Like Kant at his church steeple

"Once more it was pouring, and my irregular lawn, well-shaved by Gatsby's gardner, abounded in small muddy swamps and prehistoric marshes. There was nothing to look at from under the tree except Gatsby's enormous house, so I stared at it, like Kant at his church steeple, for half an hour." (Chapter V of The Great Gatsby)

According to folklore, Kant stared at a church steeple to ready his concentration. Nick Carraway does the same with his mysterious neighbour's house. In Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being, infinity appears to the closed eye; form and structure give way to nothingness. To the closed eye, nothingness and infinity are one in the same. By focusing on a perceptible object, one actualizes a corporeal fixedness in the phenomenological realm. Concentration and, also, human thought, as Kant demonstrates by staring at the church steeple, demands that human subjects limit their field of vision. A precise focus on human limits, i.e., what cannot be known absolutely, is the hallmark of critical philosophy since Kant. The church steeple points from the House of God to heavens above; a space beyond mere human contemplation. Kant, purportedly, fixed on the absolute limit of human thought, the possibility and mystery of the eternal, in order to ready his concentration. There is no concentration, or, to be more precise, active thought in closing one's eyes and imagining infinity. He who finds comfort in contemplating infinity attempts to 'transcend' limitations. Limits give life coherence. The confrontation of limits, with an unyielding stare fixed on the church steeple, open the possibility of human action. With closed eyes one sees infinity, or at least infinity envisioned by one. Without limitation, an imagined infinity, a noetic production of the cogito, is at once nothing and everything and where action is impossible. Hence, to close one's eyes and imagine infinity is to avoid action, to refuse human limitations, and to deny the worldliness of human life. Rather than closing his eyes and concocting idle gossip as others who frequented Gatsby's parties did, Nick Carraway stared, with unwavering focus, at that home, in order to understand, however imperfectly, the enigma who resided there. Gatsby, in Chapter V, betrays particular vulnerabilities to Nick Carraway, previously concealed by his 'proper gentleman' visage, frequently punctuated with his ubiquitious 'old sport'. In these moments of vulnerability, we become human; when appearances are destabilized, relationship can begin. Vulnerability, in this sense, is not plastic humility or emotional exhibitionism. It is an affirmation of human limitations. It peels away myth and heresay.

In Chapter IX, Nick Carraway confesses a scornful solidarity between him and Gatsby "against them all", the careless ones like Tom Buchanan and Daisy and the anonymous faces who frequented Gatsby's parties. "They were careless people, Tom and Daisy - they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made..." Tom and Daisy represent a corrupt individualism: materially abundant yet ethically bankrupt. The contrast with Gatsby is clear and patently obvious to even an uninitiated reader. Gatsby, represented by the 'sacred' schedule carried around by Henry C. Gatz, unwaveringly proud of his son, embodies an extinct American dream. Despite his anger, Nick Carraway shakes hands with Tom, citing that it would be silly not to since he felt that he was talking to a child. Tom embodies the worse kind of immaturity; the one who admits to no fault. He claims, however implicitly, that God is Dead, everything is permitted, and in the universe of money and pearls and cuff buttons, he thinks of himself as God. Delusion deepens for one who refuses to acknowledge his own limitations. Tom mets out what he considers justice by manipulating the widower George Wilson, mourning his wife's infidelity more than her death, into committing an 'irrational' act. Occham's Razor dictated that Wilson was a man 'deranged by grief'. And it rested there. Tom is obviously a repugnant character, who surely is a bigot on top of being philanderer. He judges and 'looks through' Gatsby and naturally without any reflection about his own hypocrisy. His character, however, is a uniform stereotype, as prevalent and uninteresting today as it was back then.

Daisy is an intriguing character. At the start of the story, she is a vibrant character. However, she ends up as a shadow standing briefly by a window, sealing her betrayal with a flick of light switch. Darkness, and we hear no more from her; her absence looms large over Gatsby's demise. There is nothing more to be said about Daisy apart from the image of her and Tom at the conclusion of Chapter VII. She tacitly consents to Gatsby's demise, concedes to cowardice, and unequivocally embraces a future of nihilism - a vacuous, loveless future held together by transient wealth and endless decadence. Jay Gatsby's fate was sealed long before he went to war and became Gatsby; it was inevitable the moment James Gatz laid eyes upon Daisy. Is she a hollow character? Doubtlessly no. Is she merely an object, simply the green light across the bay? Possibly. Objects, as artform - sculptures, paintings, and frescos - has demonstrated on countless occassions, possess depth and quality even beyond human subjectivity. "The object of my affection" poses a limitation to qualitative judgments; objective representation collides haphazardly with the subjective eye. Only as an object is Daisy "real" to anybody in the novel. For Tom, she is Wifey. For Gatsby, she is a green light across the way; his past that recedes with every coming tide. For Myrtle Wilson, she is Jordan Baker. For Jordan Baker, she is the cool older girl. And for Nick Carraway, she is tragedy itself. Fittingly, each pegs her down as parisimonous stereotype. But like Robert Musil's titular "Man without Qualities", Daisy is the modern subject-object, abundant with qualities, but none of which are substantive or qualitatively authentic, artifice constructed by the spectator's eye. Daisy is the object of Gatsby's obsession and, for a lack of a better term, the object of Tom Buchanan's possession. This may be the fulcrum of Daisy's character: tottering between immaterial subjectivity, as an idyllic recollection, or material objectivity, as a beautiful trophy wife. Her lack of fixed qualities adds to her complexity. Fittingly, she is significant through her absence at the novel's end, spectral and immaterial. Absence, so the saying goes, makes the heart grow fonder. For Gatsby, this rang true. For Nick Carraway, her absence punctuates the muted and indifferent tragedy that was the tale of Jay Gatsby. "I could only remember, without resentment, that Daisy hadn't sent a message or a flower." But it was Owl-Eyes who summed it up, "Why, my God! they used to go there by the hundreds...The poor son-of-a-bitch." Dead and forgotten. Six feet under with the maggots, if we're lucky. Those who are alive cling to whatever that can briefly void that inevitable image. The appearance of respectability is a most necessity and facile vanity of life; to live amongst peers is to risk judgment, denunciation, and ridicule.

Calmness

The calm are orderly; a mad rush leads to chaos.

-Wei Liao

The definition of job stability

The definition of job stability is a fifteen year contract.
The definition of regret is year five of a fifteen year contract.
The definition of obsolescence is named DiPietro.
The definition of mismanagement includes a Sumo Wrestler in goal, a GM named Snow, a Milbury without a clue, and a malfunctioning WANG!
The definition of hockey futility can be found on Long Island.

Subject Object Project

Subject, object, project;
what meaning if any?

