Good Things That Happened This Weekend

A roundup of good things that happened last weekend. I find that I share a lot of little awesome things on Facebook and Twitter, but rarely do I put them on the blog as well. Which I should do, since reminiscing about the past or pointing people to great products is easier through a blog link. It was a good weekend.

Friday

Great cheeses were found, and excellently paired up with Cave Spring Gamay. I decided to stay at home after a full week of events and weeknight outings. Plus, I wake up at 6:30AM and get to work for 8 every Friday because of a report deliverable at 10AM. Coupled with candy Friday, I just end up being apathetic on Fridays. Which is fine by me. I went to Kensington market to grab some assorted olives, smoked salmon and cheese to snack on. I grabbed some Beemster, which is never a bad idea, and gave Fleuron de Bruges a try. Wow. I am not a fan of soft cheeses but when I tried this extra soft cheese with an orange rind and nutty flavor, I waited for 15 seconds, then declared, “It’s growing on me”, and bought some. Now I want more!

I also watched a 1995 foreign film, Man Bites Dog, which I tuned in and out of. It’s a black and white film which follows a reckless young serial killing man as he goes about his business. It was fun. The main character says a lot of interesting things, can play the piano, sing, recipe poetry and…also kill a lot of people. Oh well! I actually roared with laughter a lot more than I thought I would.

Saturday

The day started with me hosting brunch for Nadine and I. Pardon the blurry photo, but at the time I didn’t notice anything wrong it. We enjoyed a breakfast spread that was a bit too big for two people, but still: salad, fresh baguette, organic butter, organic citrus fruit, cheese, prosciutto, smoked salmon, olives, and scrambled eggs with caramelized onions & zucchini. No wonder brunch lasted all afternoon, but so did the writing. I wrote a detox summary (which I posted two days ago), I wrote some pages for the 3 pages a day challenge (which, by the way, is turning into a 10 pages a week exercise, but oh well). Productivity!

When I came over to my friend’s place to play Settlers of Catan, I was in high spirits. Then I lost the game (or was on my way there), and that didn’t bode too well. We turned the evening around, however. We also watched Tarantino’s Jackie Brown, but unfortunately I fell asleep at the part where Jackie was making sharp deals with the racketeers or whatever they were.

Sunday

I slept in till 11am just because I could. Woke up sans alarm and read a bit. I’m few days away from finishing Luis Bunuel’s autobiography. It’s a great book. While I was reading on Sunday, I realized that I have a passion for learning about the lives of talented and truly brilliant individuals of the 20th century. I also enjoy the fact that I am familiar with the work of most players of several artistic movements of the times. When I read the stories of one of the movement participants, I learn about others. And when I read their accounts, I gather new and interesting information about their life. Or anecdotes. Or quotes. <3

Then I indulged in mysticism, courtesy of Meghatron. I figured something things out and decided to take it easy all day. But first, I had to update my wardrobe for a garland of holiday parties coming up.

So I purchased the following Marais black lace up heels, just cause I don’t have any proper black booties / heels / “serious” shoes. All my shoes are red, or sneakers, runners and heels I don’t want to wear anymore. Look at these versatile cuties:

And the Shakuhachi red animal bat wing dress. It looks pretty awesome.

I also downloaded the Amazon iPhone app, which was the end of me, really. I became obsessed with the idea of reading truly inspiring, interesting and intelligent biographies (but preferably autobiographies) of artists, writers, intellectuals and film people. I called for a list of said biographies and so far I received these recommendations (and thus, recommend them to you):

• Pablo Neruda, Memoirs
• Reinaldo Arenas, Before Night Falls
• G.I. Gurdjieff, Meetings With Remarkable Men
• Mark Twain, Autobiography, Vol. 1
• Frank Zappa, The Real Frank Zappa
• Cleopatra: A Life (by Stacy Schiff)
• Patti Smith, Just Kids
• Peggy Guggenheim, Confessions of an Art Addict.

I bought the Reinaldo Arenas one, and it’s currently in ze mail, en route to me!

