Wise Words:
When life gives you lemons -- PUCKER UP!
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
Monday, September 30, 2002
As an addendum: the latest issue of Scientific American is all about time. I know, I know, it sounds horrifically nerdy, but check this out: "the interaction of light with pigments in the retina--the process that allows vision--takes about 200 femtoseconds" (From Instantaneous to Eternal, David Labrador). So if you're wondering how far back in the past you view your surroundings, you're seeing everything as it was 200 millionths of a billionth of a second ago.
Geeky, yes, but oh so neat!
01:08
calling all film buffs
First things first: I haven't heard from many of you, o loyal blog readers, and I know I'm not up to par myself. In other words: we're even, so stop whining that I don't post regularly.
To business, and keeping the same subject as the last post: I just watched Truffaut's Les Quatre Cents Coups for the second time, having uncovered it at the library. I know this film is supposed to be slightly autobiographical, so I'm curious about some things-- if anyone knows, never forget: it's always nice to share.
1) Who is Andre Bazin, the dedicatee of the film? I'm guessing that he's Truffaut's ami-- perhaps to Rene as Antoine is to Truffaut? That's a big stretch there, I realize... but I know nothing about this film.
2) I find it neat that Truffaut opens the film with a scene where Antoine runs into bad luck instead of him causing it. He happened to be the person caught (or perhaps the teacher enjoys picking on him)-- but the scene has significance in that throughout the rest of the film, Antoine at least is the instigator of the trouble. Is it just me, or does this seem to be some sort of "fall from grace" issue -- ie, that Antoine, unjustly accused of causing trouble in the classroom, becomes worse because of it? Or maybe I'm putting too much weight on that opening scene. And then there's his time at home that first day after school: sure, he sneaks a little money, but he also tries to do his homework, sets the table and obediently goes to the store to get la farine for a mother that seems pretty bitchy if you ask me.
3) Speaking of openings: why the Eiffel tower? What, if anything, is Truffaut trying to tell us here?
4) I strongly feel there's a lot that can be said with the scene in which, while playing hooky for the first time, Antoine is spinning in that massive wheel -- personally, it reminds me of a roulette wheel. Yes, I know I'm weird. (Oh, and speaking of hooky -- don't you notice how Rene never seems to get in trouble, as if his family just doesn't care? And don't you just wanna kill the little twerp that ratted on our pauvre Droinel?)
5) What about the police scene, where Antoine is moved from the cell to the cubicle when the "lovey-doveys" (as the subtitle read) come in? Isn't that the only time in the film where we get to see things literally from Antoine's view? Is there something to be said here, or am I reading too much again?
6) In a way, it seems as if all of Antoine's troubles stem from the female, or, better yet, his relationship with the female. His father seems to have a good relationship with him, probably because he seems very jovial chez Droinel, whereas his mother as I've mentioned before seems a bit bitchier. (I still remember when she orders him to fetch her slippers--is it just me or did she scream, "Under the bed!" ["sous le lit!"] even though they live in "cramped" quarters? Reminds me of my mom, actually. :op ) There's his discussion with the psychologist (who happens to be female herself)-- remember what he said about his grandmother? On his first night away from home, he tries to bag one of the "lovey-doveys"... ok, I think I need to think this out a bit before I continue.
7) A comment: I love the ending, actually the penultimate scene with Antoine running through le paysage. Suspenseful, but not to a heart-attacking extent. heh. Isn't that technique called scrolling?
Perhaps it would be easier if I just ask this: does anyone have any biographical info on Truffaut or can lead me to a source on his life or to stuff about the film itself?
Again, any and all help from anybody would be grand-- but I'm thinking especially of the film buffs like Megan and Fiona. Hey, if these guys don't know, who does?
News update-- starting tomorrow, y'all can call me Robomouth (the Oral Cyborg? the Jaws of Steel?... I'm getting carried away...) because I'm gettin' me braces. God, is it ever going to be tough giving up those culinary luxuries I have grown to treasure... ah, FOOD...[drool]...My mom's already got my meals for this week planned out, and it ain't pretty (or solid or chewy, I can tell you that).
OK, I'm turning off this puter because it's making some really funky noises right now. I'll try updating when/if I'm alive after tomorrow.