Subject: what?
Object: meaning?
Project: if any?

In heaven, God rides a John Deere, chugs domestic beer, and roots for the Niners. I saw the Niners play Sunday; there is no God.

In hell, Satan rides a Harley, chugs Jack, and roots for the Raiders. I saw the Raiders play Sunday; hell is Oakland.

In Nirvana, Joe Buck is silenced. Calm. Serene. Endless state of deathlessness and unimagined bliss. Fat man and me can finally chug a few brews. Fat man and me are two of a kind.

In recollection, its always "Wide Right!".

In repetiton, Norwood practices a kick that will never go through. Norwood is Sisyphus. So is Buckner.

In Buffalo, Ralph rides a limo, sips champagne, and roots for the Bills. I saw the Bills play Sunday; Sacher-Masoch would have been a Bills fan.

Bruno Latour - We Have Never Been Modern

Bruno Latour - We Have Never Been Modern

28 - networks: social relations, powers, forms, societies

30 - work of purification: confronting a separation of nature + culture.
---> Does Anne Norton deal with this in 95 theses?

32 - does the work of purification remain distinct from the work of mediation?

33 - "The moderns could now be both secular and pious at the same time." (is this from Weber?)
---> this is the legacy of the Reformation.
- rise of the private God (p. 34); even the Lord becomes private property?

34 - "He would no longer interfere in any way with the development of moderns, but remained effective and helpful within the spirit of humans alone."
- the play with paradoxes give moderns power (34)

Sec. 2.11 - critique...and "modern"; "they have believed they were invincible" ---> this refers to the critical apparatus

41 - compatibility of hybridization and constitutional order.

42 - "What the premoderns have always ruled out the moderns can allow, since the social order never turns out to correspond, point for point, with the natural order."

43 - purification (attempts at it) leads, unwittingly, to greater hybridization?

- actor-network theory; derived from Hobbes?

- Nature, Society, and God

45 - "Today, denunciation and revolution have both gone stale."

- Rene Girard does consider objects as "counting"

46 - "Underneath moral grandeur there is the meticulous tirage of circumstances and cases..."

46 - Latour tears into postmodernism; seeing it as extending an already moribound critique; "disconnected instants and groundless denunciations, since the postmoderns no longer believe in the reasons that would allow them to denounce and to become indignent."

47 - "No one has ever been modern. Modernity has never begun. There has never been a modern world."

47 - so postmodernity, is "post" of something that may never have been? Is it anymore groundless than before?

48 - the modern world seen as networks? "The antimoderns, like the postmoderns, have accepted their adversaries playing field."

- two parallel constitutions: Boyle and Hobbes

grey matter

Grey matter erroding rapidly,
little pukes, little Eichmanns,
posing game deceptions,
legitimate, decimate, lick boot,
modus operandi kowtow;
lost and departed,
gone far from home,
fat cats purr with delight,
at the shimmer and glow,
of the spectacle;
money sustains,
but greed erodes;
grey matter withering infinite.

Let Live and Make Die

Let Live and Make Die

- The suicide bomber works clandestinely; there is no structural control over his action. It is a sudden action that cannot be planned for.

- The criminal disintegrates with his act. The means for justice are frustrated. One cannot call for reparation or ceremonial sacrifice to give meaning to the event.

- However, the suicide bomber, although invalidating state control of a particular site - his own death, affirms soverign power through his act. He engages in a guerrilla tactic, freeing himself from a mortal coil, that reinforces the sovereign's grip over matters of life and death.

- The presence and absence of the suicide bomber or terror figure poses the shadowy threat to society. In order to protect against the unseen threat, the state is provided with considerable power.

- Hence, the possibility of the terrorist/spy/traitor is necessary for state power. Without the possibility of "exceptional" conditions, sovereign power is hardpressed to justify its monopoly of political power. "Common unity and noble purpose" directed against evil: is this not reminiscient of comic book language?

- "You have to see evil as evil...oppression as oppression..." Is this parvenu language? You must be the world in unproblematic terms. If you do not, you may be a heretic. A heretic, but in what way?

- Threats are invariably posed as common threats. IF you're good, obey; we'll provide for our end of the bargain, at least on the surface, i.e., in the spectacular realm.

- The terrorist is projected as an absolutely irrational other capable and willing to kill anyone at anytime. Conversely, the figure of terror often understands the intricacies, contradictions, and loopholes of a society better than its own members.

- EVIL v. GOOD --> simple, easy, and an extension of the ultimate battle of theology" the apocalyptic battle for the souls of men. War is translated into this language for public consumption; its epic drama constructed through images, symbols, and signifiers.

- Everybody is free, but all remain vulnerable. State protection is not perfect or total, in spite of appearances. Protection and security provided for in normal times, with relatively no conscious effort.

Strange Brew

"Welcome to 1984, the age of automation and unemployment. The rise of the machine and the fall of man. The end of the human era...Watch your step. And remember: Big Brother is watching you."

3B - 3 Beers and it looks good, eh?

2051 - Ten years after World War 4...I was the only one left on the earth...like the US blew up Russia, and Russia blew up the US, eh.

"Psst, act!"

Kind of like Charlton Heston in Omega Man, eh? Did you see it? Beauty, eh?

I getting whiplash from my burps, eh.

"I don't know, eh. But we might as well really wreck this movie, eh. Get the moths."

The Mutants of 2051 AD, beauty eh?

Meinong*

Meinong inquired about the curvy square,
and the right angles on a circle;
shapes imagined and non-existent.

Round square,
dotted green and blue;
must it be flat or simply round,
why not be both?


*Alexius Meinong (1853-1920) founded the first laboratory for experimental psychology in Austria.

Crocodile Hunter dead, 44; friendly fire

Rapt before the sky. Stealthy stingray stings him old school; sharp barb to point. Crikey croc rules! No sound from the bloodless khaki depths.

Mission statement, full of lies, as sad solstice strums the edge of the mud wall compound and vineyard. Shrapnel reigns. Death from above is a so-called friendly miscue. Apologize; it's alright. Bungle, bungle, buzzed bomber loves that word - sorry, my bad!

You dead? Bleeding red and white? Where's the blue? Get blue, soldier! Just a game, dude. Get another guy, another recruit, another dupe? To kill is to live; to live is to kill. Here's some speed, here's some vicodin, some rohypnol, and testosteroni. Raise a drink to a deathless crimson day, raping good conscience in name of righteousness. They asked for it, she asked for it - same difference.

You better stick to bombing the brown people then; no one cares about the brown people. Ask Kanye.

Right to the heart and gone.

The complacent plagarist

From where she lies she sees Venus rise.
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Know Happiness.

-----

Estragon: (giving up again). Nothing to be done.

