Halfway down the Danube

Some Douglas Oliver

I have been on a poetry kick lately. One great thing about poetry is, it's portable! Here's the conclusion of Douglas Oliver's "The Jains and the Boxer".

The boxer's sounds interrupt plosively, while the Jaina vibrate, so repetitive in consonant that all is almost vowel, a continuous voicing. We wish for that passivity, the single vowel of wonder, unchanging reverence for the sacred. But we fall into Frenchified voodoo sacrifice: the clean blow, sudden slice at a cockerel neck. It's disgusting to gain erotic victory at such a price. The Jains know the flow of time free of harm. The boxer knows its beat: destruction and renewal. Poetic music flows, undulates, hits beats.

An on-going New York moment

There's a truck filled with explosives parked near the base of Trump Tower in New York City! But it's OK; it's clearly marked and there's a police presence around it. They're doing excavation blasting a block over. It's still a little unnerving. The truck itself seems to be an armored car, not very different from the ones used to pick up bank deposits, except that it's painted fire-engine red and is plastered with warnings. Would the armor help, in the event? I dunno. I don't think it's filled to the brim with explosives either. That would make a nice big hole. I guess my main worry is Stupid Taxi Tricks. Taxis make the impossible happen on a regular basis.

Some Lorine Niedecker

The great Wisconsin poet. We're not usually thought of as a poetic people. Well, we aren't. But the impulse is still there. From the New Goose:

On Columbus Day he set out for the north to inspect his forty acres, brought back a plaster of Paris deer-head and food from the grocers and bakers, a wall-thermometer to tell if he's cold, a new kind of paring knife, and painted in red, a bluebottle gentian for the queen, his wife.

Dante's Singularity

From the Paradiso, Canto I, verses 64 to 72:

Beatrice tutta ne l'etterne rote fissa con li occhi stava; e io en lei le luci fissi, di l s� rimote. Ne suo aspetto tal dentro mi fei, qual si f Glauco nel gustar de l'erba che 'l f consorto in mar de li altri di. Transumanar significar per verba non si poria; per l'essemplo basti a cui esperenza grazia serba.

And Charles Singleton's prose translation:

Beatrice was standing with her eyes all fixed upon the eternal wheels, and I fixed mine upon her, withdrawn from there above. Gazing upon her I became within me such as Glaucus became on tasting of the grass that made him sea-fellow of the other gods. The passing beyond humanity may not be set forth in words: therefore let the example suffice any for whom grace reserves that experience.

I believe this is the first use of the word "transhuman", in any variation, recorded.

A reader's guide to Halfway down the Danube

There seems to be a little confusion about who is who on Halfway down the Danube. I've compiled this little guide to clear things up. This is my friend Doug. A self-made man, he's quite a guy. This is Claudia. She's gorgeous. She's one lady who knows how to take care of herself. By the way, my name is Carlos. I take care of both of them. Which ain't easy, 'cause when they met, it was murder! I hope that clears things up. All of us are a little busy at the moment, but we hope to post more soon.

Two bumper stickers

... seen on parked cars between Prospect Park and Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York. The first: I would fight for hippie chicks The second: GOTT MIT UNS Enough said.

Friday non-cat blogging

Since I have no cats (and this condition seems likely to be permanent) I thought I'd mention some of the things I've been researching lately:

The political economy of the American empire in the Philippines, 1898 to 1913. If you think the current situation in Iraq makes no sense, you have to read about the Philippines to understand what "no sense" really means. (Actually, the last part of that sentence is pretty much invariant no matter what you're thinking of.) Picture an occupation composed of one part Richard Perle, one part the Peace Corps, and one part your favorite spaghetti Western. That's about right. The rise and fall of the mail-order house industry the US. I was inspired by Carrie at Bad Mama, who discovered her new home was actually an Aladdin house, built in Michigan, and shipped via rail several hundred miles to its point of final assembly some time in the late 1910s. You'd never know it. (By the way, Peanut, Bad Mama's miracle elf princess, just underwent painful osteotomic corrective surgery. You might want to post some wubba.)

Alright, already

Because I have absolutely nothing better to do right now.

