A Rhythmic River - the Wild Party

The Wild Party

by Joseph Moncure March
Drawings by Art Spiegelman

Except for the exceptional, like Homer, I rarely have patience for long poems: I don't look for them and I put it down quickly if I've started one accidentally. Now thanks for Dean's recommendation, I enjoyed another "exceptional". I even read it twice in a row.

The Wild Party runs like a happy river. Rhythmic and rhyming, it flows effortlessly and "naturally". And the reader willingly jumps in for a ride. In that eventful evening. Intrigued by its daring wild species here and there. Startled by its violent undercurrents now and then... And finally immersed in a tenacious scenery of the ninteen twenties.

The drawings are quite good, too, but often too dominating and too much --- the narrative is already vivid with incredible power. The artist over-did himself to match the poet.

This poem inspires mimics and I have been waiting to get one since....

Here is one "less wild" part:

9

Some love is fire: some love is rust:
But the fiercest, cleanest love is lust.
And their lust was tremendous. It had the feel
Of hammers clanging; and stone; and steel:
And torches of the savage, roaring kind
That rip through iron, and strike men blind:
Of long trains crashing through caverns under
Grey trembling streets, like angry thunder:
Of engines throbbing; and hoarse steam spouting;
And feet tramping; and great crowds shouting.
A lust so savage, they could have wrenched
The flesh from bone, and not have blenched.

the irrationality of a rational mind

The Basic Writings of C. G.

Jung by Carl Jung

(darn - doesn't he know it all?!)

From the standpoint of the rational type, the irrational might easily be represented as a rational of inferior quality; namely, when he is apprehended in the light of what happens to him. For what happens to him is not the accidental -- in that he is master --but, in its stead, he is overtaken by rational judgement and rational aims. This fact is hardly comprehensible to the rational mind, but its unthinkableness merely equals the astonishment of the irrational, when he discovers someone who can set the ideas of reason above the living and actual event. Such a thing seems scarcely credible to him. It is, as a rule, quite hopeless to look to him for any recognition of principles in this direction, since a rational understanding is just as unknown and, in fact, tiresome to him as the idea ofmaking a contract without mutual discussion and obligations appears unthinkable to the rational type. p270 (from Psychological Types).

finding faults with Freud - of course, of course :-)

The Basic Writings of C. G. Jung

by Carl Jung

(not one of his occasional courtesies to Freud. To me, Jung is everything what Freud is not. for the latter, here is my favorite quote: "what is true in his theories is not new; what is new is not true" by whom?)

The judgement would entirely devolve upon the observer -- a certain guarantee that its basis would infallibly be imposed upon the observed. To my mind, this is the case in te psychologies both of Freud and of Adler. The individual is completely at the mercy of the arbitrary discretion of his observing critic -- which can never be the case when the conscious psychology of the observed is accepted as the basis. After all, he is the only competent judge, since he alone knows his own motives. p262 (From Psychological Types).

spiritual or instinctive? one and the same - says Dr. Jung

The Basic Writings of C. G. Jung

by Carl Jung

Opposites are extreme qualities in any state, by virtue of which that state is perceived to be real, for they form a potential. The psyche is made up of processes whose energy springs from teh equlibration of all kinds of opposites. The spirit/instinct antithesis is only one of the commonest formulations, but it has the advantage of reducing the greatest number of the most important and most complex psychic processes to a common denominator. So regarded, psychic processes seem to be balances of energy flowing between spirit and instinct, though the question of whether a process is to be described as spiritual or as instinctual remains shrouded in darkness. Such evaluation or interpretation depends entirely upon the standpoint or state of the conscious mind. A poorly developed consciousness, for instance, which because of massed projections in inordinately impressed by concrete or apparently concrete things and states, will naturally see in the instinctual drives the source of all reality. It remains blissfully unaware of the spirituality of such a philosophicla surmise, and is convinced that with this opinion it has established the essential instinctuality of all psychic processes. Conversely, a consciousness that finds itself in opposition to the instincts can, in consequence of the enormous influence then exerted by the archetypes, so subordinate instinct to spirit that the most grotesque "spiritual" complications may arise out of what are undoubedly biological happenings. Here the instinctuality of the fanaticism needed for such an operation is ignored. p98 (from On the Nature of the Psyche)

Without freedom there can be no morality - Carl Jung

The Basic Writings of C. G. Jung
by Carl Jung

(This is the most forceful "indictment" against the coersive power of the mass.)

It is a notorious fact that the morality of society as a whole is in inverse ratio to its size; for the greater the aggregation of individuals, the more the individual factors are blotted out, and with them morality, which rests entirely on the moral sense of the individual and the freedom necessary for this. Hence, every man is, in a certain sense, unconsciously a worse man when he is in society than when acting alone; for he is carried by society and to that extent relieved of his individual responsibility. . . . Any large company composed of wholly admirable persons has the morality and intelligence of an unwieldy, stupid, and violent animal. The bigger the organization, the more unavoidable is its immorality and blind stupidity. Society, by automatically stressing all the collective qualities in its individual representatives, puts a premium on mediocrity, on everything that settles down to vegetate in an easy, irresponsible way. Individuality will inevitable be driven to the wall. This process begins in school, continues at the university, and rules all departments in which the State has a hand. In a small social body, the individuality of its members is better safeguarded; and the greater is their relative freedom and the possibility of conscious responsibility. Without freedom there can be no morality. p169 (from The Relations Between the Ego and the Unconscious)

The idiosyncrasy of an individual is not to be understood as any strangeness in his substance or in his components, but rather as a unique combination, or gradual differentiation, of functions and faculties which in themselves are universal. p182 (from The Relations Between the Ego and the Unconscious)

With more foreboding than real knowledge most people feel afraid of the manacing power that lies fettered in each of us, only waiting for the magic word to release it from the spell. The magic word, which always ends in "ism", works most successfully with those who have the least access to their instinctual roots into the truly chaotic world of collective consciousness. p96 (from On the nature of psyche).

the golden threshold

I always recognize that the best books I've read often fail to meet "objective" criteria - the ones I use to justify my criticism of "bad" books. So I argue that a good book is not necessarily something that meets all "good writing practices"; but one that has some extraordinary strength, sometimes the form, other times the content; in artistry, creativity, novelty or deep thinking.