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Estragon: Yes, let's go.
They do not move.

-----

The Rue du Coq d'Or, Paris, seven in the morning. A succession of furious, choking yells from the street. Madame Monce, who kept the little hotel opposite mine, had come out onto the pavement to address a lodger on the third floor. Her bare feet were stuck onto sabots and her grey hair was streaming down.
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Still, I can point to one or two things I have definitely learned by being hard up. I shall never again think that all tramps are drunken scoundrels, nor expect a beggar to be grateful when I give him a penny, nor be surprised if men out of work lack energy, nor subscribe to the Salvation Army, nor pawn my clothes, nor refuse a handbill, nor enjoy a meal at a smart restaurant. That is a beginning.

-----

1. In societies where modern conditions of production prevail, all of life presents itself as an immense accumulation of spectacles. Everything that was directly lived has moved away into representation.

221. Emancipation from the material bases of inverted truth - this is what the self-emancipation of our epoch consists of. This "historical mission of installing truth in the world" cannot be accomplished either by the isolated individual, or by the atomized crowd subjected to manipulation, but now as ever by the class which is able to effect the dissolution of all classes by bringing all power into the dealienating form of realized democracy, the Council, in which pratical theory controls itself and sees its own action. This is possible only where individuals are "directly linked to universal history"; only where dialogue arms itself to make its own conditions victorious.

-----

Jewel and I come up from the field, following the path in single file. Although I am fifteen feet ahead of him, anyone watching us from the cottonhouse can see Jewel's frayed and broken straw hat a full head above my own.
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It was for a fact, all shut up as pretty as a picture, and everytime a new record would come from the mail order and us setting in the winter, listening to it, I would think what a shame Darl couldn't be to enjoy it too. But it is better so for him. This world is not his world; this life his life.

"It's Cash and Jewel and Vardaman and Dewey Dell," pa says, kind of hangdog and proud too, with his teeth and all, even if he wouldn't look at us. "Meet Mrs Bundren," he says.

-----

The idea of eternal return is a mysterious one, and Nietzsche has often perplexed other philosophers with it: to think that everything recurs as we once experienced it, and that the reccurence itself recurs ad infinitum! What does this mad myth signify?
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Tomas turned the key and switched on the ceiling light. Tereza saw two beds pushed together, one of them flanked by a bedside table and lamp. Up out of the lampshade, startled by the overhead light, flew a large nocturnal butterfly that began circling the room. The strains of the piano and violin rose up weakly from below.

-----

The unusual events described in this chronicle occurred in 194..., at Oran. Everyone agreed that, considering their somewhat extraordinary character, they were out of place there. For its ordinariness is what strikes one first about the town of Oran, which is merely a large French port on the Algerian coast, headquarters of the Prefect of a French 'Department'.
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And, indeed, as he listened to the cries of joy rising from the town, Rieux remembered that such joy is always imperilled. He knew what those jubiliant crowds did not know but could have learned from books: that the plague bacillus never dies or disappears for good; that it can lie dormant for years and years in furniture and linen-chests; that it bides its time in bedrooms, cellars, trunks and book-shelves; and that perhaps the day would come when, for the bane and the enlightening of men, it roused up its rats again and sent them forth to die in a happy city.

-----

May I, monsieur, offer my services without running the risk of intruding?
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The water's so cold! But let's not worry! It's too late now. It'll always be too late. Fortunately!

-----

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was lying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his domelike brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly keep in position and was about to slide off completely. His numerous legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of his bulk, waved helplessly before his eyes.
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They grew quieter and half unconsciously exchanged glances of complete agreement, having come to the conclusion that it would soon be time to find a good husband for her. And it was like a confirmation of their new dreams and excellent intentions that at the end of their journey their daughter sprang to her feet and stretched her young body.

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The Great Wall of China was finished off at its northernmost corner. From the southeast and the southwest it came up in two sections that finally converged there. This principle of piecemeal construction was also applied on a smaller scale by both of hte two great armies of labor, the eastern and western.
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To set about establishing a fundamental defect here would mean undermining not only our consciences, but, what is far worse, our feet. And for that reason I shall not proceed any further at this stage with my inquiry into these questions.

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Aujourd'hui, maman est morte. Ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas.
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Pour que tout soit consommé, pour que je me sente moins seul, il me restait à souhaiter qu'il ait beaucoup de spectateurs le jour de mon exécution et qu'ils m'accueillent avec des cris de haine.

-----

In 1957, an earth-born object made by man was launched into the universe, where for some weeks it circled the earth according to the same laws of gravitation that swing and keep in motion the celestial bodies - the sun, the moon, and the stars. To be sure, the man-made satellite was no moon or star, no heavenly body which could follow it circling path for a time span that to us mortals, bound by earthly time, last from eternity to eternity. Yet, for a time in managed to stay in the skies; it dwelt and moved in the proximity of the heavenly bodies as thought it had been admitted tentatively to their sublime company.
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For if no other test but the experience of being active, no other measure but the extent of sheer activity were to be applied to the various activities within the vita activa, it might well be that thinking as such would surpass them all. Whoever has any experience in this matter will know how right Cato was when he said: Numquam se plus agere quam nihil cum ageret, numquam minus solum esse quan cum solus esset - "Never is he more active than when he does nothing, never is he less alone when he is by himself."

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Words and phrases of a day - Sep 03

