day we'll all be free And proud to be Under the same sun Singing songs of freedom like
One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day)
All my life I've been waiting for I've been praying for For the people to say That we don't wanna fight no more They'll be no more wars And our children will play One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day)
[daily log: walking, 7.5km; carrying heavy box to post office, 0.5km]
As mentioned before, we have this thing at Karma called "CC" class - a somewhat opaque name for what are essentially focused listening exercises using English-language pop songs. Mostly, these days, I can proudly say that my initiative to have the students prepare and present their own choices of songs has gone quite well, and 90% of the time, the students do their homework and they lead the class. I love sitting in a class where the students are leading, and even using English fairly successfully to manage the class.
But sometimes a student forgets his or her homework, or some miscommunication causes there not to be a prepared song for a given class. So I have some "backup" songs prepared. One of the "CC" songs that I've been using for this is "Whatever It Takes," by the group Imagine Dragons. Like many of the CC pop songs, I was fairly neutral about the song at first, but with repeated careful listenings and presentations of the song, it's grown on me.
Last Saturday, I presented the song to my HS2-T cohort, because they were returning from their month-long "naesin" hiatus and the song that the student had prepared was one it turned out we'd done before. As usual, I was deeply impressed with these students' amazing listening skills, quickly identifying missing words in the Cloze passage of the song that even I struggled to hear. So we made our way through the song.
As we wrapped up the class, I told the students that I'd grown to like the song.
One of the girls asked, "Why do you like it?"
In fact, I couldn't think of a reason. But I always have to say something, right? That's what I'm known for, and that's my reputation: Jared always has some opinion on anything, and he'll present his reasons in little coherent, organized paragraphs, like a good debate teacher should, right?
So I had to think fast on my feet. Offhandedly, I said, "Because the song has lots of long words in it." This is more or less true. It does have some unexpectedly sesquipedalian vocabulary, which the singer rattles off in rock-rap style quite amazingly.
"For example," I added, spontaneously, "it has the word apostrophe. I never heard a song with the word apostrophe in it, before." This is true, as far as it goes. But then I elaborated, "'Apostrophe' is one of my favorite words." That was pure confabulation, but it supported my argument with a subjective, emotional appeal. Anyway, it satisfied the girl's request for a reason why I liked the song.
But then the girls started saying, "Apostrophe, apostrophe," over and over. "Is that good entertainment for you?" one asked.
Indeed. Good entertainment.
What I'm listening to right now.
Imagine Dragons, "Whatever It Takes."
Lyrics.
Falling too fast to prepare for this Tripping in the world could be dangerous Everybody circling, it's vulturous Negative, nepotist Everybody waiting for the fall of man Everybody praying for the end of times Everybody hoping they could be the one I was born to run, I was born for this Whip, whip Run me like a racehorse Pull me like a ripcord Break me down and build me up I wanna be the slip, slip Word upon your lip, lip Letter that you rip, rip Break me down and build me up Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do whatever it takes 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains Whatever it takes You take me to the top I'm ready for Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do what it takes Always had a fear of being typical Looking at my body feeling miserable Always hanging on to the visual I wanna be invisible Looking at my years like a martyrdom Everybody needs to be a part of 'em Never be enough, I'm the prodigal son I was born to run, I was born for this Whip, whip Run me like a racehorse Pull me like a ripcord Break me down and build me up I wanna be the slip, slip Word upon your lip, lip Letter that you rip, rip Break me down and build me up Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do whatever it takes 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains Whatever it takes You take me to the top, I'm ready for Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do what it takes Hypocritical, egotistical Don't wanna be the parenthetical, hypothetical Working onto something that I'm proud of, out of the box An epoxy to the world and the vision we've lost I'm an apostrophe I'm just a symbol to remind you that there's more to see I'm just a product of the system, a catastrophe And yet a masterpiece, and yet I'm half-diseased And when I am deceased At least I go down to the grave and die happily Leave the body and my soul to be a part of thee I do what it takes Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do whatever it takes 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains Whatever it takes You take me to the top, I'm ready for Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do what it takes
[daily log: walking, 7.5km; carrying heavy box to post office, 0.5km]
Untitled
Dear Empire, I am confused each time I wake inside you.
You invent addictions.
Are you a high-end graveyard or a child?
I see your children dragging their brains along.
Why not a god who loves water and dancing
instead of mirrors that recite your pretty features only?
You wear a different face to each atrocity.
