Happy Thanksgiving.

Hebbel said “Nothing great in the world has ever been accomplished without passion.”

I had passion; the desire to move forward, the urge to succeed, to be the best, at the top of my game and I used to work hard for it. I had aspiration, goals, dreams - a strong passion to try and want to achieve them. I succeeded to a certain degree; then, I grew up.

I became a realist.

I started to settle for less, and less, and less until today I no longer recognize myself. I am unmotivated, I feel lethargic and I no longer have opinion on anything. A stark contrast to the person I was at 18 - where I did things not because they needed to be done, but I wanted to do them. I used to follow the strict philosophy of so much to do, so little time. I tried to compact a lot of things on my to-do list - even with limited time.

Now I feel so distant, alienated from everything. I don't want to go to MIT anymore, I don't want to be a Straight A student anymore, reading's become a chore, my fingers ache out of instinct everytime I hold my guitar, my hand shakes when I sketch, and the constant mental diatribes at the quality of writing is too much. I can't handle them. I keep telling myself I'll get a fresh start. Make drastic changes to the quality of my life; but everything falls back to square one. Once I am back in that square, the inertia to want to change just disappears.

But because it's Thanksgiving today, and on Thanksgiving you be thankful, here's what I am thankful for.

I am thankful for having a family, having a mother, and a father I can turn to when I need help. I am thankful for having enough money to buy the next issue of Rolling Stone magazine without feeling the budget constraint in my pockets. I am thankful for having the luxury of choice on my meals, my choice of clothes, books that I buy, the general lifestyle I lead. I am thankful for having my parents' trust, the freedom to do what I want, when I want, however I want because my parents believe in me - to not screw up. These things seem intangible, incomparable to a good degree, good job, a big house, an expensive car, but they mean more to me than materialistic possession. Hell I am more thankful for the next breath I inhale, than I am of attending a good, reputable university and doing the course I have always wanted to do.

In life, I look for the small things. The intangibles that escapes everyone's radar, but when they are gone, their absence hits you hard. Things like the six o'clock knock on my door, by my father to wake me up, the ready-made coffee (and breakfast) that waits for me on the table. That assuring voice on the other end of the phoneline, telling me to calm down, convincing me that a dissatisfactory grade isn't the end of the world; that I can get back up, and fight...they mean more to me than anything materialism has to offer.

Briefly: Happy Thanksgiving. Be thankful for what you have, not what you desire. Sometimes you'll see you can make do with it just fine. Someone once said, You live only once, so live a good life (whose measure and worth should not exclusively be described by your bank statement)

religion is men/women indulging in their inner lust to kill/loot/hurt with a clear conscience.

Turkish honor killing - this is exactly why I, sometimes, loathe religion and people who commit plain-sight murder in the name of religion.

the future of technology

This is what technology is going to look like in the next few years.

People like him make me feel immensely proud to be an Indian.

Back to my history readings - so many of them, I could just lose myself in it.

Billy's Law

A few post's back I mentioned about Paul Krugman's desire to add onto Godwin's Law.

Now I'd like to propose a similar extension or a brand new introduction of a variance of Godwin's Law in the football fandom at large. I'd like it to be named Billy's Law; Billy being an esoteric conception between the Sanctimonious Fanatical Pickle and an accomplice who goes by many names, most prominently George.

Billy's Law should read like this:

It states that whenever someone uses Reductio ad Failerum™ to justify their arguments, they have effectively lost it.

Examples include, but are not limited to:

1. "Excuse me...I first stood on the ___________ [enter Club stadium name] in the _____ [enter date, prior to 2000], so don't preach to me about what it means to support a club like ___________ [enter Club name]." (Source)

2. You don't live in Europe therefore you don't know what it's like to support a football club.

3. Shut up, my club has it harder than your club!

4. You are a football Nazi.

Make it happen, powers that be. I am offering first borns here.

health care? what's that?

Senate's 2000+ pages of Health Care bill.

Perfect time to apply the tl;dr symbol.

So there.

tl;dr

I feel accomplished.

Obamafication.

Mike Tomasky assesses the recent spur of Obama-hate quite accurately in his piece titled, "Hate Obama? You may not be a racist. But you will be white.".

