pretty song corner: halo

"halo" by beyonce is a really pretty song.

reading tips corner

My mind has always tended to wander to daydreaming while I read, but I've found several ways to keep it focused. 

One way is to first commit to paying full attention only to the first 2 pages of a book. If I then feel like I truly have trust in the author, I acknowledge the trust verbally (it's a little weird, but it works for me). 

After that, reading the book feels like being read a story by a friend, which is a very pleasant thing.  It's also a *much* faster experience of reading.

Of course, for authors I already like, the paying of full attention happens by default.  This is the case even when it requires looking up a slew of new words in the os-x dictionary, as with The Broom of the System earlier this morning.

The above trick works for fiction, but non-fiction and essays and such require a different trick: after key sentences, I recall Milton's line from Areopagitica: reason is but choosing. I then make a note in the margin: if  I understand it, I put nothing.  If I'm lost, I put a ? mark.  If I understand and choose to agree with the statement, I put a check mark. And of course, if it's witty, I put a smiley face or ! mark.

There is room for improvisation in both systems, but finding and sticking to a new style is key for breaking old habits of slowness.  

I visited the Carl Sandburg home in North Carolina a few years back w/ my Mom, and there were *thousands* of books in the library, study, etc. How did he and his wife read all those books? They had good reading habits, and probably read stories to each other a whole lot.

Of course, poetry is a whole different issue, and it just seems to take awhile, with lots of rereading. But I'd be wary of anyone who claims to take in the full weight of a poem without at least a little bit of wrestling and wrangling.  And maybe the Sandburgs did no small amount of this, too ...

style section corner: superfancy and smartpoor

I liked reading this piece on the waning of high-end clubs (re: "super fancy is out") and how lower key places are waxing.  It feels like there might be a growing trend towards simplicity, minimalism, and maybe a grasping attempt at a style of honesty of which we're all witnessing the initial days.

This weekend, I had a similar feeling in the mall across the street, while walking around with my Dad while he searched for a new pair of pants at Macy's.  It's really quite overwhelming to walk around a department store.  There are a slew of labels visually screaming out at you, much like in the shoe scene early on in Dreiser's Sister Carrie: lots of names all over the place, placards for low / no interest credit cards, etc. etc.

My own clothes intake whittled down to a bare minimum over the past few years while spending most of my time in the library. I did a quick inventory while waiting for the elder Baer to find new pants, which I imagined on a business card checklist of things-to-wear:

*/*/*/*

3 t-shirts, red, american apparel 

2 t-shirts, brown, ibid.

1 long sleeve shirt, red, ibid.

2 shirts with happy stuff on 'em, cf. threadless (doodlebug and the one with a treehouse)

4 button up short sleeve shirts, ben sherman, in pretty patterns (but not too flourishy)

2 pairs o' pants, grey (one all cotton, one corduroy), size 33

1 pair o' pants, also grey, size 30 (for wearing when under stress)

2 pairs o' jeans, dark blue denim, size 33

1 pair o' jeans, concrete grey, size 30 (also for wearing when under stress)

12 boxer briefs, uniqlo, in one color.

12 pairs o' socks, ibid.

The pants are all from uniqlo also.  What else ... a few outfits of nice clothes, and stuff for running, and a pair of brown saucony shoes with yellow laces.  And an old pair of docs for when it is rainy outside. It just occurred to me now that Amber dresses much the same way, albeit with a jean skirt and a few other novelties thrown in for artsy flair.

It feels to me like this sort of simple minimalism might be inherent in some sort of growth process, casting out of old ways, or just devoting a lot of time to other efforts?

Maybe it's the opposite of superfancy, and associated with book smarts and a relative quality of poverty? Call it smartpoor. It might be the new trend.

books corner: murakami and camus

It's been a week of finishing books after focused reading, most notably Murakami's Kafka on the Shore, which I borrowed from David over Thanksgiving last year. 