Upper hand; Tennyson; brew; oddities; start; perverse; officer; stupid; eh?; young; diesased; toenails; bile; degenerate; syndication; mean; suck it off the top; show; display; reports; Defense Ministry; News; speak; Truth; major offensive; scores; casualties; details; regular programming; hodge-podge; orphaned; contracted daddy; dream no one; commodity; tampon; lip gloss; dynamic colour; outlast; shine; pillage future; cretin life; villages; despondent; call now; drip, drip, drip; join stasis; atrophy; leave me; let me; go; mo' money; no problem; cheater; file; should; ought; could; what; when; where; slowed; slowed; slowed; dull boy; dull boy; inane; crawl; crawl; evasion; repression; failure; skill; talent; networked; cyber; life; in the wires; timeslots; casted; wrangling; non sequitur; business; back up the drain; plunge; don't; can't; shouldn't; ain't no way; bricolage; archival; tapes; stuff from the street; revaluing the world; at large; objects, forgotten and remembered; white cat; black hat; I am; decisive; Mr. Ed; humous; falafel; pita; winter wonderland; introducing; dream lover; overdrawn; beggar's can't be choosers; tombs; catacombs; rise; rise; arise; family of kids; no mo' play; dull boy; dull boy; dull boy; weighty matters; levity; support; crushing Russian; white Russian; booze; drunk; tanked; yanked; whanked; whore; blow up; down; blowjob; androgyny; incorporate; ad campaign; Polynesian town; crane shot; pantomime; puppy; purported; ribs; quality; quantity; Cabo; Baha; snow; wind; fire; whatever; The Who; light for shot; Merry Fucking christmas; good girl; bad girl; intimidated; uncover cowardice; crippled; paralysis; quoting; Montaigne; three now two; score; who has the score?; cage; enclosure; inside; outside; randomness; cretinism; pot; pans; pansexual; multicultural; bourgeois(ie); beauty; fuckable; saddleback; rack; titties; punsies; design boldly; operate timidly; much garbage; take in; eat out; deliver; instinct; unknown; random; unknown; unknown; structure the day; quadruple; past control; hosers from future; get; trilogy; modern times; pink martini; stereophonic; breathing conflict; revolution in a can; bottle; barrel; submit; buy your problems away; look don't touch; banjo; blue grass classic; network star; Bill Buckner; squibble; dribble; stunted growth; shrinkage; laundromat; complication; parsimony; what are you on?; zany; tension; intensity; improvised; ow vey!; snow covered miseltoe; what; divine taste; crude appetite; stupid judgment; justify; derive; live on; float to nowhere; quality not needed; move units; sell sell sell; last choice; amuse them; arouse yourself; pilfer the mind; embrace the bizzare; pariscope up down; quit now; now; cut your losses; sex; death; taxes; sterile; verile end; climax; collapse.

The King is Dead; Long Live the King

AP Photo/Junji Kurokawa

"Oh my god! I left my lights on!"

Thus ends another chapter of USA basketball's fall from grace.

Fielding a team of pitchmen, high school hoop prodigies, former collegiate standouts, and imperfect derivations of past legends - looking at you Dywane Wade, the United States once again collapsed under the weight of massive expectations.

A Greek team, with exactly zero NBA players on its roster, defeated the star-studded Americans 101-95 in the semi-final of the 2006 FIBA World Championship. Of course, before the US team tip off for the bronze medal in Japan, the blame game will be well under way.

Will it be directed at Mike Krzyzewski, who, in spite of preaching defense, allowed this group of purportedly the world's best players to be shredded for 101 points in the semi-final? The words "perimeter" and "defence" are somewhat incompatible for this particular US squad. Greece shot 76 percent from the field, 25-of-33, in the second and third quarters, transforming a 12 point deficit into a 77-65 lead heading to the final period.

Or will the onnus be on Jerry Colangelo, architect of this supposedly new and improved US team?

With all due respect to Chris Bosh, he rode the pine for most of the tournament and would not have helped the team's shooting woes. The US team shot a horrid 9-of-28 from three point territory against Greece, following an equally abysmal 10-for-40 performance against Germany. Which causes one to ask where was Adam Morrison, former collegiate sharpshooter, and soon to be Charlotte Bobcat standout?

He was not in a USA uniform. He possibly was at home punching a hole in a wall while watching US players lay bricks from beyond the three point line as well as at the charity stripe (the Americans shot 59 percent from the free throw line).

Or does the blame belong to BronMeloWade, the co-captains, who combined for 63 points in the semi-final? The spectre of Bird-Magic-Jordan looms large over these three; they have yet to escape, nor will they with anything less than a gold in Beijing. Suffice it to say, Dream Team I is a distant memory. BronMeloWade is no Bird-Magic-Jordan, not yet.

Then who is to blame? Two words: Kobe Bryant. No, that's too easy. It's too easy to hate on Kobe, instead of acknowledging the real reason behind USA basketball's fall from grace.

Simply put, the world has caught up and possibly surpassed the USA. During certain stretches, opponents outclassed the USA in the fundamental aspects of the game: team defence, perimeter shooting, and free throw shooting. In other words, the rest of the world is better than the USA at the international game. They are better at exploiting the shorter three point line, have better overall ball movement, and can consistently make free throws.

It might be time to admit that the American "game" is filled with cheap knockoffs, primadonnas, and corporate pitchmen primarily concerned about earning potential and marketability. With global endorsement deals becoming more lucrative than even player salaries, it is not hard to see why players are first and foremost loyal to their brand, then to team and nation. ESPN, showing reel after reel of dunks and acrobatic moves, forgets to mention that a dunk is two points, with exceptions, but a trey is worth three points. 3>2; in spite of the aesthetic of a poster.

In America, the culture of basketball has lost its soul. It values the image, along with its pigheaded, "I'm gonna dunk on you, sucka" mentality. Well, well, the boys who know how to shoot beat the aerial acrobats; there must be a grin on Dr. Naismith's face, whereever he is.

While boys in Argentina, Greece, or Spain play the game without conceit, without an entrenched sense of entitlement or self-promotion, young players in America emulate the moves, the dunks, the swagger, the shoes of a Jordan, but neglect the substance of his game, the strength of his character, and his indomitable desire to win.

Basketball has rediscovered its soul, in the streets and gyms of Rio and Buenos Aries and Athens and Madrid. The game is beautiful, when played by those who love it. Although USA Basketball may take little solace in it, the game of basketball is better off with American dominance dead and buried. Competition makes the sport that much more interesting. The King is dead; long live the king.

The town drunk and its only philosopher

Hanging upside down on a length of rope tied to a bough, I awoke and saw a large figure stumbling towards me.

"You ain't dead yet," he mumbled to me, or maybe he was conversing with himself, couldn't tell initially, he talked into his chest. In any event, he stopped a couple of paces short and bobbed his head up and down, evidently examining the dangling body.

"You don't remember much do you?" he asked. After he finished slurring his words, I hurled, suffering from the inverted perspective; it certainly was not a commentary about my nameless interlocutor. As I can attest to, there is nothing quite as vile as vomiting while dangling upside down from a tree, especially if one is relatively sober. The rush of acid burns doubly when turned on one's head. And the smell! The smell was rank, inescapable and utterly unbearable. No, he was right. I didn't remember anything. I couldn't recall the night before. I couldn't recall the poisons I ingested, if any at all. And I didn't know how I ended up there.

"Boy, did you have quite a night," the nameless man said, evidently content to stand by and provide a running commentary, which, in retrospect, I was grateful for.

I tried to wipe the residue from my mouth, which proved to be a trying task. Sapped of strength and any semblance of dexterity, my right arm was foreign to me. It collided repeatedly with my chest, rapped my nose bloody, before finding its way to my mouth. Upon completing the rather absurd sanitary task, I asked him who he was.

"The town drunk and its only philosopher," he replied. I rolled my eyes in response.

"A philosopher, huh? I guess I should not ask you to cut me down."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Well, because you will ask why or why not until both of us are maggot food."

