->
After years of expensive education
A car full of books and anticipation
I'm an expert on Shakespeare and that's a hell of a lot
But the world don't need scholars as much as I thought
Maybe I'll go traveling for a year
Finding myself, or start a career
Could work the poor, though I'm hungry for fame
We all seem so different but we're just the same
Maybe I'll go to the gym, so I don't get fat
Aren't things more easy with a tight six pack
Who knows the answers, who do you trust
I can't even separate love from lust
Maybe I'll move back home and pay off my loans
Working nine to five, answering phones
But don't make me live for Friday nights
Drinking eight pints and getting in fights
Maybe I'll just fall in love
That could solve it all
Philosophers say that that's enough
There surely must be more
Love ain't the answer, nor is work
The truth eludes me so much it hurts
But I'm still having fun and I guess that's the key
I'm a twentysomething and I'll keep being me
->
If, I expected love, when first we kissed, blame it on my youth
If only just for you, I did exist, blame it on my youth
I believed in everything
Like a child of three
You meant more than anything
You meant all the world to me
If, you were on my mind, all night and day, blame it on my youth
If, I forgot to eat, and sleep and pray, blame it on my youth
If I cried a little bit, when first I learned the truth
Don't blame it on my heart, blame it on my youth
->
Next Year,
Things are gonna change,
Gonna drink less beer
And start all over again
Gonna pull up my socks
Gonna clean my shower
Not gonna live by the clock
But get up at a decent hour
Gonna read more books
Gonna keep up with the news
Gonna learn how to cook
And spend less money on shoes
Pay my bills on time
File my mail away, everyday
Only drink the finest wine
And call my Gran every Sunday
Resolutions
Well Baby they come and go
Will I do any of these things?
The answer's probably no
But if there's one thing, I must do,
Despite my greatest fears
I'm gonna say to you
How I've felt all of these years
Next Year, Next Year, Next Year
.
I'm playing them during my show on Truth and Method.
petak, 20. siječnja 2012.
Grotesque: I Will Let You In On It
Read an interesting interview with Mišak. He has this TV show on paranormal etc. and often hosts Icke. It's the usual, of course, but there was an interesting bit on media: "it's still the same old dump; it's just that the light is brighter."
Anyway, things not really bursting around me, decided to treat myself to a day of reading. I must have obtained Estulin's the Bilderberg Group, God, two years back or even more. As I will explain in my rendition on Jung, I don't quite enjoy accounts "where all is true, and all is false," but that there's something to this is beyond rational doubt.
What makes me say so? Ah, the list is endless. Say Orwell. As I explained elsewhere, fiction is hardly fictional. The fact that each always sticks to his cronies, especially the rich. Wikileaks on Slovenia, where the US ambassador fixes the newly elected government.
But what I loved most is that he shot himself in different poses of - smoking. Call me immature, primitive or what you like - I've always preferred pranker kids to those docile, polite and obedient. Just the other day, I heard of a 14-year-old who started reading Lolita.
- So, how is it?
- Perverse.
- But is it good though?
- Didn't I say it's perverse?
I also ran into that abominable Carl Bildt yesterday on Twitter. I even once called this world the world of Carl Bildts. In short, the guy's so smooth he would probably "sell his mother to row on a galley." It's a physical incarnation of everything this world does not need, in my humble opinion.
Of course, apart from escapism and a small, neat meaningful niche, there's not much you can do in a mesh of "old and new wrongs." Maybe write if you've got talent. You just might pull out the right beam and collapse the attic - or the lines might simply be beautiful. But I wish someone with more patience than me would finally write a kids' parable on that final lesson of their brief education, which spells out they are - eaten alive.
Anyway, things not really bursting around me, decided to treat myself to a day of reading. I must have obtained Estulin's the Bilderberg Group, God, two years back or even more. As I will explain in my rendition on Jung, I don't quite enjoy accounts "where all is true, and all is false," but that there's something to this is beyond rational doubt.
What makes me say so? Ah, the list is endless. Say Orwell. As I explained elsewhere, fiction is hardly fictional. The fact that each always sticks to his cronies, especially the rich. Wikileaks on Slovenia, where the US ambassador fixes the newly elected government.
But what I loved most is that he shot himself in different poses of - smoking. Call me immature, primitive or what you like - I've always preferred pranker kids to those docile, polite and obedient. Just the other day, I heard of a 14-year-old who started reading Lolita.
- So, how is it?
- Perverse.
- But is it good though?
- Didn't I say it's perverse?
I also ran into that abominable Carl Bildt yesterday on Twitter. I even once called this world the world of Carl Bildts. In short, the guy's so smooth he would probably "sell his mother to row on a galley." It's a physical incarnation of everything this world does not need, in my humble opinion.
Of course, apart from escapism and a small, neat meaningful niche, there's not much you can do in a mesh of "old and new wrongs." Maybe write if you've got talent. You just might pull out the right beam and collapse the attic - or the lines might simply be beautiful. But I wish someone with more patience than me would finally write a kids' parable on that final lesson of their brief education, which spells out they are - eaten alive.
četvrtak, 19. siječnja 2012.
Good Old and New Days
I must say I'm quite proud I went to the same school as Edward Albee, even though for one year only. It's a fine albeit expensive institution but they are in a double bind when it comes to dear Mr Albee: just how do you advertise your most prominent student made his glory writing on the sterility of US academia?
Though not entirely to my credit, I too staged some youthful rebellion at the scene of the crime: I said no to this English professor when he finally considered my proposed English essay individual study course, and I asked the musicals teacher whether he was gay while we were taking a leak in men's room next to each other.
It's not really anybody's fault, you know, really. We should laugh about life's little misunderstandings, as I do in my mind and with my friends, good intentions presumed. A friend of mine made a joke about my letter to Obama: - Why on Earth did you send this letter? - I couldn't sleep!
I intended to finish this brief tribute by quoting that "a meeting is required for real stupidity" - however it turns out this was said by Edward Abbey. (I also once joked with some foreign youngsters I could not differentiate English and American culture.) I like to think he would endorse this though.
Though not entirely to my credit, I too staged some youthful rebellion at the scene of the crime: I said no to this English professor when he finally considered my proposed English essay individual study course, and I asked the musicals teacher whether he was gay while we were taking a leak in men's room next to each other.
It's not really anybody's fault, you know, really. We should laugh about life's little misunderstandings, as I do in my mind and with my friends, good intentions presumed. A friend of mine made a joke about my letter to Obama: - Why on Earth did you send this letter? - I couldn't sleep!
I intended to finish this brief tribute by quoting that "a meeting is required for real stupidity" - however it turns out this was said by Edward Abbey. (I also once joked with some foreign youngsters I could not differentiate English and American culture.) I like to think he would endorse this though.
Why Books Are Written
My next to be recorded radio show will deal with the Death in Venice. Sure, I could have chosen Lolita or the Pianist for example, but Mann actually spelled out what it is all about. (Incidentally, a beautiful poem in comment to the post.)
But we are in for another great revelation. These 'controversial' novels are always really about something else, something fundamental. Therefore, Lolita is, among other things, according to my teacher Sonja Bašić, about impossible love perhaps being the sole possible love.
And this is what happens: the mediocre, the petty-bourgeoisie cannot tell pornography and art apart! To them, Lolita and Nailing the Schoolgirls is exactly the same. But I can tell you, they understand Nobel and other external markers.
I wish each could be a ruler. The result would be the greatest lesson one can imagine. Myself, I wouldn't like seeing my vision live. I really need my society - but a weeded-out one.
But we are in for another great revelation. These 'controversial' novels are always really about something else, something fundamental. Therefore, Lolita is, among other things, according to my teacher Sonja Bašić, about impossible love perhaps being the sole possible love.
And this is what happens: the mediocre, the petty-bourgeoisie cannot tell pornography and art apart! To them, Lolita and Nailing the Schoolgirls is exactly the same. But I can tell you, they understand Nobel and other external markers.
I wish each could be a ruler. The result would be the greatest lesson one can imagine. Myself, I wouldn't like seeing my vision live. I really need my society - but a weeded-out one.
Yes, a Stage
As I said, I don't really believe in anonymity.
I perfectly understand the need for protection against a hostile regime, but this seems a little beside the point in a technological society.