It feels like some of the issues on subjectivity, free will, and the bulk of the 'minus world' chapter (the Land of No Language) lost me in the book; however, I'm still thinking about them after a series of weird dreams last night. Maybe the questions raised by the book are just working through me slowly, like a buttermilk biscuit eaten without a drink of water.

KOTS also wins my personal award for best depiction of a library in literary foreign fiction. 

In other distracting news, new books arrived from Amazon today: a collection of Ogden Nash poems and the last volume of Camus' Notebooks.  

An entry from the latter it would have been helpful to read a lot earlier in life:

Truth is not a virtue, but a passion.  It is never charitable.

    -- Camus (in Notebook VII, circa 1951-54)

Elsewhere in his notebooks, Camus lists his ten favorite words in response to an anonymously asked question: 

    world, pain, earth, mother, men, desert, honor, poverty, summer, sea.

Words reveal a lot about a person, and of course all these words were in Camus in their French form rather than English translation.  

The question/answer of one's favorite words is a form of status expression which encourages others to list their own words, or at least think of 'em. This might be worth doing in a future blog post. For now I'll just observe that the French words for sea and mother (la mer and la mère) are homonyms. Camus had his Mama doubly on his mind.

other people's book reviews corner: boswell on second nature

David posted about an interesting book I'm not going to read this summer. Instead, I will cut n paste his words about the book Second Nature here:

One part stuck with me that talked about how it used to be a point of pride to organize homes for consumption as people were moving off of farms. Now emphasis is shifting back to organizing homes for at least some production. And there is a lot you can produce without turning a house into a farm — you can produce food, water, dirt, energy…

I'd just add that you could make a home that generates art, too. And how nifty would that be? This might be why i'm holding onto my designjet 90.

tv corner: **** my ride

I saw mtv for the first time in some time last night. Another title for the imperatively named show I saw? Pimp my Ride and Listen to my Bleeped-out Potty Mouth

 

And a note on the last post: Laying a claim on your wake up-time and talking about it seems to lead to messing it up.

morning wake-up time corner

I'm a fan of good habits, and I've always been fond of waking up early. 

I seem to have forged a new habit in my wake up time down here in Maryland.  I get up at 6:36 now, without need of external alarms or devices of any kind.

children's book reading corner: the enormous egg

I borrowed Leonard's copy of The Enourmous Egg, which arrived in the mail along with a couple of handsome Lincoln stamps on the envelope.

The illustrations are pretty great.  Dr. Ziemer's labeling of reality using his notebook and aristocratically mighty pen, less so.  At least Nate acquires the same art by the end of the story, cf. above.

book reading corner: persian letters

I finished reading Montesquieu's Persian Letters. It was a bit of a trudge. My edition had a slew of errors and missing footnotes which didn't help my trudgery. Grr.  

A selection of the letters I liked:

- number 108, on reviewing and reading: "the great mistake made by reviewers is that they write only about new books, as if the truth could ever be new.  It seems to me that until a man has read all the old books, he has no reason to prefer new ones instead"

- number 143, Rica to Nathaniel Levi, a Jewish doctor.  This is the letter on literary remedies, the power of the mind on sickness.

- and the Fragment from an Ancient Mythologist, which was found in a series of items not originally published by Montesquieu.  I'll post it here:

In an island near the Orcades a child was born, whose father was Aeolus, god of the winds, and whose mother was a Caledonian nymph.  He is said to have learnt all by himself to count on his fingers, and, at four years of age, to have been able to distinguish between the different metals so exactly that when his mother tried to give him a ring made of brass, instead of gold, he realized that it was a trick and threw the ring on the ground.

     As soon as he was fully grown his father taught him the secret of catching the wind in balloons, which he then sold to travellers.  How-ever, since his wares were not greatly appreciated in his own country, he left, and began to lead a wandering life in the company of the blind (bling?) god of chance.