I also made several delightful sandwiches to keep me full at lunches at work. Here’s one specimen:

Federico Garcia Lorca – Unpublished Poem (1929)

From Luis Bunuel’s Last Sigh:

“Later, in 1929, he wrote another short poem I love, and which has never been published:

Cielo azul
Campo amarillo
Monte azul
Campo amarillo

Por la llanura desierta
Va caminando un olivo

Un solo
Olivo.”

I am going to memorize it and love it dearly.

Julian Schnabel at the AGO (Exhibit Review)

Last Saturday Alex and I checked out the Julian Schnabel exhibit at the Art Gallery of Ontario. I didn’t think I would enjoy this exhibit so much. The number one reason why this exhibit is more powerful than anything I’ve seen at the AGO before: context (and the whole film theme, too). A lot of context for each piece. Documented.

Some of my favorite works were the broken plate pieces. I enjoyed the size of the artworks, and appreciated the time that went into creating them. I’ve seen a lot of peculiar and unusual work (like Rauschenberg), but for some reason these ones really struck me. I wondered about the individual past of each piece. I also like the fact that he documented his naming ideas. I just never saw plates on the painting before and I realized that I enjoy the 3 dimensionality there, as well as the kind of recycling of the work. They also made me think of Duchamp and the readymades.

Another positive element of this exhibit was the phone tour guide. You call an 800-number, enter the artwork ID and listen to Julian Schnabel himself explaining the piece. Before I called, I expected a droning tour guide voice to tell me the basics. But instead I got the notes from Schnabel himself. Like!

So, there was another broken plate painting that made me cheerful. It was called “Australia” and if you called in you’d hear a little story about who that was and who that related to. That gave me a better sense of what this was. I liked the multiple layers and multiple tales that the painting presented.

I VERY MUCH enjoyed Schnabel’s surfing photographs that he touched with white gesso (which is water soluble, hence leaves pleasant trails). Gesso gave the photographs this transcendence. Some realistic, yet magical touch that somehow heightened the whole surfing experience to something nearly divine. I felt like I was transported into the scene and that I could get splashed myself. The scale is unbelievable. The wave may just spill over and splash you.

While I wouldn’t really hang most of the pieces, I truly marveled at most of them. For example, look at the Andy Warhol portrait. It’s oil on black velvet. I noticed something was off about that work when I walked into the smaller room in which it was displayed. The background seemed to be made of blackest black. It was velvet. Which made the colors pop with unusual vibrancy. It also made me think of outer space, ghost of Warhol and his legacy. Truly gripping piece.

The Gary Oldman portrait was great as well. I really felt that the portrait was completed by his friend. Schnabel captured Gary’s vulnerable, open expressions really well. The matador costume seemed very fitting.

To summarize, I find the following things refreshing about the Julian Schnabel exhibit (and I applaud the AGO):

• a richer than usual context (with stories, comments, memories)
• some film history or fact related to film (you know I’ve a weakness for that)
• phone-in tour guide with notes from Schnabel himself
• powerful and well-chosen quotes, especially the Tarkovsky one below.
• interesting fascination with the lesser known personalities and stories. I thought of how amazing it was that that Julian Schnabel became interested in the less than famous, less than mainstream personalities. For example, Reinaldo Arenas in Before Night Falls. Then the preoccupation with matadors and the desire to adapt to screen a biography about this famous matador, written by another author in 1st person. Or the Jean-Dominique Bauby story chronicled in the Diving Bell and the Butterfly. That’s unique, that’s different. These are the stories that we don’t hear a lot (unlike Gandhi, Martin Luther-King, Ali and hundreds of others), but that need a voice. So I thank Julian Schnabel for bringing to light the relatively unknown stories and people. I am always curious to come across strong characters and inspiring tales that are also beautiful and poetic, and it’s great that Schnabel brings them to light. (More on that at some point later, I’d like to tie this into literature and music, but I can’t put all of this into words yet)
• Please take a look at the Before Night Falls books and DVDs available for sale, if you decide to plunge into the passionate story that it is.
• Or, if the Diving Bell and the Butterfly is your thing, I’ve sorted these relevant products for you.

Please check out the exhibit. More details are here. I’ll be sure to go again. It’s on until January 2, 2011.