"It's funny how that's what's left at the end, isn't it? All the stupid stuff. Not 'War and Peace,' not James Joyce. Just the comics, the super heroes. ... Why do people get so ashamed of things? ... I mean, I really love those comics." -- Flex Mentallo by Grant Morrison

If you could have one superpower, what would it be and why? (Assume you also get baseline superhero enhancements like moderately increased strength, endurance and agility.) Most superpowers are -- let's face it -- pretty useless. Firing energy bolts from my eyes would be kinda cool, but not very relevant to my current life as husband, father, and consultant. Though I suppose my three-year-old would get a kick out of it. The ones that aren't useless... well, Charles Xavier's mental powers would let me make a difference in the world, yes. ("And now, Mr. President, let's talk about Supreme Court nominees.") That would be tempting. But I guess I really am a Burkean conservative at heart: I don't think I could trust anyone with that kind of power, including myself. Super-intelligence would be pretty interesting. But wouldn't I get bored? And lonely? Immortality. Been a fantasy of mine since I was a kid. (It's why Vandal Savage was always one of my favorite villains.) I'd get to see history from the right perspective. I'd be able to travel to all the places. I'd have time to read all the books! But, again, lonely. Flight is very tempting. I'd love to be able to fly. But I think I'd go with teleportatation... no distance limits, no conservation of potential energy or momentum, and I can take people with me. No more car trips with the kids. I can see all my friends any time. And when I want good sushi, fresh from the lagoon... I'm there.

Writer's blog

This blog has been lacking new content lately. If I had cats, I could blog about them on Fridays! But I don't. There's a game of make-up-your-own conspiracy tag going around, but since I seem to be a chain termination step in such matters (at least with my co-bloggers, unsubtle and slightly needling hint) there's not much point. Anyway, There Is No Conspiracy. It's been 30 to 35 degrees C in New York City lately, which I have been enjoying immensely. After pneumonia, it's like being wrapped in a nice warm blanket. My dad tells me to e-mail him every once in a while, just to say, "I'm not dead." He's very practical that way. Think of this post as the equivalent.

Free time, threat or menace?

So I've been tagged again, this time by James Nicoll, who in turn got it from occasional HDTD reader Martin Wisse. It's even geekier than the last one: If you could have one superpower, what would it be and why? (Assume you also get baseline superhero enhancements like moderately increased strength, endurance and agility.)

Seriously? I think I'd choose something non-flashy, like the power to heal (and explain how) or the power to translate perfectly (and explain how).

Nothing here - but there, oh look!

I'm sorry about the recent lull here on HDTD. Doug's in Albania, the nanny is sick, my mother-in-law is visiting and my life is just full of stupid little things like paying bills, filing insurance claims and making sure the boys don't kill each other. So, nothing interesting to read here at the moment until Doug comes back (today! yay!) However, if you haven't yet, please read this.

Albania again

I'm back in Albania again. I owe our friends over at A Fistful of Euros some posts, so most of my Albania-blogging will be going on over there. Here's my first post. I'll try to post here too, as time allows. In any event I'll be back on Saturday.

The Hostages Are Back

So Romania's hostages got freed. This will be old news to our Romanian readers, since it happened nearly two weeks ago. Non-Romanian readers may not have noticed that Romania had three hostages in Iraq. (Hardly anyone outside Romania seems to have.) Two reporters and a cameraman, they were taken on March 28 and released nearly two months later, on May 22. They had a very frightening and stressful time, but seem to be basically intact. The whole country is very happy that they're back. Once you get beyond those very basic facts, though, things start to get weird.

The Last Defender of Bucharest

A Romanian friend sent us this picture (under the fold). The memorial commemorates the last stand when Bucharest fell to the Germans in 1916. It stands by the main road north to Ploiesti and the airport; we've driven past it a hundred times. The inscription says "The Last Defender of Bucharest".

Tag! you're it.

Charlie Stross has book-tagged me! Ow. This is like a chain-letter in blog form. Should be self-explanatory. 1: Total number of books I own: oh, goodness. The vast majority is still in storage. I got fifty or so with me. Call it two thousand. I sold about three hundred in the recent cull, which put a noticeable dent into the collection. 2: The last book I bought: Whispering Nickel Idols, Glen Cook; Trash Sex Magic, Jennifer Stevenson; What's the Matter with Kansas, Thomas Frank. 3: The last book I read: The Descent of Alette, Alice Notley. Working on: Alabi's World, Richard Price; The Makioka Sisters, Junichiro Tanizaki; and (still) Henry, King of France, Heinrich Mann. (Hank does not have his brother Tom's skill.) Professional books I am reading in chunks: The Politics of Property Rights: political stability, credible commitments, and economic growth in Mexico, 1876-1929, by Haber, Razo, and some guy named Noel Maurer. 4: Five books that mean a lot to me: probably best to go in chronological order.