Prelude Etude

@ T. S. Eliot

The frost on the windows accumulates
No feet yet sound in the passageways.
Six o'clock.
The chewed-out pens from thoughts.
And now out a notebook fall
The paper scraps
Printout arrayed across the floor
And cars arrive in vacant lots;
The sound of feet
On empty blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
The shop opens its doors to coffee smells.
And then the extinguishing of the lamps.

(October, 2009)

Note: This should have been posted months ago. Discovered this dog-eared page in my Drafts folder. Graduate student days are now distant, but night outs for the final push to get the paper out of the door aren't.

Free lunch?

Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what's for lunch.
- Orson Welles

Playlist on the 19th of May from WEMU

This was one of the best hours of music on WEMU. Really obscure selections, but they worked so well together. Now, I have to track them down.

• One More Thad's Pad Music Of Thad Jones IPO 11:07:04AM
• Sheryl Bailey With The Three Rivers Jazz Orchestra Carenia A New Promise MCG JAZZ 11:11:53AM
• Suzy Bogguss Chain Lover Sweet Danger LDR 11:21:14AM
• Madeleine Peyroux I'm All Right Half The Perfect World ROUNDER 11:24:03AM
• Steve Cardenas The Horse You Rode In On West Of Middle PALMETTO 11:27:25AM
• Charlie Hunter Ode To My Honda Odyssey Gentlemen, I Neglected To Inform You, You Will Not Be Getting Paid SPIRE ARTISTS MEDIA 11:31:10AM
• Thornetta Davis That's A Pretty Good Love Thornetta Davis Covered Live At The Music Menu LADY T 11:34:56AM
• Ella Fitzgerald With The Duke Ellington Orchestra Cottontail Ella Fitzgerald: The Concert Years (Disc 1) PABLO 11:41:22AM
• Anat Cohen What A Little Moonlight Can Do Clarinetwork: Live At The Village Vanguard ANZIC 11:46:43AM
• Hot Club Of Detroit For Stephane It's About That Time MACK AVENUE 11:54:02AM

Underground Gourmet

Was at the Subway yesterday, and it was a bit too busy for a Sunday afternoon. Those of your who know me, I feel that I am sinning each time I step into a fast-food joint. According to some of my friends, Subway being healthy does not even count as a 'fast-food' restaurant.

I was standing there waiting to order my Veggie delight with 'everything' (why not?) and there was this guy deliberating over his 'choices'. I found it rather amusing that he had a particular preference of a "Don't want it toasted. Put a few onions, tomatoes, no pickle", and "Please put some more dressing on the side of the sandwich". Then the guy after him in the line, was also equally demanding. I was standing there wondering if I was doing something wrong ordering everything.

What's going to kill me is to see a MacDonald's gourmet. I guess we can pick our poison. Me? I'll have everything!

Soccer or football?

It’s called “football” because you KICK THE BALL WITH YOUR FEET.
Unlike American Football WHERE YOU MAINLY THROW THE BALL WITH YOUR HANDS.

The above was a comment made on The World website on the Language of Soccer.

Americans call the English usage of football jargon as snobbery. The English look down on the American-style of soccer lacking finesse and players being just 'hunks of meat'. It does go beyond just the language. It's about a cultural class between Europe and America. A stereotypical European view is to see Americans as loud, lacking taste and dressing badly. In America, soccer is considered mostly a sport for women. It's no small wonder that the Americans have dominated the women's game. In American, real men play football.

America has a long way to go before it gets being a dominant world power in football, so till that happens I think it's fair to call it football.

Humor as a sign of maturity

I thought it applied only to individuals, but the Economist extends the view for countries too,

"Self-deprecating humour is the ultimate sign of emotional and political maturity, just as a rabid prickliness is typically a sign of unresolved complexes about superiority, inferiority, and lack of attention from the outside world."
From the Economist: Eastern Approaches

Simple Pleasures

I remarked to some of my friends the other day that one of the greatest pleasures in life is to shave with a nice new razor, warm water and lots of foam. I was told, "I am too easily pleased". Yes, perhaps. Tony Hoagland has news for you.

I Have News For You

...

...

Do you see that creamy, lemon-yellow moon?
There are some people, unlike me and you,

who do not yearn after fame or love or quantities of money as
unattainable as that moon;
thus, they do not later
have to waste more time
defaming the object of their former ardor.

Or consequently run and crucify themselves
in some solitary midnight Starbucks Golgotha.

I have news for you—
there are people who get up in the morning and cross a room

and open a window to let the sweet breeze in
and let it touch them all over their faces and bodies.

- Tony Hoagland

Why they went

from Why They Went
by Elizabeth Bradfield

that men might learn what the world is like at the spot where the sun does not decline in the heavens.

—Apsley Cherry-Garrard

....

That all we had to do was show up.

The sun rolled along the horizon. The light never left them.
The air from their warm mouths became diamonds.
And they longed for everything they did not have.
And they came home and longed again.