“An artistic image is one that ensures its own development, its historical viability. An image is a grain, a self-evolving retroactive organism. It is a symbol of actual life, as opposed to life itself. Life contains death. An image of life, by contrast, excludes it, or else sees in it a unique potential for the affirmation of life. Whatever it expresses – even destruction and ruin – the artistic image is by definition an embodiment of hope, it is inspired by faith. Artistic creation is by definition a denial of death. Therefore it is optimistic, even if in an ultimate sense the artist is tragic. And so there can never be optimistic artists and pessimistic artists. There can only be talent and mediocrity.” Andrei Tarkovsky

On Spontaneous Eloquence

“My vocabulary dwells deep in my mind and needs paper to wriggle out into the physical zone. Spontaneous eloquence seems to me a miracle.” – Vladimir Nabokov, Strong Opinions

In May I spent more (than usual) time worried about the words I choose in everyday language. I became acutely aware of the differences in my written speech and my spoken one. I noticed that I had opted out for simple, quick words that popped into my mind like fireworks, instead of selecting the vivid and precise boulders of usually longer and mostly unpopular words. Words that communicated the meaning exceptionally, but words that also don’t spring into action at the slighted fancy of the brain. The words need mining. While I wanted to give them some spotlight, I ended up using the simplest normal words.

The more chipper, satisfied and energetic I was, the more my speech resembled a basic soap opera set. Exaggerating, I’ll even say, my speech was caveman-like! Sentence structure, all sorts of exclamations and exclamation marks. Well, the usual me, I guess, hehe.

Having learned English as a second language, I’ve always paid attention to my vocabulary, words I use, metaphors I create and more. Knowing more than one language makes you appreciate the variety of expressions that already exist and that could be created. Writing was not a problem. Writing allows for apt word selections and swollen metaphors because of the comforts of time and editing options, while speaking in person demands mental dexterity and immediate responses. I also couldn’t understand the incongruence between my written language and my spoken one. What the …!

So I entertained this worry until I ran across the aforementioned quote by Nabokov in Strong Opinions. That definitely relaxed me. Consulting with a couple of fellow lovers of words and letters, I found out it’s not an usual concern. Moreover, it made me consciously make an effort to give some air time to words we sometimes only see in print.

Progress! Yesterday for the first time I noticed that, while telling Meghann a story, I deliberately thought about colorful metaphors to employ. I took the time to summon a lengthier and sometimes even more pompous word where a simple one could suffice. I realized that ever since I consciously made an effort to decorate in-person parlance with more book-like words, I’ve been making some success. Now the only task is to continue to collect and use more of these epic words

Fun Update: randomly searching the web, of course, yielded this paper: “Consequences of Erudite Vernacular Utilized Irrespective of Necessity: Problems with Using Long Words Needlessly” . I smirked. Tell that to the author himself!

I’d like to say that I believe there is a difference between literary, fiction-oriented writing and to-the-point writing style of the everyday (journalistic, business, too). I just like my goddamn language, so I will savor every word I can.

On the other hand, I, too, was annoyed when students mindlessly employed long words to add potential zest to papers. But never in my life have I discounted someone’s intelligence just because they used complex words. And knew when to use them. More often than not, their speech was also more entertaining, with puns and humor, jokes and various references.

How About a Different Job Each Week?

When I received an opportunity to review The One-Week Job Project: One Man, One Year, 52 Jobs, I was thrilled. The book was about a familiar soul – a young person with a passion, curiosity and the balls to take action. In his book, Sean Aiken takes the readers on a year-long journey across cities, provinces and even countries, in search of the career he will like.

The idea is simple: To try out a different job for a week, 52 times, in order to truly discover what Sean needed in a career, what made him happy and what didn’t. He traveled all over Canada and the United States, donating his wages to ONE campaign. During the journey, he met a wide variety of people from all walks of life. Sean Aiken should be an inspiration to all who want to follow their passion; to all who want to change their life for the better; to all who don’t know where to start and to all who need that extra push. Besides the above, it’s also an entertaining and unique tale.