Good reasoning; yet it rarely succeeds in convincing anyone who does not already share my opinion about a given book. And it does not predict how the next book would "fare". So my literary criticism (or that of others) appears arbitary or subjective.

What I've realized recently is that this subjectivity is nevertheless "predictable", in the sense that one seemly always appreciates an artwork intuitively first. And it is with this "gut feeling" of satisfaction (or the lack of), which apparently has some kind of threshold, does one proceed to praise or criticize an artwork rationally, or "objectively".

While this aesthetic intuition is as subjective, and unique to each individual, as it can be, it evolves with growing up, or learning. Learning from experiences. Learning of known literary standards. And influenced by others, too. Thus, an "educated subjectivity" moves inevitably closer to an "objective" judgement, which would define a more stable, rational and sophisticated threshold. Individually, your own evolving threshold is always golden. Culturally, a few recognized great minds set the bar. And historically - one may suppose - the survived is the truly great. With the caveat that not all great works make it to the day.

Les Miserables - time and time again

With this book, it has always been a chance encounter.

Qian was my best friend in the middle school. Barely 12 years old when we first met, she would tell me story after story during recess for the next three years. While dismayed by the fact that I, with a nickname of bookworm, hadn't really read anything at all, besides the few well-known revolutionary titles, I was greatly enchanted by her stories. And her insights. From books and from her difficult life, as young as she was. Now that reminds me of Cosette.

Jean Valjean was thus introduced by her. 冉阿让, its translation in Chinese, sounded impossible in my hometown dialect. So the name left a more lasting impression than the story.

The next time I heard 冉阿让 again was when my dad telling the same story to my mom. I was in high school then and immediately seized the opportunity to peek through the book and finally matched the sound of the name with the chinese character.

Years passed. Not much left except the name and the rough storyline. As famous as it is, I read the book at too young an age to really understand or appreciate.

Then two years ago, LD decided to learn French. In the excitement of the first days, he also bought the book in both French and English versions. Needless to say, neither was touched. Scanning through the bookshelf the other day, it occurred to me that it was probably meant for me to revisit 冉阿让.

a chat about Atonement and more

Atonement

Ian McEwan

the conversation started with concerns about his interactions with others. I offered my opinion, which he evidently agreed upon, that it's not really his problem that people often feel offended or hard to communicate with him. nonetheless, it is an obstacle for his ambition.

people like him need total freedom; but where to find it?

then he said that he was re-reading carl jung. this chapter on introvert and extravert. he sort of rationalized his own constructive and destructive behaviors along the line of being an extravert. i am often not patient enough about personality theories (but jung will be my next book). in his case, his overwhelming "problem", IMO, is his intelligence. an intelligence not protected with conventional credentials.

feeling guilty about not knowing enough of Jung, i instead confessed that i was reading 007 with joy. surprisingly, he also considered those books "classics, of course". right there then, he said a few good words about Atonement.

now i am not that impressed by atonement. it is a very simple sentiment dressed up with crafty writing, which ultimately falls short of the expectation when all is revealed （and revealed too belatedly). Jr countered that my criticism was too sketchy, only about "imbalance of content and form". incomparable to a pro-critic who knows the in-and-outs of modern art... he gave a few examples, all lost to me as I wasn't familiar with those artists.

i justified my own opinion as a rationalization of gut feeling, which can't be fooled. but he thought feelings and thinking are both needed to appreciate art. he also thought my standing was too negative, demanding the writer to meet my taste instead of aspiring to regard others more positively. well, i admitted that but saw nothing wrong with judging art subjectively.

actually i think subjectivity is what art is all about. whether one's subjectivity can be appreciated by another human being, as if turning it into sth objective, is a different matter....

(well, hard to record how the conversation really went).

the much more attractive 007

Dr. No

His Majesty's Secret Service

You Can Only Live Twice



by Ian Fleming



What ignorance. I didn't even know that James Bond was books first and movies there after. After a couple of glowing reviews on WSJ commemorating the author's 100th birthday, I picked up these three to read. Quite enjoyable indeed. Of the three, I liked "Twice" most, which, with its setting in Japan, reminded me of Eighty Days Around the World.

Overall, the stories have slower pace than their modern day equivalents but are much more enriched with careful development of characters, vivid description of the cultural and historical background and, necessarily, enough turns of the events for 007 and his heroines. To me, they are both simple and complex, making satisfactory reading.

I never cared much about the movie-version 007s, while the bond in the book is younger, rougher and less polished. far more attractive, in my opinion.

高中两年

“还有，华老师也要来；他说，从高中毕业到现在，都十一年了，每次都不巧，再没有见过你。这回一定不能错过了。” 小云说。 她的眉头不被察觉地皱了一皱，“那太好了。麻烦你了。跑了好几天，这下子，还在新江的同学，老师全部找齐了。”“你看你，从美国回来，人都变客气了。 有啥子关系嘛！ 不要搞忘了，星期六下午五点，新江饭店，吃火锅。然后去我朋友开的歌厅，唱卡拉OK。”

今天是周二，父亲照旧上班，母亲去菜市场了。 小云走后，她独自在家里，无聊地这里站站，那里望望，“每次都不巧，” 她想，“这应该算巧，还是算不巧，还是……？”



一、化学课

刚上课一会儿，她就走神了。 似听非听地，顺手用铅笔在白白方方的橡皮擦上描出了一个娃娃头。 她越看越喜欢，拉拉同桌的袖子，侧过头去，“你看我的洋娃……”， 一句话没完，就听见自己的名字被叫了。 她慌忙抬起头来，正撞上华老师的眼睛，“上课不要摆龙门阵哦！” “都高中了，不能再三心二意的。高考只有一年半了！”。 华老师直直地盯着她，眼神里有说不出的关心，失望和责怪。 她赶紧低下头，拿起课本来。 却感到那双眼睛如影随行地，一直看着自己。