00:46
Friday, September 27, 2002
the mushier sides of life
I was going to post on what would've been "tomorrow," but I got sidetracked by a phone call. Really. Poor soul: she's stuck all by herself while her parents are threatening divorce (and have been for, oh, two decades or so). Her siblings are either too self-centered or too far away to do much, so she feels as though it's most convienent and probably most beneficial if she went to try to patch things up between Mum & Dad. Ain't that sweet?
Moving from one type of love to another: I finally got around to watching Ba Wang Bie Ji, better known as Farewell My Concubine last week, partly because the book I was reading last month (The Politics of Chinese Language and Culture, you'll find a link to it in last month's archives) had a short discussion on it. I have to say that the film to me is more about sexual identity than politics or modern Chinese history. For me, from the very start we are led to see Dieyi as a feminine character, what with those pink plastic clips in his hair. And the character doesn't have any masculine habits-- he sits with his legs close together; he has his soup served to him; he walks, well, like a girl; he talks softly and his whispers are difficult to differentiate from his normal speech. It seems a case of mistaken sexual identity from the start, not really a problem of homosexuality (although that may be intermingled with the identity problem)... but I'm not really sure about that last bit, so I'll leave it at that.
One small gripe about the plot: The extra finger seems unimportant to the overall film, but I could be missing something. The sword is a pretty obvious phallic image, and did anyone count the number of times the Master Yuan figure appeared stroking a cigar? I wonder if Dieyi's opium addiction also is a sexual metaphor.
Now from love to my favorite subject: FOOD! Yeah, these separators hurt about a half-bitch. I can chew but it kills my gums -- I wouldn't be suprised if they're blue by next week. Through a stroke of fortunate luck one of the separators fell out at dinner the night I had them put in, so I have one side that doesn't hurt at all. It's the upper jaw that hurts; the lower has no problem at all. I can eat pretty much whatever's thrown at me at table, but my mom has been kind of enough to ask me "Can you eat it?" every day. Meals incidentally have stayed within the realms of mandibility (there goes a quarter!): we had some crab, so my mom made crab cakes, and she always makes them soft; we had squid in the fridge, which is a bit chewy but also very soft too. With all the variety of stuff I can still eat, I know that once I get those goddamn braces I will miss one of the best foods of all: STEAK. On the other hand, I have an ice cream sandwich in the freezer just waiting for me to celebrate the arrival of metal in my mouth.
Ooh, I'm so excited I could kill.
01:51
Monday, September 23, 2002
less than a day -- heck, less than 4 hours into this and already one of my separators has come loose.
we're talking about some shoddy ortho-ship here.
18:49
. . . ok, so after that drama it turns out that today wasn't extraction day at all. Revelation: when I went to the dentist and the lady that cleans my teeth, after asking who the ortho was, asked who was going to pull the suckers out. Good question, woman... maybe it's your job but I just haven't set an appointment yet?
At the dentist they had to take X-rays to make sure I didn't have tooth decay. I thought it'd be the typical, stand-in front-of-the-mirror-and-bite-on-this-piece-of-plastic deal, but nooooo, they actually had to shove a wide, thin, unbending piece of plastic into my mouth. It was not a fun time for my gag reflex, I can assure you. I can also assure you that one of my favorite reasons to visit the dentist (if there really are any) is that my gag reflex annoys the hell out of the dental hygienist there. I love how impatient that bitch gets and would love to puke on her gown. :):):)
So right now I only have spacers, and these suckers don't hurt, they just sorta make my gums ache. I told my parents I can still eat normal food, though dinner tonight might be a trying meal. At least I can still chew and whatnot-- next week shall be hell, I just know it.
More to come tomorrow...I can feel the angst building...
17:51
novocaine for the soul... and my mouth
People wish me luck and speedy recovery, for tomorrow evil demons in white gowns and latex gloves shall extract four molds of enamel from my jaw, causing much red liquid to flow forth and much howling and fits of agony from yours truly.
Somebody's going to be making some damn good money with the tooth fairy tomorrow, and I'd bet that little bicuspid Tinkerbell had a big part in the plan.
FIONA, if you're reading this: I tried calling you twice over the weekend. Do you not pick up the phone anymore?