And, isn't it about courage just a bit? The situation resembles those where any 90 prisoners are kept docile by 5 armed guards.
Plus, it's such a cover for the pathological.
Btw, a wonderful rendition of Emperor's New Clothes occurred in Rijeka. While giving yet another tirade on the advantages of joining EU (just after stating yesterday pensioners would be denied their pensions because we are broke unless we joined), our foreign affairs minister was yelled at by a young man: "You have destroyed the future of youth. EU is a dungeon for Croatians; you should be ashamed of yourself. We should prosecute all of you corrupt politicians."
God, it must be afwul to be confronted with the real you, be this scale small or grand. I don't like it myself.
And here one can see the prime prerequisite for a successful performance: apart from the fact it should be intelligent - it is not to be done in a museum but should be - real. No matter how few understand.
Just last night I was telling my friend of how Virginia masked herself into an admiral and did one of those 'inspections' of a war vessel. A powerful legacy as much as her writing.
However, are not the two the same? I should find a cop today to declare my talent, or something. I have an itch.
I perfectly understand the need for protection against a hostile regime, but this seems a little beside the point in a technological society.
And, isn't it about courage just a bit? The situation resembles those where any 90 prisoners are kept docile by 5 armed guards.
Plus, it's such a cover for the pathological.
Btw, a wonderful rendition of Emperor's New Clothes occurred in Rijeka. While giving yet another tirade on the advantages of joining EU (just after stating yesterday pensioners would be denied their pensions because we are broke unless we joined), our foreign affairs minister was yelled at by a young man: "You have destroyed the future of youth. EU is a dungeon for Croatians; you should be ashamed of yourself. We should prosecute all of you corrupt politicians."
God, it must be afwul to be confronted with the real you, be this scale small or grand. I don't like it myself.
And here one can see the prime prerequisite for a successful performance: apart from the fact it should be intelligent - it is not to be done in a museum but should be - real. No matter how few understand.
Just last night I was telling my friend of how Virginia masked herself into an admiral and did one of those 'inspections' of a war vessel. A powerful legacy as much as her writing.
However, are not the two the same? I should find a cop today to declare my talent, or something. I have an itch.
srijeda, 18. siječnja 2012.
To Tesla, With Love
The imbecile, especially if raised in a hostile environment, would probably say something like: "That Tesla guy was sure dumb. He could 'ave earned billions." Of course, this misses the mark completely.
I was actually thinking of doing one radio show on 'kids' lit;' for example, Gulliver (the writer-a giant visits puny men whose kings wage wars on whether to crack an egg this side or that) or Oz (characters in search of heart, brains and courage discover a freightened old man ruling the world).
One might protest this is for kids to which I reply: so is the whole of education.
There was actually a kids' book and movie in socialist Yugoslavia with children on an adventure mishap, singing: "When tiny palms tug together the rope / anything can be done and there is hope."
I can't wait for the first dissenting voice to clamour: "Utopia!" Perhaps, but I myself am tired of dystopia. Perhaps the mechanics of puling ropes successfully should be inculcated in every school-age kid. Something like a morals-for-success campaign.
I do realise history is a complex set of events with ups and downs, and many things that have to coincide for things to start to improve. Some of the greatest people in world history got there by sheer chance. I know of human heart - because I read my Conrad and know - myself. But I also know there is little point in me snatching a sandwich more than I need and eating it behind the barn.
You next might argue the fate of socialist Yugoslavia was not that rosy or that communist USSR was a nightmare. To this I say: a history of greed isn't exactly pink.
And Tesla knew this: his inventions belonged to everyone. True, he died in the US, poor and forgotten, and you pay your electricity bills regularly even today. Think about it. Oh my God, even Twain said the intellectual and the brawn should be paid the same! I hasten to add: as long as their heart is pure.
I was actually thinking of doing one radio show on 'kids' lit;' for example, Gulliver (the writer-a giant visits puny men whose kings wage wars on whether to crack an egg this side or that) or Oz (characters in search of heart, brains and courage discover a freightened old man ruling the world).
One might protest this is for kids to which I reply: so is the whole of education.
There was actually a kids' book and movie in socialist Yugoslavia with children on an adventure mishap, singing: "When tiny palms tug together the rope / anything can be done and there is hope."
I can't wait for the first dissenting voice to clamour: "Utopia!" Perhaps, but I myself am tired of dystopia. Perhaps the mechanics of puling ropes successfully should be inculcated in every school-age kid. Something like a morals-for-success campaign.
I do realise history is a complex set of events with ups and downs, and many things that have to coincide for things to start to improve. Some of the greatest people in world history got there by sheer chance. I know of human heart - because I read my Conrad and know - myself. But I also know there is little point in me snatching a sandwich more than I need and eating it behind the barn.
You next might argue the fate of socialist Yugoslavia was not that rosy or that communist USSR was a nightmare. To this I say: a history of greed isn't exactly pink.
And Tesla knew this: his inventions belonged to everyone. True, he died in the US, poor and forgotten, and you pay your electricity bills regularly even today. Think about it. Oh my God, even Twain said the intellectual and the brawn should be paid the same! I hasten to add: as long as their heart is pure.
Message in a Bottle
Here's your today's food for thought. It is hardly enough to read; one must also think, and this is precisely the excuse for the post.
I have always been puzzled by that great philosophical problem of the freedom of will (an early essay - here - 7mb as scanned). Of course, I did obtain a few titles on the subject: overviews are fine; some of more laboured 'vindications' of the dogma naive.
Suffice it to say that Schopenhauer himself said something like "I hope that someday someone will cast some light into this dark abyss." He actually connected the issue more to suffering; I see life as a gift as it is, in contrast to nothing.
But beauty is to be found in paradoxes. This is somewhat of a problem like that beautiful analysis which posits "the most original characters are almost of the same psychological type." Not claiming omniscience, I see obvious difficulties in the fact that randomness produces definiteness.
This can be elegantly seen in the world of media. If you are exposed to certain angles of a 'story' - you are bound to reach definite conclusions. Therefore, even if the universe is random, you particular physical and culural point in time, yesterday's decision to skip the evening news too - will have definite consequences.
I have come to see the problem in the light of a 'flexible frame' of a kind. Something like a perfect illusion. "Maybe a little bit" of freedom that exists is no excuse not to exercise it. Or: what can I do if I in the final run do not control my impulses? See what I can do about it.
As I said, I'm a novice here so - enlighten me please. But then again, as Leonardo said, advertising his skills to a prospective patron: "I can construct buildings and bridges. I can demolish buildings and bridges. And in art (of painting) - I challenge anyone."
I have always been puzzled by that great philosophical problem of the freedom of will (an early essay - here - 7mb as scanned). Of course, I did obtain a few titles on the subject: overviews are fine; some of more laboured 'vindications' of the dogma naive.
Suffice it to say that Schopenhauer himself said something like "I hope that someday someone will cast some light into this dark abyss." He actually connected the issue more to suffering; I see life as a gift as it is, in contrast to nothing.
But beauty is to be found in paradoxes. This is somewhat of a problem like that beautiful analysis which posits "the most original characters are almost of the same psychological type." Not claiming omniscience, I see obvious difficulties in the fact that randomness produces definiteness.
This can be elegantly seen in the world of media. If you are exposed to certain angles of a 'story' - you are bound to reach definite conclusions. Therefore, even if the universe is random, you particular physical and culural point in time, yesterday's decision to skip the evening news too - will have definite consequences.
I have come to see the problem in the light of a 'flexible frame' of a kind. Something like a perfect illusion. "Maybe a little bit" of freedom that exists is no excuse not to exercise it. Or: what can I do if I in the final run do not control my impulses? See what I can do about it.
As I said, I'm a novice here so - enlighten me please. But then again, as Leonardo said, advertising his skills to a prospective patron: "I can construct buildings and bridges. I can demolish buildings and bridges. And in art (of painting) - I challenge anyone."
utorak, 17. siječnja 2012.
Sort of Prayer
Bored and because it's sheer fun, I elaborated on the initial lecture for media students in Dubrovnik, the closest that might be considered as recipients of scholarship in my native town.