Each chapter starts with that week’s city, job description, approximate wages, some facts about the industry/job and lessons learned. Sean then describes his adventures, not forgetting to highlight any valuable advice he received from his employer/colleague. Not every chapter contains a gem of wisdom, but each describes unique situations and (mostly) unusual environments. I definitely wouldn’t have learned about so many careers in such a short time if I hadn’t read the book.

One Week Job project is not a self-help guide on how to pinpoint the best job for you. It’s a fun tale about one way of doing it. It’s also a colorful retelling of an individual experience. It is hopefully an interesting and inspiring read for young students, whether in high school or university. Or anyone looking to discover their true passion.

I personally loved the book because I respect and identify with the kind of a person who wrote it. Sean is a kindred spirit. I feel that in my life I, too, sprung into the unknown, took risks and followed my heart. I can relate. And I am glad there are more of us to tell the tale!

Bonus points for great insights in some chapters of the book. I highlighted interesting quotes from some of Sean’s employers; I circled some lessons that Sean learned from his own mistakes or insights. My favorite is from week 16 where Sean learns that “every person who comes into our life, no matter how briefly, we have the ability to affect – through a kind word, a smile, a door held open. Each one of these simple interactions leave us altered in some way – whether it’s positive or negative change is up to us to decide.”

It’s a fun read! Check out Sean’s website (there’s more goodies there!). Since completing his journey Sean produced a documentary, launched the One Week Job program and spoke about his adventures in front of a variety of audiences.

Thanks to Penguin Canada for sending me a copy!

Quotes, Words and Memory

I probably haven’t mentioned it in my official blog, that is, this one – albeit I posted about it on Twitter and via Facebook tumblr application, but anyway: Last fall I established a blog, a collection of verbal snippets. word quote machine, it is called (wtf, right?). Feel free to follow it for various quotes, interesting images [conjured by letters], curious words, sometimes definitions. So far I’ve managed to come up with 150+ posts which I consider above the average quote book. You know, none of those marginal uplifting or happy go lucky quotes favored by the Hallmark crowd. I tried to look beyond that and dove into deeper literature for what I amassed in my quote tumblr.

Feel free to follow and hopefully enjoy

Books I Read This Year

December is for summaries and lists. I’m not doing any music selections (yet?), but I’ve been keeping track of books I’ve read. I had to recreate the list from memory this November, so I am sure I am missing a 2 – 3 books that I forgot about (not memorable enough? Too much information to remember?)

• Economics of Strategy was definitely for the Industry Analysis class I was taking in January. Again, this book features a picture of a pretty painting on its cover. Reminds me of the times I took a statistics class and each chapter in the textbook featured a fragment of this or that modern art work.

• -(Clickable image) Bukowski’s. Way too repetitive, sad and overflowing with erotic scenes. Got boring halfway through.