下一堂课，再下一堂课。 她吃惊地发现，她躲不开那双眼睛了。有一天放学后，趁着没人，她走到讲台上，审视了一下自己的座位。教室里一共有三十来张桌子，排成四行，她坐第三排。 从讲台上看，中间靠右。 如果自己再高一点点的话，眼睛盯在那里正好。 她有些释然，觉得自己是疑心病。

但好心情并没有持续太久。据说是为了保护视力，每隔两个月，大家就要换到靠自己右边的那行课桌上，最右边的学生则搬到教室的最左那行去。她的座位从右搬到左，从左搬到右，那双眼睛也跟着从右搬到左，从左搬到右。 每次上课，她都在这个似乎忧怨的眼神的笼罩下，低着头，盼着有人调皮捣蛋，盼着下课的铃声。 更盼着午休。



二、午休

通常只有她自己在教室里，头也不抬地看小说。她喜欢这份宁静，这份自在。 大多数同学都住城里，中午回家。 她家远，在郊外的厂矿区。 父母怕她每天来回走，没时间睡午觉，就让她在学校吃食堂。 又跟班主任商量好，中午在学校自习了，就不用再参加统一的晚自习。下午放学就回家。 但是她从来不需要午觉，也不愿意复习功课。 于是不为人知地享受着这份宁静，这份自在。直到他进教室。

每天下午上课前半个多钟头，有几个男生总会结伴先来。 他们在课桌上跳来蹦去，比赛谁最快最灵活；或在两张桌子之间，用手臂撑起身体，引体向上，看谁做得最多。 宇总是最好的那一个。 她照常看自己的书，不理不睬。 听见喝彩声时，才会漫不经心地回一下头，悄悄地瞟上一眼。 心里却不再宁静，而是莫名其妙地快乐。 快乐得让她害怕。第一次“发现”他，是校运动会的二百米比赛。 班里在体校训练的两个男生都跑百米去了。他中等个，文质彬彬的，一点不像运动员，甚至连运动衣都没有。 他很随便地往第三个弯道那里一站，拐弯拐得飞快协调，一下子就把其他人甩得远远的。 轻轻松松地，得了个第一。高中两年，她从来没有跟他说过一句话。 上大学后，班里组织四乘一百，她想也没想，就说，“我跑第三棒。” 原来，他跑弯道的形象，始终在她心底。



三、教研室

华老师对她说，“今天放学以后，你到教研室来一下。” 她那随着下课的铃声，已经放下的心，又提了起来，变得沉甸甸的。 一下午上课什么都没听进去，心里反复回忆，自己到底做错了什么事？教研室里，只有华老师自己。 随着他小心翼翼的关门声，她的心都快冲到嗓子眼了。 他走得很近，笑眯眯地对她说：“就想先跟你讲一声，化学竞赛你考了第一。最后一道题，是高二课本上的，没想到你也做出来了。” 她的心放下去一半，“谢谢， 我可以走了吗？”。 他一下子失去笑容，“这么好的事，你怎么也不特别高兴？人家别个的话，得一个名次就跳起来了！”


四、电影院

出了电影院，她一眼看见小云，就跑过去跟她一起走，“你说巧不巧，这回又是强坐在我边上。” 小云扭过头，上上下下地把她打量了一番，说“全班都传遍了，你怎么装得啥子事都没有一样。”“传遍什么了？！”“你们俩个啊，全班学习最好的。 每次看电影都坐一起！” “是燕发的票呀！她是文娱委员，跟我有什么关系！” 她又有些生气，“你怎么不早点跟我讲？ 我就只有你一个好朋友，你却把我当外人。”“但是你一放学就回家，我，我跟他们几个每天走一路，还要上晚自习，星期天我们还在大院里一起做作业。”

对这个传言，她置若罔闻 - 没有人，根本没有人知道她真正的秘密。



五、教研室

铃声已经响过，她还在放上一堂语文课的复习资料。 华老师站在讲台上，不耐烦了，“上课了，上课了，先收起来！” 不知道为什么，这几句话搅动出她满腔的怒气。 她把手里的资料，散开来，哗啦哗啦地抖了一地，满脸通红地走回自己的座位。全班鸦雀无声。他看着她很久，才说“放学后，到教研室来讲清楚。”

他从头到脚地数落：骄傲自满，不尊重师长；她粗心大意，作业经常出错；其他同学已经追上来了；高考越来越近了……她无言以对，不时地应一声“是”，“错了”，“改”，徒然地想把谈话的方向，尽快地往结束的轨道上引。他的眼睛没有离开过一瞬。

走进家门，母亲站起来，端起饭菜，倒回锅里加热，“咋个这么晚，是不是把作业都做完了，才回来？ 我们都吃过了。我又给你买了好多李子，在小盆子里。你慢慢吃，我去隔壁给李阿姨说个事。”。她感到一种从未有过的亲切，眼睛都有些湿润了。 坐下来吃饭。 父亲从报上抬起头，“这星期的科技报都来了，又有一套高考模拟题。你等会儿做一做。”



六、 放学

离高考还有几个月的一天。 早上走进教室， 平常挺压抑的班里， 仿佛炸了窝，所有的男生围成一团，乱哄哄地大声说笑，叫闹。 小云一看见她，就冲了过来，眉飞色舞的，“你怎么才来！今天早自习都取消了。 鹰考上了空军！全校唯一一个。 马上就要走了。去河北。他跟我住一个院子！”。 她也激动起来，赶紧从人缝中间找到鹰。 鹰长得结结实实的，隐隐地透出一种雄壮，黝黑的脸堂非常端正，但没有一丝书卷气。她突然意识到， 同学快两年，这其实是自己第一次注意到他。 放学了，还是她自己，磨磨蹭蹭地收书包。 “我会给你写信的！” 她吓了一跳，抬起头来，只看见鹰奔跑的背影。 后来她也去了北方念书。大学一年级时，她收到了一封厚厚的信。 河北来的。 鹰现在很好。 胡耀邦视察空军基地时，他被选为四个扛军旗的之一。 他邀请她去玩。



