As you can imagine, I have been most busy as of late. I rarely get back to my apartment before 9:45ish(2145ish). Such is for the persuit of higher knowledge, whatever that may be.
Despite all this learning, despite reading philosophy and literature, I still wonder sometimes, as I think everyone should, what it means. I study quantum physics, we talk about wave particle duality, how you can describe the world with harmonic oscillators, but then some equations can never be solved accurately, only a handful. Then you talk about a problem like determining the diffusion of helium out of a balloon. That problem has no analytic solution. We know everything, yet we know nothing.
I read Heidegger. He seeks to lay bare for all to see the structures that structure our own being. What does that mean? It implies that being is. It implies that these structures exist yes, but beyond that he is privileging the idea that humans can understand and see it. See here in an arbitrary sense.
Walking back I laughed. It is all tinged with a bit of bullshit. I could wake up as someone else's dream. I could die tomorrow and that be it. I lose consciousness forever. I could go to heaven. My dog doesn't care about it.
But even when I say I make it matter because I want it to, I embark down a philosophical track.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Updates
I just realised that the photo in the post below was to large and you couldn't see what I was talking about. But whatever, it doesn't really matter to much.
So life is laughing. Take that quote as you please. I just watched Amelie. It seems she has a cult following, but I have begun to see why. Imagine a world where everyone paid attention to the it, the world. For example, I went to a walmart (yuck) I hate them, but while in it I saw the most wonderous things. I saw the grandfather with his grandson walking to the pharmacy in their sunday best, obviously just coming from church. I saw an old couple holding hands while walking down the various aisles. I saw the young child's face cringe when her mother lit a cigarette.
Life is filled with wonders that just seize you. They grap your heart and your head and pull you in while pushing you out. If that makes any sense. For example, on la blogotheque takeaway shows for EagleSeagull when the blonde girl rolls her eyes up and looks to her left. Or perhaps in the recording of "I left my Heart in San Franscisco" when the music falls as Dean Martin sings "High on a hill, it calls to me." The moments that encapsulate and define a moment. A look, a glance, a touch. Even just the realisation of something. A soft crinkle around the eyes, little freckles you never noticed, a new pair of socks.
Just breathe it in.
So life is laughing. Take that quote as you please. I just watched Amelie. It seems she has a cult following, but I have begun to see why. Imagine a world where everyone paid attention to the it, the world. For example, I went to a walmart (yuck) I hate them, but while in it I saw the most wonderous things. I saw the grandfather with his grandson walking to the pharmacy in their sunday best, obviously just coming from church. I saw an old couple holding hands while walking down the various aisles. I saw the young child's face cringe when her mother lit a cigarette.
Life is filled with wonders that just seize you. They grap your heart and your head and pull you in while pushing you out. If that makes any sense. For example, on la blogotheque takeaway shows for EagleSeagull when the blonde girl rolls her eyes up and looks to her left. Or perhaps in the recording of "I left my Heart in San Franscisco" when the music falls as Dean Martin sings "High on a hill, it calls to me." The moments that encapsulate and define a moment. A look, a glance, a touch. Even just the realisation of something. A soft crinkle around the eyes, little freckles you never noticed, a new pair of socks.
Just breathe it in.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Silly Brad
Notice the hand on the clutch as he is turning. Our boy Brad obviously doesn't know how to ride a bike. That is all, for now. Back to work.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Oboma/ 12 Course Dinner
This past week I served a twelve course meal. I prepared everything, all the while teaching my patron/ assistant how to cook. The courses ranged from beef sirloin to sea food to chicken cordon bleu to fried artichoke hearts, cheesecake and homemade tirimisu. It was a wonderful night filled with spirits and goof fun...until the police arrived.
It appears as though Obama reads books. At least from his speach. This is really exciting. I am optimistic, but I shall reserve opinion until the cogs of government start to turn in the right direction.
It appears as though Obama reads books. At least from his speach. This is really exciting. I am optimistic, but I shall reserve opinion until the cogs of government start to turn in the right direction.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
When the demons come out
I remember some guy said that he writes surely as everyone else, to keep the demons at bay. Interesting idea I will admit, but a bit sinister, a bit depressing, and a bit limiting to my tastes. Our reasons for writing are many, but personally I do flee to writing and nature for solace when I get sad or depressed. Writing and the stars at night especially.
