"If I were asked which of all the mysteries will forever remain impenetrable I would not hesitate to answer: the obvious." - (Edmond Jabès: The Book of Shares)

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

EXAMINATION

Examining students for orals can be a challenging task, especially if you have to do it from 9 to 6. But the day can have its moments. One of my students working on Lars Von Trier's genius in his sublime masterpiece The Antichrist walked into the examination room today armed with the Bible. “Can I quote from the Bible?” she asked. “The Bible is always a good starting point,” I said, and then she went: “It is written on the ten commandments: 'You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife.'” I tried not to blink, and was waiting for the point. “Yes, the points is,” she said, “that this is when it goes wrong for women. They are treated as men's property. They are equal not to the man himself but to what else he owns, a house, a mule, and even his children. And that is a problem.” “Yes,” I said, “that is a goddamn problem. And what are we doing about it, to restore the balance?” I then continued, hinting at what von Trier is suggesting we should all do. The student hesitated, and hesitation for me in such crucial moments may have fatal consequences, for I engaged in a merciless tirade. “Are you in love?” I asked her, and I could tell that not only did she not see that one coming but that she was also on the verge of retorting, 'how dare you ask me about my personal life.' She didn't though, and offered an honest answer in return. “I'm in love,” she admitted, and I went: “And? What's next?” “Well,” she hesitated again, “I don't know.” “Are you sure that you don't know, are you sure that you're not waiting for your man to pop the question, take you to the altar and graciously let you know in front of witnesses that now he will do you the favor of loving you forever and ever by TAKING YOU as HIS? You'll thus consecrate the fucking ritual of 'I take thee' and hence perpetuate the idiotic idea, now as old as a few millennia, that's it's all right with you to be officially 'taken.' Most men never think of women as being independent creatures but rather as being either 'free' or 'taken' objects, which is something that I myself find utterly disgusting.” I know that I shouldn't have said 'fuck' in an exam situation, but when you're provoked, you're provoked, and I take that sort of provocation very seriously. “Sure,” I continued, “the woman also says, “I take thee,” but somehow, and unfortunately for our lot, while the man always ends up owning the woman more than she ever does him, she is just lucky to have been 'found'.” “I will never get married,” the student said. “Are you sure about that?” I said, and she went, “yes, I won't.” I wanted to say, and perhaps I did say it actually: “hey, don't pledge anything to me here, and especially not something that you won't be able to commit yourself to. We live after all in a society of compromises.” But then something beautiful happened. She changed her tone and her body language, as if hit by an epiphany. Perhaps she understood something about the implication of serious speech acts. We looked at each other, she nodded, and I gave her the top grade.

(NOTE: the student graciously allowed me to 'report' on this, but suggested that I emphasized that this was not the only topic we discussed at the exam. Of course not. What I re-construe here got settled in 1 minute and 33 seconds in the classroom just before the half hour examination ended. But in its proper context here, the 'marriage thing' is the most interesting. Thanks)

Sunday, January 23, 2011

SUPERNOVA

My energy is on the rise. The countdown has started to when I'll hit the most holy of the holiest: Norway. First, a week in Oslo in May, and then a month in the mountains in July and August. The place is booked. Hallelujah. While I feel indestructibly powerful, the feeling of freedom that Norway gives me reminds me as well of the fact that I'm also free to feel humble. Such joy, to be on top of the mountains of abstraction. And such warmth, to know that the vistas from there are not conflicting. Mentally I'm already in the new cabin looking outside the window and thinking: here I'm most logical and also most esoteric. And it's fine. It's not even uncommon. While I'm typing this right now, being physically in my own living room, I'm facing equally grand vistas: the shelf of books containing esoteric wisdom. My eyes glance sideways along the spine of Michael Dummett's book: The Visconti- Sforza Tarot Cards. Hmm. Of course, I say to myself, and why not? If it didn't bother Michael Dummett to be a Professor of Logic at Oxford and to write books about tarot, why should it bother me? Mother was another example of combining cutting sharpness with acknowledging that repudiating what we don't know that we do know is a bad idea. If it hadn't been too impractical to become a philosopher in Romania in the 80s, she would have liked me to become a logician... and more. All the same. Alexander Neckam, or Albricus, was also a professor at Oxford around 1186 and taught The Song of Songs and other images to all who had a mature mind and sublime intelligence ["maturi pectoris & sublimis intelligentie"]. His teachings reflected his experiences with the Sardae Sagae, the wise women of Sardinia, who, immediately after the explosion of the supernova of 1181, took him to their subterranean temple Ta Rat' and initiated him into the fuller meaning of the Imagines Arcanae [Secret Images]. I said previously in another fragment that Norway is my lucky star. A fragment of my own supernova. Blessings unto it.