"That's rather parochial, but I don't judge people or justify what I do. I just do what's expected of me," he said, taking another swig from his paper bag. He offered me a sip; I declined. He took a few steps back and looked intently at the tree.

"A sturdy twig from the looks of it," he said, still giving no indication whether he was going to help me get down, nor was I going to ask; I was quite content to dangle from that uncommon view, at least for the meantime. With blood finally flowing to my skull, I was in a rather contemplative mood.

"Are you from the camp or the town?" he asked.

"The camp, but I think I ventured into town for the night," I replied, unsure whether that was the truth, or merely an anachronistic recollection about some other night on the town, or simply of a night that I had merely heard about. In any event, the drunken philosopher was not convinced.

"You're not from the camp," he said nonchalantly. "You ended up in the camp and couldn't find your way home."

"No, no, no, I'm from the camp. That is where I'm stationed," I replied sharply, slightly annoyed by the implication that he knew better than me about where I was from.

"Were you born in the camp?" he asked.

"Of course not!" I provided a loud rebut, growing further agitated by his questioning.

"Hmm. Hmm. Hmm." He continued in this manner for sometime, pacing back and forth, before walking right up to me.

"So you are not from the camp then now are you?"

"Well, if you want to get technical about it, I am from my mother's womb. Oh, but wait, that's not completely accurate either. I'm from my father's gonads as well. Oh wait, wait, I have it, I'm from my father's gonads, by way of my grandmother's cunt and grandpappy's come. I could go on you know." After I finished my rant, the drunken philosopher strategically positioned himself so that his crotch obscured my line of sight. He stood there a long while, without word or response. It may have been a minute or ten or twenty of silence. I was naturally concerned about my doubly precarious position - vomit below and a crotch in my face. And, I could not see his face. Looking up, I only caught the bottom of his prominent chin; and one can't read a chin. At last, he broke the silence.

"What is a camp?" he asked.

"See, this is what I mean about you philosophers; always asking questions when the answer is right in front of you", I said, motioning behind me to where I thought the camp was.

"Not the camp, a camp, what is a camp?" he asked again, growing more obtuse with every passing word. However, his question barely registered, as my mind wandered elsewhere. The stench of the man's crotch inexplicably aroused thoughts about death, that irrevocable fate of man. The stream of blood flowing from my nose halted; a development that provided me great comfort.

Assured that I wouldn't die of a bloody nose, I imagined death in all its forms, or at least the forms I could think up; a bayonet blade plunged into the throat; a bullet to the head; sleep without awakening; to die of exhaustion after a night of lovemaking; freefalling to the bottom of a canyon; trampled to death by a pack of buffalo, or bulls, or cows, or obese women; setting oneself on fire; incineration; starvation; bodies branded for annihilation; hangman's noose; executioner's axe; Judgment by the invisible hand; atrophy; entropy; an imploding sun; horsemen on the run; and so on and so forth. We all had to go sometime, or so they say; at least I didn't bleed to death dangled in front of a strange man's pungent crotch.

"A camp," I finally responded,"is a series of barracks, a mess hall or two, a shooting range, officer's quarters, and sometimes a gymnasium; all of it surrounded by a giant fence and secured by men with guns eager to shoot." He laughed at my response. I thought he, like any philosopher, dealt in abstraction and metaphysics, and was probably mortified by such a cursory account of surface phenomenon. Nevertheless, he appeared to be pleasantly amused by the description.

"Well, that's one answer," he said while pacing back and forth, at last removing his crotch from my face.

"The deciding factor, of course," he said,"is the possibility of being shot if one leaves without authorization. Is that what defines a camp? Being shot or reprimanded for acting contrary to authority?"

"I guess," I replied, now concerned about whether I exceeded my authorized leave. I waded through my shirt pocket and found the slip, but since I had no clue about the day or the time; the discovery provided me little comfort.

"Yes," I continued, "I'm free, namely not getting shot or disciplined, if I obey." The hulking man let out a hearty laugh.

"The outsider," he began again, "is lead into the camp, for training, for rectification, for quarantine, for indeterminate detainment, or for his ultimate demise; and for him, freedom is simply the other side of the fence."

"Obedience," he continued, "is merely done for the sake of survival." He turned around, looked up at the rope wrapped around the bough, and smirked. "Freedom always comes with risk," he said, "the possibility of failure or punishment or further incarceration comes with the possibility of freedom. Let me ask you: is this inverted noose your idea of freedom?"

I noticed that I had assimilated to my inverted perspective, and, alas, it lost its novelty.

"No, it was rather interesting at first, but now it's pretty inane."

"So you want me to slice you down?"

"Sure, but make sure I don't fall face first into my own vomit."

"I can't assure you of that," he replied, "its a risk you have to take."

"Alright, I want down anyways."

He disappeared from my sight. I looked around and caught him climbing up the tree. He navigated along the bough, pulled out his pocketknife, and, as he worked on the rope, I readied myself for the fall. He sliced through the rope and I started my descent, managing to avoid the vomit, and landing relatively unscathed on my side.

"Thank you!" I shouted, astonished by how ecstatic I felt about my release. He nodded to recognize my voice. Surprisingly, I got to my feet with relative ease in spite of earglier struggles with my arm. He jumped down from the tree and turned to walk towards town.

"Where are you heading to?" I asked.

"Back to work," he said.

"Really?"

"Yes, they need to see the town drunk living in abject squalor to confirm their place in society."

"And the philosopher?"

"Well, he's never been needed; it just happens that only the town drunk has the lucidity to philosophize. He's the marginal character, the rambling jester, paraded out as a comedic spectacle, for the rest to consume or ignore. The beauty is that both roles come with the same set of demands; hence, they are one in the same."

I smiled and waved goodbye, until I realized I needed to figure out the date and time.

"Wait, wait, I shouted to him, I need to head into town as well."

"Heading home?" he asked in a rather sardonic tone.

"No, I have to figure out the date and time."

"For what reason?" I pulled out my slip, only to realize that the information on it was utterly illegible. He looked over at the slip, held up by my trembling hands.

"Time, evidently, has no measure without the sovereign Word," he said.

I no longer was in a mood for his abstractions.

-----

I remember a young recruit, named Jeb or Jess; the name is rather extraneous to the story, so let's say he was named Jim. Jim tried to steal into town one night to visit his girl visiting from a town over. He navigated through an underground network of tunnels, built up over the years by men seeking clandestine nights in town, and all seemingly went as planned. That was until he unwittingly took a wrong turn. Rather than ending up in the utility shed outside the walls of the camp, safely obscured from the sightlines of the eager watchmen, he popped through the floorboards of the Commanding Officer's quarters, uh, let's say he was named Yanic, who had company at the time.