七、 高考后

成绩出来的前一天晚上，父母硬拉着她去学校打听消息。 她垂头丧气地跟在后面，心里惭愧不已，因为就象一直她一直担心的一样，她考砸了。没找到班主任，出校门时却意外地碰上了华老师。 他眉开眼笑地对父亲说，“哎呀，考得好好哟！她自己估分，啷个一点儿都不准哦！” 又转过头来看着她，“你要远走高飞了！” 她点点头，如释重负。 她再也不用见到他了，再也不用忍受那双眼睛了。

------

再见到华老师，她有些吃惊。当年高高在上，让她担忧害怕的他，没想到还那么年轻。 在座的十几个同学，平常也很少见面，但注意力都集中在她身上。 她侃侃而谈，接受大家的仰慕欣羡。 华老师突然问：“你现在做什么呢？”“搞科研啊！”“在哪里？”“哦，还没有工作。 还在大学里，博士后。”“都毕业那么多年了，啷个还在上学呢。 光晓得读书，就成书呆子了哦！” 华老师看着她，眼神里有关心，似乎还有一点失望。“你说得对。 度假回去后，就找工作。” 她也望着他，心底的一丝阴云， 终于散去。

A mystery

A mystery

Love is the mystery of things
“To the stars!”
The little pig flies with wings

Down the valley
The Lost River it up springs

And in heart of hearts
A muse awakes and sings

Love
It is the mystery of things

(The lake, Beida; photo taken on July 6, 2008)

The Golden Compass leads nowhere

The Golden Compass
Philip Pullman

Only managed to finish "His dark materials", the first book (1/3). The author has very limited imagination and not much of a fiction writer, either.

I was annoyed by his sneering at the Ring and didn't even plan to read. Now I know I was right.

a celebration of the spirit of individuality - east of eden

East of Eden

John Steinbeck



Towards the end - when the storyline of Samuel's family ended - the writing became trackable and the turn of events predicatable. Now characters started to deliver powerful ideas, without the aid of "flesh and blood", and their lives rode along the predestined road, dictated by the parallel story in the Bible and the passionate belief of the author's... And I signed off mentally long before the last page was turned.



Still, what a fascinating and inspiring book. The autobiographical part of the book was among the finest ever written. Grandpa Samuel Steinbeck, with a magnetic personality, represents the ideal of individualism the author preaches. No less significant is Lee, the Chinese servant. And talk about an "ideal", Lee is the Chinese version of Sam. Both are intelligent, scholarish, kind at heart, and, with effort and help from each other, have learned to overcome self limitations and bring out the best out of others.

The fictional part of the book, stories of the Adam family, was more dramatic and fun to read, but from time to time, bordering on absurdity. Here, the author has a story, a big story, to tell and he does it heavy-handedly.

But my affection for the book is beyond description. Not only do I identify with the author's thoughts but also share his sentiments, almost to the last drop. Dont' remember feeling such strong a connection with any other great writers, not even with Steinbeck himself in his other books. How odd yet how satisfying.

Notes on the notebook - the Golden Notebook

The Golden Notebook
by Doris Lessing

I do not know what to make of this book. I very much enjoyed the reading but my mind exited suddenly just before the book ended. Now it's become difficult for me to form any cohesive opinion because my brain refuses to think. Here are some fragments of thought before the book is all gone.

All stories about Africa, as lived by the four young English youth, are beautifully written. The pigeon shooting (to make a pigeon soup) scene is exceedingly mesmerizing (I do hate this word): the wildness, the melancholy, the desolation and the insight. And this story was preceded by a description of a city scene showing how a pigeon was cared for in a civilized England years later.

Lessing is very good at creating incredible tensions in seemingly mundane human interactions, mostly through conversation. The beginning of the book is a good example, so is the part after Tommy's fateful action.

Towards the 2nd half of the book, I became quite interested in the private life experiences of Anna, the heroine, which are complex, casual, chaotic but purposeful. Very foreign to me but intriguing. Especially her relationship with Saul. Don't think it was well written though. The description was abstract and robotic, and repetitive. I basically gave up visualizing them but took in as concepts: OK, here are two highly intellectual people with all sorts of mental struggles and attractions....

spring is here - Daffodils by Wordsworth

The photoshop trick
(lamenting the erasing of "me" from an old photo of the whitesand desert)

I sat there alone like a purple sand verbena
Which hangs low o'er the crystalline hills,
When all at once I saw a violent storm: a pen,
Then a brush, of whitish, grayish spills;
Over my head, beneath my knees,
Pounding me into digital obsolete.
----------------------

Daffodils

By William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Mom

(in "literature" for the 1st time :-). highly recommended and praised by his teacher. the little one also said that he was experimenting to write with no rhymes. his auntie was inspired to translate it. beautifully. and i am just, just happy).

Her smile makes the sun light up,
The lamp shines in her glowing eyes.
Her hair's a flowing waterful,
The picture on her sewing
slowly comes together.

She concentrates on her cloth,
and rainbow of colorful string.
Over, under, over, under
I hear the string running
throughout the cloth

I watch
as she sews a world
silent as a library
patient like a snail.

--------


小姨的翻译:



她的微笑点燃阳光

灯火在她眼中闪耀

发丝如瀑般倾泻

织绘的图画

渐渐明了



她沉浸在织绘中

还有那溪流折射的彩虹

一针,一线

上上,下下

我听到的声音

是溪水在其间奔流



我注视着

在她织绘着整个世界的时候

沉静地

象一个图书馆

耐心地

象一只蜗牛

the incurable pain

what is a life without sorrow -
an existence of no shadow?

Detour (a fictional story)

"Send!" I tapped on the key and there went the last email for the day. I glanced at the clock on the screen. 7:30 PM. Tired but satisfied, I walked out of my office.

It was quiet as usual at this hour. But something was disturbing the deserted air tonight. I followed the sound. A low sob became sharper. Then I saw her. Through the half-shut door. I hesitated. Then walked over, "Nancy, you okay?"