02:02
Friday, September 20, 2002
Perhaps I should have clarified that last post:
The hiatus was meant to be a short breather from blogging, from endlessly staring at this screen and getting carpal tunnel from the keyboard (between conquering the Celts on my fave game, Civilization II, emailing, and this, it can happen). I also hoped to be back online as soon as my Emerson switchboard came in. If you haven't heard of it: the switchboard supposedly allows you to be online AND on the phone at the same time, with only one phone line.
I'm sure you all know where this is going: like the desperate sucker I am, I called the toll-free number and ordered the damn thing and asked them to rush-ship it, meaning that I blew nearly 70 bucks on this thing. It arrived today and guess what: the goddamn thing DOESN'T WORK. What it does, if you're online, is let a caller's ring reach the line, so that you know if someone is calling you (it notifies you by a very soft "ring" and a blinking light). If you decide to pick up the phone (note here that the switchboard doesn't support caller ID, so you might have to forsake your Internet for a lousy phone solicitor) you only have 20-30 seconds to finish your conversation, or whenever your ISP decides that your account has been too idle.
Basically, all it does is notify you if people are waiting for you to get offline. That's it. No downloading and dialing. No simultaneous interaction between receiver and mouse.
If anyone wonders if I'm pissed: I AM. I had it all planned out, too: get the switchboard, spend oodles of time online, hopefully figure out some of the tricks to the HTML trade and spruce things up here @ the WHoB. But alas, none shall come to pass.
In case anyone's interested in what's going on with me besides Civ II, I've updated my reading list. I'm also enjoying concertos and orchestral works by Jaoquin Rodrigo, if anyone gives a shite.
And speaking of shite: still got to get ours together (we have a ton of that stuff, and it ain't an easy task to clean it all up).
02:15
Tuesday, September 10, 2002
Dearest readers:
Thanks to all those who expressed disgust and spite at our previous post, "In the News".
We here at the WHoB are on a short hiatus so that we can get our shit together.
Thanks for stopping by and have a relatively decent day!
Regards,
Your Friends @ the WHoB
13:50
Wednesday, September 04, 2002
In the News
I said earlier that I was planning to post something on the current issue of the rape and sentencing in Pakistan, and there are some other events in the news I want to talk about.
The Rape of the Pakistani Female
Does anyone else see the events transpiring there to be a large-scale process to Westernize Pakistan? The rape of the female is meant to be punishment for the brother's sexual relations with the higher-caste woman, a traditional punishment I gather.
I assume it is a Pakistani practice; I can't see it as particularly Islamic. Though one might think it's Islamic when one considers its subjugation of women, in Islam there isn't such an idea of caste; all men are equal under el-illah, better known as Allah. It also reminds me of caste relations in India too; I know that contact and relationships between castes can be stressed. Can't you imagine a Dalit male receiving similar rectification for having a little fun with a brahman? It very well might be a subcontinental practice, a tactic against caste mixing.
But in any case, this punishment was certainly traditional, having been given by a "tribal council" [see CNN.com article]. And then what do we find? A judge in "an anti-terrorism court trial"... that right there smacks of international influence. And the voices of women crying for "shame on the nation that allows its daughters to be raped publicly"... feminism itself is a Western concept, no?
I'm not saying that the men shouldn't be punished, nor do I want people to believe I'm a chauvinist. All that is happening just appears to me to be a large step towards making Pakistan less traditional and more... modern. The photo from which the quote above comes visually captures what I believe is underway in the country: the woman second from left is fully covered in her burqa. But the woman to her right has shed her head gear and bears her hair to the sun; such a woman is not typically found in conservative Islamic societies. And the woman to her left, with her sunglasses and coiffure-- need I say more? (To view the photo, click here.)
Is it just me, or have Western ideas raped the minds of Pakistan's women, not just the men themselves?
Google-eyed in the Middle Kingdom
It was a day or two ago that news spread of China's ban of the search engine Google. Yes, this is certainly an infringement on one's freedom of speech and one's freedom of web-search-- but we are not talking about the United States. This is China, and China does not have a history of personal freedoms that we Americans adopted from the brainiacs of the French Revolution.