I am personally not a fan of Obama's public health care. My reason is simple - I do not believe that it is sustainable in the long run. Of course the incumbent health care isn't sustainable either, but the alternative, in my view is just as bad. Especially after the government budget deficit is projected to remain over 1 trillion dollars for the next decade. This is going back to the Regan and Bush sr. era, except now there is an ongoing recession; even if the worst bits of the recession is over, as analysts say, the left over effects are still being felt by the main street.

I digress.

I intend to talk about Obama. When Obama won, the headlines from then can be summarized as A NEW DAWN AFTER AN ETERNITY SPENT IN DARKNESS - darkness here being the Bush Administration. I feel we made a cult figure out of Obama even before the man resumed office. We took his campaign rhetorics and went along with it, expressing our awe at the man's (potential) capacity to right the wrongs made by Bush.

So far Obama's delivery in his promises is going less than impeccably. Guantanamo Bay is still operating (EDIT: Guantanamo won't close by January 2010 - Obama) - even though the trail for the perpetrators of 9/11 has been ordered. US troops are still in Iraq; okay granted the crucial bill was passed, and a ray of hope has emerged, it still doesn't guarantee anything. Afghanistan is still a mess. Pakistan is deteriorating.

Politics aside, US unemployment rate broke into double digits last month, jobs are still being lost, companies are still not hiring, and China continues to peg its exchange rate against the dollars. In a nutshell, eleven months after Obama assumed office, the United States is still being screwed.

Because of the impossible ideals we built around Obama, making him nothing short of a miracle worker, the current state of the world and primarily the US economy is breeding discontent with the Obama administration. We are beginning to doubt his capability - which, I am not questioning, but simply reiterating that thanks to our sky high expectations, whatever Obama does henceforth is not going to be enough. Unless one day we wake to find that unemployment rate has gone down to its natural level, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan has miraculously ended, China is allowing the Yuan to float against the US $ etc. Basically, Obama has to deliver us Utopia to silence the critics.

Of course the racial factor will ALWAYS be there. I'd like to give USofA the benefit of the doubt and assume that the race factor is a small proportion of people - mostly prevalent in the white conservative camps. Someone mentioned a very valid point last night on BBC's World Have Your Say. Because Obama is African-American, and because race has been such a highly debated, and controversial issue in the USA, a lot of people voted for Obama simply because he was black. Similarly, a lot of them voted for McCain just because he is white. The speaker actually went on to explain, if instead of Obama it were Hilary Clinton running for presidency, a lot of the feminist advocates would vote for Hilary just because she is a woman. And the alternative is true too.

What I am trying to highlight here is that the post-Obama euphoria is subsiding. And people are beginning to realize that Obama is not a miracle worker. That Iraq and Afghanistan will take time to be mitigated; that the financial crisis will also take time to level out and for the US economy to start growing sustainably again.

Obama needs time.

Whether he gets it or not will most certainly influence the future of world politics.

More edits: Veto of Iraq's Election Law Could Force Delay in Vote, and China Holds Firm on Major Issues in Obama's Visit. More backlash in the horizon? It'd be a shame if Obama is ousted from office even before his first term as President reaches its half way mark. Give the guy some time, world at large. Please?

An ode to Economics

by, The Sanctimonious Fanatical Pickle

economics is,
a lover's quarrel
at best;
a painful divorce
otherwise.

cost and benefit
our star crossed micro-lovers
their fates sealed
by the evil clutches
of economic profits.

their love is ephemeral;
when for one short period, cost
equals benefits
and the world temporarily settles
for normal equilibrium profits.

but mostly the greedy
functionalities
of supernormal profits
dominate - powerful forces,
we like to call externalities.

economics can also be,
an artist's master piece
at best;
a child's textbook doodle
otherwise.

how else can we explain?
the pixel perfect picture
of an open market
full employment, low inflation
like a happy family portrait

then,
cleverly justify,
the rising prices of goods,
the rising cost of unemployment
the continuing economic conundrum.

keynes, milton, fisher and modigliani
and many before, many after,
have tried and tested;
to explain the unpredictability of
behavioral economics.

at the end of the day,
we learn it because
we have to; but after graduation,
we forget all about it
because we need to

this is not a tribute,
not a testament,
not an eulogy
but an ode,
to the science of society.

