meme survey
i've been ordered to do one of these things again, this time about books.
Which book would you memorise if you were on a desert island?
probably a dictionary. i hate having to look up words. it makes me feel stupid. i love using dictionaries though, it makes me feel intelligent.
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
if crush means infatuation (non sexual) it must be the earliest character i loved from a book. the one i remember right now is matilda from matilda by roald dahl. i guess i wanted to be just like her: be brilliant at maths, read every book in her local library, move things with my eyes. the first love is the deepest.
if crush means sexual attractions then i can safely say that all those horny women that write into porno magazines and feel the need to share their dirty exploits fit the bill. i have had a crush on every one of them.
The last book you bought is?
i can't remember the title, but it's about shakespeare. on the cover, there is a quote from alec guiness, and he says he really likes it.
The last book you finished is:
finished ward 6 and other short stories by chekov. he's like a 19th century russian woody allen with less penis jokes.
What are you currently reading?
just started the aspern papers by henry james. it's written in first person and i now know what a gordian knot is.
Five books you would take to a desert island?
the complete works of william shakespeare (abridged): i'm such a cliche, but i truly believe, like everyone else who doesn't hate good things, that shakespeare is the greatest writer that mankind has ever produced. no-one can stand on his shoulders and should they try, they will surely burn to ash in the rays of the molten sun. i need the abridgment to explain all the classical allusions.
the bible: king james I version of course. if i were to be stuck on a island, alone, the people i would most like to talk to would be hamlet first, then god. as i know next to nothing about the other gods mankind has created (or the other gods that have created mankind) i choose the christian one because i went to a church of england school. i still remember jonah was swallowed by a whale and thomas didn't trust anyone, not even the son of god. i would also need a reference book to look up all the biblical allusions.
bob dylan's songs - the complete lyrics: if i could read his words, then i can hear his music. music would be priceless on an empty island. i could use the bible to reference his christian period.
a complete transcript of every film woody allen has made: i can conjure up the scenes in my head, alone with his voice. I would picture diane keaton as every leading lady. i would have the early funny ones to make me laugh, the middle serious ones to ponder about and the late funny ones to make me laugh again.
the complete works of harold bloom: if i can't read the books i want to read, then i would like to read about them. who else would I have as a guide and mentor through this dark and fascinating forest?
i think the last 3 books don't really exist in real life, but i'm sure that if i was going to be banished to a desert island, then someone would publish them for me.
I'm going to send this to:
tim, kev, joe and mei. once again, just answer the question in italics.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Saturday, April 02, 2005
video
i watched all of britney spears' music videos recently. i watched them all several times.
the more i watched, the less sense they all made. in oops i did it again, britney spears is actually an alien from mars. the guy who finds her is an astronaut wearing a space suit. britney takes off his helmet: he doesn't die. he's supposed to be on mars.
in toxic, britney breaks into some secret laboratory to steal some toxic thing. then she feeds it to a man and jumps out of the window. the camera then zooms back and she is back as an airplane stewardess. she winks at the camera. was it all a flashback? some phantasmagoria in the mind of a bored trolley dolly? what does the toxic thing do?
we accept a lot when we watch music videos.
new ton
read issac newton by james gleick. tim makes a good point about how well newton would have done in this day and age with computers and money, whereas things like paper was scarce in newton's days. the thing that interests me more is that newton had to invent a language to talk about what he found. he had to define distance (a foot in paris was different to a foot in london, and gallieo used cubits and others just used what ever the hell they wanted), he had to define time (he used a pendulum) he had to define the difference between speed, velocity, acceleration, force, power, weight, mass using books written in latin, french, italian and arabic.
i kept thinking of orwell's 1984, where the government is trying to control thought through language. it kind of gives you hope that we as humans can use the force of our intellect to create words for concepts that we barely understand, but are infinitely tangible.
look! there's a pollywobble!
check off
read the student, the 2 volodyas, the grasshopper and ariadna by anton chekov. they were all short stories. the student is recommended by bloom. i have just one word to describe them. they were very chekovian.
(everyone should read the student because it is less than 3 pages long, then you can tell everyone you've read chekov and start calling things chekovian. that new britney spears video: very chekovian.)
can't sing
2 songs i can't sing without lying.
neil young - old man.
4 non blondes - what's going on.
j page
are you sure you weren't eating in front of a mirror?
i watched all of britney spears' music videos recently. i watched them all several times.
the more i watched, the less sense they all made. in oops i did it again, britney spears is actually an alien from mars. the guy who finds her is an astronaut wearing a space suit. britney takes off his helmet: he doesn't die. he's supposed to be on mars.
in toxic, britney breaks into some secret laboratory to steal some toxic thing. then she feeds it to a man and jumps out of the window. the camera then zooms back and she is back as an airplane stewardess. she winks at the camera. was it all a flashback? some phantasmagoria in the mind of a bored trolley dolly? what does the toxic thing do?
we accept a lot when we watch music videos.
new ton
read issac newton by james gleick. tim makes a good point about how well newton would have done in this day and age with computers and money, whereas things like paper was scarce in newton's days. the thing that interests me more is that newton had to invent a language to talk about what he found. he had to define distance (a foot in paris was different to a foot in london, and gallieo used cubits and others just used what ever the hell they wanted), he had to define time (he used a pendulum) he had to define the difference between speed, velocity, acceleration, force, power, weight, mass using books written in latin, french, italian and arabic.
i kept thinking of orwell's 1984, where the government is trying to control thought through language. it kind of gives you hope that we as humans can use the force of our intellect to create words for concepts that we barely understand, but are infinitely tangible.
look! there's a pollywobble!
check off
read the student, the 2 volodyas, the grasshopper and ariadna by anton chekov. they were all short stories. the student is recommended by bloom. i have just one word to describe them. they were very chekovian.