China has had a long relationship with censorship, from the Communist Party as far back as the first recorded dynasty in China, ie ca 3000 BCE. The first emperor of China, known as qin shi huang di is remembered somewhat unappreciatively by the literati for burning books. Yes, before Hitler there was this emperor, and legend has it that he burned every book with which he disagreed. The literati of China, steeped in Confucian tradition and very often connected with the imperial system, also participated in their own complicated form of censorship. So this is nothing new for China; and though it may seem like a bane for those of us who are too lazy to open an encyclopedia to write a report, I doubt this ban will hurt China much. Although if I were in China right now I, being the avid Google-user I am, must say that I would be somewhat disheartened...
A Whale of a Tale
I have nothing profound to say about the "Free Willy" star, but whose idea was it anyway to free Keiko? Really now: didn't those advocates understand that once the whale's been tamed he wouldn't survive in the wild? Geez. He's only one animal; if we cared this much about the various organisms and species on this planet as we do this one whale, we would be living in a much better world. Environmentally speaking, of course.
Speaking of news (and speaking of a better world): rumor has it that we're finally heading home tomorrow. After more than TWO WEEKS of being here (only FIVE DAYS of which we actually painted, and only one day of which we spent moving) my parents have finally realized that there's no point in being up here. Thank god. I'm so blessed to have such wise parents.
[If you didn't notice the sarcasm, perhaps you shouldn't be here at all.]
22:29
Monday, September 02, 2002
ethno @ Ebay
I plan to post a more thought-provoking post soon, one about the rape issue in Pakistan, but in the meantime:
As I have nothing better to do up here, I paid my first visit to Ebay tonight with a browsing of their "musical instruments" category. Ah, the wonders to be bought there! An ethnomusicologist's dreams!
Chinese:
san xian-- horizontally-held (I think), 3-stringed plucked lute... don't know much about this one, but the Japanese cognate, if you will, is used in narrative song and in Bunraku
ruan-- vertically-held 4-stringed plucked lute, used primarily in ensembles (I think); looks very similar to the yueqin, but it has holes in its resonator (the body)
yue qin-- held and played the same as the ruan, but this one is used in opera (I might have the yue qin and the ruan reversed, in terms of performance medium)
pipa-- timbrally, one of my favs; vertically-held, 4-stringed plucked lute; some great sounds can be made like a tremolo (I think the term is guan); this is the instrument Tan Dun chose to signify Chinese musically in Marco Polo; I would buy this in a heartbeat if I a) had the $$$ and b) knew how to play the damn thing
zheng-- another personal pick; classified as a plucked zither; along with the pipa, one of the more familiar instruments in the traditional Chinese orchestra; distinctive for its glissandi; another one I shall lose sleep over
erhu-- another fairly well-known Chinese instrument; I own one of these and am trying to learn some moves on it; if I knew you could get this stuff on ebay I wouldn't have had my mom pay the fortune she did to get it for me; note that the bow fits between the strings, which is why the strings are broken in the picture; one of the most famous pieces of traditional Chinese music in the Western world, "the Moon's Reflection in the Pool" (er quan ying yue) is commonly associated with this instrument
(to hear one of my favorite recordings of "the Moon's Reflection in the Pool", click here)
Indian
tabla-- one of the most famous instruments to arise out of Hindustan (North India); one-sided barrel-shaped membranophone; what strikes me odd is that the tabla always come in pairs, so where's the other half? this is the taller of the set, I believe; played upright, traditionally on the floor, with the fingers (excluding the thumb) making contact with various parts of the face depending on pitch; the sound of this instrument has been compared to water droplets
Japanese
shakuhachi-- the samurai's instrument, hehe; this one definitely makes me want to cry, even if it's $$$$
Thai
saw duang-- don't know much about Thai instruments in general, but it's not surprising that this looks very similar to the erhu, as China was the cultural/ intellectual heart of the ancient Far East; turn up the volume & you can hear what it sounds like
kluey / bamboo flute-- turn up the volume again to hear this one; might be the Thai equivalent of the di, sounds similar to it in terms of ornamentation, just slightly lower range-wise
(here's another link to the same instrument but with a different music example)
As a final note, I'm not sure if this really is a Stradivarius: for one thing, Strads go for millions these days; and my Italian ain't that good, but I'm willing to bet that "Cremonensi" is the family name, which means that the maker of this violin might not be a direct descendant of the infamous violin-making clan.