You are a nazi because I say so!

Paul Krugman on extending Godwin's Law (and rightfully so).

My desire?

To include anyone who thinks that just because they have read university level economics modules, political science modules, and public policy modules (and believe in extreme government intervention- basically the concept of a 'nanny state'), they are well educated, knowledgeable liberals. Though by Mr. Krugman's definition, the parenthesis has already been covered in his point no. 1 and 2.

Edith Piaf's L'Accordéoniste, as sung by Samuel Barnett from the History Boys:



Lyrics:
La fille de joie est belle
Au coin de la rue Labas
Elle a une clientèle
Qui lui remplit son bas
Quand son boulot s'achève
Elle s'en va à son tour
Chercher un peu de rêve
Dans un bal du faubourg
Son homme est un artiste
C'est un drôle de petit gars
Un accordéoniste
Qui sait jouer la java

Elle écoute la java
Mais elle ne la danse pas
Elle ne regarde même pas la piste
Et ses yeux amoureux
Suivent le jeu nerveux
Et les doigts secs et longs de l'artiste
Ça lui rentre dans la peau
Par le bas, par le haut
Elle a envie de chanter
C'est physique
Tout son être est tendu
Son souffle est suspendu
C'est une vraie tordue de la musique

La fille de joie est triste
Au coin de la rue Labas
Son accordéoniste
Il est parti soldat
Quand y reviendra de la guerre
Ils prendront une maison
Elle sera la caissière
Et lui, sera le patron
Que la vie sera belle
Ils seront de vrais pachas
Et tous les soirs pour elle
Il jouera la java

Elle écoute la java
Qu'elle fredonne tout bas
Elle revoit son accordéoniste
Et ses yeux amoureux
Suivent le jeu nerveux
Et les doigts secs et longs de l'artiste
Ça lui rentre dans la peau
Par le bas, par le haut
Elle a envie de chanter
C'est physique
Tout son être est tendu
Son souffle est suspendu
C'est une vraie tordue de la musique

La fille de joie est seule
Au coin de la rue Labas
Les filles qui font la gueule
Les hommes n'en veulent pas
Et tant pis si elle crève
Son homme ne reviendra plus
Adieux tous les beaux rêves
Sa vie, elle est foutue
Pourtant ses jambes tristes
L'emmènent au boui-boui
Où y a un autre artiste
Qui joue toute la nuit

Elle écoute la java...
... elle entend la java
... elle a fermé les yeux
... et les doigts secs et nerveux ...
Ça lui rentre dans la peau
Par le bas, par le haut
Elle a envie de gueuler
C'est physique
Alors pour oublier
Elle s'est mise à danser, à tourner
Au son de la musique...

You can also see Edith Piaf's original rendition here

Wish me luck, as you wave me goodbye. Cheerio, here I go,on my way...

Obama Says U.S. Seeks to Build Stronger Ties to China. You know what they say; If you can't beat them, join them. Does this mean the world at large will gradually accept China's pegged exchange rate? (Point of note/amusement): Some kook confidently said to me before that China has a floating exchange rate because...well his uncle thinks so.

Though I object heavily to the article's sweeping generalization that ASEAN is just an economic group. It is more than than that - it was formed to regionalize South East Asia with the aim of promoting regional security and strengthening cultural ties. Economics has hardly been the driving factor behind a significant portion of ASEAN's four decades worth of history.

If it were, the Asian Financial Crisis would not have dented Singapore's economy as badly as it did; when the Baht fell, the Rupiah fell, the Ringgit fell, it was a "Beggar thy neighbour" attitude that prospered in the region. Anyway, I am not nitpicking here - as someone who is studying ASEAN as part of her university coursework, I oppose to blunt generalization of its function as just an economic group. Oh and for posterity's sake - ASEAN is not the Asian version of the EU.

A caveat (of some interest): ASEAN members never interfere with the internal politics of their member countries; which is why it's credibility has been repeatedly questioned over its stance on the crackdown that happened in Myanmar two years ago.