She turned around. Fresh tears washed down her face, "Oh, I'm fine. Fine. Really. Just... just a little allergy." She turned away. Buried her face in her hands, now crying relentlessly. Her cuddling body shaking. In her elegant blue suit.

Must be him. My heart sank... "It's quite late now. You should go home to rest."

"How can I go home? Like this?!" She cried harder. Desperately.

That's true. "Want to go have a drink?" I felt obliged.
--------

One

"Welcome!" Nancy poked her head at my cubicle. With a warm smile. "I am so happy you joined us. Highly recommended for your hiring. Now, I have a chinese countryman for a neighbor!" She switched to Chinese for the last declaration.

"Oh, thanks!" I was instantly at ease.

"Still can't believe you're head of Finance," I recalled my interview with her. "You looked so young. You are."

"Really?!" she laughed, pleased but dismissing the comment with a gesture. I noticed she wore a pink Kitty Cat watch. With a matching pink Kitty Cat purse. "Not that young anymore, really. My husband has been talking about baby for years."

"By the way, Dan also started today. Transferred from the Europe office. Jim was excited. He told us you two will make a great team. To turn the business around. You know, things aren't going well here. By the way," she lowered her voice with a grin, "he is so tall and handsome!" "Come on. I will introduce you to everyone around." Immediately, Nancy became my best friend.

But things certainly weren't going well here; and Dan and I were far from "a great team". Sales had been falling for three consecutive years. Moe, the sales director, was sent one leg out of the door. Dan and I reported to the vacant marketing director, who reported to Jim, when he was last seen.


Two

"Cheers!" Moe raised his mug, "This darn Legal Seafood! I have spent more hours here with you than with my wife in the whole month." "Well, I'm just sick of the popcorn shrimps. Wouldn't complain if they ran a Sichuan Gourmet at the airport. " All these years in America. Yet my stomach is more Chinese than ever. I even converted Moe to spicy food. I turned my thought away from food,"At least, we are close to close the deal. I hope this is the final trip to the 'Middle of Nowhere'." Deep in my heart, I actually love Iowa. Endless cornfields. Infinitely inviting highways. The "New Continent". Dwelled by Dvorak.

"Sure, except" Moe said, "Dan will get the credit again - he is touring the Europe office with Jim. You know that, don't you?" "Not really. I was in the field earlier this week. Visited local physicians. Old contacts. What's the Europe trip for?"

"What for?! Creating "synergy" between offices. Last I heard. Man, you better know that stuff. I mean, if you even want a shot at the director position!" "Dan hasn't done a single thing worthwhile. As far as I can tell." My mood darkened, "and I heard he was kicked out of Europe - who would have left kids and wife to the other side of Atlantic?"

"So what? Jim seems to be very happy with him. And sales are turning the corner: 'Hmm, must be Dan.' By the way, Nancy went with them, too." "How do you know everything? You are away as much as I am."

"'Course I know. I have Olga briefing me everyday. Matter-of-factly, how could you not know? She works for the three of us, if you happen to forget.""Don't need her. I use Expedia. Much quicker and cheaper. No delays. No mistakes."

"Old man! how could you be a boss? If, if not bossing around?" Moe paused to enjoy his play of words.

"Well, why did Nancy go?" I became curious about this new development.

"That, I don't know. Except this is the 2nd time they've travelled together."

"With Jim?!"

"With Dan." I suddenly realized that I haven't seen her drop by for a while. Well, hard to picture her in business. With her Kitty cats and all.


Three

"Nancy, do you have a minute?" I caught up with her in the hallway after the meeting, "why did you say the US office needs improvement? This is the first quarter we have turned around sales - after four years!"

"But we did not reach our stretch goal. You know that. And sales in Europe are crispy."

"But you can't compare like this. Europe is always strong - thanks to the leadership of Alex, if you ask me." I felt an urge to antagonizing.

"Not just him. Jim and Dan have done a lot of work, too. Anyway we can learn more from them... Actually, I've got to run. To Paris - we are holding our next year's budget meeting there." She impatiently raised her hand, showing a glittering Swiss watch.


"What a scandal," Moe snickered on my encounter with Nancy, "You and I have worked our asses off. And they have vacationed in every city of Europe!" He turned to the wine list, "Know anything about wine? Let's pick a good one. We deserve better."

"Don't care much about wine, either. Just get the most expensive bottle." I answered absent-mindedly, "Talking about them, now the whole office is talking."

"Except Jim. Still signing off all those "synergy" trips."

"You think he doesn't know? He can't see? I don't get it. I could never figure out what Jim thinks. "

"Nobody could. Only Dan knows how to kiss up. I have never met a guy this useless. Yet our boss loves him. And Nancy loves him. What a scandal. What a shame. I can't work here anymore. I am looking. You should do the same."


Four

"The management has decided that you are ready to take charge of the whole marketing department. Great job, Xiaosong. " Jim extended his hand.

"Thanks, Jim! I will do my best." So good work didn't go un-noticed, after all. I felt a sense of vindication. a relief. and... a question. It was somewhat unexpected, "How about ... Dan?"

"Oh, that's the other thing I wanted to let you know. Dan was just diagnosed with liver cancer. Late stage. He is moving back to Europe. For chemotherapy. To be with his family."

That was eight months ago.


Five

"Remember? you were the one who brought me here. When I first started." I looked around, remembering a time less than two years ago. Or ages ago.

"Yeah. Thought we would have come more often. Then... things just happened!" She tried to smile, but broke down again, hollering. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! For being like this. He wouldn't approve. He kept saying I need be strong. Strong."

I ordered orange juice for her and a Cronona for myself. Just like the only other time.

"How's the treatment going?" I asked, expecting the worst. Nancy was not able to answer for a while. I watched her in silence. She looked sad and old. Oblivious of me. She kept wiping off the tears with the soaked napkin.

Finally, she said, "No more treatment. Xiaosong, he is dying tonight." She suddenly choked... gasped for air... And between broken breathes, I heard, "He is dying tonight... but I can't be with him!"