I had plans to write about the nature of the decision. About how a decision is limiting, that we exist in the realm of infinite possibility, the realm of thought prior to a decision. Everything we can ever imagine can exist. However, it is in the act of making the decision, of limiting oneself and dedication to a choice that something can actually occur. The problem with the infinity of man is that in the infinity of his own possibility he is infinite. We all are infinite, so what then does that mean. If you always keep holding a mirror in front of a mirror you can see till infinity (if it can be reached, which it cannot, for our sake) . It is all about making the decision. Perhaps this is what Keats was talking about in "Ode to a Grecian Urn." The poet seems to be lost in his own ruminations about the urn and what it says. He looks at the figures running and "living" mutely on the surface of the urn, yet he can't figure out what it is saying. Then, the urn, it seems, begins to ask him to leave thought behind, to jump into writing. To "tease out of thought" and thus write the poem. The urn can't speak and tell its meaning, neither can the poet, but he can act. Then through this act he can seek that meaning and through telling the story he can tell a bit of his own. Then through the writing and reading of the poem more possibility can be explored.
The decision gives power. It is the condition for us to move forward.
Now where does this leave me. Oddly enough I am listening to Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek." Biography is always a bit easy. But often it isn't. I am a bit apt to get sad. It just happens. The problem with philosophy is that it burns you out. Every now and then you just have to ask the question, why does it even matter. I can talk about the notion of the object petit a and castration anxiety, I can talk about differance and the supplement and always already, the phenomenological of the wine glass, even about fate and free will, the categorical imperative, utilitarian calculus, the realm of ideas, the cave, the pharmakon, poesis vs mimesis, the discipline, the aesthetic, etc etc etc. But then you have to ask your self the question, WTF?
Me writing this post, drinking a glass of water--a rational agent has to assume that he has free will even though causality would seem to point that free will cannot exist. Does it matter. Not too much. Even political philosophy. Does man have innate rights or are they rights as citizen and thus he has no rights as man if he is not a citizen. Important yes, but when you get down to the brass tacks, you don't have to know. We never know. We know we don't know.
I never decide on anything. That is my problem. The problem with being good at nearly everything is that you never get burned. You never fail bad, fall on yourself. I was the guy who sat in the back, didn't study, managed to do well. I go through phases where I will hyper learn things just because. From quantum physics, to forgeign languages, to the piano, to the middle east, to history, from engineering to literature to philosophy...the problem here is that I never choose anything, maybe only the philosophy of life. I never wanted to make a decision. I still don't!
Odd. Probably not. I can never stand the thought of doing something that I detest. For me it is the easy way out. If you never decide on the big choices you can never be wrong. Gasp. Herein lies my fascination with the movie "Good Will Hunting." Smart guy, but he cuts everything off early for fear of failing and thus never did anything. He leaves behind love, jobs, his intellect. Now he turns it around and "goes to see about a girl" but the point is still the same. However as an aside, my favourite scene in that movie is when Will and his southie boys go into a Harvard bar and as the Ben Affleck character flirts with a Harvard girl the snooty Harvard grad student. He starts to drill Ben's character in an attempt to show how ignorant Ben's character is. Good Will pops up and starts ti peg the guy...1st year grad student reading a marxist historian, the flavour of the year, then he would move to Lemon then Wood, etc. The grad student retorts by starting to quote a critque (unattributed of course) about Lemon which Will finishes and then asks the grad student if that's how he gets girls, by memorizing obscure texts and then repeating them to girls. Then the whole 150 grand for an education he could have recieved i n $1.50 in late fees at the library is priceless (and true?).
I digress.
Time to make decisions? Yes. Always time. Time, time,time.
On a lighter note, when I was picking up my computer, I peeked over the desk to look at what the technicians were doing. It turns out they were watching YouTube tutorials about how to repair laptops. I mean, I guess that is good...staying up to date.
I had plans to write about the nature of the decision. About how a decision is limiting, that we exist in the realm of infinite possibility, the realm of thought prior to a decision. Everything we can ever imagine can exist. However, it is in the act of making the decision, of limiting oneself and dedication to a choice that something can actually occur. The problem with the infinity of man is that in the infinity of his own possibility he is infinite. We all are infinite, so what then does that mean. If you always keep holding a mirror in front of a mirror you can see till infinity (if it can be reached, which it cannot, for our sake) . It is all about making the decision. Perhaps this is what Keats was talking about in "Ode to a Grecian Urn." The poet seems to be lost in his own ruminations about the urn and what it says. He looks at the figures running and "living" mutely on the surface of the urn, yet he can't figure out what it is saying. Then, the urn, it seems, begins to ask him to leave thought behind, to jump into writing. To "tease out of thought" and thus write the poem. The urn can't speak and tell its meaning, neither can the poet, but he can act. Then through this act he can seek that meaning and through telling the story he can tell a bit of his own. Then through the writing and reading of the poem more possibility can be explored.