For intro, and to stir up participation, the story of Johnson's On Bashfulness. For those not acquainted with this miniature gem, here. Next, different meanings of the word 'critical;' emphasis on critical thinking each journalist should develop, followed by the importance of inadvertent rifts opened in any produced 'text' - i.e. the talk of ourselves in any talk we talk. Finally, a warning in direction of the realm of values.
This last bit I find most troublesome. Is there any consensus on values that is not hot air? Pedagogues, as I recall, have for example darling bits on respect for pupils' personalities but will make idiots of them any day. What is truly important? The bullshit on free exchange of goods and migration of individuals?
This, I think, actually cannot be proclaimed. Glory to lawyers, but this is something you will be able to feel.
Just the other day, I learned of the 'futuristic' estimates of psychiatric health for Europe 2070, which claim 25% of lives would end in suicide. A grim prognosis.
It will embarassingly turn out I am devout, but here is my answer, that I actually had on my pin-up cork portion of the hall wall, an 'open' quote by Hans Küng:
For intro, and to stir up participation, the story of Johnson's On Bashfulness. For those not acquainted with this miniature gem, here. Next, different meanings of the word 'critical;' emphasis on critical thinking each journalist should develop, followed by the importance of inadvertent rifts opened in any produced 'text' - i.e. the talk of ourselves in any talk we talk. Finally, a warning in direction of the realm of values.
This last bit I find most troublesome. Is there any consensus on values that is not hot air? Pedagogues, as I recall, have for example darling bits on respect for pupils' personalities but will make idiots of them any day. What is truly important? The bullshit on free exchange of goods and migration of individuals?
This, I think, actually cannot be proclaimed. Glory to lawyers, but this is something you will be able to feel.
Just the other day, I learned of the 'futuristic' estimates of psychiatric health for Europe 2070, which claim 25% of lives would end in suicide. A grim prognosis.
It will embarassingly turn out I am devout, but here is my answer, that I actually had on my pin-up cork portion of the hall wall, an 'open' quote by Hans Küng:
"What can we know? Why is there anything at all? Why not nothing? What ought we to do? Why and to whom are we finally responsible? What may we hope? Why are we here? What is it all about? And, finally, what will give us courage for life and what courage for death?"
The Art of Cable
Friend, this post will be fairly blank and abstract: for the style mirrors the necessary denial. Every once in a while one should remind oneself one is irrelevant, much as I admire the possibility of having own foreign policy, or precisely because of the fact. I need time to do things human too, of no interest to anybody - that all do each and every day: things like savouring soon to be illicit cigarettes, admiring somebody's figure or being dumb and cracking away with laughter. When you have lost that, you have lost everything. I know public figures fart, but I also know they swell up trying to hide it. Not me. I want to taste, err and mend. All dictators effectively say: after me, chaos. My grandiose (also irrelevant) me says: I would like to leave this chaos of a wake of creativity. Friend, I keep constant watch but I am also afraid lest I smother you. This is partly because I am sure of what I am; none I have to prove this to. I am not in a hurry, but I don't have the time to explain. Some things have to be earned hard, and I summarized the contradictory impulse or succession (in myself, to myself) in the far away age of 22: respite, stirring within. I know I am once again heading to construct. I only can or want to construct that much. Destruction so in vogue, on the other hand - not my thing. This post was about things dear to me. This post was about my public equals my private self.
Pertinent Quote
No one really listens to anyone else, and if you try it for a while you'll see why.Mignon McLaughlin
On Air
We recorded the initial three Egotrip radio shows and we're on air starting Sunday 29th. The show is in Croatian and airs at 1pm, with a rerun at 7pm. The first three books covered are Auge: Non-Places, Gadamer: Truth and Method and Konstantinović: the Philosophy of Small Places.
In Dubrovnik, the frequency is 97.50MHz; the radio is available online through a live stream as well, and I shall subsequently also make the shows available here.
Of course, I have a presumptuous, flamboyant ad for it:
"In stead of the usual, the babbling, the silly contests etc. - this is an attempt to say something on air, and to show our decisions would be much better if they were only informed."
Tune in.
In Dubrovnik, the frequency is 97.50MHz; the radio is available online through a live stream as well, and I shall subsequently also make the shows available here.
Of course, I have a presumptuous, flamboyant ad for it:
"In stead of the usual, the babbling, the silly contests etc. - this is an attempt to say something on air, and to show our decisions would be much better if they were only informed."
Tune in.
ponedjeljak, 16. siječnja 2012.
What a Title
Just saw Misery again. Of course it's a wonderful dark comedy, things being pushed to extremes, as probably witnessed best when the nurse effectively maims the writer, followed only seconds by her face saying: "I love you so much."
But the movie also aptly illustrates the two poles: one can have an adventure in the head, or in life. And the two are not really connected which is mirrored in the two types of fiction the movie writer spawns.
I picked up it was written by Stephen King. A good idea though. According to Fiona Webster, "Misery touches on several large themes: the state of possession by an evil being, the idea that art is an act in which the artist willingly becomes captive, the tortured condition of being a writer, and the fears attendant to becoming a "brand-name" bestselling author with legions of zealous fans."
This touches on the good ol' idea that all ideas are merely models of reality. After all, characters in his 'popular' fiction in the film also exclaim: "There is a higher justice than that of man. I will be judged by Him." The split between the popular and the ethereal is no split after all, and once again.
Enough for me; I'm getting a copy, ready to apologise though I still judge this title by its garish cover. I wonder if it's too factual.
Start with the Simple
As you may know, next Sunday we are in for the referendum on whether to join the EU. The clamour is facinating and frightening: it's the every idiot's parrot talk these days.
Have you noticed just how dreary it is when your usual politician or journalist exhibit parts of their ready-made personalities? Since I have some radio experience, I can also vouch this is actually a case of some kind of self-censorship - apart from the possibility of being an utter uneducated fool, you're supposed somehow to air but ready-made and recognised patterns of speech.
(Not to get all wound up here, yesterday I watched a guy from Split on Croatian TV with some personality and the anchor asked the following question: "Is this why you did not succeed in politics?")
Anyway, at this early morning hour, I am in for finer things in life. The great phyisicist from England exclaimed the other day the greatest mystery for him were - women. And this was next taken over by just about any idiot in Croatia, taking now for granted there is no depth at all. The genius and the idiot thus may use exactly the same words - with exactly opposite meanings.
And what a mystery sex is! Located firmly between the fleshy odours and excretions and what one poet called the "flutter" of the soul, it seems we are forever locked in this game of being duped for what we want. If you are one of those who take things for granted, try, as the young Cullum says, "separating love and lust." Virtually, "whole novels" could be written about this - and they are.
Be this messy as it is, to feel it! To pause whatever that you are doing and to want to communicate with the person in question, already part of that human fate of daring to speak something meaningful at all. I once tried expressing this moment. But to get back to the beginning, I remember a comment by an elderly British woman when she first read Lawrence: "He certainly makes a lot of la-di-dah about it."
The clash between these two worlds is complete: with the la-di-dah ignoring the twists and turns, sometimes even laboured ones, the highbrow pole proves tolerance has always been in short supply - it early on proclaimed the unexamined life was "not worth living."
And this is where love gets redemptive. For, for example, with the sole purpose of expression and all things equal - you may fall for somebody who falls for football. Since it is fairly difficult to be something else, I'll comment in: "You can learn a lot."
Have you noticed just how dreary it is when your usual politician or journalist exhibit parts of their ready-made personalities? Since I have some radio experience, I can also vouch this is actually a case of some kind of self-censorship - apart from the possibility of being an utter uneducated fool, you're supposed somehow to air but ready-made and recognised patterns of speech.
(Not to get all wound up here, yesterday I watched a guy from Split on Croatian TV with some personality and the anchor asked the following question: "Is this why you did not succeed in politics?")
Anyway, at this early morning hour, I am in for finer things in life. The great phyisicist from England exclaimed the other day the greatest mystery for him were - women. And this was next taken over by just about any idiot in Croatia, taking now for granted there is no depth at all. The genius and the idiot thus may use exactly the same words - with exactly opposite meanings.
And what a mystery sex is! Located firmly between the fleshy odours and excretions and what one poet called the "flutter" of the soul, it seems we are forever locked in this game of being duped for what we want. If you are one of those who take things for granted, try, as the young Cullum says, "separating love and lust." Virtually, "whole novels" could be written about this - and they are.