So it had all come to this. Two failed chemotherapies in Europe. One failed experimental trial back in States... And tonight, the life support was to be removed. Here in town. With his family....

Dying but not yet died. I froze with shock and felt tears welled up in my eyes. All my lingering resentments and confusion, towards him, towards her, evaporated. Slowly I reached across the table and patted her lightly on the arm, "Don't be so sad, Nancy. Things will be alright." She halted in her grief and looked up, "How strange, that's exactly the same last words Dan said to me."

---------------

Days later, we held a memorial service for Dan. We met Dan's family for the first time. His wife was stunningly beautiful. After the service, we went to the same Bar for a drink. Everyone told of fond stories about Dan. Jim recounted his heroic combat with cancer. Just one week ago, he had insisted on, because the doc didn't want to, scheduling the next bi-weekly appointment... I took the same seat but Nancy was not there.

---------

"Quick, Xiaosong! Come to the conference room." Nancy called outside my office, "Take a break. My department is having a little party. For the closing of a great year! Hurry up!" Nancy was smiling brightly. For a moment, I had a flashback of the day when I first started. But she also looked different. I don't know. She has to be.

How strange. Life is. In this "New Continent". Dwelled by Dvorak. Or by me. By Nancy.

Buckley Athwart History - from WSJ

(I am very much stirred by how he thinks and realizes his ideas; this is someone i can identify. actually, admire.)

I believe that the duel between Christianity and atheism is the most important in the world. I further believe that that the struggle between individualism and collectivism is the same struggle reproduced on another level.

-- "God and Man at Yale," 1951

It seems altogether possible that did National Review not exist, no one would have invented it. . . . For we offer, besides ourselves, a position that has not grown old under the weight of a gigantic, parasitic bureaucracy, a position untempered by the doctoral dissertations of a generation of Ph.D.s in social architecture, unattenuated by a thousand vulgar promises to a thousand different pressure groups, uncorroded by a cynical contempt for human freedom. And that, ladies and gentlemen, leaves us just about the hottest thing in town.

-- "Statement," National Review, 1955

The attempted assassination of Sukarno last week had all the earmarks of a CIA operation. Everyone in the room was killed except Sukarno.

-- Editorial, National Review, 1957

We deem it the central revelation of Western experience that man cannot ineradicably stain himself, for the wells of regeneration are infinitely deep. . . . Khrushchev cannot take permanent advantage of our temporary disadvantage, for it is the West he is fighting. And in the West there lie, however encysted, the ultimate resources, which are moral in nature. . . . Even out the depths of despair, we take heart in the knowledge that it cannot matter how deep we fall, for there is always hope. In the end, we will bury him.

-- Address in New York, after Khrushchev was invited to speak at the U.N., 1960

The glorious development of this year was the nomination of a man whose views have given the waiting community a choice. . . . Now is precisely the moment to labor incessantly to educate our fellow citizens. The point is to win recruits whose attention we might never have attracted but for Barry Goldwater: to win them not only for Nov. 3 but for future Novembers: to infuse the conservative spirit in enough people to entitle us to look about, on Nov. 4, not at the ashes of defeat but at the well-planted seeds of hope, which will flower on a great November day in the future.

-- Address to Young
Americans for Freedom,
September 1964

At a press conference during his campaign for mayor of New York City: Do you have any chance of winning?

Buckley: No.

Q: Do you really want to be mayor?

Buckley: I've never considered it.

Q: Well, conservatively speaking, how many votes do you expect to get?

Buckley: One.

Q: And who would cast that vote?

Buckley: My secretary.

-- 1965 (When later asked what he would do if elected, he replied, "Demand a

recount.")

A good debater is not necessarily an effective vote-getter: you can find a hole in your opponent's argument through which you could drive a coach and four ringing jingle bells all the way, and thrill at the crystallization of a truth wrung out from a bloody dialogue -- which, however, may warm only you and your muse, while the smiling paralogist has in the meantime made votes by the tens of thousands.

-- "The Unmaking of a Mayor," 1966

I first met [Whittaker] Chambers in 1954. An almost total silence had closed in on him. Two years earlier he had published "Witness." . . . The bitterness of the Hiss trial had not by any means subsided. For some of the reviewers, Hiss's innocence had once been a fixed rational conviction, then blind faith; now it was rank superstition, and they bent under the force of an overwhelming book. . . .

The tokens of hope and truth were not, he seemed to be saying, to be preserved by a journal of opinion, not by writers and thinkers, but only by activists, and I was to know that he considered a publication -- the right kind of publication -- not a word, but a deed. Though Chambers was a passionate literary man, always the intellectual, insatiably and relentlessly curious, in the last analysis it was action, not belletrism, that moved him most deeply.

-- "Odyssey of a Friend," 1969

Henry Gibson: Mr. Buckley, I have noticed that whenever you appear on television, you're always seated. Is that because you can't think on your feet?

Buckley: It's very hard to stand up carrying the weight of what I know.

-- Appearance on "Laugh-In," 1970

I am lapidary but not eristic when I use big words.

-- Column, 1986

How gifted do you need to be to publish Whittaker Chambers and Russell Kirk, James Burnham and Keith Mano? . . . If an editorial note is reserved for me in the encyclopedias, it will appear under the heading "Alchemy." . . . And, yes, we did as much as anybody with the exception of -- Himself -- to shepherd into the White House the man I am confident will emerge as the principal political figure of the second half of the 20th century . . . He said, at a critical moment in history, that the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics was an evil empire. . . . We were missing only the galvanizing summation; and we got it from President Reagan: and I think that the countdown for Communism began then.

-- Address at National Review's 35th anniversary banquet, upon his retirement as editor, 1990

Above all, conservatives tend to intuit that materialist terminology is insufficient to express the depth of American attachments to their ideals. It remains, for some reason, arresting that one speaks of the "sanctity" of life, of our "devotion" to our ideals, of the "holy" causes in which we engage. American conservatives never exclude those who discountenance transcendent perspectives, but we tend to live by them.