• – Ghosts, not a bad book by Cesar Aira. A poignant story about young and impressionable hearts, lots of magic, ghosts and hardships.
• I wish Someone Had Told Me That – girls were making fun of the author photo, and I  understand them. The author seems like a solid square, but his publisher and people he interviewed for the book, have both been helpful. Great kernels of experience.
• Housekeeper and the Professor – great book, a lot of math and humanity. I wrote a review.
• A Whole New Mind – positively inspiring, set me on a quest to find a masters program with the perfect blend of art and business. Daniel H Pink is really good, supports his ideas with references, and is an all around fun and important non-fiction writer.
• – DeNiro’s Game was not bad, mostly a boys’ book about badass youngsters in a struggling part of the world, salvaging what they can.
• The Sleeper Awakes – the classic. Interesting vision of 2100. What the heck, Wells was great.
• – Bonjour Tristesse was a little self-indulgent, but an important book nevertheless. It’s like an overpoweringly cliche French movie you watch on a Sunday afternoon in bed
• Pride & Prejudice & Zombies – hilarity!! I wolfed the book down, especially because I couldn’t be bothered to read the original Pride & Prejudice. Sense & Sensibility & Sea Monsters are next on the list.
• the medium is the massage – confirms my belief that McLuhan was seriously ahead of his cohort by many, many decades. His statements still ring true. Amazing.
• Choice Theory: A very short introduction – purchased at the Harvard store with the intention of learning to make better, rational choices. I make more rational choices now, but can’t 100% say they’re much better or worse. They’re just rational choice. (Which probably implies that they are indeed “better” than the irrational ones)
• Pnin – and thus my love affair with Vladimir Nabokov started.
• Lolita – serious lust, for little girls, for language. Best written book, ever. Nothing can compete. I felt all kinds of emotions when reading it, deeply, painfully and ecstatically. I’ve yet to write an actual post about it. and I will.
• The Eye – not the best work of Nabokov, but luckily it is short.
• Lunar Park – Bret Easton Ellis did really well in this one. If I read it in 2005, when it came out, I’d probably feel like everyone else who read it then and expected yet another repetitive party story (like his other books); or worse, expected something of an American Psycho saga (since so many people only read that book by him and know nothing more). There is an American Psycho presence there, btw, but also a good blend of real and unreal, of true and false. An intense and rapidly evolving downward spiral that gave me nightmares and even made me terrified of a potential toy in my hallway. Lulz, I told you I was an emotional reader.
• Miro: A life of passion – wrote a blog post about this. An inspiring story.
• Meditations in an Emergency – I can’t believe I let Frank O’Hara slide by for this long. He’s inspired me to write a new series of poems.
• How to talk about books you haven’t read – Pierre Bayard treatise for those who actually love reading. It makes a great gift for someone who loves reading and has a sense of humor. I also felt like I read a lot more books than just one because each chapter explores a particular literary issue in the context of this or that novel.
• Crush It – Gary Vaynerchuk’s high pitched to-do list for a successful persona-driven online enterprise. I was pleased to know that I already knew or did 75% of the things listed here. Learned about new services that I could employ and felt energized. Good guy. Fellow USSR-born import.
• White Out, pt 1 – Consumed this in 1 hour on a plane. I wish I brought part 2 with me, because I spent 3 hours watching TV on a plane instead of exercising my reading muscles. Dang. And on that note:
• White Out, pt 2 - Will read it before the year is over. Just an hour of my life, right
• Speak, Memory – Nabokov’s autobiography. Masterful renewal of Russia lost, of innocence gone, of the society that will never appear again. I love it. I fell deeply into it, and don’t want to raise my head and blink at bleak reality right here. I’ve 40 more pages to go, but I’m positive I’ll complete the tale before the clock hits 12 on Dec 31.
• Eating Animals – hurrying to finish this startling, well-supported case by Jonathan Safran Foer (fiction writer, eh), before the year is over (100 pages left), so that I could dismiss meat in the new year. In fact,  this Christmas I’ve been dealing with agonies over cruelty-full turkeys and cows. Bah. An illuminating read.

Note 1: I am utterly terrified that I haven’t read anything in Russian last year (besides e-mails). Really? This cannot be. I’ve half a shelf of Russian classics in my home, and I better get to them come new year.

Note 2: I may be missing a book or two, because I forgot I read it this year. Some books aren’t as memorable as others, and I’m sure I’m forgetting something.

What have you read this year?

Attitudes Toward Sleep

It occurs to me that many brilliant individuals had trouble sleeping, or simply slept less. Or, perhaps, were tainted by insomnia as an affliction and became really vocal about it. Vladimir Nabokov offers his startling confession about sleep (from Speak, Memory):

All my life I have been a poor go-t0-sleeper. People in trains, who lay their newspaper aside, fold their silly arms, and immediately, with an offensive familiarity of demeanor, start snoring, amaze me as much as the uninhibited chap who cozily defecates in the presence of a chatty tubber, or participates in huge demonstrations, or joins some union in order to dissolve in it. (Love the jabs here! – KA) Sleep is the most moronic fraternity in the world, with the heaviest dues and the crudest rituals. It is a mental torture I find debasing. The strain and drain of composition often force me, alas, to swallow a strong pill that gives me an hour or two of frightful nightmares or even to accept the comic relief of a midday snooze, the way a senile rake might totter to the nearest euthanasium; but I simply cannot get used to the nightly betrayal of reason, humanity, genius. No matter how great my weariness, the wrench of parting with consciousness is unspeakably repulsive to me.

Food for thought indeed.