     In his travels he learnt that in Betica everything shone with gold, which made him hurry to get there. He was made very unwelcome by Saturn, who was then on the throne, but once the god had departed from the earth he had an idea, and went out to every street-corner, where he continually shouted in a hoarse voice: 'Citizens of Betica, you think yourselves rich, because you have silver and gold.  Your delusion is pitiable.  Take my advice: leave the land of worthless metal and enter the realms of imagination, and I promise you such riches that you will be astonished.' He immediately opened a large number of the balloons he had brought and distributed his wares to anyone who wanted them.

     The next day, he went back to the same street-corners and shouted: 'Citizens of Betica, do you want to be rich? Imagine to yourselves that I am very rich, and that you are too.  Every morning, make

(it stops there, and it sure is a great way to end a bedtime story)

(the thought occurs to me that the Barthelme short story "the balloon" might offer a new reading of this story, too)

on fugazi, michael jackson, and we are the world

^^^ the glen E. friedman book of Fugazi photos is fascinating.  

The introductory essay by Ian Svenonius is a good piece of writing with Lacanian underpinnings and makes a nod at political songs by mainstream artists.

One part of the essay, referencing a song written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Ritchie, is worth noting in view of yesterday's news:

[and particularly] "We are the World" a disgusting declaration of ruling-class supremacy disguised as a paternalistic, Kipling-esque 'save the savages' statement.

The album cover drives this point home in a real way, via wikipedia:

There was apparently a bit of a controversy around the lyric there's a choice we're making / we're saving* our own lives which has at least 2 interpretations, indeed.

* cf. save, entry 2: keep and store up (something, esp. money) for future use -- via trusty os-x dictionary.app

napkin drawing corner: the what and the how

^^^ from an earlier conversation about goals n tasks w/ Dad.

and a concatenation of lines from this and one other conversation:

well you have three boxes to put your energy into now the what the how and the do and so just do it like the drunks do it  - you know all Don Gately style - and just plow one day at a time style and make 'em* all say wow when did you get so tall?

I absolutely love my family.

* that is, gently suggest or invite them to say such nice observations in a polite, non bat-nudging way

give it a try corner

That’s all I do now–go out about 2 and find some place to sit till the pubs open and get back here about 7 and cook liver and read the Evening News. I couldn’t stand the British Museum any more. Plato & Artistotle & the Gnostics finished me. I bought the Origin of Species yesterday for 6d and never read such badly written catlap. I only remember thing: *blue eyed cats are always deaf* (correlation of variations). I finished Vanity Fair and Cunt Pointercunt. A very painstalling work…. I bought Moby-Dick today for 6d. That’s more like the real stuff. White whales & natural piety… I haven’t opened my mouth except in bars & groceries since you left this day week: to haughty barpersons and black-souled grocers. About going where I don’t know. I suppose I must go home. I haven’t tried to write.

^^^ Samuel Beckett in a letter from 1932

Thankfully, Beckett eventually tried to write.  Like my Dad says, maybe the point is to just try.

idea corner: rare book cafe

I had a good conversation about rare and antique books a year or so ago, mostly around the question why are they so expensive? One example: $5k for a copy of the Fountainhead (!)

I see the whole point (well, a whole lot more of it anyhow) of truly unique and limited objects now - especially those with long and fancy provenances - but I sure don't care very much for it.

What if there were a nice cafe where you could go and read these books? It could charge $20 for a cup of coffee, with a big burly bouncer at the door to make sure no rogues or roustabouts nick a book.  Pastries would be $30.

You wouldn't have to buy anything there, of course, but the cafe's librarian would give you the equivalent of a "shh!" to spend a few bucks if you made a habit of not spending money and mooching all the love off the books*.

(i don't know what this equivalent would be, any thoughts?)

This idea might be part 1 in a series of posts on places to go if you love to be around people, but don't like boozing it up, dancing around others, etc.