I'm curious to see what they achieve out of APEC Summit this weekend. The securities have locked down major roads leading up to the central business district here in the name of housing so many important leaders, including the man touted to be the most powerful in the world. Despite my cynicism towards the USofA, I am a fan of Obama. I believe he has a strong character that was seriously lacking in Bush. Though I must say, so far, after resuming office for nearly a year he hasn't made as much progress as he had been projecting during the presidential campaign. However, Iraq's recent passing of the election bill and the recent decision to try Khalid Shaikh Mohammed - the mastermind behind 9/11 in court (in the process of shutting down Guantanamo Bay) injects some optimism among those beginning to question the validity of Obama's campaign promises. The healthcare bill - I am not certain how durable it is going to be in the long run; from the little I have learned in Economics, government sponsored bills are not sustainable in the long run. Granted I have not actually seen the bill properly - though if you scurry around the NYtimes website, you'll find a copy up for download somewhere. I came across it the other day, but my misfortune that I forgot to at least save a link for it.

I am going to put the following point as a place holder:

Due to my inability to sleep without listening to the radio, I have developed a long standing habit of listening to BBC radio on 88.9 FM. Thanks to the time difference, at exactly about 2 a.m. local time they air the BBC World Have Your Say. I am a huge fan of the debates that go back and forth for the hour - some of the arguments are enviably well thought-out and effortlessly executed. Others are just plain stupid. Every time I formulate my own argument and post it on their blog, the show ends. IT IS NOT A MERRY COINCIDENCE. Yesterday they were discussing about Depression and should sufferers be more forthcoming with their conditions. I had a lot to say on this issue - I do suffer from it, and while my case isn't serious enough to seek intense medical help, I have had to drastically adjust my life, my schedules to cope with it. I do just fine - I don't need pills or therapy anymore. Granted the episodic outbursts cannot be helped (it's like epilepsy; the medicine helps to keep it under control, not fully cure it), I have done just fine for five years now.

I don't like advertising my condition to people - I don't want them to treat me differently. I certainly oppose the idea of conveying a very weak and fragile state of my mind. I am neither; I am tough as a diamond and to be denied opportunities or given leeway because people pity me is not acceptable to my conscience. It can even be annoying at times, when, unintentionally, I divulge into people that I do suffer from depressive episodes from time to time. The first response, quite naturally, I get is, "You are depressed? Why we had no idea!" Of course you don't. Most sufferers of depression you see appear perfectly normal in plainsight. There is a clear distinction between emo/gothic/punk and those who actually have clinical depression.

Anyway, back to my comment about World Have your Say, WHO DO I HAVE TO SHAG/MURDER/DEFENESTRATE (not necessarily in that order) TO GET MY COMMENT READ OUT ON AIR? I'll try tonight. Wish me luck, as you wave me goodbye. Cheerio, here I go,on my way...

Hala Madrid!

Spanish Inquisition: The Curse Of The Bernabeu - How Fans Make Real Madrid's Bad Situation Worse
Goal.com's Sulmaan Ahmad takes a look at why Los Blancos rarely feel at home in their super stadium and why their own fans make their lives more difficult.

There is a perfectly good explanation why a large percentage of the football community enjoy referring goal.com as LOL.com. Personally I cannot decide what's worse - the third class journalism that includes made up news, glaring grammatical errors, bad syntax and above all, erroneous spelling, or their attempted analysis of football related events beyond their capacity or scope.

It should go without saying that Real Madrid and greatness go hand in hand, like the long list of synonyms your middle school grammar teacher forces you to learn. With its history spanning over a century, 31 League titles, 9 Champions league, a host of other trophies, legends, Alfredo di Stéfano, Ferenc Puskás, Emilio Butragueño, Hugo Sanchez, Raúl González et al, a person can be forgiven for feeling slightly overwhelmed.

At the turn of the century, after that majestic night in Glasgow (2000), everything went downhill. The club, sitting atop the football hierarchy, came down crashing, and were made to bite the dust in what is touted as the worst defeat in Real Madrid's 107 years of history. The first leg game against third division club Alcorcón was embarrassing, to be brutally honest.

The club did not even have the excuse of fielding a poor side.