You are un-unified and tangled.
Are you just gluttony?
Are you civilization’s slow grenade?
I am confused each time I’m swallowed by your doors.
- Jesús Castillo (American-Mexican poet, born 1986)
Poem in which I have wisdom. Poem in which I have a father. Poem in which I care. Poem in which I am from another country. Poem in which I Spanish. Poem in which flowers are important. Poem in which I make pretty gestures. Poem in which I am a Deceptacon. Poem in which I am a novelist. Poem in which I use trash. Poem in which I am a baby. Poem in which I swaddle. Poem in which I bathe. Poem in which I am a box. Poem in which its face is everything. Poem in which faces are everywhere. Poem in which I swear. Poem in which I take an oath. Poem in which I make a joke. Poem in which I can’t move. - Paola Capó-García (American poet)
This is a scheduled (automated) blog post, which will go through in the event I'm lacking an internet connection tomorrow when I might normally post.
What I might be hypothetically listening to - I'm really into that oldschool Mexican hip-hop lately, especially Control Machete, so this is a good guess, and a really amazing song, with a lot going on in it, from jazz riffs to Cuban politics, and a nice collaboration with the Mexican alt rock group Cafe Tacvba.
Control Machete, "Danzón - (feat. Café Tacuba)."
Letra.
Si crees que se le está acabando el vuelo, no Esto está comenzando El danzón ya empezó a tocar (pararara) y no ha terminado, no El paso del tiempo va imponiendo el respeto y la calidad va mano a mano con la cantidad, viene (Viene) viene marcando la pauta y el sentimiento Mi vida empieza desde adentro Siempre brota lo que siento Es verdad lo digo y me comprometo Responsable soy y lo lamento Pero creo que es el crecimiento Por ahora está en el mejor momento El amanecer siempre aparece corrigiendo al anochecer y las cosas que se ven nacer Hay que verlas madurar y crecer Viviendo por suerte y clandestinamente Más no estaba muerto solamente ausente Si paré de pronto, nunca indiferente No acabó el danzón y sigue igual que siempre Si continúa el corazón Ritmos unidos sobre ilusión Noche a noche se escucha la voz Los de tambores, acordes y son Mandar obedeciendo en el danzón Songoro cosongo songe be Songoro cosongo de mamey Que se está bailando en cada rincón Que está sonando en tu corazón Suena que suena las cartas sobre la mesa No hay quien detenga esto nadie se mueva Así es, todo tiene su tiempo y si estás dispuesto A sembrar y cultivar hay que ver el fruto madurar Hasta donde puede llegar sólo hay que desarrollar Ampliar, solamente crear es inmenso el lugar Espacio suficiente como para cohabitar Escucha mi tierra hare eco Entre las montañas se hare camino el concreto Señales de humo que van creciendo cada día más Tratando de comunicar Exponiendo los adentros a la luz como van Sin borrar nada sin tapar nada sin ocultar nada Se presentan testimonios reales El sentimiento no es más que puras verdades Reuniendo por suerte y discretamente Más no estaba lejos respectivamente Si lo que se mueve proviene del vientre No acabó el danzón y ha de seguir pa' siempre Si se ha dado la ocasión Ciertos sonidos de imaginación Día a día que visita el sol Los de tambores, acordes y son Mandar obedeciendo en el danzón Songoro cosongo songe be Songoro cosongo de mamey Es guardar silencio de movimiento Ayunar de color y sonido Ser mujer viejo y niño y dejarse llevar...
Control Machete - De Perros Amores. The video is weird, creepy, and borderline NSFW. That said, it's a scene from the eponymous movie for which this song is the title track.
La calidad de las letras disponibles en línea no es muy buena, e hice varios cambios y ajustes, pero todavía no son exactos. Parece que probablemente había mal entendido por lo menos algunas palabras. Específicamente, yo siempre he oído la línea del coro "atardece en ti" como "harta de sentir" - frase que igual incluso tiene su propio sentido dentro de la lógica de la canción. Tal vez la ambigüidad es intencional.
Letras.
Suficientes son los problemas de un solo día Como para preocuparse del futuro (¿Cual?) Olvidamos que para poder llegar al otro lado Hay que empezar derribando el primero de los muros Nos pasamos la vida viendo triunfos y fracasos Conseguidos en tiempo pretérito ¿Cuantas veces se ha detenido el sol a mediodía? (¿Cuantas?) ¿Por que ya no quiere vivir más atardeceres? (¿Cuantas veces?)
