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.
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
Childish Gambino (AKA Donald Glover) has a new song / video out. It's quite remarkable, and has received high critical praise from important media™. There is a detailed parsing of the video and song at Huffington Post, for example.
It's a rap song. It's also a dance composition. It's cinematography and poetry. It's also hefty, deep and dark social criticism. Make of it what you will. I'm impressed.
What I'm listening to right now.
Childish Gambino, "This is America." Is this America?
[Bridge: Childish Gambino & Young Thug] We just wanna party Party just for you We just want the money Money just for you I know you wanna party Party just for me Girl, you got me dancin' (yeah, girl, you got me dancin') Dance and shake the frame We just wanna party (yeah) Party just for you (yeah) We just want the money (yeah) Money just for you (you) I know you wanna party (yeah) Party just for me (yeah) Girl, you got me dancin' (yeah, girl, you got me dancin') Dance and shake the frame (you)
[Chorus: Childish Gambino] This is America Don't catch you slippin' up Don't catch you slippin' up Look what I'm whippin' up This is America (woo) Don't catch you slippin' up Don't catch you slippin' up Look what I'm whippin' up
[Verse 1: Childish Gambino, Blocboy JB, Slim Jxmmi, Young Thug, & 21 Savage] This is America (skrrt, skrrt, woo) Don't catch you slippin' up (ayy) Look at how I'm livin' now Police be trippin' now (woo) Yeah, this is America (woo, ayy) Guns in my area (word, my area) I got the strap (ayy, ayy) I gotta carry 'em Yeah, yeah, I'ma go into this (ugh) Yeah, yeah, this is guerilla (woo) Yeah, yeah, I'ma go get the bag Yeah, yeah, or I'ma get the pad Yeah, yeah, I'm so cold like yeah (yeah) I'm so dope like yeah (woo) We gon' blow like yeah (straight up, uh)
[Refrain: Choir & Childish Gambino] Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody You go tell somebody Grandma told me Get your money, Black man (get your money) Get your money, Black man (get your money) Get your money, Black man (get your, Black man) Get your money, Black man (get your, Black man) Black man
[Chorus: Childish Gambino, Slim Jxmmi, & Young Thug] This is America (woo, ayy) Don't catch you slippin' up (woo, woo, don't catch you slippin', now) Don't catch you slippin' up (ayy, woah) Look what I'm whippin' up (Slime!) This is America (yeah, yeah) Don't catch you slippin' up (woah, ayy) Don't catch you slippin' up (ayy, woo) Look what I'm whippin' up (ayy)
[Verse 2: Childish Gambino, Quavo, Young Thug, & 21 Savage] Look how I'm geekin' out (hey) I'm so fitted (I'm so fitted, woo) I'm on Gucci (I'm on Gucci) I'm so pretty (yeah, yeah) I'm gon' get it (ayy, I'm gon' get it) Watch me move (blaow) This a celly (ha) That's a tool (yeah) On my Kodak (woo, Black) Ooh, know that (yeah, know that, hold on) Get it (get it, get it) Ooh, work it (21) Hunnid bands, hunnid bands, hunnid bands (hunnid bands) Contraband, contraband, contraband (contraband) I got the plug in Oaxaca (woah) They gonna find you like blocka (blaow)
[Refrain: Choir, Childish Gambino, & Young Thug] Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody America, I just checked my following list and You go tell somebody You mothafuckas owe me Grandma told me Get your money, Black man (black man) Get your money, Black man (black man) Get your money, Black man (get your, Black man) Get your money, Black man (get your, Black man) Black man (One, two, three, get down) Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody You go tell somebody Grandma told me, "Get your money" Get your money, Black man (Black man) Get your money, Black man (Black man) Get your money, Black man (Black man) Get your money, Black man (Black man) Black man
[Outro: Young Thug] You just a Black man in this world You just a barcode, ayy You just a Black man in this world Drivin' expensive foreigns, ayy You just a big dawg, yeah I kenneled him in the backyard No probably ain't life to a dog For a big dog
This exchange actually happened in a 7th grade advanced class.
Julie: I don't like smart people James: I'm smart! Julie: So I don't like YOU. ... Tobias: That doesn't make sense. ... James (glaring at Tobias): Hey!
I found this incredibly funny, not to mention indicative a lot of cleverness on the parts of James and Tobias. Yet when I tried to explain it to my coworkers, we got bogged down in trying to parse the premises and implications of the statements. It felt like a kind of logic class for standup comedians, where the students were not all native to the same language.