You can make excuses for your club's lacklustre performance as long as you don't cross over the line between reasonable and ridiculous. Watching your club lose to the weakest Milan team fielded in the last few years already had a lot of people questioning about the future of Galacticos 2.0. When you splurge 200 million euros on players whose salaries can equal or surpass the entire club budget of the lower division clubs, yes you are expected to deliver. Yes you are expected to deliver in every game, because 1) You will always have to justify your moeny's worth and 2) You play for Real Madrid.

To expound on 1), consider your workplace. You do not have the luxury of meeting your work performance targets one year and then not falling short the next. Chances are two quarters of inadequate performance, you are going to be put on probation and then subsequently fired. Footballers earn 10X the amount you do - I'm assuming you hail from an upper middle class background. If you are made to prove your money's worth, why is it criminal to expect the same from our overpaid, underperforming Galacticos?

As with playing for Real Madrid, dude this is Real Madrid. We used to be the Roman Empire of the ancient world; then we brought in Perez, who did assuage club debts after taking over as president but guided the club into an era of humiliation that includes a 3-0 loss to Real Union, a 4-0 loss to Alcorcón (both third division clubs, both in Copa del Rey ties) and the hardest defeat to swallow for anyone who puts up with Madrid's ridiculousness - a 6-2 defeat in El Clasico. In the Benrbaéu. High scorelines aren't new. Madrid have lost to Barcelona 5-0 before, then in the following year beaten them 5-0 thanks to a certain "traitorous" Danish blond (Michael Laudrup I am looking at you). That goal different wasn't hard to swallow. The tough part was that it played out like a perfect Shakespearean tragedy (think Battle of Actium-like from Antony and Cleopatra) in front of 76,000 Madrid faithfuls. At the Bernabéu.

A lot of people like to call the Bernabéu a fortress; it is. In some aspect. But it is a fortress that contains 76,000 raging, passionate Madridistas, who expect nothing more than for their team to play. To play with the same passion, same enthusiasm as them; when they line up outside to enter the stadium, when they part with a portion of their income on club merchandize, match tickets, away game trips - watching the team you love and support lose so pathetically against Alcorcón (I've said it before, I'll say it again: They were fantastic. They did everything right and the standing ovation they got from the Bernabéu was thoroughly deserved) felt like a sharp stab in the guts. It felt like a mockery of the faith people have put in this team; this laughable team critics call "FIFA 2010" (in reference to the PSP game).

Everyone has a tipping point. Football clubs and football fans aren't excluded from its scope. By nature Spanish football is more highly charged, full of raging testosterone for 90 minutes, then elation or bone crushing sense of desolation afterwards. Spanish football is, for the lack of a better phrase, more aggressive than British football - on and off the pitch. Drawing comparison is silly, which, leads me back to my first disclaimer about Goal.com being constantly referred to as LOL.com.

The issue about Madridistas abandoning their club during games, or booing them unreasonably and blah blah blah has been tried and tested. Look back into the 2006/2007. The Bernabéu was behind the team during every home game; they cheered, they screamed words of encouragement until their throats ran out of steam and lungs collapsed in exhaustion. The Bernabéu used to be packed every time Madrid took to the fields. We won some games. We lost others. But we won the war. Team and fans together - as a club. I don't want to go into fanwars. I don't care how loudly your club supporters cheer/shout/encourage your team during a game. I believe Real Madrid fans are unique. It is perfectly understandable that they want to see good football, mesmerizing passes, brilliant one touch goals (read: Goal number 2, Serbia Montenegro vs. Argentina FIFA World Cup 2006). At the same time, they are not barbaric. They do not boo the players every time the opposition scores against the club.

But like I said before: There is always a tipping point.

When you cross it, and yes the club has moved well past it, they snap. So don't be a "conformist dumbass" (read the comments in the link, someone mentions it before and I think it sums up perfectly) and goes around pretending football's all about the happy stuff - like goals, cheers, chants etc. No. There is an ugly side to football, an uglier side to fan behaviour and when the club disrespects their fans like Real did against Alcorcón, booing is not a taboo.

This. This is why I love Real Madrid.

Why I support them.
Why I defend them.
Why I will never stop believing in them; yes even when they lose pathetically to third division sides.

Because they are Real Madrid. They are more than a club (maybe Real should change the club motto; but I expect that'd result in a huge lawsuit from some club in the northeast of Spain); they are an identity. And the next dumbass who tells me Pellegrini should be fired, is going to be either A) physically assaulted or B) verbally abused, depending on the proximity between us.