The Prime of Mr. Hirak Parikh

At exactly 2245 EST, which is 0815 IST, the digits on my clock will flip. No ordinary flip this one. Thirty rotations round the sun to be exact. In a sense it's just another day, right? That was pretty much the whole point of James Joyce's Ulysses (He did take his time to describe it though). The beauty of an ordinary day. Unlike Stephen Daedalus, I am trying to confront the possibility of an extraordinary day.

But why 30? Technically speaking it's the 30th anniversary, but my 31st birthday (0-based counting rocks!). On some level, it's special, though in terms of other units of time counted it's rather quotidian -
* it is 10,956 days, 15 hours, 45 minutes and 0 seconds or
* 29 years, 11 months, 29 days, 15 hours, 45 minutes
* 946,655,100 seconds
* 15,777,585 minutes
* 262,959 hours (rounded down)
* 1565 weeks (rounded down)
Courtesy: www.timeanddate.com

Then again, in term of SI units - another day to celebrate is 1E9 seconds on the planet which is about 31.6887646 years. So, somewhere in February 2012? For most people their billionth second on earth passes by in an instant, without fanfare or even the slightest notice. Given that our lives revolve on the order of days, this significant moment just passes by. I can take solace in the fact, that I am not that old, yet!

Still 30 is unique not because it signals the end of the 20s, or the end of my salad days, but for a curious fact that '30' is the largest possible product of first few consecutive primes.
1x2x3x5=30.

The next possible combination is 1x2x3x5x7=210 which seems out of the realm of human longevity.

I take this as divine sign from the God of Numbers that this year is the prime(s) of my life. So the BIG '3 and 0' is really an important marker.

Goodbye 20s, Welcome Hirak 3.0.

Bad news: More grey hair
Good news: We are out of beta. Way, way out of beta...

Slowing Time

From ee cumming's 9

there are so many tictoc
clocks everywhere telling people
what toctic time it is for
tictic instance five toc minutes toc
past six tic

Top of a Monday morning and I get this poem in my inbox. Like most ee cummings (with him one is never quite sure of the orthography) poems, the real subject of the poem is always something else. Words and kisses are inserted like punctuation marks, making us re-read the lines again. Time slows. The tics and tocs in our head slow down. Then after reading the poem a third time it all makes sense: Who speaks in full sentences while kissing? And doesn't time slow down when you kiss?

because tic clocks toc don't make
a toctic difference
to kisskiss you and to
kiss me

On using unusual words

From an article dating back to 1986.
William F. Buckley on big words
He wrote this in response an editor's reasoning for his use of big words
I thought you use foreign words and phrases in your column because (1) you like to show off, and (2) you take delight in irritating people.

His reasoning is somewhat specious, but I have to hand it to him for a wonderful analogy. Augmented C 11th with a raised 9th.

But why should a syndicated columnist use the word? I can hear Mr. Williams re-asking. Well, not, really, just to show off - one doesn't ''show off'' one's workaday equipment. You see, that word, and a hundred or so others, are a part of my working vocabulary, even as a C augmented 11th chord with a raised 9th can be said to be an operative resource of the performing jazz pianist.

Are we now closing in on the question, by using the exclusivist word, ''performing?''

Yes, in a way we are, I suppose. Because just as the discriminating ear greets gladly the C augmented 11th when just the right harmonic moment has come for it, so the fastidious eye encounters happily the word that says exactly what the writer wished not only said but conveyed, the writer here defined as a performing writer sensitive to cadence, variety, marksmanship, accent, nuance and drama. WHAT of the reader who misses the refinement? Well, what of the listener deaf to the special reach of the C augmented 11th?

That reader has the usual choices: he can ignore the word; attempt, from the context, to divine its meaning precisely or roughly (not hard, in the narrative above, on Professor Weiss's liberal politics); or he can look it up. Are these alternatives an imposition? Yes, if the newspaper's feature that day is on how to treat a rattlesnake bite. You would not instruct the reader to fight the poison a outrance.

Burning bridges

We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
- Tom Stoppard

Where turkeys in Turkey come from

In Elif Batuman's article on a Turkish chef who is reviving authentic Turkish cuisine I came across a seemingly unbelievable fact:In Turkey, a turkey is called 'hindi'. These birds are quite a part of Turkish culinary culture and they are usually eaten on New Year's eve. Much like in France you don't order French fries but pommes frites, I did suspect that in Turkey they don't call the turkey 'turkey'. But 'hindi'?!

Knowing how maddening it is to hear the confusion between Hindu and Hindi, I suspected for a moment that the Turks meant something else. I had this checked with my Turkish friend. This was her response:

"Hindistan is the name of the country India in Turkish! And the name of the bird does actually come from the name of the country, as the latter used the be called “the bird from India” or something like that. The word Hindi, however, is no longer used to refer to Indians (perhaps because of its use as a bird name). Now we have the word Hintli, which means “Indian”. So hindi is only part of the name of the country today. "

So, turkeys are from India or thought to be so by the Turks at least. I really doubt that I ever saw a turkey in India and, if my memory serves me right, Salim Ali's masterwork The Book of Indian Birds" has no mention of turkeys of any kind (but this I need to check). So, if turkeys are not from Turkey, and unlikely to be from India, where is this bird from? The Wikipedia article is not terribly clear on the Turkey-India connection to the etymology either(I checked). The article seemed to suggest a perverse perpetration of the mistaken Columbian idea that America was really India.