CO Yanic was a rather domineering and tough public figure. He would openly beat recruits he deemed disobedient or incompotent with his trusty metre stick. The violations would range from a loose shoelace to an untimely chuckle. But usually he didn't need particular provocations to whip out the stick.

"Man is the measure of all things," he would recite. "You boys don't measure up!" The distant sound of a tapping metre stick haunted the barracks long after he returned to his quarters. Well, returning to Jess', I mean, Jim's story, the details are rather unclear. First, we couldn't figure out why in the world there was a tunnel leading to the CO's quarters. If one's aim is to make it out of the camp, a tunnel leading to the CO's quarters is a rather cruel, and in Jim's case, a fatal joke. Second, we had no definitive account of what went on in the room that night, before and after Jim made his unexpected appearance. There were several accounts.

One, Yanic had a female companion, usually a particularly fetching prostitute imported from the town named Lorelai, or was its Lori? Anyways, just as Yanic gathered momentum, getting a lather going, as the saying goes, the jarring sound and sight of Jim popping through the floor made him lose his cool and he climaxed prematurely into Lori's experienced orifice. The prostitute, as the story goes, giggled at the officer's predicament, providing an unfavourable comparison of Yanic to a twelve-year-old virgin. Yanic, needless to say, was incensed, pulled out his metre stick, and beat Lori beyond all recognition, shattering several in the process, or, so the story goes. Jim's fate was considerably more drawn out and, well, cannot be delved into without sorting through some of the other accounts.

Another account purported Jim had found himself alone in the room with Lorelai. Well, the name itself probably tells the story. He was lured to bed by the alluring siren-whore, apparently abandoning all rational faculties - if he had them, he would have realized that CO Yanic would appear at any moment. And, of course, Yanic appeared on the scene readied to enjoy Lorelai's company, only to see a lowly recruit ravishing her rather expertly on his bed. Exhausted from his trip through the tunnels and the carnal encounter, Jim could not fight off Yanic, who easily subdued and violated him with his metre stick.

The official story held that Jim attempted to strangle the CO in his sleep only to be subdued by Yanic, who won a struggle with Jim. There was no attempt at explaining why Jim ended up in Yanic's room or why there were murderous intentions. They needed justification, no matter how erroenous or irrational, for the punishment to be meted out in private darkness. In any event, all we knew was that Jim was never to be seen again after his cruel turn in the tunnels. Not one of us in the camp could find out what happened to Jim; we could only imagine the reprimand or executions soon to be validated in order to kill innocents - innocents in the particular sense, not the universal.

Buber on Palestine

In 1925, Buber became an active member of the German chapter of Brith Shalom (The Peace Association), which means literally, the Covenant of Peace, an organization dedicated to cultivating mutual relations between Arabs and Jews in Palestine.[1] Buber later played an integral role in the League for Jewish-Arab Rapprochement and Cooperation, and headed the creation of an associated party, Ichud (Union), established in August of 1942.[2] Buber’s vision for Arab-Jewish relations in the Middle East was the creation of a bi-national state, consisting of direct relationships between Jewish and Arab communities. This vision, however, was not shared by the majority of Jewish Israelis who believed the central aim was simply the defense and security of the Jewish “homeland” from the supposedly imminent Arab threats. Buber, as it turned out, was tragically prescient in his warnings about the aggressive political tactics adopted by the Israeli government, most clearly expressed in his debates with David Ben-Gurion, who eventually would be named the first Prime Minister of the state of Israel.[3] Ben-Gurion and other political leaders, as Jewish historian Laurence Silberstein notes, “elevated the nation and the state to the level of ultimate value”.[4] In contrast, Buber did not see the bi-national state as an absolute solution; rather, it would create the conditions for dialogue, wherein the Jewish and Arab peoples could come to together to address problems and challenges – whether economic, cultural, political, or social.[5] Hence, in regards to the question of Palestine and the future of the Arab and Jewish peoples in the region, Buber called on the people of each nation to take an active part in the creation of a bi-national state, rather than allow political leaders, consumed by political illusion to dictate the future of the region. Alas, Buber’s call was and has largely been ignored, and the region, since the creation of the state of Israel in 1947, has been beset with political unrest, violence, and a growing distrust between the two peoples.[6]

As early as 1921, Buber believed the grounds for cooperation had to be cultivated through “intensive and systematic cultivation”.[7] What Buber meant by intensive and systematic cultivation was not the simple imposition of formula and program on the Jewish and Arab communities. Rather, he saw that the framework of a bi-national state, cultivated through Arab-Jewish rapprochement, would create the possibility for trust between the two peoples. The actualization of this trust, however, was not a task left to politicians, scholars, or bureaucrats; trust would be actualized through the participation of communities and its members in addressing common interests, such as economic interests. Rather than simply consenting to decisions and programs formulated by politicians such as Ben-Gurion, providing such political ends “the absolute form of unambiguous moral imperatives”[8], Buber, through his involvement in Ichud, actively tried to cultivate social and political relations between the two peoples; but such attempts failed, because the ‘majority’ of Arabs and Jews did not believe cooperation was possible, due in large part to the prevalence of political distrust, which painted the other side as threat or enemy.

The creation of the state of Israel, built upon a series of unilateral actions that neither acknowledged nor considered the claims of the Arab population, only reinforced a Palestinian Arab view of Jews “as invaders bent upon dispossessing the Arab masses”.[9] Therefore, politicians such as Ben-Gurion, in their “realist” approach to the situation in Palestine, willingly took on the stereotypes regular Arabs inscribed onto Jews, while considered the Arab population within and around Palestine to be threats to the security of the newly created Jewish state, and took political steps towards militarizing the new state.[10] Although Buber reluctantly embraced the new Jewish state, he insisted that the Jews’ historical re-entry into their homeland “took place through a false gateway”[11]. For Buber, without the possibility of trust, and its subsequent cultivation through dialogue between peoples of the two nations, there would be no lasting peace for the new Jewish state or its neighbours. This view, as Silberstein notes, would often lead Buber into direct confrontation with Israeli government leaders.[12] And as Buber points out in a January 1962 speech, “whoever considers war to be inevitable collaborates, willingly or unwillingly, consciously or unconsciously, in bringing about war,”; addressing directly the readiness of most Jews to accept the political illusions fed them by government and its leadership.[13]