Be this messy as it is, to feel it! To pause whatever that you are doing and to want to communicate with the person in question, already part of that human fate of daring to speak something meaningful at all. I once tried expressing this moment. But to get back to the beginning, I remember a comment by an elderly British woman when she first read Lawrence: "He certainly makes a lot of la-di-dah about it."
The clash between these two worlds is complete: with the la-di-dah ignoring the twists and turns, sometimes even laboured ones, the highbrow pole proves tolerance has always been in short supply - it early on proclaimed the unexamined life was "not worth living."
And this is where love gets redemptive. For, for example, with the sole purpose of expression and all things equal - you may fall for somebody who falls for football. Since it is fairly difficult to be something else, I'll comment in: "You can learn a lot."
petak, 13. siječnja 2012.
Way to Go!
Warren Buffett is my new hero.
Of course, we could now speculate whether this is driven by genius or bad conscience but - let's keep paranoia as one of the prerogatives of those in power.
And why do I like him?
A lay definition of madness is banging your head ever against the same wall, and as I once said: "constant flux requires a tireless arranger." Let's try something new, people - before we are desperate.
Of course, we could now speculate whether this is driven by genius or bad conscience but - let's keep paranoia as one of the prerogatives of those in power.
And why do I like him?
A lay definition of madness is banging your head ever against the same wall, and as I once said: "constant flux requires a tireless arranger." Let's try something new, people - before we are desperate.
Cafe Talk: Boring Times
Well, some are bright, some are educated and some simply grow older. Since I turned 38, I've caught on some of the latter too.
So I think I can now even physically measure what is called progress. Seeing the amount of change during the past twenty, I'm not that optimistic about the next twenty years. In a qualitative sense, you may as well disregard what was said as wise ones have their doubts here too.
Anyway, what do books say of this?
I remember Gadamer saying tradition is as active an attempt as revolution and that this mix of old and new is best anyone can expect. "More is preserved than anyone thinks etc. etc."
I also grotesquely remember Krleza describing progress as a 3D thing: into the silly, into the stupid, into the messy - among other things.
Just yesterday I reread Auge that I need for my opening talk show and found out once again all our talk is actually there to force sense into things that are otherwise just too chaotic.
And then Oscar the charming of course exclaimed "Oh, why was I born with such contemporaries!" - but he also passed judgments on women and was a total failure.
Gandhi was a bit more optimistic. (Regimes always fall. Think about it: always.)
However, I am loath to see the amount of old surviving in both my cultures. The new is mostly technical. For example, my new government is now online, mostly babbling and still not listening. Next, I expect them to bow down their tail any day now before banks, mobile operators and - your government, among others.
Ah, to be bold! If there only were not for the Connecticut Yankee which clearly shows Hank Morgan's attempt. "Maro, bring once more the same!" We'll hope for one on the house.
So I think I can now even physically measure what is called progress. Seeing the amount of change during the past twenty, I'm not that optimistic about the next twenty years. In a qualitative sense, you may as well disregard what was said as wise ones have their doubts here too.
Anyway, what do books say of this?
I remember Gadamer saying tradition is as active an attempt as revolution and that this mix of old and new is best anyone can expect. "More is preserved than anyone thinks etc. etc."
I also grotesquely remember Krleza describing progress as a 3D thing: into the silly, into the stupid, into the messy - among other things.
Just yesterday I reread Auge that I need for my opening talk show and found out once again all our talk is actually there to force sense into things that are otherwise just too chaotic.
And then Oscar the charming of course exclaimed "Oh, why was I born with such contemporaries!" - but he also passed judgments on women and was a total failure.
Gandhi was a bit more optimistic. (Regimes always fall. Think about it: always.)
However, I am loath to see the amount of old surviving in both my cultures. The new is mostly technical. For example, my new government is now online, mostly babbling and still not listening. Next, I expect them to bow down their tail any day now before banks, mobile operators and - your government, among others.
Ah, to be bold! If there only were not for the Connecticut Yankee which clearly shows Hank Morgan's attempt. "Maro, bring once more the same!" We'll hope for one on the house.
četvrtak, 12. siječnja 2012.
Radomir Konstantinović
"The spirit of small places is the spirit of uniformity; above all the spirit of ready-made, of template, a very specific form.[…] In the world of small places, it is more important to keep to the established custom well than be an individual. All that is predominantly individual (in no matter what direction) is undesirable above all because it is a promise of the "world" as pure negation of the small place - therefore a promise of stylistic polivalency, and this polivalency is, for the spirit of small place, pure incarnation of cacophony, the music of the very hell. […] The tyranny of the small place is the tyranny of insight into everything, or the tyranny of absolute clearness and publicity of everything. […] If there is an exception, the exception behaves grammatically: as proof of the rule and for its glory, and itself it is worthy but of contempt and derision.“
"Talk because of talk, without any deeper meaning, is accepted precisely because of the need to satisfy the need for experience, but also to boil down the very experience to an event (in which others participate) and therefore make it less dangerous. As a choir member from ancient tragedy, he provides tragedy and existence for interpretation but here, outside of tragedy, it turns to babbling; he believes, with his anti-tragic instinct, that tragedy is for crazy ones, for those who allow themselves to be cheated. He is firmly on his ground and will not be fooled. […] He wants to be some kind of absurd choir hero. […] By looking for the culprit outside, in the "world" […] this is not a philosophical spirit: a spirit turned to unknown truth, but an a priori spirit, which already owns the truth.“
What Can I Say: Never Really Outgrew These
My friend and me are sitting on a bench gazing at stars
Listening to news just out
They say we've got left
Only a couple of years...
We live, speak, defend, walk and celebrate
Some silly things, some shit talk
Created by someone for us
In only a couple of years
Experts
I'm pathetic and I know it.
But Huffington Post. Just the other day I read a post, not to say an article, by one of those Americans so egalitarian that he "always explained everyone art is about gut feeling." Followed by a luckily short because trendy tirade about how art is also cultural i.e. learned. Shallow. Insipid. Elementary.
Ditto for the lady herself. My favourite part must be when they Facebook their requests for reader comments. It's as if everybody is so stupid we must borg in.
I wish I could do little re-runs of John Ruskin or Samuel Johnson. Their style and intelligence definitely superior, I would do it if only I did not know that each new situation calls for the right mix of both old and new.
But we shall soon see the need for professional burrowers through library shelves. Or we won't - because none feel the need.
And as I once joked in one of my poems about a Croatian government official saying no to me: "in my hood, kids practice philosophy, saying - 'tis hardest thing in the world to explain a dumbman he is dumb."
But Huffington Post. Just the other day I read a post, not to say an article, by one of those Americans so egalitarian that he "always explained everyone art is about gut feeling." Followed by a luckily short because trendy tirade about how art is also cultural i.e. learned. Shallow. Insipid. Elementary.
Ditto for the lady herself. My favourite part must be when they Facebook their requests for reader comments. It's as if everybody is so stupid we must borg in.
I wish I could do little re-runs of John Ruskin or Samuel Johnson. Their style and intelligence definitely superior, I would do it if only I did not know that each new situation calls for the right mix of both old and new.
But we shall soon see the need for professional burrowers through library shelves. Or we won't - because none feel the need.
And as I once joked in one of my poems about a Croatian government official saying no to me: "in my hood, kids practice philosophy, saying - 'tis hardest thing in the world to explain a dumbman he is dumb."
srijeda, 11. siječnja 2012.
Smiley Face
Despite "my heavy tear" on current state of affairs, I decided to devote a brief post to the smiley. I'm afraid I started misusing them myself.
Now, these indicate a general tone of my sentences - but merely because I cannot express myself. Consider the following:
I feel like I'd better sleep this day through - news are too much :)
vs.
I feel sleeping is a sound alternative to reading news which in turn make me feel like vomiting but I'm not letting this get to me. I'll make a joke of this and vomit some other day. Come to think of it, even though I won't sleep, I might actually be more productive if I did.
But then again, the whole post might be redundant. First of all, the "C students" caught on the spirit of the times and now write books on the unreality, the persistent image quality of our civilisation and fast changes that result in strangeness. Just the other day, one went that far to claim this world craves a pill of ecstasy only.