So, here's my question for logic students: Why is Tobias's statement a potential insult toward James?
I gave up, in the end, in explaining it to my coworkers. But I had laughed hard during the class, and the boys were clearly intentional enough in their humor that they were pleased with the appreciation I showed them.
"I am my choices. I cannot not choose. If I do not choose, that is still a choice. If faced with inevitable circumstances, we still choose how we are in those circumstances." - While this quote is widely attributed (as an English translation) to Jean-Paul Sartre, I can't seem to validate it in any kind of original French-language text. Certainly he said something similar, though.
Ōoka Tadasuke (1677–1752) was a Japanese samurai and bureaucrat during the shogunate of Tokugawa Yoshimune. He served as a magistrate of Edo (Tokyo), and his roles included chief of police, judge and jury. He has evolved into a kind of folk hero, as an archetypically fair and honest judge. There is a famous story called "The Case of the Stolen Smell." Ōoka heard the case of a paranoid innkeeper who accused a poor student of literally stealing the fumes of his cooking by eating when the innkeeper was cooking to flavor his dull food. Although his colleagues advised Ōoka to throw the case out as ridiculous, he decided to hear the case. The judge resolved the matter by ordering the student to pass the money he had in one hand to his other and ruling that the price of the smell of food is the sound of money. (Above adapted from the wikipedia).
I've been trying to eat more beans or other legumes and vegetable protein.
After my cancer, my weight dropped below 70 kg, but four years later I have completely bounced back to my pre-cancer weight equilibrium, which, frankly, I think is just a bit heavier than my ideal, which I'd put at around 75 kg, maybe. I'm currently about 84 kg.
Back in 2006-2007, when I successfully dropped from around 120 kg down to 80 kg, I did so through three main lifestyle changes: 1) walking everywhere as my primary mode of transport, 2) reducing stress by quitting that horrible job in Long Beach, and 3) eating an almost entirely vegan diet.
So, being vegan is not easy, and especially in Korea. In fact, I have no ideological interest in being vegan - therefore, for example, I have no issues with eating meat when out with coworkers or friends or whatever. Nevertheless, I recognize that less meat is probably healthier, and so I try to balance my daily diet toward vegetable proteins. The hardest thing, always, has been reducing or eliminating cheese intake - despite my lack of taste buds, there are still aspects of cheese that I enjoy, including the satiety it grants, the strong, nostalgic smell of things like mac and cheese or pizza, and whatever 'mouthfeel' is, I still experience that, too.
Anyway, all of that is background to mention I was going eat some beans, today, with my rice. And although I sometimes cook my beans from scratch, I also sometimes get lazy and use canned beans. The Korean market for canned beans doesn't run further than simple "pork and beans" type things, or I guess I've seen the native red beans pre-cooked in cans, but of course that product is painfully sweetened - like the red bean paste that is so popular here - I find such sugary prepared legumes almost unbearable (if you're not familiar with it, imagine some Mexican-style refried beans, with a cup of sugar added for good measure). So mostly if I buy canned beans I prefer to get Anglosphere brands (i.e. US or Australian products in Korean supermarkets). They're hardly expensive and easy to find, and so I buy them frequently.
Now, to talk about what I really wanted to talk about: I wanted to open my can of beans, imported from Australia.
Most canned foods, these days, have those "pop tops" - you pull the tab, the can opens. I don't, therefore, own a can opener.
But this can of beans I'd bought didn't - it had the old style top: just your plain surface tin can.
The convenience store downstairs in my building sells can openers - I've seen them there, in a little display with some other common simple housewares. But I have a different approach: a very "low tech" approach, that might be familiar to my grandfather's generation.
My pocket knife (a "Swiss Army Knife" as they're called) has as a can opener tab. It's quite useful, though entirely old-fashioned. You have to develop the right rhythm of push, tilt, advance, retreat, but you can walk it around an old-style can in about the same amount of time as with a normal manual can-opener.
It occurred to me that despite being fully embedded in the 21st Century, with my computer stuff and my smartphone and my highly urban existence on the edges of the Seoul megalopolis, I still use this antiquated method of opening my canned food. And it's worth observing that that pocket knife is now 30 years old - I received it as a gift in 1988.
I snapped a picture (right). The can that I wanted to open, on the left, and a more typical 21st century can on the right, with my low-tech solution below.