The decision gives power. It is the condition for us to move forward.
Now where does this leave me. Oddly enough I am listening to Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek." Biography is always a bit easy. But often it isn't. I am a bit apt to get sad. It just happens. The problem with philosophy is that it burns you out. Every now and then you just have to ask the question, why does it even matter. I can talk about the notion of the object petit a and castration anxiety, I can talk about differance and the supplement and always already, the phenomenological of the wine glass, even about fate and free will, the categorical imperative, utilitarian calculus, the realm of ideas, the cave, the pharmakon, poesis vs mimesis, the discipline, the aesthetic, etc etc etc. But then you have to ask your self the question, WTF?
Me writing this post, drinking a glass of water--a rational agent has to assume that he has free will even though causality would seem to point that free will cannot exist. Does it matter. Not too much. Even political philosophy. Does man have innate rights or are they rights as citizen and thus he has no rights as man if he is not a citizen. Important yes, but when you get down to the brass tacks, you don't have to know. We never know. We know we don't know.
I never decide on anything. That is my problem. The problem with being good at nearly everything is that you never get burned. You never fail bad, fall on yourself. I was the guy who sat in the back, didn't study, managed to do well. I go through phases where I will hyper learn things just because. From quantum physics, to forgeign languages, to the piano, to the middle east, to history, from engineering to literature to philosophy...the problem here is that I never choose anything, maybe only the philosophy of life. I never wanted to make a decision. I still don't!
Odd. Probably not. I can never stand the thought of doing something that I detest. For me it is the easy way out. If you never decide on the big choices you can never be wrong. Gasp. Herein lies my fascination with the movie "Good Will Hunting." Smart guy, but he cuts everything off early for fear of failing and thus never did anything. He leaves behind love, jobs, his intellect. Now he turns it around and "goes to see about a girl" but the point is still the same. However as an aside, my favourite scene in that movie is when Will and his southie boys go into a Harvard bar and as the Ben Affleck character flirts with a Harvard girl the snooty Harvard grad student. He starts to drill Ben's character in an attempt to show how ignorant Ben's character is. Good Will pops up and starts ti peg the guy...1st year grad student reading a marxist historian, the flavour of the year, then he would move to Lemon then Wood, etc. The grad student retorts by starting to quote a critque (unattributed of course) about Lemon which Will finishes and then asks the grad student if that's how he gets girls, by memorizing obscure texts and then repeating them to girls. Then the whole 150 grand for an education he could have recieved i n $1.50 in late fees at the library is priceless (and true?).
I digress.
Time to make decisions? Yes. Always time. Time, time,time.
On a lighter note, when I was picking up my computer, I peeked over the desk to look at what the technicians were doing. It turns out they were watching YouTube tutorials about how to repair laptops. I mean, I guess that is good...staying up to date.
Monday, January 12, 2009
A slight haitus
Sorry for the lack of posts. It seems that my har drive decided to fail me at a crucial time, holiday. But rather than serving as another nuisance of which I hate to take care, it actually helped me regain some focus.
This previous break was the first time in a while I read for pure pleasure. An act which always seems to escape me anymore. However, over the course of the break, without the fear of impending deadlines (though some did exist as they often do) I partook in reading books that I really wanted. To begin as one always should, with the trivial.
Kitchen Confidential. A friend gave it to me, knowing that I love to cook and often do. It is a book by the chef Anthony Bourdain, made famous by his stint on the travel channel as the host of No Reservations. I read it and found it to be great. A great deal of useful tips and years of cooking experience mixed with underworld ties, copious amounts of drugs and alcohol and probably a lot of bullshit story telling. It was a great story and a quick read.
Freud and the Non-European. By Edward Said. Well this one wasn't totally pleasure, I always have a means, but critical theory is my life, so it was rather fun. Basic premise is that the Jewish identity is at its center a fractured core. This is no anti-Semitic, so please don't accuse me of such beliefs. I think it does say something interesting. Moses was an Egyptian, yes we all can agree, thus he is isolated both from Europe (pre and post european ideals [pre WWII aka Hitler]) Thus at the center of the Jewish identity is this double outsiderness. Fascinating outlook in the wake of the current events going on over there, no?
A Book of French short stories. Various authors, though it appears that the unnamed editor selectively choose from 19th century authors, which has something to say coming out of 1840s and the memories of Napoleon no doubt. My favourite, about a young journalist who interviews an author (posing as a fellow author/poet) who soon realises what the Age of Love is. The article soon becomes that interview in a final twist. Another, a story of a Corsican child who betrays a theif for a watch. The father then executes his child for his treachery to the theif. Very poignant to say the least. Does it say something about the culture and tha author? Perhaps. There is something to celebrate about loyalty though and this is to the extreme.Did learn what a maquis is.