Literature will of course not surrender; it's just that we are inundated with would be net writers that literally explain their "brain was muddled as [brand of chewing gum]."
All in all, I think I'm by now rather qualified to prepare a lecture on benefits and drawbacks of humanist education, that I believe should be part and parcel of any university welcome speech.
"You shall experience much through books: the aesthetic, condensed experience of generations. You will receive this sense of class that exists even without money and that even the uninitiated can physically spot. We shall also instill modesty in you, if only you persevere. Some disadvantages are that you might forever be unsure or wonder why everyone, you included, is so mean."
Or something of the sort. My vernacular has a phatic statement which literally translates as "I'm not wise." "However, what I can promise you for sure - you will develop a strange dislike for smileys. You will argue they falsify things."
Now, these indicate a general tone of my sentences - but merely because I cannot express myself. Consider the following:
I feel like I'd better sleep this day through - news are too much :)
vs.
I feel sleeping is a sound alternative to reading news which in turn make me feel like vomiting but I'm not letting this get to me. I'll make a joke of this and vomit some other day. Come to think of it, even though I won't sleep, I might actually be more productive if I did.
But then again, the whole post might be redundant. First of all, the "C students" caught on the spirit of the times and now write books on the unreality, the persistent image quality of our civilisation and fast changes that result in strangeness. Just the other day, one went that far to claim this world craves a pill of ecstasy only.
Literature will of course not surrender; it's just that we are inundated with would be net writers that literally explain their "brain was muddled as [brand of chewing gum]."
All in all, I think I'm by now rather qualified to prepare a lecture on benefits and drawbacks of humanist education, that I believe should be part and parcel of any university welcome speech.
"You shall experience much through books: the aesthetic, condensed experience of generations. You will receive this sense of class that exists even without money and that even the uninitiated can physically spot. We shall also instill modesty in you, if only you persevere. Some disadvantages are that you might forever be unsure or wonder why everyone, you included, is so mean."
Or something of the sort. My vernacular has a phatic statement which literally translates as "I'm not wise." "However, what I can promise you for sure - you will develop a strange dislike for smileys. You will argue they falsify things."
Folk Day
Just yesterday, I remembered a beautiful Russian folk fairy tale about the age of darkness that humans find themselves in. I believe you can find it in a recent collection by Slavenka Drakulić. But then again, "facts are stupid things."
Anyway, frightened and all, a boy starts explaining everyone he knows of a meadow with the sun shining and leads the way. Midway through, everyone starts grumbling, complaining and quarelling.
Finally, the boy tears his heart out to light the way. The people, catching a glimpse of the meadow, trample the boy down in order to get there first.
Yessir, I like my Russians real and raw! If somebody can supply more info on this one, I'd be greateful.
Anyway, frightened and all, a boy starts explaining everyone he knows of a meadow with the sun shining and leads the way. Midway through, everyone starts grumbling, complaining and quarelling.
Finally, the boy tears his heart out to light the way. The people, catching a glimpse of the meadow, trample the boy down in order to get there first.
Yessir, I like my Russians real and raw! If somebody can supply more info on this one, I'd be greateful.
Dad's Tune by Đorđe Balašević
"Don't ever bother asking why
marigold flower had to die
I can't recall, it's a longish story
Don't ask here in front of all
what lies there in this glass so tall
don't ever trouble asking why I drink
Better I had no damn hat
the Devil naps underneath
dreams and asks for things, Devil is to blame
Wakes me up in bad hour
he doesn't stick to plan
he must try all if sour
asks wine from man
I don't drink cause I like it
nor cause it becomes me well
I drink to quench his thirst a bit
Don't ask please, I can't say
which star will go out of way
which button will fall off my coat
Don't ask why it is after all
all dogs bark after me, doll
don't ever trouble asking why I roam
Better I had no damn hat
the Devil naps underneath
dreams and asks for things, Devil is to blame
Wakes me up in bad hour
he doesn't stick to plan
he must try all if sour
his place he asks from man
I don't roam cause I like it
nor cause I like the road
I roam to tire his strength a bit
Don't ask me if I'm cold
while I choose a bold stone
with gypsies in this dew and rain
Don't ask me why the sparrow
won't fiddle just any morrow
don't ever ask why I play
Better I had no damn hat
the Devil naps underneath
dreams and asks for things, Devil is to blame
Wakes me up in bad hour
he doesn't stick to plan
he must try all if sour
his tune he asks from man
I don't play cause I like it
it ain't a real tune
I play to hush him up a bit"
utorak, 10. siječnja 2012.
Rez
I decided to still be me.
Not much of a decision, you might say - and you would be fundamentally right.
However, this is my New Year's resolution, which includes good ol' contempt.
Here's my favourite scene from Fargo:
ponedjeljak, 9. siječnja 2012.
Once and For All
crit·i·cal
[krit-i-kuh
l]
adjective
1.
inclined to find fault or to judge with severity, often too readily.
2.
occupied with or skilled in criticism.
3.
involving skillful judgment as to truth, merit, etc.; judicial: a critical analysis.
4.
of or pertaining to critics or criticism: critical essays.
5.
providing textual variants, proposed emendations, etc.: a critical edition of Chaucer.
How I Lose Jobs
Isn't it tragic how contemporary society can't find use for literature and humanities? For the sake of argument, I will say we - we are so myopic that we devastate indigenous plant seed banks, be this Croatia or Iraq. The new seed, as I hear, you have to buy each year, so the question is now: "You want to eat? You buy."
But let me tell you how this works on micro-level, for the ordinary thinking individual. (I'm sure the upper rungs contain anything from treats to threats.)
God, at least four or five years ago I was interviewed by a German "consultant" for an interpreter post in a project within the Croatian pension fund. Some reorganisation of a kind, that would last a year, and that I had witnessed enough in the national oil company. My personal belief is the woman was in and out without figuring out anything, destroying boxes of paper.
Full 30 minutes into the interview, obnoxious German woman: "So, you really don't have any further questions about this wonderful project of mine?"
Obnoxious me: "Well, I was actually present at many meetings and sometimes you feel like saying something - but this is not my job. I say what you say."
But let me tell you how this works on micro-level, for the ordinary thinking individual. (I'm sure the upper rungs contain anything from treats to threats.)
God, at least four or five years ago I was interviewed by a German "consultant" for an interpreter post in a project within the Croatian pension fund. Some reorganisation of a kind, that would last a year, and that I had witnessed enough in the national oil company. My personal belief is the woman was in and out without figuring out anything, destroying boxes of paper.
Full 30 minutes into the interview, obnoxious German woman: "So, you really don't have any further questions about this wonderful project of mine?"
Obnoxious me: "Well, I was actually present at many meetings and sometimes you feel like saying something - but this is not my job. I say what you say."
nedjelja, 8. siječnja 2012.
subota, 7. siječnja 2012.
Seekers Still Seek
Most of the change we think we see in life is due to truths being in and out of favor.
Robert Frost (1874 - 1963), The Black Cottage
To the Economist
I intend my lines
To bleed your gut
Like some little, weak dope
And once you have realised poesy
Is as real as eyes shut in a laugh
This will be the end to your silly buts
To bleed your gut
Like some little, weak dope
And once you have realised poesy
Is as real as eyes shut in a laugh
This will be the end to your silly buts
15th Egotrip Show
Language and Nationalism by Snježana Kordić
"In local environment, this is the first book that sheds light on the relation between language and nation, based on extensive world literature. The reader is offered insights on how nations are made, how language is used for nationalist goals, how history is falsified and myths created to foster an ideologically desirable image of reality. In the book, identity is revealed as construct, while culture is shown as incongruous with nation. It is shown that the language we speak has wider borders that those commonly delineated, and the real nature of linguistic purism is shown for what it is. Given the ideas widespread here, to many the content might seem revolutionary. But it is however not, this is caused by the isolation of home environment from the scholarly level attained in the world. The goal of this book is precisely to overcome this isolation and supplant the existing knowledge gaps."
Gray Haired Kids by Enes Kišević
All that man has made
Can again be on this sod
But they demolish even that
Which you made, dear Lord.
They divided You too -
Over us, to better care.
Ah, if they could they would
border the very air.