El negro dejara de ser negro sin el blanco El bueno dejara de ser bueno sin el malo
Rutina repetitiva que constantemente termina Puede empezar de nuevo da fruto la semilla ¿Por que envejece por que tu piel se va arrugando? El paso del tiempo una broma te está jugando ¿Sabes que la codicia puede dejarte en la ruina? ¿Quieres solucionarlo? ¡borrarlo de tu vida! de perros amores ¡borrarlo de tu vida! de perros amores ¡borrarlo de tu vida!
si alguna vez si alguna vez si alguna vez si alguna vez
Amanece el alma atardece en ti
Amanece el alma atardece en ti
acción es en real voluntad sensación, la velocidad fé e ilusión orgánica coincidencia armónica
No existe ningún borrador mágico para borrar todos los errores cometidos ¿Que pasaría si las flores solo se marchitaran? ¿O solo se quedaran como botones? Duele la realidad, duele la fantasía solo se queda en los sueños ¿Que pasaría si nunca muero? ¿y no tuviera la oportunidad de nacer de nuevo?
Amanece el alma (vuelve otra vez, aparece) atardece en ti (desapareces, te vas y vuelves)
Amanece el alma (vuelve otra vez, aparece) atardece en ti (desapareces, te vas y vuelves)
Amanece el alma (vuelve otra vez, aparece) atardece en ti (desapareces, te vas y vuelves)
Amanece el alma (vuelve otra vez, aparece) atardece en ti (desapareces, te vas y vuelves)
We were doing short-speech responses to speaking questions. The question was, "Do you like your family, or not? What are the best and worst parts of your family?"
6th grader Jaehyeon, incorporating a very long pause as he groped for a possible answer, said, "The best part of my family is... me!"
"I see," I said, mildly amused. "So, what's the worst part of your family, then?" I prompted.
"The worst part is... not me. The other ones."
At that, I laughed. At least he was being consistent.
What I'm listening to right now.
Imagine Dragons, "Believer." This was a song recently chosen by one of my students for a CC class. It's grown on me, as tends to happen when I teach a song to several classes over as many days. I like how it's structured like a good debate speech: "First things first... second things second," etc. I pointed this out to the students and they just groaned.
Lyrics.
First things first I'ma say all the words inside my head I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been, oh ooh The way that things have been, oh ooh Second thing second Don't you tell me what you think that I can be I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea, oh ooh The master of my sea, oh ooh I was broken from a young age Taking my sulking to the masses Write down my poems for the few That looked at me, took to me, shook to me, feeling me Singing from heartache from the pain Taking my message from the veins Speaking my lesson from the brain Seeing the beauty through the ... pain You made me a, you made me a believer, believer (Pain, pain) You break me down, you build me up, believer, believer (Pain) Oh let the bullets fly, oh let them rain My life, my love, my drive, it came from (Pain) You made me a, you made me a believer, believer Third things third Send a prayer to the ones up above All the hate that you've heard has turned your spirit to a dove, oh ooh Your spirit up above, oh ooh I was choking in the crowd Building my rain up in the cloud Falling like ashes to the ground Hoping my feelings, they would drown But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing Inhibited, limited 'Til it broke up and it rained down It rained down, like ... pain You made me a, you made me a believer, believer (Pain, pain) You break me down, you built me up, believer, believer (Pain) I let the bullets fly, oh let them rain My life, my love, my drive, it came from (Pain) You made me a, you made me a believer, believer Last things last By the grace of the fire and the flames You're the face of the future, the blood in my veins, oh ooh The blood in my veins, oh ooh But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing Inhibited, limited 'Til it broke up and it rained down It rained down, like ... pain You made me a, you made me a believer, believer (Pain, pain) You break me down, you built me up, believer, believer (Pain) I let the bullets fly, oh let them rain My life, my love, my drive, it came from (Pain) You made me a, you made me a believer, believer
El viento es un caballo: óyelo cómo corre por el mar, por el cielo.
Quiere llevarme: escucha cómo recorre el mundo para llevarme lejos.
Escóndeme en tus brazos por esta noche sola, mientras la lluvia rompe contra el mar y la tierra su boca innumerable.
Escucha como el viento me llama galopando para llevarme lejos.
Con tu frente en mi frente, con tu boca en mi boca, atados nuestros cuerpos al amor que nos quema, deja que el viento pase sin que pueda llevarme.