If indeed the turkey is from India then this goes in way of things that the lands in the Middle East get credit for the things that we, the people of India really should. The kinda of logic that led to OUR numbers being called Arabic numbers, and that Gypsies are from India and not Egypt.

Yet, I would prefer calling the turkey a 'turkey' and not a 'hindi'. It's a battle well lost than won. Imagine Thanksgiving and people here trying to roast a 'hindu'? No, thanks!

Update:
From: NPR Story: Why A Turkey Is Called A Turkey

And just to keep this ball rolling…all over the world, people now can eat American Turkeys, but they don't call them Turkeys.

Across Arabia, they call our bird "diiq Hindi," or the "Indian rooster."
In Russia, it's "Indjushka," bird of India.
In Poland, "Inyczka"— again "bird from India."
And what, we wondered, do the Turks call our turkey?
Well, they call it "Hindi," again, short for India.

It's just not the Turks, but anyone East of the Indus. Mis-labeling of food. An age-old practice.

Judgement

A few years ago, the Ann Arbor District Library (AADL) installed automatic check-out machines that scan the barcode, demagnetize your books, inform you about your holds. They have six of these machines and there is no waiting at the checkout desk. The only reason to go to the desk is to pay fines in cash, or for some other unusual request. For almost all transactions, you don't really have to talk to any librarian.

This system has another benefit other than efficiency and speed, an unintended consequence that I wouldn't have realised until I met this girl at a party. She said,
"I really like the AADL system. Now, I can check out books that I am embarrassed to check out in front of a real person".
"Are these dirty books or something?"
"Oh, no, no! These are just what my brother calls trashy mystery novels. I feel now I can check them out without being judged."

There are people who don't read and those who do. Any two non-readers are more alike, than any two readers. There is the John Grisham reader and a reader of Kafka and Murakami. High-brow, low-brow and a sometimes a mix of both. I (like others) always sneak a peak at people in the queue and their book choices and attempt to form some sort of opinion of them. "Oh! so you are the kind of person who reads ABC and hence you must XYZ". And yes, it is true librarians DO look at your book choices. I have many an interesting discussion at the checkout desk. I guess they are polite enough to keep their mouths shut in case they disagree with your choice of reading material.

"I just checked out a whole bunch of books" the girl said with a huge smile on her face.

Now she could read what she wanted to, the judgement of others is suspended. Anonymity allows us sometimes to be what we are not, and sometimes it helps us be who we really are.

Awareness

NPR: Woods Nears Crucible of Masters

"Superintelligent people can't be good athletes," Coach McGuire said. "They're too aware."

And if there is one thing we have learned about Woods, it is what little awareness he possesses — otherwise, please, sir, explain all those guileless text messages. Rusty he may be at Augusta, but why should we think self-consciousness will hinder him?

When we think of great athletes we think of determination, dedication and focus. The greatest among the great are the ones who can shut everything out, banish the yips, and make the clutch shots. The greatest perform their best under the greatest pressure. They come up the impossible strokes, shots, kicks, and putts in improbably ways that puts rest any doubts to their genius.

James Surowiecki in the New Yorker(Branded a Cheat) pointed out a subtler difference in the case of Tiger Woods as compared to troubles of Kobe Bryant and Alex Rodriguez. He writes, "Woods’s appeal was based, ultimately, not on his physical abilities but on his mental toughness, his extraordinary capacity for focus and discipline". No wonder consulting companies like Accenture wanted Woods to endorse their brand. Woods might have tougher time in his second act because his lack of responsibility contradicts his greatest perceived gifts.

While there may be ups and downs in financial incentives for Tiger, the fact still remains that the public is hungry for more of Tiger Woods on the golf course. For his part, Tiger knows nothing better than how to hit a golf ball. There are so questions on how he will perform in light of all these scandals. I think it will not make any difference. The greatest can compartmentalize things and focus to a degree that we cannot imagine. Clearly, they aren't the deepest thinkers or the most reflective people. Such a quality hinders the ability to brush off a bad putt, or a missed stroke to affect subsequent plays. I am positive that the moment that Tiger lines up his shot on the first hole in Augusta, that's all he's going to be thinking of.
The rest of the hoopla is created for our entertainment cause we think so much. And because we think so much we end up in the stands applauding.

The NPR story ended thus:

With celebrities — which is what athletes have become — sex is just so noisy now, and for us, in this culture, no matter how many more championships Woods wins, he'll always remain, in the fullest sense of the phrase, a sex symbol.