-- "To Preserve What We Have," essay in The Wall Street Journal, 2002

Ah, but the sea always has something lying in wait for you. . . . You are moving at racing speed, parting the buttery sea as with a scalpel, and the waters roar by, themselves exuberantly subdued by your powers to command your way through them. Triumphalism -- and the stars also seem to be singing together for joy.

-- "Thoughts on a Final Passage," essay, 2004

Despair is inappropriate for a culture as buoyant as our own.

Just a note

Little did I know that I was talking about myself when I wrote about Salieri in: it's all too human. Life has strange turns. And for once, I had prepared myself. But one can never be too prepared. When the challenging is reaching that of a Salieri scale. :-)

Notes on Daniel Kahneman's Lecture on Cognition

(recommended again by Jr. - this is such an insightful lecture that we have been referring back to it all the time. so i am re-reading it more carefully and taking notes. )

MAPS OF BOUNDED RATIONALITY: A PERSPECTIVE ON INTUITIVE JUDGMENT
AND CHOICE

Nobel Prize Lecture, December 8, 2002

by DANIEL KAHNEMAN

the cocept of two systems of ratinality: intuition and reasoning.

System 1: fast, automatic, effortless, associative, and difficult to control or modify.
System 2: slower, serial, effortful, and deliberately controlled; they are also relatively
flexible and potentially rule-governed.

perception and intuition: intuitive judgments deal with concepts as well as with percepts, and can be evoked by language.

impressions vs. judgement: nonveral; explicit, intentional

1. accessibility: this is the most important concept here, concerning how with a given situation, some information is more readily accessible to the mind than others, which evidenntly would lead to rather quick (but not necessarily correct) intuitive judgement of the situation. (my comment: knowing what will follow, this is probably THE error most human beings make day in and day out)

a simple but illuminating example: mind grasps the average, but not the sum, of, say, a set of china pieces.

physical properties such as size, distance and loudness,
similarity
causal propensity
surprisingness
affective valence
mood
context

"perception is a choice of which we are not aware, and we perceive what has been chosen."

"Uncertainty is poorly represented in intuition, as well as in perception. in other words, perception and intuition are always confidently carried out." (ouch! the more primitive, the less knowledgeable, the more confident.)

2. Framing effect: "Invariance cannot be achieved by a finite mind. " passive adoption. (i shall call this "the lazy mind effect" that people perceive or reach decisions mostly within a finite context (framed). simple examples include answers are determined by how questions are asked in the lecture. however, one can easily stretch this to even how people in general live their lives within the cultural and societal context and thus become part of the context. - my newly acquired interest in cultural determinism)

"The impossibility of invariance raises significant doubts about the descriptive
realism of rational-choice models (Tversky & Kahneman, 1986). Absent a
system that reliably generates appropriate canonical representations, intuitive
decisions will be shaped by the factors that determine the accessibility of different
features of the situation. Highly accessible features will influence decisions,
while features of low accessibility will be largely ignored. Unfortunately,
there is no reason to believe that the most accessible features are also the
most relevant to a good decision."

3. change rules. how people make decisions on based on totality but the change of states. examples are strong emotions attaching to the change of wealth (not total assets); risk taking based on the relative small stake against total wealth; risk aversion if total wealth not considered.

4. attribute substitution.

"people rely on a limited number of heuristic principles which reduce
the complex tasks of assessing probabilities and predicting values to simpler
judgmental operations. In general, these heuristics are quite useful, but
sometimes they lead to severe and systematic errors.”

"A judgment is said to be mediated by
a heuristic when the individual assesses a specified target attribute of a judgment
object by substituting a related heuristic attribute that comes more readily
to mind." (the inexhaustible use of bad analogies in reasoning and understanding came to mind)

attribute substitution: a little bit difficult to comprehend (read twice to get it). example: when people are asked to estimate "probability" answered instead as if they are asked to guess "similarity". as the latter is the more accesible attribute. statistical attribute, while not sophisticated by itself, is less accessible and therefore not used. (the improtance of self-consiousness and enhancing attention to rules)

"Affective valence is a natural assessment, and therefore
a candidate for substitution in the numerous responses that express attitudes."

"an automatic affective valuation – the emotional core of an attitude – is the main determinant of many judgments and behaviors."

"In terms of the scope of responses that it governs, the natural assessment of
affect should join representativeness and availability in the list of general-purpose
heuristic attributes."

5. THE ACCESSIBILITY OF CORRECTIVE THOUGHTS

the ability of system 2 to monitor 1: lax, limited and anchored upon intuitive thinking. affected by time pressure, multitasking, stress, and good mood. positively correlated with intelligence.

6. PROTOTYPE HEURISTICS

roughly described as the substitution of an average for a sum (how about individual?)

"The value of an extensional attribute in a set is an aggregate (not necessarily additive) of the values over its extension. The argument of this section is that the extensional attributes in these tasks are low in accessibility, and are therefore candidates for heuristic substitution."

"A prototype heuristic is the label for the process of substituting an attribute of a prototype for an extensional attribute of its category"

my favorite: the china sets

"a single generic proposition: “Highly accessible impressions produced by System 1 control judgments and preferences, unless modified or overridden by the deliberate operations of System 2.”"

reading carl jung

Jr recommended one chapter on "dream, knowledge, language" (forgot the title already). briefly, jung talked about the similarity between ontogenesis and phylogenesis and dream. about the importance of "directed thinking", the kind obtained through training in science and technology, in contrast to "associative thinking", which exemplifies much of human cognition. he also discussed "matter of factly" the essence of language in the acqusition of knowledge - precisely as i had realized myself awhile ago: these two are really one and the same (gee, i could have known this sooner by reading). associative thinking lacks abstraction (and too "primitive", commented Jr, dismissvely).

i am less sure about his characterization of "dream". for him, as for his freud, dream is part of the subconsciousness, consistent with what one thinks in full wakeness and therefore can be explained more or less logically. on the other hand, i rather have the belief that dream is a physiological process necessary to unwind the brain from continuous thinking. it is the needed rest for the brain, within which, the nerves fire rather randomly, with some connection to daily activities but without much intrinsic meaning attached to.