This is the dilemma I encounter frequently.

Oh and this boy using the computer on my left at the computer stations in the library is wearing too much cologne. My nose itches.

Now back to more Hypothesis testing and Solow Model of Growth until 4p.m.

I should probably make a daily rant about how much I loathe the long breaks I have in between classes - of course studious people would welcome such gaps and fully utilize them to study, revise, write out notes. Yours truly missed the cut off percentage point, to access the studious strata, by several decimal places.

This must be mentioned too - since it is Real Madrid, and I did predict teardrops at the Bernabeu. Is it masochistic of me to say I thoroughly enjoyed the large volume of boos and jeers the players got from the crowd? Yes I enjoyed it. They were awful. Perhaps not entirely true; they started off well, but without flair, without creativity and from then on it descended into an air of resignation hanging over the Estadio Santiago Bernabeu. If I'm honest it is upsetting - because we were playing a Third division team (without taking away any credit from Alcorcon, who were fantastic in every aspect on both legs of the tie) and we had a packed Bernabeu. The Real Madrid boys broke more than 76,000 hearts; they left a permanent stain on Real Madrid's history, which, leads me back to an assertion I have been making since June: THIS IS NOT FIFA2010 ON YOUR PSP; GALACTICOS 2.0 IS NOT GOING TO WORK IN THE LONG RUN.

I hope we keep Pellegrini though; that man can do wonders, if he has the right players. By right, I do not mean skillwise, because we have already paid 200 million euros to cover that. We need the right combination of motivated, hardworking footballers who go out to prove to the world at large that they are indeed worth every penny paid for by the club. Like LASSANA DIARRA and GONZALO HIGUAIN. Period.

Ladies and Gents, I give you...Nutpicking

Less than 48 hours after the voting commenced and concluded on the Health care reform bill, where Asian-American Republican representative Joseph Cao voted in favour of the bill, he has been subjected to a torrent of slurs which are...unsurprisingly hinged along the racial line.

Highlights (if you are a lazy arse who refuses to click the link) include referring him as Representative Mao because you know there's only a difference of ten consonants and their Asian origin.

Of course this isn't exclusive to Republicans, or Americans; this defeatist mentality is prevalent in many parts of the world, including but not limited to the continent I come from. Race politics is inevitable. But the reason I mentioned this, aside from the oblivious gut splitting LOL this brings, is the new word I have picked up for my admirably impressive (and modest) vocabulary. It is called, nutpicking:

"If you're forced to rely on random blog commenters to make a point about the prevalence of some form or another of disagreeable behavior, you've pretty much made exactly the opposite point." Eventually, the practice was even given a name: "Nutpicking."

Courtesy of Steve Benen's explanatory discourse on the term and usage of Nutpicking.

Obligatory mention: Examinations loom closer; faster than the predicted 2012 Armageddon. Hollywood should make films about examination - it should be personified into a bone chilling villain with a faux mustache, and should be played by Benicio Del Toro.

Real Madrid plays Alcórcon tonight. Turning around 4-0 deficit should not be a problem; considering 1) It's Alcórcon (yes I'm still persisting with the "writing off the Segunda B dwelling underdog". Bite me.) and 2) It's Real Madrid. Despite this, you, me and everyone in between know that this could also be a written recipe for disaster. For Alcórcon to consolidate that lead and leave the Bernabéu in shambles with a possible 6-2 on aggregate scoreline.

I am going to force myself to remain blissfully ignorant. It served me well in the first leg; I had a class test on that day which, thanks to my not knowing of Real Madrid's fiasco, I aced. I am going to do that again.

Now I shall attempt to finish my econometrics assignment and tutorial and hopefully get a headstart on Macroeconomic Analysis revision.

cooking experiment

You know you are an adult when on a Saturday evening after browsing through the McDonalds and KFC online delivery menu you settle for left overs in the kitchen.

I made a concoction which I am not certain what to name; it is soggy thanks to my inability to judge how much of water should be poured. But the comfort I take from this culinary adventure is that it tastes fucking awesome. Considering I made it using scrap.