How small man is -
How overgrown with hate,
While roses smell sweet
Even for the plucker.
How can I not cry -
Saint's heart would break before
This sight of mothers bearing
Gray haired kids once more.
For which peace am I to die -
Peace has always been there -
I could hear it loud right now
If you silenced the guns.
For which land am I to fall -
I belong to this whole land.
And all innocent ones -
You will see, buried in me.
Can again be on this sod
But they demolish even that
Which you made, dear Lord.
They divided You too -
Over us, to better care.
Ah, if they could they would
border the very air.
How small man is -
How overgrown with hate,
While roses smell sweet
Even for the plucker.
How can I not cry -
Saint's heart would break before
This sight of mothers bearing
Gray haired kids once more.
For which peace am I to die -
Peace has always been there -
I could hear it loud right now
If you silenced the guns.
For which land am I to fall -
I belong to this whole land.
And all innocent ones -
You will see, buried in me.
Original here.
petak, 6. siječnja 2012.
četvrtak, 5. siječnja 2012.
Talkie
http://egotrip.com.hr/
Preparations underway for a new radio show.
1 - What is culture? (Auge)
2 - the Method (Gadamer)
3 - Small Places (Konstantinović)
4 - Belles Letres? (Mann)
5 - the Contemporary (Schneider)
6 - Diocletian (Barbieri)
7 - Tourism (different theory titles)
8 - Jung & paranormal
9 - On Bullshit (Frankfurt)
10 - Letters between Kovač & David
For the five last shows, I've invited the audience to suggest titles though I think I'll devote one to Conformism by Hogan.
The show and therefore the webpage is alas in Croatian.
ibra (אברא) means "I have created" and k'dibra (כדברא) means "through my speech"
Writers have a lot to learn from composers. There are your monumental, occasional, unrecognised, one-hit and commercial composers. There are even political composers as Shoshtakovich was. However the die might have landed for you, it is, first of all - a gift.
A professor of mine always wondered how come there's such a consensum on best world literature. And it is there because of some mysterious law of progression. Not to get all universy here, it is a fairly interesting process novices go through. They usually start with something quite mechanical - say, grammar - only to go for that first twist. One of the very demarcation lines is still the question of the standard. Those in merely consult; the former obey.
As for the middle to end part of the route, I still do not have first-hand experience: it seems there is everything from boring your audience through repetition to literally admiring the sound of the drop in water or - blank page. There's of course plain quitting and the issue of overstuffing oneself but also something so aptly described by Thomas Bernhard.
I've just learned from Norman Mailer to be industrious and accept disappointment. According to him, it is like running a little store and expecting not to do so well as last year.
Still, just like any art or craft - it's a minor blessing. To have been able to compose the simplest great tune is - a lot. To have created is divine. Or, to put this into perspective: it is a small creation. And you get to continue playing having done a most beautiful castle. Or just go for a soda.
A professor of mine always wondered how come there's such a consensum on best world literature. And it is there because of some mysterious law of progression. Not to get all universy here, it is a fairly interesting process novices go through. They usually start with something quite mechanical - say, grammar - only to go for that first twist. One of the very demarcation lines is still the question of the standard. Those in merely consult; the former obey.
As for the middle to end part of the route, I still do not have first-hand experience: it seems there is everything from boring your audience through repetition to literally admiring the sound of the drop in water or - blank page. There's of course plain quitting and the issue of overstuffing oneself but also something so aptly described by Thomas Bernhard.
I've just learned from Norman Mailer to be industrious and accept disappointment. According to him, it is like running a little store and expecting not to do so well as last year.
Still, just like any art or craft - it's a minor blessing. To have been able to compose the simplest great tune is - a lot. To have created is divine. Or, to put this into perspective: it is a small creation. And you get to continue playing having done a most beautiful castle. Or just go for a soda.
srijeda, 4. siječnja 2012.
The Art of Overshare: quiet and rainy, in a nutshell.
..at one pm and went to have coffee. And another one. Gazed round the cafe for a while but none seemed really interesting - just a few young, naive ones, probably still expecting wonders, and a few routinely gossiping. Went to Stradun (and afterwards answered the survey about the appropriateness of walking drunk down Stradun just like Kiwis do, naked and vomiting with 'Every day.') and to the library. Yes, a few interesting titles, but all-in-all - 19th century feel, with whole disheveled sections. Local bus system reliable even in adverse weather, or because. Went to this other cafe where a bunch of unmarried maidens were having coffee. Went home, not wanting to pass any rash judgments. Got online and saw today's Twitter so I thought I'd join in, without the rabid part on politics. This didn't fit. Next, decided to post my 'I just took a leak' events in Antoine Roquentin style.
Obstinacy
One man alone can be pretty dumb sometimes, but for real bona fide stupidity, there ain't nothin' can beat teamwork.
Edward Abbey (1927 - 1989)
utorak, 3. siječnja 2012.
The Balkan Spy
Indulge me on this one: my favourite ex-Yu movie. I know most of you probably don't understand a word, but if you want a crash course to the region, see the Balkan Spy, a racuous, dead serious comedy.
The famous line (among the many) runs as follows:
The nation toothless, and no jobs for dentists.
IMDB:
"Ilija Cvorovic is called by the secret police to routinely answer questions about his neighbour, businessman who had returned from the West. After that talk, Cvorovic is convinced that his neighbour represents the greatest threat to national security and begins his own surveillance operation against the innocent man."
The famous line (among the many) runs as follows:
The nation toothless, and no jobs for dentists.
IMDB:
"Ilija Cvorovic is called by the secret police to routinely answer questions about his neighbour, businessman who had returned from the West. After that talk, Cvorovic is convinced that his neighbour represents the greatest threat to national security and begins his own surveillance operation against the innocent man."
Forgery Mint by Milan Gavrović, in Novosti
What is happening in Europe today is actually a re-run of the drama that was played a full quarter of a century ago on the stage of the then Yugoslavia. Its script can, completely simplifed but none the less true, be summarised in a single sentence. Which reads as follows: banks created money and issued loans to whoever they could, and once the debtors could not service them, the state filled the abyss by printing money. It is but the motives that spur principal characters on that are different. Then Yugoslav, or more accurately: officials of the then different Republics, who goverened the banks, in this manner shunned the consequences of own bad decisions. European leaders of today fill the void created by the decisions of serious capital. This is understandably a consequence of the relations of power within a society. Europe of today is not governed by merry folk that is aired on TV throughout the continent each night. Power is truly in those hands that own money.
Printing fake money cannot be without any consequences. At the time, Yugoslavia faced devastating inflation. This is not occuring in Europe because the excess of money, as well as the greatest share of actual wealth, is concentrated within a few people. This is why (for the time being) there is also no demand that would cause inflation. But numerous economists ring alarm bells nevertheless, claiming the continuation of the policy will cause the tsunami of "Zimbabwean inflation" in the short run. Yugoslav inflation, from the end of 1980s, none perceive as a reference point any longer.
(..)
The then Yugoslavia is still a much better example than Zimbabwe, because it also points to a possible solution. Actually, the sole solution. Dismantling the hyper-inflation in 1989, the Government of Ante Marković also had to face the baloon of printed money. This money, just as in Europe of today, preceded by the situation in USA, stood for uncollectable bank loans.
(..)
All this fake money, that existed in bank papers, was used for new business i.e. was the foundation for new loans. This was one of the principal mechanisms of inflation. New fake money was created based on fake money. Naturally, as is custom in banking and politics, this was hushed up by euphemisms used in lieu of definitions that are clear and understandable to everybody. So none spoke of fake money, but of contaminated banks' assets. The stress was on the word assets here.
Marković next, this was at the beginning of 1989, decided not to invent hot air, but engaged an expert from abroad who had already solved a similair problem. He found him in Spain and brought him to Belgrade, where he analysed the total situation but the situation of each Yugoslav bank as well. When the task was done, the Spaniard proposed the only logical solution. We should face the truth and cancel all fake money. How? Simple. All receivables that banks cannot collect must be "frozen." These were not deleted; the banks thus could still try to collect what they can, but could not keep them as assets. Simultaneoulsy, the chain of inflation was severed and healthy funds were released - therefore, actual banking assets that could finance the economy.