Buber poses a challenge to the idea that the task of a citizen is to legitimate the current regime - through ballot, party participation, or activism, and tacitly consent to the actions undertaken by leaders – “Argue as much as you want and about whatever you like, but obey!”[14] This reasoned capitulation, argues Buber, leads humanity towards illusions and away from the actual life between persons. For Buber, political surplus, afforded by tacit consent, exacerbates political illusions by fostering and addressing phantom threats rather than confronting the actual problems that threaten the life of the interhuman. Let us turn our attention to an article by written Buber in May 1946 concerning the escalating tensions between Arabs and Jewish Israelis in order to explore this point. In the course of the article, Buber wonders why the emerging conflict had been framed as a zero-sum political game. Although real conflicts do arise between groups of people, these conflicts, according to Buber, can be resolved “within the domain of life itself”, a domain between persons not dominated by the political principle.[15] However, in modern politics, the ‘other side’ is assumed to absolutely untrustworthy until proven otherwise, entrenching the myth that conflict between groups are necessarily irreconcilable, the ineluctable divide between victor and defeated.[16] The assumption is that conflict and contestation is necessary for a regime to retain its distinctively political character.[17] This imbalanced need to sustain politics for the sake of politics generates illusory threats by exaggerating real conflict to grotesque proportions. In his short article, “A Tragic Conflict?” (1946), Buber writes, “The politics of a group produces within its members a sense of conflict with proportions much greater than those of the real conflict, and accords it a different, seemingly absolute, character.”[18]

In short, Buber acknowledged the real and central conflict between Arabs and Jews, namely, the necessity for both peoples to live together in the land known as Palestine, and contended that the existence of a Jewish state could not be secured without cooperation with the Palestinian Arabs. The political leaders of the Israel, however, held steadfast to the conventional political line; that Arab peoples surrounding Israel are assumed to be threats and enemies, whose potential aggression must deterred by the accumulation of Jewish military and political might. As it turns out, Buber and those who shared his view of a bi-national Palestinian state provided a warning that tragically went unheeded.

---

[1] From a 1925 document produced by the group, it states its object. “The object of the Association is to arrive at an understanding between Jews and Arabs as to the form of their mutual social relations in Palestine on the basis of absolute political equality of two culturally autonomous peoples, and to determine the lines of their co-operation for the development of their country.” And as Mendes-Flohr notes, the bi-national state the group had in mind, at least at this stage, “was a modus vivendi” between Zionism and Palestinian Arab nationalism within the existing political framework of the 1920 British Mandate (which, in short, established the goal of a national home for the Jewish people in Palestine, elaborating upon the 1917 Balfour Declaration that initially set out this aim). Hence, according to Mendes-Flohr, “Birth Shalom envisioned as the most reasonable solution to the problem of Palestine a constitutional agreement whereby Jews and Arabs would enjoy political and civil parity within the unitary framework of the Mandate.” Martin Buber, “Brith Shalom”, A Land of Two Peoples: Martin Buber on Jews and Arabs. Paul Mendes-Flohr, ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005), pp. 72-75.

[2] In the program of the Ichud published on September 3, 1942, which Buber composed along with his colleagues Robert Weltsch and Judah L. Magnes, once again asserts the need for co-operation between Jewish and Arab peoples. Article 2 of the program states: “The Association Union (Ichud) therefore regards a Union between the Jewish and Arab peoples as essential for the upbuilding of Palestine and for cooperation between the Jewish world and the Arab world in all branches of life – social, economic, cultural, political – thus making for the revival of the whole Semitic world.” Buber, “The Ichud”, A Land of Two Peoples, p. 148-49.

[3] This debate between the two regarding the composition of a Jewish state is expressed clearly in an article entitled, “A Majority or Many? A Postscript to a Speech”. In the article, Buber explicitly disagrees with Ben-Gurion’s proposal for creating a Jewish majority in Palestine and politically justifying the creation of a Jewish state on those grounds. Buber, “A Majority or Many? A Postscript to a Speech”, A Land of Two Peoples, p. 164-68.

[4] Laurence J. Silberstein, Martin Buber’s Social and Religious Thought. (New York: New York University Press, 1989), p. 255.

[5] For example, in “A Majority of Many”, he contends that a “commonality of interests” would be beneficial in cultivating trust between Arabs and Jews. “The separate national economic systems should be replaced, as much as good economic allows, by one shared countrywide system, in whose success both nations are interested and whose shared development may well create mutual trust, that in turn will lead to far-reaching agreements.” Buber, “A Majority or Many? A Postscript to a Speech”, A Land of Two Peoples, p. 168.

[6] This is reflected by the most recent Middle East crisis between Hezbollah, a militia within Lebanon, and Israel in July and August of 2006.

[7] “In this land, whose population is both sparse and scattered, there is room both for us and for its present inhabitants, especially if we adopt intensive and systematic methods of cultivation.” Buber, “A Proposed Resolution on the Arab Question”, A Land of Two Peoples, p. 61.

[8] Buber, “A Majority or Many? A Postscript to a Speech”, A Land of Two Peoples, p. 165.

[9] Silberstein details some of these myopic actions on the part of the Jews, i.e., buying up land from wealthy land owners rather than negotiating with Palestinian Arabs about potentially common economic interests. Silberstein, Martin Buber’s Social and Religious Thought, p. 255

[10] In his May 1958 address to the American Friends of the Ichud, Buber recounts an event from the “unhappy partition of Palestine” that is particularly chilling. “It happened one day, however, that outside of all regular conduct of the war, a band of armed Jews fell on an Arab village and destroyed it.” In a footnote, Mendes-Flohr provides some further context. “On 9 April 1948, during the siege of Jerusalem, a combined force of Irgun and he Stern Gang attacked Deir Yasin, an Arab village commanding the road to Jerusalem, reportedly killing 254 of its inhabitants – men, women, and children.” Buber, “Israel and the Command of the Spirit”, A Land of Two Peoples, p. 292, 293, n. 4.

[11] In the May 1958 address, Buber affirms the factual reality of the State of Israel, but warns that without Jewish-Arab rapprochement, the unrest between the two would only persist. He says during the address, “There can be no peace between Jews and Arabs that is only a cessation of war; there can only be a peace of genuine cooperation.” Buber, “Israel and the Command of the Spirit”, A Land of Two Peoples, p. 293.

[12] Silberstein, Martin Buber’s Social and Religious Thought, p. 262, 328, n. 53.

[13] Buber, “We Must Grant the Arabs Truly Equal Rights”, A Land of Two Peoples, p. 299.

[14] Kant, “What is Enlightenment?”, Kant: Political Writings. Hans S. Reiss, ed., H.B. Nisbet, trans. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970, 1991), p. 59.

[15] Martin Buber, “A Tragic Conflict?” A Land of Two Peoples: Martin Buber on Jews and Arabs. Paul Mendes-Flohr, ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005), p. 187.

[16] “Politics, seeking to retain its domination of life, has an interest in treating the interests of the various groups as if they were irreconcilable. But since this in fact is not so, politics has to make it so.” Buber, “A Tragic Conflict?” A Land of Two Peoples, p. 187.