Deja que el viento corra coronado de espuma, que me llame y me busque galopando en la sombra, mientras yo, sumergido bajo tus grandes ojos, por esta noche sola descansaré, amor mío.
All essences of sweetness from the white Warm day go up in vapor, when the dark Comes down. Ascends the tune of meadow-lark, Ascends the noon-time smell of grass, when night Takes sunlight from the world, and gives it ease. Mysterious wings have brushed the air; and light Float all the ghosts of sense and sound and sight; The silent hive is echoing the bees. So stir my thoughts at this slow, solemn time. Now only is there certainty for me When all the day's distilled and understood. Now light meets darkness: now my tendrils climb In this vast hour, up the living tree, Where gloom foregathers, and the stern winds brood.
It comes about that the drifting of these curtains Is full of long motions, as the ponderous Deflations of distance; or as clouds Inseparable from their afternoons; Or the changing of light, the dropping Of the silence, wide sleep and solitude Of night, in which all motion Is beyond us, as the firmament, Up-rising and down-falling, bares The last largeness, bold to see. - Wallace Stevens (American poet, 1879-1955)
I recently learned that the famous classic rock song, "Smoke On The Water," by British rockers Deep Purple, was written about events at Montreux, Switzerland, which took place there in 1971 at the same time that the famous Russian-American author Vladimir Nabokov was resident there. It's interesting to imagine Nabokov and the members of Deep Purple interacting in a small French-Swiss town. Nabokov was of a different generation, but he might have been interested in rock music, given his fascination with other aspects of emergent pop culture.
What I'm listening to right now.
Deep Purple, "Smoke On The Water."
We all came out to Montreux On the Lake Geneva shoreline To make records with a mobile We didn't have much time Frank Zappa and the Mothers Were at the best place around But some stupid with a flare gun Burned the place to the ground
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky Smoke on the water
They burned down the gambling house It died with an awful sound Funky Claude was running in and out Pulling kids out the ground When it all was over We had to find another place But Swiss time was running out It seemed that we would lose the race
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky Smoke on the water
We ended up at the Grand Hotel It was empty cold and bare But with the Rolling truck Stones thing just outside Making our music there With a few red lights and a few old beds We make a place to sweat No matter what we get out of this I know, I know we'll never forget
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky Smoke on the water
The mad girl with the staring eyes and long white fingers Hooked in the stones of the wall, The storm-wrack hair and screeching mouth: does it matter, Cassandra, Whether the people believe Your bitter fountain? Truly men hate the truth, they'd liefer Meet a tiger on the road. Therefore the poets honey their truth with lying; but religion— Vendors and political men Pour from the barrel, new lies on the old, and are praised for kindly Wisdom. Poor bitch be wise. No: you'll still mumble in a corner a crust of truth, to men And gods disgusting—you and I, Cassandra.
Well I guess I'm having a hard week. No further comment.
What I'm listening to right now.
Taylor Swift, "Begin Again." She's really quite a talented lyricist, in my opinion. Her language is both contemporarily authentic yet still meets a lot of the traditional criteria of poetic language.
Lyrics.
Took a deep breath in the mirror He didn't like it when I wore high heels But I do
Turn the lock and put my headphones on He always said he didn't get this song but I do, I do
Walked in expecting you'd be late But you got here early and you stand and wave I walk to you
You pull my chair out and help me in And you don't know how nice that is But I do
And you throw your head back laughing Like a little kid I think it's strange that you think I'm funny cause He never did I've been spending the last 8 months Thinking all love ever does Is break and burn and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again
You said you never met one girl who Had as many James Taylor records as you But I do
We tell stories and you don't know why I'm coming off a little shy But I do
And you throw your head back laughing Like a little kid I think it's strange that you think I'm funny cause He never did
I've been spending the last 8 months Thinking all love ever does Is break and burn and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again
And we walked down the block, to my car And I almost brought him up But you start to talk about the movies That your family watches every single Christmas And I want to talk about that And for the first time What's past is past
And you throw your head back laughing Like a little kid I think it's strange that you think I'm funny cause He never did I've been spending the last 8 months Thinking all love ever does Is break and burn and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again
I don't have much to say. I'm going through a rough spot, in terms of lack of creativity and overall poor affect. I'll just plug along with work, which is busy enough.
Meanwhile, what I'm listening to right now.