(..)
Twenty years later, Europe is facing the very same challenge that once stood before Yugoslavia. Ante Marković at the time proclaimed the programme he called the New Socialism. Europe and the world are in front of the task of creating new capitalism. Yugoslavia was at the time being dismantled by political bureaocracy in Republics that established their monopoly on economic decisions, turning self-governing into shallow facade. A single step was needed for the bureaocracy to go nationalist. With Milošević in Serbia, this occurred even before the first real elections. In Europe and the world, globalisation also enabled the big money to establish the monopoly to economic decisions. This caused an unseen concentration of wealth and power. Just like the monopoly of the political bureaucracy in then Yugoslav Republics, this monopoly brought about in-depth economic and social rifts.
The application of the Spanish recipe in European banking would erase fake money and the wealth thus created. But as the forgers decide on the fate of capitalism, European and world leaders, despite the galloping crisis, do not even mention such a possibility. Instead, the fake money is attempted to be replaced by real money from the pockets of regular people. Since one cannot find anything even close as huge over there, we're putting out the fire with gasoline, i.e. by printing more money. What this does is deepen the rifts in economy, but society as well.
The original (in Croatian), with further details on the Yugoslav economic crisis - here.
ponedjeljak, 2. siječnja 2012.
Re-Run Day: 2 March 2011
EU: Empire Looming
Yesterday, a certain Swoboda (a nobody, I met a lot of European nobodies as an interpreter) gave a statement to the effect Croatia must first conclude negotiations to "join" EU before having new elections. On FB I was mild indeed: I called him a European cunt. But let's review this issue in more civil terms.
Putting aside the question of why on Earth Croatia, after finally having won its independence, precarious as it is, would rush to join another empire, Swoboda the bureaucrat presumes the following:
- that he is expected to counsel the Croatian Government on what to do in vital internal affairs,
- that he is aware of the outcome of the future referendum,
- that Croatians like being lectured by somebody like him through mass media.
Latest polls indicate Croatians are less than willing to "join". Just the about the sole argument for it would be foreign help for restructuring our feeble institutions and servicing our loans. However, I see no advantage, really, to replace one foul situation with one that smells even ranker.
The situation reminds me of a great documentary on Iceland I saw this summer; I think it's called the Dreamland. World tradesmen and organisation officials come to the country, only to plunder and devastate its resources and - mindfuck people in the process, rewarding corrupt officials that later become "consultants". Gross.
However, we are left with some dignity. It is expressed in the so-called drunken cafe talk, where, if you get closer to locals, you can hear: "And I'll tell you something. When we have finally joined, they'll fall apart".
Putting aside the question of why on Earth Croatia, after finally having won its independence, precarious as it is, would rush to join another empire, Swoboda the bureaucrat presumes the following:
- that he is expected to counsel the Croatian Government on what to do in vital internal affairs,
- that he is aware of the outcome of the future referendum,
- that Croatians like being lectured by somebody like him through mass media.
Latest polls indicate Croatians are less than willing to "join". Just the about the sole argument for it would be foreign help for restructuring our feeble institutions and servicing our loans. However, I see no advantage, really, to replace one foul situation with one that smells even ranker.
The situation reminds me of a great documentary on Iceland I saw this summer; I think it's called the Dreamland. World tradesmen and organisation officials come to the country, only to plunder and devastate its resources and - mindfuck people in the process, rewarding corrupt officials that later become "consultants". Gross.
However, we are left with some dignity. It is expressed in the so-called drunken cafe talk, where, if you get closer to locals, you can hear: "And I'll tell you something. When we have finally joined, they'll fall apart".
SETI
It sometimes seems to me I am on a quest to search for intelligent life online.
The days of responding to your fellow beings are over, not to mention the wonderful habit they had in antiquity of being a spiritual mentor. As Foucault mentions, it was even impolite to turn such a request down.
And it is not that people are merely not writing to me (yes!, why not send me an email?), but you actually write to other people, and they don't deign to write back.
But my favourite new habit must be deleting comments on Facebook. You don't like what others say of you? Just delete the goddamn thing and enjoy in your unspoilt you! Whenever I notice this, I delete the whole "friend."
The days of responding to your fellow beings are over, not to mention the wonderful habit they had in antiquity of being a spiritual mentor. As Foucault mentions, it was even impolite to turn such a request down.
And it is not that people are merely not writing to me (yes!, why not send me an email?), but you actually write to other people, and they don't deign to write back.
But my favourite new habit must be deleting comments on Facebook. You don't like what others say of you? Just delete the goddamn thing and enjoy in your unspoilt you! Whenever I notice this, I delete the whole "friend."
Many Happy Returns
That's it - I'm declaring the demise of the ball-point pen. Not only am I writing my stuff using my computer, I do not even store files locally.
As for Google, I think I know fairly well how they deal with all the zeroes and ones. I have about 3TB of space - and absolutely no idea what's there.
Bitter Poem
Pjesma gorka (BITTER POEM by Dobriša Cesarić;
translated by Davor Juričić in 2012)
What's so cold, and bitter, and grey
That grows in my soul like ivy?
Is it dusk? Really dusk already?
Or just a shadow, passing and savvy?
What now? To babble as if glad,
To hide wounds behind humour;
As if one could hide anything bad:
Sorrow is sorrow, and tumor is tumor.
Dear man! You, who have yet to come,
And light up the world with your heart,
Don't fool yourself and let not be fooled -
Fold down your wings and tear them apart!
Local fiests are funny brawls,
And folk howl, rave and rile.
Fate, that pours wine to others,
To you, it will pour bile.
Well, drink up, buddy, drink,
And try not to be melancholy-bound.
Don't fret, after each sip,
Your neighbour will bring the next round.
translated by Davor Juričić in 2012)
What's so cold, and bitter, and grey
That grows in my soul like ivy?
Is it dusk? Really dusk already?
Or just a shadow, passing and savvy?
What now? To babble as if glad,
To hide wounds behind humour;
As if one could hide anything bad:
Sorrow is sorrow, and tumor is tumor.
Dear man! You, who have yet to come,
And light up the world with your heart,
Don't fool yourself and let not be fooled -
Fold down your wings and tear them apart!
Local fiests are funny brawls,
And folk howl, rave and rile.
Fate, that pours wine to others,
To you, it will pour bile.
Well, drink up, buddy, drink,
And try not to be melancholy-bound.
Don't fret, after each sip,
Your neighbour will bring the next round.
Almodovar
Just finished the latest one entitled the Skin I Live in.
More man-to-woman, this time involving an elaborate scheme of family tragedies and a scene of kidnapping and subsequent forced sex change.
I'm sure the master is taking psychoanalysis but it's not doing him good. Mere two stars, and this is stretched to the second on account of soothing music. And more: I'll steal texts from youngsters when I'm hopefully sixty to sound differently or otherwise stop writing altogether.
Pjesma gorka
Translation - here.
Što je to hladno, i gorko, i sivo
Što niče u duši kao korov njen?
Je li to suton? Zbilja već suton?
Il samo prolazna sjen?
Što sada? Brbljati vesele riječi,
Skrivati rane za humor;
Ko da se išta sakrivanjem liječi:
Tuga je tuga, a umor je umor.
Mili moj! Ti, koji dolaziš za mnom,
Da srcem oko sebe osvijetliš svijet,
Nemoj se varat i ne daj se varat -
Odreži krila pružena za let!
Na domaćoj gozbi su čudna veselja,
I pjano se bunca i buči.
Sudbina, što drugima nalijeva vina,
Tebi će naliti žuči.
Pa pij je, dragi, pij i pij,
I čuvaj se melankolije.
Ne boj se, poslije gutljaja svakog
Susjed će spremno da dolije.
Dobriša Cesarić
Što je to hladno, i gorko, i sivo
Što niče u duši kao korov njen?
Je li to suton? Zbilja već suton?
Il samo prolazna sjen?
Što sada? Brbljati vesele riječi,
Skrivati rane za humor;
Ko da se išta sakrivanjem liječi:
Tuga je tuga, a umor je umor.
Mili moj! Ti, koji dolaziš za mnom,
Da srcem oko sebe osvijetliš svijet,
Nemoj se varat i ne daj se varat -
Odreži krila pružena za let!