Wednesday, January 19, 2011

MUSIC THEORY

I'm listening to Handel's Rinaldo. The strings make one understand what high-mindedness is. The percussive thunders, what grace is, and the duets suggest what would happen if men allowed women to take the upper hand, begin with the caressing of the brains rather than balls. What would happen is that they would learn something close to the philosophy of tantric sex – not quite that, and yet more. (My nephew declares in secret that he wants to become a professor of Italian - it's a good beginning.)

Saturday, January 15, 2011

MORNING IN THE FOUNTAIN

Some days are definitely better than others. Absolutely. It's been a while now since my friend, the genius mathematician who doesn't want to be called a genius – but he can't dictate around here – has been bugging me to write an article together. But today we both decided that that won't do. It's not good enough. I mean, why an article when we can do a whole book? As we have exchanged ideas on the first chapter “The Uncountability of Nothingness” of now well under its way book: Morning in the Fountain: Infinity in the Provisional, we got energized by the idea that it would be interesting to apply the Banach-Tarski theorem to the isometrical transformation of one nothingness into two identical nothingnesses. And why not? We are after all disciples of Cantor's cult of infinity, so I'm sure that we'll hack it in no time whatsoever. Indeed, there are enough wonderful things around that will keep us mentally tall, in a heightened state of excitement... and formless. As Cioran put it: “Infinity leads to nothing for it is totally provisional. ‘Everything’ is too little when compared to infinity [...] The penchant for form comes from love of finitude, the seduction of boundaries which will never engender metaphysical revelations [...] Let us live in the ecstasy of infinity, let us love that which is boundless, let us destroy forms and institute the only cult without forms: the cult of infinity.” (On the Hights of Despair, 99-100)

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

HIPPODRONE

I have my teeth into some Mozart chocolate circles, sent to me by Norbert Eckermann for Christmas. The circles were awaiting my return from New York. While relishing them, I think about how fortunate I must be to possess what I call the Stradivarius of frame drums. While in New York, and roaming the percussive worlds, I saw no one playing the sublime Eckermanns. “As no one can afford them,” says Billy, the owner of Drummers World, who sent his regards to Norbert through me, while showing his distress that, obviously since he had no such fine instruments in his store, there was nothing he could do for me. And yet, as he went on and on about Norbert's goat farm, and gushing at the man's devotion, he made me feel blissful. Some say that plenty equals bliss, and these days I must say that I owe my feeling of plenitude to Norbert. So, Norbert, thanks for the chocolates and your genius.

I play a few numbers on the smashing tar, shift to the riqq for a sweaty saltarello, and then throw myself at the church bells in The Play of Daniel by the Dufay Collective. They sing about the writing on the wall just as Anthony Johnson is writing on my wall on Facebook. This is in response to a comment I made on his collection of “Hippodrones” which he posts occasionally for public display in the same forum. These hippodrones are bits of highly informative, witty, clever, and above all generous, very generous lines that make our days much much better even than they are already. As Anthony is also a fan of Norbert – I made sure of that – he anticipates with delight the math in my introduction to his upcoming book with EyeCorner Press, Aurora Resurgens. It occurs to me that all the significant men in my life know something about math. And the best ones are the esoteric. I list here below the fun exchanges on oracular history, while being grateful for all the synchronicity provided by Anthony and Norbert, in absentia in New York where I was fragmenting my way through the image world of Visconti & Sforza, fellow templars of Anthony's, and the sound world of Thomas Adès, a fellow creationist of Norbert's. The latter, in his concert with the New York Philharmonic, 7 Days, enforced once again what everyone knows but won't admit it: that it ain't about sex, but geometry and numbers. As Shakespeare put it: “Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it does know.”