I had some left over baked fish and chicken (curry) in the fridge. I took potatoes, boiled them, then mashed them with copious amount of cottage cheese. I fried some garlic and onion in the pan, mixed the chicken and fish scraps, and topped it off with the mashed cheese/potato. I used Dill and Parsley for garnish - despite the odd combination of recipe, I swear it tastes good. It would have tasted better if I did not have persistent ulcer in my mouth which refuses to leave; stubborn ulcers.

With three weeks left before the finals, I should really get down to revising my Macroeconomic Analysis and Econometrics! I will, as soon as I am done with my dinner (yep still not fond of the sogginess).

The Idea of Ancestry

I chanced upon this poem by Etheridge Knight today. This, in my belief, needs to be shared - it is too beautiful, too majestic to be left behind, or scrolled past.

by Etheridge Knight

1

Taped to the wall of my cell are 47 pictures: 47 black
faces: my father, mother, grandmothers (1 dead), grand-
fathers (both dead), brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts,
cousins (1st and 2nd), nieces, and nephews. They stare
across the space at me sprawling on my bunk. I know
their dark eyes, they know mine. I know their style,
they know mine. I am all of them, they are all of me;
they are farmers, I am a thief, I am me, they are thee.

I have at one time or another been in love with my mother,
1 grandmother, 2 sisters, 2 aunts (1 went to the asylum),
and 5 cousins. I am now in love with a 7-yr-old niece
(she sends me letters in large block print, and
her picture is the only one that smiles at me).

I have the same name as 1 grandfather, 3 cousins, 3 nephews,
and 1 uncle. The uncle disappeared when he was 15, just took
off and caught a freight (they say). He’s discussed each year
when the family has a reunion, he causes uneasiness in
the clan, he is an empty space. My father’s mother, who is 93
and who keeps the Family Bible with everbody’s birth dates
(and death dates) in it, always mentions him. There is no
place in her Bible for “whereabouts unknown.”


2

Each fall the graves of my grandfathers call me, the brown
hills and red gullies of mississippi send out their electric
messages, galvanizing my genes. Last yr/like a salmon quitting
the cold ocean-leaping and bucking up his birth stream/I
hitchhiked my way from LA with 16 caps in my pocket and a
monkey on my back. And I almost kicked it with the kinfolks.
I walked barefooted in my grandmother’s backyard/I smelled the old
land and the woods/I sipped cornwhiskey from fruit jars with the men/
I flirted with the women/I had a ball till the caps ran out
and my habit came down. That night I looked at my grandmother
and split/my guts were screaming for junk/but I was almost
contented/I had almost caught up with me.
(The next day in Memphis I cracked a croaker’s crib for a fix.)

This yr there is a gray stone wall damming my stream, and when
the falling leaves stir my genes, I pace my cell or flop on my bunk
and stare at 47 black faces across the space. I am all of them,
they are all of me, I am me, they are thee, and I have no children
to float in the space between.

(I have a proper update in the works, but tonight exhaustion overwhelms me with brutal force. I must collapse into my slumber or risk disintegrating into tiny atomic particles, left in the aftermath of a nuclear explosion. I have also contracted an ulcer on my tongue which makes speaking a challenge - painful one, if I may add)

It must take an extra ordinarily brave soul (which, I am not) to decide that snacking on wasabi coated dried peas helps to accelerate the process of understanding 200 pages worth of material talking about the economic history of the country. For me it was a bad, on a scale of 1 to 10 rated 15.5, decision. Right now I cannot concentrate on which particular bit of my upper body hurts most – my throat? My tongue? My nasal passages? My jaws? Everything aches. Terribly; alarmingly resembling someone prodding my delicate flesh with a molten hot iron rod straight out of your best gore fantasy.

That aside, I’m still trying to come to terms with how my meticulous schedule planning at the beginning of the semester left me with a six hours break in between classes on Monday. Either reality is cruel; or I’m excessively ignorant of potential pot holes laid out before me. (This might come in between my aspirations to learn how to drive. Lordy.)

a picture speaks a thousand words, six pictures speaks six thousand words

Pictorial vignettes from before and today. Click to enlarge them


(Behold the steady state of capital per worker in a Solow Model of Growth)


(The Investment Tax Credit which helps to provide the incentive to Invest)


(Hello nation building and nationalism. I see you.)