Neko Case, "In California." The video, incidentally, was directed by a Korean director. There seem to be a lot of those operating in L.A.
Lyrics.
In California I dream of snow And all the places we used to go With the night falling down With the night falling down Now I'm living in Korea Town Waking to the sound of car alarms
I remember your face when I showed you the ticket Said you were happy for me, your heart wasn't in it Just a phone call away Now there's nothing to say As the days roll by, disconnected
In the land where the sun is always shining I'm crying alone, palm trees they laugh at me Another fool playing songs that don't matter For people who chatter endlessly
Another suicide on the 405 The Black Dahlia she smiles and smiles It's the same old town that bled her dry One more starlet one more time Bound to make it do or die Talk a walk to Bonnie Brae Try to wash these dreams away They try to tell me L.A is beautiful when it rains
The Zen priest says I am everything I am not. In order to stop resisting, I must not attempt to stop resisting. I must believe there is no need to believe in thoughts. Oblivious to appetites that appear to be exits, and also entrances. What is there to hoard when the worldly realm has no permanent vacancies? Ten years I’ve taken to this mind fasting. My shadow these days is bare. It drives a stranger, a good fool. Nothing can surprise. Clarity is just questioning having eaten its fill.
I chose the bed downstairs by the sea-window for a good death-bed When we built the house, it is ready waiting, Unused unless by some guest in a twelvemonth, who hardly suspects Its latter purpose. I often regard it, With neither dislike nor desire; rather with both, so equalled That they kill each other and a crystalline interest Remains alone. We are safe to finish what we have to finish; And then it will sound rather like music When the patient daemon behind the screen of sea-rock and sky Thumps with his staff, and calls thrice: 'Come, Jeffers.'
My blog-hosting server was down today for quite a while. So this post is late (at least, relative to the posting schedule I try to keep for myself. But here it is. I don't have much to say.
Several of my students were singing, with passable competence, a song I recognized from 25 years ago. I was surprised. But it turned out the song had been hijacked as the soundtrack for some comedy meme video that was circulating - it wasn't that they'd decided to go retro or anything. 'Retro' is not an interesting cultural space to Koreans, in general, in my experience.
What I'm listening to right now.
4 Non Blondes, "What's Up." I remember this song as being part of my "soundtrack" during the time I was working nights at UPS while doing some graduate coursework at the University of Minnesota, and when Michelle and I got married. I think she liked this song, too.
Lyrics.
Twenty-five years and my life is still Trying to get up that great big hill of hope For a destination And I realized quickly when I knew I should That the world was made up of this brotherhood of man For whatever that means And so I cry sometimes When I'm lying in bed Just to get it all out What's in my head And I am feeling a little peculiar And so I wake in the morning And I step outside And I take a deep breath and I get real high And I scream at the top of my lungs What's going on? And I say, hey hey hey hey I said hey, what's going on? And I say, hey hey hey hey I said hey, what's going on? ooh ooh and I try, oh my god do I try I try all the time, in this institution And I pray, oh my god do I pray I pray every single day For a revolution And so I cry sometimes When I'm lying in bed Just to get it all out What's in my head And I am feeling a little peculiar And so I wake in the morning And I step outside And I take a deep breath and I get real high And I scream at the top of my lungs What's going on? And I say, hey hey hey hey I said hey, what's going on? And I say, hey hey hey hey I said hey, what's going on?
There once was Moby, a white whale and some narrator named Ishmael and these guys on a boat that soon failed to float with digressions, and prose that was stale.
- this is my own "retelling in limerick form" of a well-known work of literature, quite inspired by this post on the languagehat blog, in turn inspired by some discussion on a site called wordorigins. I spent a good hour browsing the comments and links for these two sites. Entertaining. My favorites, seen at those links:
There once was a girl named Lenore And a bird and a bust and a door And a guy with depression And a whole lot of questions And the bird always says "Nevermore"
... and:
“Utnapishtim,” cried Gilgamesh, “Why Do you get to live, while I die?” “I can see that you’re vexed,” [There’s a gap in the text] The walls of Uruk are quite high!
I also enjoyed this observation, by a commenter named Trond Engen:
"A limerick needs a dose of offbeacity or else it will often sound flat."