Currently I am a long-term expat. I observe my home country, the US, from a distance both psychological and physical. The whole "gun thing" seems both tragic and absurd, from my perspective. I currently live in a country with one of the lowest incidences of gun violence in the world - a cursory examination of a list of countries by incidence of gun deaths shows South Korea as being the 3rd lowest, only after Hong Kong and Japan.
Anyway, it's pretty safe here, from gun violence. I have sometimes wondered if there exists any kind of "gun culture" in South Korea. Actually, I speculate that there does, in fact, exist such a culture - but it would be inextricably linked up with the military. Since military service for males is obligatory, that means that, in theory, at least, every Korean adult male in the entire country has fired a gun at some point in his life, and the vast majority have probably qualified with a rifle. That's interesting, vis-a-vis the non-military culture, right? It makes it a far different situation than either Hong Kong or Japan, where military service is, in the former instance non-existent, and in the latter instance, extremely rare and utterly voluntary (given Japan's relatively small military, in per capita terms, compared to South Korea). What it means is that any Korean man who wants to "play" with guns in a safe and responsible manner has an easy way to do so: he can continue to serve as a "reservist" - which many Korean men do. Then he can go out on the range and shoot as much as he wants, several times a year, I can imagine.
My own experience with guns is broader than you might expect, given my liberal white privilege. I qualified with a rifle during my Army service - as an expert, even - though I sometimes felt I had simply had some very lucky days on my qualifying days. I had even gone on to take the first steps on qualifying with a pistol, as well, before I mustered out.
Further, despite having avoided seeing any actual action in the first Iraq war (1991) - which took place during my military service, and which I watched on the barracks televisions while stationed here in South Korea at that time - I have nevertheless had the experience of having been shot at, directly. I was lucky, in that the man shooting at me was too drunk to aim well. I was not hurt. There is no doubt I might have died - I consider it one of the several times in my life when I have had to look death right in the eye.
Additionally, I once witnessed a man being shot dead. This was during my time traveling in El Salvador, in 1986 - which was during the civil war. It was not clear to me if I witnessing a crime or an act of "enforcement" - there were plenty of uniforms present but it wasn't clear to me if the uniforms were military or rebel forces, and how it all worked. I suspect that during the Salvadorean civil war of that era, the line between crime and military enforcement was pretty blurry. My main reaction was to get away from the situation as quickly and as unobstrusively as I could manage. I boarded a bus and let it take me away.
In the end, my view of guns and gun violence is complicated. I think I have no issue with the type of allegedly draconian gun laws as exist in Japan or South Korea. I think it hardly makes these societies "less free" - there may in fact be ways that these societies are "less free" than in the US, but I don't think the relaxing of gun controls would impact that in any positive way. My libertarian tendencies are undeniable, however. In principle, I have strong sympathies with the "2nd ammendment types" who will brook no infringement of individual rights. My biggest concern with those people is that they are, almost without exception, utter hypocrites - they are libertarians on gun control, but if you ask them to opine on issues like women's rights or immigration, they are all about control and restrictions. This is "libertarianism for me but not for thee." It makes me much less sympathetic to their position - when I find mostly hypocrites holding a given political position, my gut-level response is to assume this is strong evidence of some kind of flaw in that political position.
I will conclude with a humorous video I ran across - a tongue-in-cheek "European perspective" on the American gun problem, which could probably just as easily represent the typical (informed) Korean position.
There is an immense epic poetic tradition in Tibet and Central Asia about a mythical King Gesar. There are thousands of variants in dozens of diverse languages and cultures, and the King seems to not really have been a specific historical person, although the name, at least, has been linked to the adoption among some Turkic peoples of the steppes of the title "Keser" or "Gesar" from the Byzantines, who continued using the title "Caesar" until their downfall, and who had many contacts with Mongols, Turks, and other Central Asian peoples through their long history. This has parallel in the Slavs' adoption of the same title from the same source, which became the modern word 'czar.'
I found an interesting translation-in-progresson this website, of the Gesar epic, by a scholar of Buryat shamanism. Buryat is an ethnic group from northern Mongolia and the Baikal region of Siberia. As far as I can figure out, the scholar, Sarangerel Odigon, is working directly from some oral source - that is, the English translation is just a running translation of the oral tradition. That seems pretty cool, in itself.