Chapters and Facebook

Last week Chapters Indigo offered an interesting offer – 25% off your next in-store purchase, all the way up to December 24. You go to their Facebook fan page, become a fan, then print out their unique coupon. Check out the screenshots. This is what you see when you follow the Facebook fan page link I provided two sentences ago.

When you click the “click here” button, an option to share with friends will appear. Of course you don’t have to share, but why would you not, given the holiday spirit and the ease of information dissemination via one simple click?

The moment you hit “Publish” or “Skip” your coupon appears. Notice the “Print” button, which automatically sends the coupon to nearest available printer.I really like the use of social media here!

1. Chapters can measure the success of this campaign simply by monitoring coupon scans, which I’m sure have a special “from Facebook” code on them.
2. Chapters Indigo Facebook fanbase will grow, obviously
3. Chapters minimized the number of steps required in coupon acquisition (I’m always annoyed, but accepting of “Fill out this form…”, “Check your e-mail”, open e-mail, print the e-mail, etc)
4. …And embedded a simple viral factor

Brings thoughts about what Meteor Solutions calls earned media. Those that share the deal with their Facebook friends are effectively participating in the According to them, it’s your content, shared by your customers through email, blogs, and the social web. You can buy as many banner ads as you want, but when your visitors share your message for you… that’s earned media. It’s powerful, it’s growing, and it’s everywhere.

There we go. Maybe I’m so into it because I love reading and Chapters is better at delivering books than Amazon. Oh, and it’s Canadian. Didn’t think I’d ever get to this, but I’m heavy into Canadiana lately. But that’s for another blog post.

Book/Film Re-Runs

Catholic guilt is the term used to identify the supposed excess guilt felt by Catholics and lapsed Catholics. The term catholic guilt is controversial as it is not clearly differentiated from the guilt felt by members of other religions or moral codes. Says Wikipedia. This term is too strong for this post, but I use it when describing my feelings towards other things. Moreover, I’m not even Catholic.

I have a problem with watching the same film, or, worse, reading the same book, over and over and over because I’m acutely aware of the lack of time in a life (add to that the daily-changing probabilities of a sudden, tragic or freak death, accident or a negative surprise; life gets even shorter), and I feel that spending time re-reading the best book in the world will handicap me in my quest for self-development, entertainment and the general betterment.

If I get my mittens on a much beloved DVD, I don’t watch it right away (unless I’m trying to educate fellow bright minds during their visits to my pixie palace). I set it aside and feel torn between it (the personally approved) and the unseen latest and greatest (at least critically acclaimed or much-recommended, or “really important as per some weirdos” works). It’s not so difficult with films. I end up plowing through the cinematic world with no problem, catching both old and new, but rarely on repeat.

I have never re-read a book. I have absolute favorites, with highlighted passages, scribbles, smiley faces and comments in the margins, but I never read them again. I covet them, place them on display, and recommend left-right-center, but that’s it. Time is too precious. On top of that, I do remember the story line and have selected quotes written in my secret book.

I also rarely read contemporary fiction, because there is a higher probability that I won’t like it. Would I rather spend time on something that’s received a Nobel prize in Literature (check out the list, if you’ve got no author to read), something that inspires a dozen+ of other cultural pieces, or something that’s recently become a NY Times bestseller (which, by the looks of it, is every fiction book at Chapters). I pick 100 Years of Solitude over Life of Pi; I will sweat and labor over William Faulkner than surrender to Dan Brown. Does this make me some kind of a psychotic nut? Hey… I can just wait and give all this contemporary stuff 50 years and see where it gets them

In the dark ages of the past, I have been guilty of watching Titanic (I said it! I was twelve!), The Fifth Element, La Dolce Vita, 8 1/2, Hercules (Go Disney!), Coraline, The Hole very frequently. These movies are only 5% reflective of my favorites. My favorite movie of all times – Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, – was probably watched thrice in my lifetime. That’s it. What is the correlation between favorite films/books and those that I actually watched many, many times? Probably has to do with young age and having a lot more time dedicated to havoc and idleness (although I read!) vs now.

PS. Last contemporary book I’ve read was Pride & Prejudice & Zombies (hey, it was featured in episode 1 of Heroes, Season4). And it was awesome. Can we please have more remixing of old and new? I do like some light beach reading (poetry, Lewis Carroll), don’t get me wrong.