(My iPod Classic 80GB whom I like to call Raúl González Blanco)


(Neil Gaiman and the moderator who made me cringe with his poor pronounced, singlish infested, humourless questions. I wasn't sitting close enough; and this was taken with my phone camera which isn't exactly the best out there - my phone is specifically designed to play music, not take photos)


(The Supreme Court.)

wasting away the sunday evening in a mass of literary goodness

Don't you just love it when one minute people are telling you your team sucks and the next instant their own team loses rather pathetically? Football's a goldmine of bragging/taunting opportunities. Either way, Liverpool's on its way to crashing out of the title race; and it's not even Christmas.

Gerard Pique's scoring of own goals would have been invoked some sympathy for me if he played for any other club. I always find it gravely unfortunate when a defender scores an own goal; though, having said that I relish it when they happen to play for Team Clusterfuck and Team Wildrabiesfuck. (Most people refer to them as Barcelona FC and Liverpool FC).

As of now, Barcelona are only a point ahead, Madrid's recovering slowly from the Alcorcon fiasco, Higuain's AWESOME, Benzema's still a bitch - but he did set up the assist for one of the Higuain goals, I'll give him that - Raúl was priceless from the touchline after Albiol was sent off. He was looking to bite off someone's head, with his tiny little fox teeth; I'm sure he snarled. Like RAWWWR, or however foxes snarl. I hope in light of Higuain's performance, Pellegrini will give him the regular place in the starting line up that he deserves. It would be the biggest regret in Real Madrid's history of regrets to let Gonzalo Higuain go. He is the best thing to have happened in a while; dedicated, young, speedy, he is exactly the kind of #7 replacement Real Madrid needs. I hope after Raúl retires, Madrid award Higuain the coveted #7 jersey - I think he has it in him to live up to the legends who have donned it during their careers with Real Madrid. I see him as Raúl's ideal successor.

My insensitivity (towards fans of Liverpool and Barcelona) aside, football was good for me this weekend. The clubs I follow won (OMG DIMITAR BERBATOV - part time Bulgarian mobster and part time Manchester United striker - SCORED); the clubs I have a special compartment reserved for in my loathing bank failed to win, and generally were shitty. Karma's a bitch.

A caveat: There were eight red cards handed out, spanning over the English and the Spanish league this game day. I'm not sure if the exact figure is eight, but it is close enough.

That aside I WENT TO SEE NEIL GAIMAN TODAY. To be truthful, I have never met as charming as him; he was absolutely mind blowing, with his effervescent stage personality and adorable curls; shame the moderator was an ass with his stupid Singlish which put a heavy damper on the whole event. Otherwise the crowd (of about 900 people packing up the Victoria Concert Hall) were fantastic - they cheered, they clapped and they (most) asked intelligent questions when questioning was opened to the floor. Neil recounted his Bee growing experiment - I sympathize with his PA! He talked at lengths about Alan Moore - absolutely adore him; said that he is, I quote, "a big hairy writer". He talked about the anecdote, courtesy of Moore, of scary trousers and how he came to be given than title. Let's see....hmmm, he talked about his project in China, which was interesting to hear, but I wish he'd have talked more about himself as a writer, as an artist, as the author the 900 of us gathered there today have grown to love. He did expound on the Sandman, but absolutely no mentions of Mirrormask. I love Mirrormask. I should have asked him a question but they opened a limited number of questions to be permitted from the floor due to time constrain.

Overall, it was a fantastic experience. But it was too hot to queue up outside the Arts House for his book signing. Besides I didn't bring any of the copies I own with me. I'm going to dig through the national library and re-read American Gods.

FAIL OF THE DAY: Yesterday, as a Halloween treat, AMANDA PALMER (Neil Gaiman's girlfriend from the Dresden Dolls fame) PERFORMED A FREE CONCERT OUTSIDE THE ARTS HOUSE. A FREE CONCERT WHICH I SHOULD HAVE GONE FOR IF I HAD KNOW BECAUSE I ABSOLUTE LOVE HER AND HAVE HAD OBSESSIVE PHASES WITH HER ALBUM Who killed Amanda Palmer. I don't know what I'm more upset at; my ignorance, or the fact that the concert was you know free.