Na domaćoj gozbi su čudna veselja,
I pjano se bunca i buči.
Sudbina, što drugima nalijeva vina,
Tebi će naliti žuči.
Pa pij je, dragi, pij i pij,
I čuvaj se melankolije.
Ne boj se, poslije gutljaja svakog
Susjed će spremno da dolije.
Dobriša Cesarić
From Politics to Poetry, Not Vice Versa.
I read an article in Huff today which quite alarmed me: apparently, current congressional suport in the US is at an all-time low of 9%. This sounds as low as in the land of Coruptia, as Croatia had been facetiously nicknamed prior to the recent change.
Moreover, the writer predicts a swift "something" that might not happen as early as 2012, but that Washington would be surprised by it, as always.
What I do however know, from a Croatian perspective heavily paid in 1990s, is that you're absolutely down and out when others come to help. There's even a folk staple joke saying to the effect: "Please don't help me any more."
Well, I'm no prophet or politician, so that's about the sole advice I can offer.
I'll post a great Croatian poem to the effect. Funny how a horrible insight can be transformed into a pleasant aesthetic experience. I'll try to translate it tomorrow.
Moreover, the writer predicts a swift "something" that might not happen as early as 2012, but that Washington would be surprised by it, as always.
What I do however know, from a Croatian perspective heavily paid in 1990s, is that you're absolutely down and out when others come to help. There's even a folk staple joke saying to the effect: "Please don't help me any more."
Well, I'm no prophet or politician, so that's about the sole advice I can offer.
I'll post a great Croatian poem to the effect. Funny how a horrible insight can be transformed into a pleasant aesthetic experience. I'll try to translate it tomorrow.
nedjelja, 1. siječnja 2012.
Secret to Good Conversation at a Party
How convenient to publish, I mouthed the cliche.
Next one came from you.
We laughed at how cheap we were:
It's anyways not about what we say,
It's the little outrage that we play.
Next one came from you.
We laughed at how cheap we were:
It's anyways not about what we say,
It's the little outrage that we play.
subota, 31. prosinca 2011.
Davor Spills the Beans
Remember those writing assignments we had in school? This one, after 20 years of not doing it, is entitled My Worldview. I should hope for a C at least.
I am a kid born under socialism and have still not read the Bible, though I have three different versions, being a book collector. I took a Buddhism course at a US college. I think Protestants, Catholics and Orthodox issue is funny and deplorable. When it comes to Copts, it's downright bizzare. I would decree that church in Croatia be encouraged and confined to charity and saving souls; I have merely been baptised but I have a liking for Jesus. I find ritual degrading. I have a strong dislike for organised anything. There's a Croatian writer who quoted a German philosopher and they say one is warm among humans but it stinks. I like the aesthetics of this statement. I am against just about any government in the world and think they should do more. I like Assange. I think Hundertwasser is nutters for rag-designing his own shoes but I would hug him. When I meet priests, like this summer an English pastor, the conversation is lively and they give me books. I was given Jesus I Never Knew and myself recommended Body and Society in turn. I think my chief "deadly sins" are pride and lust. I am familiar with every fifth line of every prayer there is. I like the nun-Batman jokes. I have had this inscription above my door for some 10 years now: He blindeth their eyes lest they should see. When I was young, I used to let Jehovah's Witnesses in, offer coffee and debate. Now I'm getting older and think more in terms of profound little experiences in art. I would never declare myself an artist but I think I'm one. You can beat me with a stick but if I think your painting is ugly, that's what it is. I don't know that much about painting. I don't like many people to do art. I don't like people with no interest in art. I find epigrams that say it's great to hear the melody of children's voices when you don't understand them hilarious. I like to talk seriously to children and I can eat more ice-cream than they themselves. They should be discouraged to smoke but I don't like someone telling me I shouldn't smoke. I think the greatest art is creation of optimism. I don't particularly feel I should do anything. I dislike when people are late and am punctual myself. I tease my friends and laugh at my own jokes. I adore dogs and cats. I don't like zoos. I think Jains are beyond but admire them. I find meaning the greatest gift but I reach for the bottle. I think pretty people are sacred. I also like intelligent people. I'm not that much a car fan and find TV car shows perplexing. I like when I'm surprised though not scared, as in amusement parks. I find dancers an entirely different aetherial breed. I find newspapers boring. I like water. I am perfectly fine with my partner being an expert in cows or airplanes. I condone pornography though I cannot rationally win. I think the most horrible thing to do is hurt someone. I think it's obvious when they're not enjoying themselves. I admire writers who don't accept prizes. I think the episode with Andrić being terminally ill and exclaiming 'This is horrible!' looking at stars is scary and thrilling. I'm beginning to dislike mobile phones. I like to overspend on things like dinners and ballet. I like little sculptures and jewellery. I'm a language snob. I like to cross-examine somebody who's very good at something and has done it for 20 years now. I like writing assignments like this one, but not when I'm told. I mean I can do them when I'm told, but they're better when I play. I don't believe in anonymity. I think one letter a day is wonderful. I think most would find this strange and basically disagree with Foucault on the issue of "problematization." I think tourists are lazy and loud. I think debate clubs are frontal lobotomy. I think journalists are undereducated. I could shop all day. I like when someone already knows me.
I am a kid born under socialism and have still not read the Bible, though I have three different versions, being a book collector. I took a Buddhism course at a US college. I think Protestants, Catholics and Orthodox issue is funny and deplorable. When it comes to Copts, it's downright bizzare. I would decree that church in Croatia be encouraged and confined to charity and saving souls; I have merely been baptised but I have a liking for Jesus. I find ritual degrading. I have a strong dislike for organised anything. There's a Croatian writer who quoted a German philosopher and they say one is warm among humans but it stinks. I like the aesthetics of this statement. I am against just about any government in the world and think they should do more. I like Assange. I think Hundertwasser is nutters for rag-designing his own shoes but I would hug him. When I meet priests, like this summer an English pastor, the conversation is lively and they give me books. I was given Jesus I Never Knew and myself recommended Body and Society in turn. I think my chief "deadly sins" are pride and lust. I am familiar with every fifth line of every prayer there is. I like the nun-Batman jokes. I have had this inscription above my door for some 10 years now: He blindeth their eyes lest they should see. When I was young, I used to let Jehovah's Witnesses in, offer coffee and debate. Now I'm getting older and think more in terms of profound little experiences in art. I would never declare myself an artist but I think I'm one. You can beat me with a stick but if I think your painting is ugly, that's what it is. I don't know that much about painting. I don't like many people to do art. I don't like people with no interest in art. I find epigrams that say it's great to hear the melody of children's voices when you don't understand them hilarious. I like to talk seriously to children and I can eat more ice-cream than they themselves. They should be discouraged to smoke but I don't like someone telling me I shouldn't smoke. I think the greatest art is creation of optimism. I don't particularly feel I should do anything. I dislike when people are late and am punctual myself. I tease my friends and laugh at my own jokes. I adore dogs and cats. I don't like zoos. I think Jains are beyond but admire them. I find meaning the greatest gift but I reach for the bottle. I think pretty people are sacred. I also like intelligent people. I'm not that much a car fan and find TV car shows perplexing. I like when I'm surprised though not scared, as in amusement parks. I find dancers an entirely different aetherial breed. I find newspapers boring. I like water. I am perfectly fine with my partner being an expert in cows or airplanes. I condone pornography though I cannot rationally win. I think the most horrible thing to do is hurt someone. I think it's obvious when they're not enjoying themselves. I admire writers who don't accept prizes. I think the episode with Andrić being terminally ill and exclaiming 'This is horrible!' looking at stars is scary and thrilling. I'm beginning to dislike mobile phones. I like to overspend on things like dinners and ballet. I like little sculptures and jewellery. I'm a language snob. I like to cross-examine somebody who's very good at something and has done it for 20 years now. I like writing assignments like this one, but not when I'm told. I mean I can do them when I'm told, but they're better when I play. I don't believe in anonymity. I think one letter a day is wonderful. I think most would find this strange and basically disagree with Foucault on the issue of "problematization." I think tourists are lazy and loud. I think debate clubs are frontal lobotomy. I think journalists are undereducated. I could shop all day. I like when someone already knows me.
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