Absence and Literature

For the n-th time, I am back in a Terminator-like fashion. There’s been a lot of exciting developments and changes; as always! In my modest experience, people stop writing in blogs when life becomes a whirlwind of excitement or enchanting and intimate events that are better kept secret. Or they stop writing when life gets so rough and tough that the only modes of expression are profanities in a personal diary or one’s mind. Maybe Twitter.

Point is, there are several new things that are on my mind. For example, I’ve become seriously obsessed with Vladimir Nabokov and am on a mission to read all of his books, in English or Russian. The love affair started with one of those bluesy days courtesy of my sprained ankle (I enthusiastically jumped up and down the stairs in my house, and slipped), when, after having finished dinner with Vaneska, I wandered into a BMV Bookstore in the Annex. There lay Pnin. The Literary Encyclopedia considers Pnin to be the most accessible of Nabokov’s works. “It is a campus novel that concerns the misadventures of Timofey Pavlovich Pnin, a Russian émigré whose struggles with America and its language make him a figure of fun at Waindell, the (fictitious) university were he teaches Russian.”

As a Russian myself, I was very curious to read about the professor; and then there is an issue of memory, and language barriers, and foreigner’s view on the American life. Basically, everything about Pninian adventures breathed excitement, humour, sadness and vibrant imagery. Not once but at least a dozen times have I burst out laughing in public places while reading Pnin. Nabokov’s descriptions of professor’s English pronunciation, his excellent memory, phenomenal knowledge of literature and history, and the grouchy relations with some of his university colleagues all contribute to an engrossing read. Do yourself a favor, GO GET THE BOOK!

And now I’m reading Lolita. I find that, among those who read, this book signifies some rite of passage, coming of age type of a thing, on par with having a puppy, participating in beer gardens in university, backpacking across Europe, having a long distance relationship and possibly failing your first university midterm. The novel evokes the “Aaah, hehe” response from those who are familiar with it. But more on Lolita in the next installment of my blog saga

Update: Wow, I totally made a spelling mistake in the blog title. I wrote “abscence”, not absence. Yikes! Fixed now.

Marshall McLuhan is immortal… or something

“The past went that-away. When faced with a totally new situation, we tend to always attach ourselves to the objects, to the flavor of the most recent past. We look at the present through a rear-view mirror. We march backwards into the future. Suburbia lives imaginatively in Bonanza-land.”

…from The Medium is the Massage (1967). And it had to do with his communication theory. But that work touched upon so many other aspects.

Indeed, don’t we spend too much time going back, comparing, and repeating scenes from the past? Mostly, we humans tend to stick to the past as we tippy-toe into tomorrow. Constant analysis, checks, and verifications.

I got better at jumping forward without thinking much about the past. On one hand, that’s great as I jump into experiences with an open mind; on the other, that may suggest that I don’t take into account lessons from the past and run forward anyway.

In either case, without a proper cost-benefit analysis and a necessary dip into the past, one simply would not be able to make proper decisions. Past is past, you can’t completely give it up; you just can’t always check back with it, and compare memories (there are a lot of issues with this, but we’ll save that for another post) with the present and future possibilities.

I find it’s simply a constant struggle to embrace, welcome and cultivate self-taught acceptance and even love of change. Like swimming up the river, salmon-stylez.

The Dying Man

I was 17 at the time, and because I fell in love for the first time, I read a lot of poetry. I love reading, period. I read Prozac Nation the year before and the suffering smart girl image stuck to me; luckily I’m affected with what I consider a Serially Positive Person syndrome, so I could never succumb to the all-encompassing depression, but you can understand the appeal. Anyway, I discovered Sylvia Plath, and the beauty of suffering, self-sacrifice and generally batshit crazy circumstances.

I will write about Sylvia Plath another day.