Anthony Johnson Hippodrone (22). ‘Aha Moment’. What has been lost through the arc of history? Recharging the muses (in the BM’s exhibition on ‘The Egyptian Book of the Dead’) was the insight that ‘Aha’ is a benevolent pygmy hippo goddess. And that the image of Ipet (her child-centred sister) counters the scary red shadow of Seth’s water-horsical devotees. So let us raise our wands to Aha, Ipet, and the way of the White Hippopotamus!

21 hours ago · Unlike · Comment

  • You, Manna Hojda and 5 others like this.
    • Jyrki Huhta Aha, and her less-known cousin Nods.
      14 hours ago ·
    • Alan Prosser Good morrow hippodronicus rex! I'm too happy in receipt of your wisdom to reciprocate at present, but I will try to become philosophical as the day wears thin and I become resplendent with spaghetti bolognese.... (oh and just a teensy diet coke)
      10 hours ago ·
    • Camelia Elias And let us not forget the number 22.
      8 hours ago ·
    • Bent Sorensen It's a little known fact that the Egyptian mathematicians were preoccupied with what is known as aha-problems - equations in which the phrase "a-ha" is used to indicate the unknown quantity, x... (See the Rhind Mathematical Papyrus at BM)
      8 hours ago ·
    • Anthony Johnson Hmm, all this mathematical talk of 22s and Rhind papyri makes one think about the number 11. After all, the Rhind papyrus has '11' written on its obverse side, is 33 cms wide (in later Christic terms, the number of Error resolved by the Trinity), and was produced in year 33 of the reign of Apophis. As the palindrome 'aha' is replicable by 121 (i.e. 11 x 11), might we therefore not speculate on whether we are talking here about the square of the hippopotomuse?
      6 hours ago ·
    • Camelia Elias Exactly! And how beautiful!
      6 hours ago ·
    • Bent Sorensen ‎"If in doubt, square it"
      6 hours ago ·
    • Anthony Johnson Happy 2011!
      6 hours ago ·
    • Camelia Elias A decantic cup for you as well, plus one.
      6 hours ago ·
    • Bent Sorensen Should have been done on 11/1/11 at 11.11...
      6 hours ago ·
    • Alan Prosser read and weep, Melvyn Bragg!
      6 hours ago ·




Sunday, January 2, 2011

IF IN NEW YORK

HYPERION ART JOURNAL ANNOUNCES:


CELEBRATE ECP’s recent publications with drinks, live music, and recitations.


Join us in celebrating the publication of Rainer J. Hanshe's The Acolytes and several other new books published by EyeCorner Press, including novels, poetry, plays, and more.


The Eyeball Kid - LIVE IN PERSON!


Authors Hanshe, Sorensen, Gibbons, and DiDonna will perform from their texts. Dashing editor-in-chief Camelia Elias will be flying in from Europe, and she'll be performing too. Hell, she might even play the drums, but they won't be bongos...

Featuring live jazz performed by improvisationist extraordinaire Sir Randall Moore, and the Alper Yilmaz Electroacoustic Trio.


Manhattan Inn

632 Manhattan Ave (near Nassau), Brooklyn, NY

(G train to Nassau or L train to Bedford).


http://manhattaninn.blogspot.com/2009/12/manhattan-inn-photos.html


FRIDAY JANUARY 7th

TIME: 5 – 7:30PM

FREE ADMISSION


Happy Hour: half off all beers and well drinks


EyeCorner Press is a daring and eclectic independent publisher based in Roskilde, Denmark that publishes work in English, Danish, Romanian, and bilingual editions. A host of other compelling works will soon be published by ECP including Yunus Tuncel's Towards a Genealogy of Spectacle, George Hunka's Word Made Flesh: Philosophy, Eros, and Contemporary Drama, David Kilpatrick's Writing with Blood: The Sacrificial Dramatist as Tragic Man, and more.


http://eyecornerpress.com/