That comment, in turn, inspired another work of my own:
If you want limericks to have a capacity to show anything more than verbosity and to thusly afford some readers unbored Then they'll need to include some offbeacity
Sesame Street Co., "The Alligator King." This is actually a really good song. Yet despite being from Sesame Street, it's probably too hard (in terms of vocabulary) to teach to my students for whom it would age-appropriate.
Lyrics.
One two three four five six seven! Said the Alligator King to his seven sons, "I'm feeling mighty down. Whichever of you can cheer me up Will get to wear my crown."
His first son brought seven oyster pearls From the bottom of the China Sea.
The second gave him seven statues of girls With clocks where their stomachs should be.
The third son gave him seven rubies From the sheikdom Down There Beneath. The King thought the rubies were cherries, And he broke off seven of his teeth.
The fourth son tried to cheer him up With seven lemon drops. The King said, "I'm sorry son, Since that ruby episode, I just haven't got the chops."
The fifth son brought the King perfume In seven fancy silver jars; The King took a whiff, and he broke out in spots 'Cause it smelled like cheap cigars.
The sixth son gave him seven diamond rings To wear upon his toes. The King snagged his foot on the royal red rug And crumpled up his nose.
The seventh son of the Alligator King Was a thoughtful little whelp. He said, "Daddy, appears to me That you could use a little help."
Said the Alligator King to his seventh son, "My son, you win the crown. You didn't bring me diamonds or rubies, but You helped me up when I was down. Take the crown; it's yours, my son. I hope you don't mind the dents. I got it on sale at a discount store - Cost me all of seven cents!"
No fiction was it of the antique age: A sky-blue stone, within this sunless cleft, Is of the very footmarks unbereft Which tiny Elves impressed; - on that smooth stage Dancing with all their brilliant equipage In secret revels - haply after theft Of some sweet Babe - Flower stolen, and coarse Weed left For the distracted Mother to assuage Her grief with, as she might! - But, where, oh! where Is traceable a vestige of the notes That ruled those dances wild in character? - Deep underground? Or in the upper air, On the shrill wind of midnight? or where floats O'er twilight fields the autumnal gossamer?
I had some weird dreams. I was in some kind of future-dystopian world where everything was subdivided into these enclosed hive-like spaces, but each space was the size of a city. So you could go from city to city via these doors in the hive walls. And most of the cities were run down, post-apocalyptic places, with gangs of wild children and insane people running things.
So I was trying to find the city where life was tolerable. It was like traversing a scaled-up version Borges' infinite library, but each room, instead of being a small study stocked with books, was a city. This might be a nice conceit for a novel. I'll get right on that.
What I'm listening to right now.
Cold, "Bleed."
Lyrics.
I'm feeling crossed, I take it inside Burn up the pain, my thoughts are strange Just like the things I used to know Just like the tree that fell, I heard it If art is still inside I feel it
I wanna' bleed, show the world all that I have inside (I wanna' show you all the pain) I wanna' scream, let the blood flow that keeps me alive (I wanna' make you feel the same)
Take all these strings, they call my veins Wrap them around, every fucking thing Presence of people not for me Well I must remain in tune forever My love is music, I will marry melody
I wanna' bleed show the world all that I have inside (I wanna' show you all the pain) I wanna' scream let the blood flow that keeps me alive (I wanna' make you feel the same) I said I wanna bleed I wanna feel (Show you all the pain) I wanna scream I wanna feel (Make you feel the same)
Won't you let me take you for a ride You can stop the world, try to change my mind Won't you let me show you how it feels You can stop the world, but you won't change me I need music I need music I need music To set me free To let me bleed
So these guys made a pop song in Italian complaining about people's failure to use the subjunctive properly. On the one hand, this is grammar peevery, and thus a linguist (such as I pretend to be on occasion) can't really be expected to approve. Grammar peevery is in fact diametrically opposed to rational, descriptive linguistics. Nevertheless, peevery can be entertaining, and it's funny to see Italians singing about grammar.
Cosa sto ascoltando al momento.
Lorenzo Baglioni, "Il Congiuntivo."
Testo.