I want to tell you about my discovery of The Dying Man. This poem was written by Theodore Roethke in memory of W.B. Yeats. It consisted of five parts, and it was one of the strongest poems I ever read. I can not remember the circumstances that brought me to this poem – whether we studied it in English 12 class, or whether I owe its acquaintance to the undegrad English classes at UBC. Whatever it was, I remembered my favorite line, which I would love to even take to afterlife with me: “The loose air sent me running like a child– I love the world; I want more than the world…”

The whole part IV, “The Exulting”, is an emotional tour de force, an in-depth look at the soul that’s thirsty for life, is full of childlike wonder and does not ever want to cease its being. Here is part IV in full:

Once I delighted in a single tree;
The loose air sent me running like a child–
I love the world; I want more than the world,
Or after-image of the inner eye.
Flesh cries to flesh; and bone cries out to bone;
I die into this life, alone yet not alone.

Was it a god his suffering renewed?–
I saw my father shrinking in his skin;
He turned his face; there was another man
Walking the edge, loquacious, unafraid.
He quivered like a bird in birdless air,
Yet dared to fix his vision anywhere.

Fish feed on fish according to their need:
My enemies renew me, and my blood
Beats slower in my careless solitude.
I bare a wound, and dare myself to bleed.
I think a bird, and it begins to fly.
By dying daily, I have come to be.

All exultation is a dangerous thing.
I see you, love, I see you in a dream;
I hear a noise of bees, a trellis hum,
And that slow humming rises into song.
A breath is but a breath: I have the earth;
I shall undo all dying by my death.

PS.  Jellyfish photo is mine. (c)

What I Was Made For

My dreams do not end at the white picket fence, a Golden retriever, a BBQ, a 2-hour commute and a pack of kids. No offense to people who aim for that, I have respect for that kind of life and clearly see the benefits. This is not an attack, but stage-setting.

I was made in a different part of the human factory. I got adventure, thirst, and restless, unbreakae spirit hardwired into me. I was meant to push the limits and go places others only vaguely heard of. I could not – at least not in the foreseeable future, – settle down and succumb to the droning repetitive Monday-Fridays, chore Saturdays and BBQ Sundays. Again, not a sin in my books, but not my priority.

I know there is so much more to learn, to try, to see, to know and feel. Especially in our day and age of digital communications. How can I feel content within my 5-block radius, knowing that I could be dancing in Rio and watching the fireworks in Shanghai, helping the kids of Tibet or learning how to manage a herd of caribous? We are all living in the same village now; I can’t pretend that I would be entirely content in the quiet, pastel, mall-like part of it.

McLuhan writes something that strongly resonates with me and compels me to move, act, interact, question and learn:

“the shock of recognition! In an electric information environment [...]Too many people know too much about each other. Our new environment compels commitment and participation. We have become irrevocably involved with, and responsible for, each other.”

I can’t sit around or simply operate in my micro-household galaxy.  That is why I plunge into the unknown; I will continue to do so for as long as I can. I want to die a life worth re-telling, a life worth of millions of gigabytes of memories, smiles, people and passions.

“I love the world; I want more than the world.” The Dying Man by Theodore Roethke. In Memoriam W.B. Yates.

Spring Words and Prime Numbers

I’ve never looked forward to spring as much as I have this year. Using the left side of my brain, I can deduce that it has something to do with my age. Most of my older friends always rejoiced about spring when I couldn’t care less what season it was; now I feel their joy. It’s sort of like the feeling you get when you’re about to write all your exams and burst into summer vacation.

The book I read last week reminded me of the more subdued version of that feeling – the quiet joy, the fleeting happiness you feel when noticing the most beautiful details of our lives. The Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa is about memory and math. It’s about kindness and perseverance, family and understanding. What got my attention, of course, was the role mathematics played in telling this poignant story. Set in 1992, it is about a new housekeeper assigned to the brilliant professor whose short-term memory lasts only 80 minutes as a result of a serious car crash that happened in1975. His memory stops at that time, and he resorts to writing notes and attaching them to his suit. The housekeeper is a patient and kind woman who finds professor’s math trivia interesting. So does her son. I won’t jump into details of the novel, but I highly recommend this book for your spring reading list. It is the kind of story that makes one’s heart clench at the sight of tiny, unnoticable things of our daily lives; it makes you appreciate the present moment (try imagining only having 80 minutes of memory!); and it may even cause you to entertain the thought of eternal love.