[17] “The essence of all politics…is conflict, the recruitment of allies and a voluntary following.” Weber, “Parliament and Government in Germany”, Weber: Political Writings, p. 173. To reiterate, Weber contends that political struggle is the crucible in which the modern politician is forged, sustaining individual initiative in the face of growing authoritarian and bureaucratic regimes. “But the given palaestra for the modern politician is parliamentary conflict and the fight for party in the country, and there is nothing of equal value which can replace such struggle – least of all competition for promotion…where the leader achieves power in the state.” Weber, “Parliament and Government in Germany”, Weber: Political Writings, pp. 173-74.

[18] Buber, “A Tragic Conflict?” A Land of Two Peoples, p. 187.

The different "I"

The I of I-It, or the ‘experiencing I’, is necessary, because man must experience the world in order to address Thou. Therefore, this 'experiencing I' cannot be regarded as evil, because without it man cannot be sustained in life. The danger of It-world experience is the immersion of the individual into It-world causality, i.e., approaching the world and others for instrumental use and experience. But, it should be pointed out that Buber does not advocate a purely spiritual existence. Because, as Friedman correctly points out, the I-Thou is not an unqualified good, since its lack of measure, continuity, and order threatens actual human life.[1] In other words, I-Thou does not and cannot remove man permanently from the world of experience, but simply helps actualize his life in it. Buber does not believe that mystical detachment from the known world can confirm human existence.[2] Hence, an absolute valuation of either the I-It or the I-Thou to the preclusion of the other may lead towards isolation and a noetic state of incompleteness. Although the I of I-It and the I of I-Thou are different, they are both necessary to an actual life between persons.

The differentiation Buber makes between these two ‘I’s can be elaborated upon. The ‘severed I’ is the individual immersed in experience or purely spiritual contemplation and the ‘engaged I’ is the person open to relationship with others and the world. The ‘severed I’ is burdened with conceit; specifically the belief the individual can confirm itself in monologue. In contrast, the ‘engaged I’ has no such conceit, because while open the I-Thou relationships, this I embraces an invariable return to the It-world of experience, changed by mutual encounter. The ‘severed I’ precludes either the realm of experience or the realm of spirit in favour of the other and, hence, keep human beings as individuals by neglecting or obscuring the potential for relationship.

The particular uniqueness of interlocutors engaged in dialogue is not absorbed into a single unity through I-Thou relationship. Rather, as Buber notes, uniqueness is affirmed through relationship.[3] In stepping into dialogical relationship, one is not immersed into a unity, once and for all. The relationship is a passing encounter that changes the way participants experience the world, i.e., destabilizing a stagnant impulse to simply use and apply experience for instrumental ends. Hence, the ‘severed I’ is different from the ‘experiencing I’. They are not one in the same. The ‘experiencing I’ is necessary, because man must experience the world in order to provide for his life. However, the ‘experiencing I’ can stagnate into a ‘severed I’ without the possibility of I-Thou relationship. Hence, the I of I-It and the I of I-Thou have the potential to become engaged with experience and spirit or severed from relationship when immersed solely in its respective realm. Therefore, the ‘severed I’ is the individual lost in causality. The ‘engaged I’ acknowledges the necessity of experience and relationship, and strives to actualize the life between persons, rather than merely within individuals.

---

[1] Maurice Friedman, Martin Buber: The Life of Dialogue. (New York: Harper & Row, 1960), p. 60

[2] This is why Buber, in “What is Common to All”, objects to the prioritization of an individualized “dream world” in Hindu and Taoist traditions above the common “waking” world and refutes Aldous Huxley’s claim that a mesculin trance allows an individual to transcend selfhood and the ephemeral world. Buber, “What is Common to All”, The Knowledge of Man, pp. 81-85, 89-92.

[3] “What the genuine saying of ‘Thou’ to the other in the reality of the common existence basically means – namely, the affirmation of the primally deep otherness of the other, the affirmation of his otherness which is accepted and loved by me…” Buber, “What is Common to All”, The Knowledge of Man, p. 86. Maurice Friedman provides some elucidation to Buber’s argument. “I-Thou is the world of relation and togetherness, each of the members of the relation really remains himself, and that means really different from the other.” Maurice Friedman, Martin Buber: The Life of Dialogue. (New York: Harper & Row, 1960), p. 61

Pluto's a planet no more

Pluto's a planet no more,
and schoolboys rejoice;
one less to remember, they say.

The man in motion,
twenty trips around the sun;
a globetrotting cyborg rolls on.
Bomb plots defused,
unrest nevertheless the norm;
misery abound in this planet,
that we call home;
yet it is still a planet,
but according to whom?

Pluto's a planet no more,
dead,
erased,
snuffed from the chart;
for man prefers death,
willed by his own hand,
and exalted cogito.

Long after Chamfort*

Wit in fools has something shocking
Like cabhorses galloping.

-----

The trouble with tragedy is the fuss it makes
About life and death and other tuppeny aches.

-----

Better on your arse than on your feet,
Flat on your back than either, dead than the lot.**

-----

Live and clean forget from day to day,
Mop life up as fast as it dribbles away.

-----

Ask of all-healing, all-consoling thought
Salve and solace for the woe it wrought.

-----

Hope is a knave befools us evermore,
Which till I lost no happiness was mine.
I strike from hell's to grave on heaven's door:
All hope abandon ye who enter in.***

-----

sleep till death
healeth
come ease
this life disease

-----

how hollow heart and full
of filth thou art

- Samuel Beckett, 1975-76

(translated by the author)

-----

* adaptaions of the maxims of Sebastien Chamfort
**Refers to an A.E. Houseman poem?
***From the original French: "Je mettrais volontiers sur la porte du paradis le vers que le Dante a mis sur celle de l'enfer: Lasciate ogni speranza etc."

- Samuel Beckett, 1975-76
(translated by the author)

Song

Age is when to a man
Huddled o'er the ingle
Shivering for the hag
To put the pan in the bed
And bring the toddy
She comes in the ashes
Who loved could not be won
Or won not loved
Or some other trouble
Comes in the ashes
Like in that old night
The face in the ashes
That old starlight
On the earth again.

- Samuel Beckett, 1962

Private health care

Dr. Brian Day, who runs a private clinic in Vancouver, was elected the head of the CMA (Canadian Medical Association) today. This is surely a bad sign for the future of public health care in this country. Of course, this development will colour the CMA's approach to public health care. The sky may not yet fall. But be weary of it coming down some time in the near future. It's nice to know that most of my generation will likely suffer from cancer, diabetes, HIV, or AIDS without public health care. Either you're filthy rich, willing to go into debt to stay alive, or dead. It makes me want to go get a vasectomy, while I still can afford it.