In case you haven't noticed, I've been quite 'into' Central Asian cultures, lately, especially their literary production. So here is a tiny sample of this fascinating epic poem, one of the few which still has an active performative tradition in multiple cultures. For reference, I found a Russian translation of some version of it, here. I'm sure there are interesting original-language versions out there on the web, somewhere, but my google-fu is not strong enough to find it.
In the earliest of early times, In the most ancient of periods, In the first of first times, In the time of the beginning; When the highest bright heaven Was swirling with fog, When the earth below Was covered with dirt and dust; When the grass had not yet begun to grow, When the broad long rivers had not begun to flow, When the great Milk Sea was but a small puddle, When the world mountain Humber Ula was a hillock, When the sandalwood tree at the forest's edge Had not yet put out branches, When the greyish deer was but a fawn; When the giant yellow snake was but a little worm, When the giant fish were only little minnows; When the earth did not have any continents, When the center of the universe was not yet finished; When the great giant bird was small as a crow, When the first horse was the size of a foal; When the khan's many roads were not built, When the people's many roads were not laid out; This was a good age, This was a beautiful time It has been said!..
When the many gods of the heaven did not compete with each other, When the many tenger of the skies did not quarrel with each other; When the many tenger of the west were not arrogant, When black and white were not different from each other; When the many tenger of the east did not argue, When appearance and color were not differentiated; When Esege Malaan Tenger was not an old man, When Ekhe Yuuren Ibii was not an old woman; When Han Hormasta Tengeri did not brag of his strength, When black and white were not estranged; When Atai Ulaan Tengeri did not boast of his greatness, When hatred and jealousy did not sow discord; When those of Oyodol Sagaan Tengeri had not yet gathered, When those of Oyor Sagaan Tengeri had not yet flowed over; It was a time of beautiful things! So it is written on the thin paper!
The above is a fragment of a poem in the Sakha (Yakut) language, and is part of the Yakuts national traditional epic poetic oeuvre, Olonkho.
Obviously, I don't know the Sakha (Yakut) language. On a really good day I command a few hundred words of rusty college Russian, at best.
But I like unusual languages. And I like poetry. And, if you accept the controversial Altaic hypothesis, perhaps Sakha is a very distant relative of Ancient Korean. Anyway, they're sort of in the same cultural neighborhood, albeit a bit farther north, in east-central Siberia: today it is -41 C in Yakutsk, while here in sunny 고양시 we have a balmy -8 C.
I came across a translation of the poem on the blog of the philosopher and polymathic philologist Justin Erik Halldór Smith. Smith is currently a professor at the University of Paris 7 but he is a native of Northern California - like myself and, furthermore, he is of my generation, more or less - and thus he is someone whose occasional reflections on his youth in the green-hilled, hippie-infested comarcas of The City [San Francisco] have always had exceptional resonances for me. Anyway, his translation is strikingly good poetry, in itself, and, I presume, faithful to the original, given his scholarly abilities.
Under that primordial shining and lucid sky, where the two-legged, having a mortal body and hollow bones, knowing war and battle, acquainted with strife and discord, having a vulnerable brain and a trembling soul, must be fruitful — with the cool windy western sky, with the good generous eastern sky, with the insatiable thirsty southern sky, with the impetuous whirling northern sky, with the shivering breadth of the sea, with the heaving depth of the sea, with the swelling abyss of the sea, with the twirling axis of the sea, with the unbounded reach of the sea, with the revered aiy [nature spirits] who lie beyond, with the radiant aiy [nature spirits] who guard, with abundant yellow nectar, with generous white nectar, encircling us in the manifold of stars, in the herds of countless stars, in the traces of rare stars, with the full moon accompanying it, with the bright sun leading it, with purifying roars of thunder, with the smite of bolts of lightning, with moistening cloud-bursts of rain, with sultry hot breath, with the drying out and again the replenishing of waters, with the falling down and again the growing up of woods, with inexhaustible generous gifts, with origins from gently sloping mountains, with gardens from earthen mountains, with a hot and giving summer, with the turning axis of the center, with four converging sides, with such high firmament, what you tread on, will not give way,
what you rattle, will not lurch, with such an unfathomable breadth, what you press, will not bend, eight-chambered, eight-sided, with six circles, with disquiet and worry, in luxurious attire and ornament, serenely peaceful, always-existing Mother Earth, shining like a silver buckle on a horned hat with a feather.
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 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).
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.
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."
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.