Paul Celan. Brilliant poet. I would read him if I were you.
Borges. Where to begin. I love the man, so this break I took the time to read through his fiction again. The stories all centering around some twilight zone-esque twist. The richness of the narrative and the (sur)reality of the characters and setting is breathtaking. My favourite? I do not know. A cross/tie between Funes the Memorious (the man who can remember everything perfectly to the point that thought becomes a distraction from his seeing and knowing everything) and The Library of Bable. A labyrith of books, every book written including the books that explain life and tell the future and the librarians who read them. They always have a story to tell.
I also sprinkled in some Derrida, just for good measure.
Addendum
Breakfast at Tiffany's and other shorts by Capote. I liked the movie...I always felt people missed the message though. Everyone was drawn to Hepburn's good looks and fashion (which I understand) but I always thought there was some deeper meaning behind the story. A slightly more cynical and harsher look to reality and society. Well in the book there is. Novella I should say. Favourite line "It should take you eight seconds to get from here to the door. You have two."
I am sorry that this post isn't all that interesting, but I have to get back into the swing of things. It is always nice to remove oneself from technology every once and a while, just to remember what life is. Which is to say that life and technology and life are not tied, which they are, but to see what things are as distance increases, how the attractive forces diminish (porportional to 1/r^2...kidding, but seriously) .
This previous break was the first time in a while I read for pure pleasure. An act which always seems to escape me anymore. However, over the course of the break, without the fear of impending deadlines (though some did exist as they often do) I partook in reading books that I really wanted. To begin as one always should, with the trivial.
Kitchen Confidential. A friend gave it to me, knowing that I love to cook and often do. It is a book by the chef Anthony Bourdain, made famous by his stint on the travel channel as the host of No Reservations. I read it and found it to be great. A great deal of useful tips and years of cooking experience mixed with underworld ties, copious amounts of drugs and alcohol and probably a lot of bullshit story telling. It was a great story and a quick read.
Freud and the Non-European. By Edward Said. Well this one wasn't totally pleasure, I always have a means, but critical theory is my life, so it was rather fun. Basic premise is that the Jewish identity is at its center a fractured core. This is no anti-Semitic, so please don't accuse me of such beliefs. I think it does say something interesting. Moses was an Egyptian, yes we all can agree, thus he is isolated both from Europe (pre and post european ideals [pre WWII aka Hitler]) Thus at the center of the Jewish identity is this double outsiderness. Fascinating outlook in the wake of the current events going on over there, no?
A Book of French short stories. Various authors, though it appears that the unnamed editor selectively choose from 19th century authors, which has something to say coming out of 1840s and the memories of Napoleon no doubt. My favourite, about a young journalist who interviews an author (posing as a fellow author/poet) who soon realises what the Age of Love is. The article soon becomes that interview in a final twist. Another, a story of a Corsican child who betrays a theif for a watch. The father then executes his child for his treachery to the theif. Very poignant to say the least. Does it say something about the culture and tha author? Perhaps. There is something to celebrate about loyalty though and this is to the extreme.Did learn what a maquis is.
Paul Celan. Brilliant poet. I would read him if I were you.
Borges. Where to begin. I love the man, so this break I took the time to read through his fiction again. The stories all centering around some twilight zone-esque twist. The richness of the narrative and the (sur)reality of the characters and setting is breathtaking. My favourite? I do not know. A cross/tie between Funes the Memorious (the man who can remember everything perfectly to the point that thought becomes a distraction from his seeing and knowing everything) and The Library of Bable. A labyrith of books, every book written including the books that explain life and tell the future and the librarians who read them. They always have a story to tell.
I also sprinkled in some Derrida, just for good measure.
Addendum
Breakfast at Tiffany's and other shorts by Capote. I liked the movie...I always felt people missed the message though. Everyone was drawn to Hepburn's good looks and fashion (which I understand) but I always thought there was some deeper meaning behind the story. A slightly more cynical and harsher look to reality and society. Well in the book there is. Novella I should say. Favourite line "It should take you eight seconds to get from here to the door. You have two."
I am sorry that this post isn't all that interesting, but I have to get back into the swing of things. It is always nice to remove oneself from technology every once and a while, just to remember what life is. Which is to say that life and technology and life are not tied, which they are, but to see what things are as distance increases, how the attractive forces diminish (porportional to 1/r^2...kidding, but seriously) .
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