[Intro] Che io sia Che io fossi Che io sia stato Ouooh
[Strofa 1] Oggigiorno chi corteggia incontra sempre più difficoltà Coi verbi al congiuntivo Quindi è tempo di riaprire il manuale di grammatica, che è Che è molto educativo Gerundio, imperativo Infinito, indicativo Molti tempi e molte coniugazioni, ma
[Ritornello] Il congiuntivo ha un ruolo distintivo E si usa per eventi che non sono reali È relativo a ciò che è soggettivo A differenza di altri modi verbali E adesso che lo sai anche tu Non lo sbagli più
[Strofa 2] Nel caso che il periodo sia della tipologia dell’irrealtà (si sa) Ci vuole il congiuntivo Tipo “Se tu avessi usato il congiuntivo trapassato Con lei non sarebbe andata poi male” Condizionale... Segui la consecutio temporum
[Ritornello] Il congiuntivo ha un ruolo distintivo E si usa per eventi che non sono reali È relativo a ciò che è soggettivo A differenza di altri modi verbali E adesso che lo sai anche tu Non lo sbagli più
[Bridge] E adesso ripassiamo un po' di verbi al congiuntivo: Che io sia (presente) Che io fossi (imperfetto) Che io sia stato (passato) Che fossi stato (trapassato) Che io abbia (presente) Che io avessi (imperfetto) Che abbia avuto (passato) Che avessi avuto (trapassato) Che io sarei...
[Ritornello] Il congiuntivo come ti dicevo Si usa in questo tipo di costrutto sintattico Dubitativo, quasi riflessivo Descritto dal seguente esempio didattico E adesso che lo sai anche tu Non lo sbagli più
My friend Bob asked me if I could help him make sense of the lyrics to this 18th century Mexican musical composition. Unfortunately I don't think I was much use. Anyway it was interesting to try, and interesting to see what was going on culturally in Mexico City in the 1700's.
What I'm listening to right now.
Manuel de Sumaya, "Sol-fa de Pedro," performed by Chanticleer.
Letra.
Estribillo Sol-fa de Pedro es el llanto. Oiga, el mundo sí es así. Pues saben unir los gorgeos de sus voces, lo duro de su sentir, del cromático explicar, del blando y del duro herir; qu'en el llanto dice Pedro. He hallado lo que perdí del sol la vez que lloré porque me alumbró él a mí.
Copla 1 Vengan, vengan a oír, verán el entonar en el gemir. Vengan a oír del contrapunto lo dulce y subtil al sol la vez que lloré porque me alumbró él a mí.
Estribillo Sol-fa de Pedro es el llanto. Oiga, el mundo si es así. Pues saben unir los gorgeos de sus voces, lo duro de su sentir, del cromático explicar, del blando y del duro herir; qu'en el llanto dice Pedro. He hallado lo que perdí del sol la vez que lloré porque me alumbró él a mí.
Copla 2 Desde el ut la pena mía me subió cuando caí, a la perdida gloria y a mí la gloria sin fin.
Estribillo Sol-fa de Pedro es el llanto. Oiga, el mundo si es así. Pues saben unir los gorgeos de sus voces, lo duro de su sentir, del cromático explicar, del blando y del duro herir; qu'en el llanto dice Pedro. He hallado lo que perdí del sol la vez que lloré porque me alumbró él a mí.
- Manuel de Zumaya (compositor mexicano, 1678 – 1755)
I suppose you could say I'm a bit of a fan of the Japanese polymathic popstar Genki Sudo. I've posted atleast3 of his videos on this here blog before.
He and his group WORLD ORDER (all caps, please) made a new music video, darkly satirizing America's twitterer-in-chief.
What I'm listening to right now.
WORLD ORDER, "Let's Start World War 3."
歌詞 (I'm not sure this all the lyrics, but it might be - the song's actual words seem pretty short).
"We assembled here today are issuing a new decree to be heard in every city in every foreign capital and in every hall of power. From this day forward a new vision will govern our land. From this day forward it's going to be only America First. America First!"
つまらない日々に 終わりを告げる男が 世界を救うため この世に遂に現れた お金持ちで背も高い プロレスもできて頭も良い 映画に出てくるような 本物のヒーロー Let’s start World War 3 We’re gonna have a party
あなたの金髪に 青い瞳に憧れ 僕らはどこまでも ついていきます Let’s start World War 3 We’re gonna have a party
"Let’s grab them by the pussy"
Let’s start World War 3 Can't break out from this feeling Let’s start World War 3
"We will make America wealthy again We will make America proud again We will make America safe again And yes, together We will make America great again"
Translation of the Japanese part above (from the subtitles).
On a boring day A man who speaks of the end and wants to save the world finally appeared He's rich and tall And has a mind that can even understand WWE Like from a real hero Right out of a film
I yearn for your blonde hair and blue eyes Wherever you go We will follow you