about truth

"what is truth is rational; what is rational is not necessarily truth" is my favorite saying (i made it up long time ago). but i've never been sure about the first half of it. why truth has to be rational? is it really?

consulted with Jr. he suggested that probably it is based on the assumption that ultimately all things can be explained logically. or at least we believe so. when new evidence contradicts a "proven" truth, it causes a paradigm shift and new theory is then developed to accomodate all "facts". pushing still further and it probably also concerns of Godel's imcomplete theorem.

it's hard for me to think through it with absolute clarity and certainty. i will just leave it here by saying probably this is how i "define" truth.

the morality of brilliance

lunched with Steve last Friday. the conversation was centered, naturally, on Pats. Steve was planning to go to the Superbowl, because "this is the one, if you only go once". Of course, he went once already but that was the unspeakable 1986 game.

having gone over every detail about Pats' next game against Chargers, we turned to our attention to the whole year, in particular, the significance of the Spygate. as everyone Bostonian remotely interested in Sports, i have been fascinated by the whole evolving phenomenon. this incredible energy this team/sports nation has drawn from such a gigantic scandal. Steve actually personified it. he told of his indignities and his much intensified hatred against every opponent since. he even stoppped watching games with friends; instead, he locked himself at home and glued to the TV, set up at the best possible angle, so that he could attend to every single detail that needed his full attention and salvage every single mement that might be remotely memorable.

but this inspiration was not about acknowledging wrongdoings, or redemption. it was as if an effort, an immense one, to overwelm others. by playing hurt. by being undefeatable; brilliant; SUPER... and SUPER have they become. now superiority does not equal "morality". yet, somehow, something else has sprung from it, as the urgency for one to dominate generated a counter force as powerful: instead of being cowered, every week, a new team came more and more determined. along the way, they ascended to their own unprecedented excellence. alongside the PATS. and it feels morally inspiring. at least to me.

so there you go, another odd trick of the mind. it can translate brilliance into morality. or at least tries to. and because of this, PATS have to win this time.

drifting leftward - notes on Right Hand Left Hand 2/4

Right Hand Left Hand
Chris McManus

Chapter 5: the Heart of the Dragon
why the heart is always on the left side: extremely elegant biological experiments illustrating how this happens during embryonic development: the clockwise rotating monocillia sweep any signaling molecule secreted by the node almost entirely to the left-hand side, whether it could trigger the cascades of signaling molecules such as Sonic hedgehog.

Chapter 6: the Toad, Ugly and Venomous

the asymmetry of life's building blocks: L- amino acids and D-sugars. the origin of L- amino acids.

As you like it (Act 2, Scene 1) by Shakespeare:

Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in tress, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stone, and good in everything.

Physicist Abdus Salam's explanation of the discovery of Yang and Li:

I asked him if any classical writer had ever considered giants with only the left eye. He confessed that one-eyed giants have been described, and he supplied me with a full list of them; but they always [like the Cyclops in Homer's Odyssey] sport their solitary eye in the middle of the forehead. In my view, what we have found is that space is a weak left-eyed giant.

Chapter 7: The Dextrous and The Gauche
Finally, the author's attention focused on the handedness. Talked about "preference" determining the usage of one hand.

His own theory of handedness: two gene loci: D and C. Not sure how well this holds. needs more information from other sources.

A surprise for myself: I only scored 1/10 for preferential use of the left hand!

Chapter 8: The Left Brain, the Right Brain and the Whole Brain
asymmetry of the two half-brains; fascinating consequences of all sorts of brain damage.
the author proposed the same two gene loci determine the differentiation of the left and right brains.

Chapter 9: Ehud, Son of Gera
percentage of left-handed is different among different ethnic groups. the author made a fairly convincing argument that the basis is biological, not cultural.

evolution of the human hand: the instrument of instruments.

Steve Jones on evolution: Evolution is to allegory as statues are to birdshit. It is a convenient platform upon which to deposit badly digested ideas.

Chapter 10: Three men went to mow
cultural conventions concerning left and right

writing: left to right, right to left, left to right and then right to left.
driving, sports, music, politics.

main point: many are determined by factors other than biology.

Chapter 11: Keggie-Hander
how lefties survive in a society of right-handers. in English, large number of words describing left-handednes, mostly negative; only one describing the right-handed. social pressure from extreme negative to nonexistent.

Chapter 12: Vulgar Errors
poked holes to all myths about left-handed:

identical twins don't usually be mirror-image of each other. Left-handers don't die younger, nor suffer from immune disorders, nor more creative or intelligent. Neanderthals were not left-handed. mirrors don't reverse left and right....

Chapter 13: The Handedness of Muppets
trivia: left-handers rarely shown in movies, even less as heros. Titanic was built as a half boat for the movie. mirror writing. most famous left hander: Leonardo da Vinci. 6 left-handers been president of US. Thomas Jefferson wrote with his left hand. Benjamin Franklin wrote a cute letter for the left-hand.

Chapter 14: Man is All Symmetrie
talked about all sorts of symmetric stuff.

Chapter 15: The World, the Small, the Great
summarizes all his thoughts with a grand hypothesis.

a knitter's song

A Knitter's Song 

I sit beside the fire and knit
with the exquisite colors that I have seen,
scarves, hats and mitt(s)
rainbow-shaded or avocado-green.

I sit beside the fire and think
of those that I’ve needled for,
over, under, turn and again
how I love you, ever more.

 (And all the while she sits and knits,
plagiarizing Bilbo’s song with her knotty wits.)

 (pic: liony with his new scarf. :-))

Bilbo's original

I sit beside the fire and think
of all that I have seen
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
in summers that have been;
 
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun
and wind upon my hair.
 
I sit beside the fire and think
of how the world will be
when winter comes without a spring
that I shall ever see.
 
For still there are so many things
that I have never seen:
in every wood in every spring
there is a different green.
 
I sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know.
 
But all the while I sit and think
of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
and voices at the door.