* off the books = (1) the spiritual quality of love taken off margin notes, torn pages, etc. (2) off the accts receivable books

^^^ this happened naturally, zut alors

go bo go

^^^ bo and obama, i am a fan of the running.

talking and walking corner

via Leonard, on how the brain treats talking versus walking (or working):

Recently an article made the rounds of my syndication feeds, to the effect that you shouldn't even mention things you're working on until they're done, because your brain treats announcing a project as work on the project. [...]

time mgmt corner: my schedule

this is my current schedule, from y'day.

comments are welcomed.

i'm making some edits today, to get a better handle on the wtype tasks.

Schedule for 6/16	Time	Notes
morning routine	8-9am	waking. grind beans, mr. coffee. shirt on.
Morning reading	9-10am	The Trivium.
walltype	10-12pm	image cropping
lunch	12-12:30pm	turkey sandwich + swiss, and several grape leaves.
walltype	12:30 -2:30pm	more cropping. design size 1200x800, crop to 600x400.
writing	2:30 to 3:30pm	water. names, the importance of.
walltype	3:30-5:30pm	rm'ing cruft of dependencies on image size and the junky old queue / approval system.
running	5:30-6:30pm	drive to Jim's part of town, then ~2.5mi run. outran pops + Jim. next time? run the course twice and lap them. oh yes.
supper	6:30 - 8:30pm	shrimp salad, made by Vicki. mmm.
interactions	8:30-10:30pm	lots of talking and txtos at home.
evening reading	10:30 - 12:30am	Tocqueville, Democracy.

names writ in water corner: pool in dc!

Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water.

   -- Keats tombstone

Well, it looks like there is a pool to visit down here.  Oh yes.

I just hope the proprietors didn't feel the need to try and bronze and emblazon their name into the water of the pool like they did in this Post article.  

It occurs to me that another reason - among a slew of 'em - it takes so long to read some pieces of writing is the necessity of filtering out the intentions and Rococo-esque lack of directness as to why someone's name is banged into it, the given specimen, so many times.

The truth is easy (and fast) to read.  If we lived in a more honest world, we'd all maybe read a lot faster and forget less.

 

Okay then.  Just putting a few observations and opinions out there.

truth and consequences and observations

A passing thought from this morning:

The truth can set you free

   but you might not like what you see

Anyhow, on a different topic:

The farm which used to be next door (give or take a few hundred yds.) to my Dad's house in Maryland was developed into a shopping mall a few years ago.  One of the open-air, outdoor bazaar variety.  It has upper-tier stores for the 'burbs: an American Eagle, JoS A. Bank, Barnes and Noble (the lower tier equivalent maybe being Waldenbooks), one of those places with $10 chicken dinners*, etc. etc. 

And the food court has a Dairy Queen.  Mmm.

It also has piped-in muzak on outdoor speakers to prevent loitering and skateboarding.  An Ipod and earphones offer a reasonable answer, but they feel like wearing a scuba tank for noise. It's no coincidence the small earphones are called earbuds**.

It's all not so much different from using one on the subway. There the Ipod blocks out the noise (or lack thereof) of others, rather than noise intended to make you feel uncomfortable.  One wonders if the buds will ever come off ...

* for the new yorkers reading these updates: ten bucks is kinda high for a chicken dinner.

** why? because they've become everyone's best bud.

supplemental corner: the trivium

Bores make cowards of us all.

    -- E.V. Lucas, "Bores"

I've been staying up past my bedtime to read The Trivium for the past few days, which makes use of a slew of good examples.  The above is an example of an allusion. The author, Sister Miriam Joseph, explains this sometimes-misunderstood literary form and then states:

For those whose literary background is inadequate and who therefore are unfamiliar with the source of the allusion* [in this quote], a work such as the concordance to the Bible or to Shakespeare, both frequent sources of allusion, will prove helpful.

I imagine presents of concordances, no doubt a delight for any child** on Christmas morning.

(Sister Miriam is one tough nun)

* ... the source is Thackeray's Pendennis, with perhaps a subtle nod to Puck in Midsummer Night's Dream

** well, maybe not any child ... but surely some child, somewhere.

maryland

^^^ pic from train window this afternoon, the chesapeake and a boat and sunny skies. i'm in md for the summer.