Y'all definitely know what I want for Christmas now, dontcha?
01:05
Sunday, September 01, 2002
back to bitch
Ah, it feels so good to be blogging again.
Friends, let me indulge you in a bit of complaining. (What else?) For now that my dad and I are done painting the house; now that we've been living in this home for the past 3 days; now that our jobs here are basically over-- Why the hell aren't we going home? My mom, fearing that my dad's become too senile to drive well without falling asleep and not trusting my driving skills, wants to wait until after the holiday weekend to head back home-- but waiting til THURSDAY? Isn't that a bit too much?
Shit: my parents didn't even know when they wanted to head back when we headed up here. Now how the hell am I supposed to organize myself around a job when my life is that undecided, hm?
Other reasons that I'm peeved with my family at the moment:
I. The longer I stay up here, the worse my life becomes. Think about it: I have NO money, NO car, NO calling card to call people... and only by the grace of [insert omnipotent deity's name here] do I have this laptop before me. Thus, I have next to nothing to entertain me, no way to go out, no money to spend to get things to entertain me. And worse: I'm nearly done reading the 2 books I brought up (listed to the left). Life sucks quite a bit up here.
Of course, part of this could be remedied if I went up to the City to see some old friends and meet new ones face to face. But not only do my motherf*ckin' senior-citizen 'rents depend on me to get them home, but would NYC really be all that fun with the ripped shirts in my suitcase and $40 in my wallet?
II. My brother is just annoying as shite. On our first night in this place, he was adamant in cleaning the bathroom. Dinner was ready, so first my dad, then I called him down to eat dinner, but when I did he got all bitchy with me.
Now if I wanted to watch somebody clean the bathroom, I would've handed my mom a bottle of Windex. At home. Not only can we not clean our own bathrooms, but apparently what we cook isn't good enough for him since at every meal he is reluctant to eat with us. (And yet this is the same cuisine he ate throughout his childhood.) We drove up here to help you move, to spend some goddamn family time with you, and you shove us off by pretending that you can do it all yourself and that you don't want to eat dinner with us? Fine, but next time tell us before we drive for 12 hours.
The bathroom issue is a big blow to me personally, since the night before I had spent some 40 minutes cleaning the shower stall in the old apartment. And people: cleaning is NOT one of my hobbies.
III. My mom really pissed me off before we commenced our journey up here by fussing about how I don't have a job. OK, Mom, if you want me to get a job and contribute to the family income then maybe we should head home, huh? That makes no fucking sense. And, related to all the stuff in topic I: the longer we stay up here, the more it makes me think that my parents are doting on my brother since he's already successful (and he's lived longer). Since I'm shut off from the rest of the world, there's not much I can do to get myself employed. And, now that it's SEPTEMBER, by the time I get home all the good jobs will be gone and I'll be stuck as I prophesied, salting fries and wrapping Big Macs in wax paper.
I've gotten the impression that my parents really like being up here. Part of it, I think, is that we (ie, the members of the nuclear family) are together (we won't be next time, unless they hog-tie me and throw me in the trunk of the car). Part of it is the fact that the food up here is more geared to their tastes: more Asian food stores, more Chinese restaurants, more dim sum and shark fin soup and stir-fried crap. I wouldn't be surprised if my parents decided to move up here with my brother in the future. That's all good and well, but at least get me started on my own career first. Or at least let me get a paycheck.
We've been up here so long I've wondered whether I should go ahead and apply to work at the local Dunkin' Donuts. At least I'll have some easily accessible fatty, surgary, vein-clogging, stroke-inducing goodness surrounding me.
If anyone, anyone at all wants to get on my good side, he or she is welcome to call me at 609-689-9989. As I've said, I have absolutely no contact with the outside world whatsoever except through this damned Compaq.
I'll post more later, but here's something amusing: go to this guy's "joke vault"... there's some relatively entertaining stuff there. An end note:
Something strippers don't like: if instead of putting a dollar in their g-string, you drop two rolls of pennies.
00:31
|
|
| |
|
|
|