(everyone should read the student because it is less than 3 pages long, then you can tell everyone you've read chekov and start calling things chekovian. that new britney spears video: very chekovian.)
can't sing
2 songs i can't sing without lying.
neil young - old man.
4 non blondes - what's going on.
j page
are you sure you weren't eating in front of a mirror?
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
fans
some people don't like bob dylan. that's ok, i'm not his dad or anything. if you don't like him, it's fine with me. no, it really is. it's like saying you don't like caviar or mcdonald's french fries.
i would add though: dylan's "christian phase" produced slow train coming: which is nick cave's favorite dylan album. his 90's albums: as good as i've been to you, world gone wrong: see greil marcus; time out of mind: see anyone with ears and a brain or elvis costello.
book
i just read 31 songs by nick hornby. i remember will self said something like if nick hornby was at a party, he'd be the guy spending all evening in the kitchen. if 31 songs represents his personality, i predict he would be something like this: he'd be middle class and softly spoken. he wouldn't complain in a restaurant or say anything if someone pushed in front of him in a queue. he would generally be frugal with money, unless it was something he was really interested in. he would consequently spend the next week telling his mates how expensive it was, but he just had to have it. he'd have interesting things to say when you went for a pint, but would never dance or do karaoke, unless he was really pissed. he'd be the guy who would always have a girlfriend but never talk about her. he'd never be angry or sad, and he'd grin most of the time, and occasionally be too earnest to bear.
DQ
sancho would never say bloke, and doesn't in my copy.
some people don't like bob dylan. that's ok, i'm not his dad or anything. if you don't like him, it's fine with me. no, it really is. it's like saying you don't like caviar or mcdonald's french fries.
i would add though: dylan's "christian phase" produced slow train coming: which is nick cave's favorite dylan album. his 90's albums: as good as i've been to you, world gone wrong: see greil marcus; time out of mind: see anyone with ears and a brain or elvis costello.
book
i just read 31 songs by nick hornby. i remember will self said something like if nick hornby was at a party, he'd be the guy spending all evening in the kitchen. if 31 songs represents his personality, i predict he would be something like this: he'd be middle class and softly spoken. he wouldn't complain in a restaurant or say anything if someone pushed in front of him in a queue. he would generally be frugal with money, unless it was something he was really interested in. he would consequently spend the next week telling his mates how expensive it was, but he just had to have it. he'd have interesting things to say when you went for a pint, but would never dance or do karaoke, unless he was really pissed. he'd be the guy who would always have a girlfriend but never talk about her. he'd never be angry or sad, and he'd grin most of the time, and occasionally be too earnest to bear.
DQ
sancho would never say bloke, and doesn't in my copy.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
blue skies
it is spring here; or it most certainly feels like spring. the sun is shining and perfect white cloud hang in the otherwise empty sky.
swearing
"i was in a fucking bookshop right, looking for a fucking book. then this fucking bloke walks up to me and starts fucking talking to me; this fucking bloke i have never fucking seen before in my life. the fucking bloke starts to ask me all these fucking questions about this book and that book. i have no idea what his is fucking on about. i say to him: "sorry i don't know", but he doesn't fucking listen to me. he just fucking keeps on talking and i have to fucking walk away and out of the shop. i didn't even buy the fucking book i wanted."
haircut
got my haircut today. i dislike getting my haircut. i used to have this fear that the barber would die half way cutting my hair and that the barber would be taken to hospital and then the hairdressers would be closed for the rest of the day and i would be left looking like a prat with half a haircut.
when you don't speak like a native, getting a haircut is a little hit and miss. i go to a hairdressers called ".com". as with everything, i use english first; then mime; then use japanese. they all nod as i describe 3 different haircuts in 3 different languages. they do try to offer me the complete service though: they offer me japanese magazines that i can't read and ask questions i don't understand. the most useful phrase in japan is "that's fine thankyou" as you can use it to answer every question:
"would you like a magazine?"
"is the water too hot?"
"do you want it dyed?"
"how about having your eyebrows plucked?"
"would you like it shorter?"
"would you like a point card?"
the end result is often something i don't really care too much about as if it is crap then it will grow back; and if it is cool then i am really cool for the next few weeks to people that judge people on haircuts. i sat in the chair for about 40 minutes and looked at the blur in the mirror.
time passes. i like this haircut. he explained to me that the hair on the left hand side is longer than the hair on the right hand side because my crown is off centre and the excess hair is needed to make my head symmetrical. i thanked him and he thanked me. i paid and he bowed. i left with everything balanced.
it is spring here; or it most certainly feels like spring. the sun is shining and perfect white cloud hang in the otherwise empty sky.
swearing
"i was in a fucking bookshop right, looking for a fucking book. then this fucking bloke walks up to me and starts fucking talking to me; this fucking bloke i have never fucking seen before in my life. the fucking bloke starts to ask me all these fucking questions about this book and that book. i have no idea what his is fucking on about. i say to him: "sorry i don't know", but he doesn't fucking listen to me. he just fucking keeps on talking and i have to fucking walk away and out of the shop. i didn't even buy the fucking book i wanted."
haircut
got my haircut today. i dislike getting my haircut. i used to have this fear that the barber would die half way cutting my hair and that the barber would be taken to hospital and then the hairdressers would be closed for the rest of the day and i would be left looking like a prat with half a haircut.
when you don't speak like a native, getting a haircut is a little hit and miss. i go to a hairdressers called ".com". as with everything, i use english first; then mime; then use japanese. they all nod as i describe 3 different haircuts in 3 different languages. they do try to offer me the complete service though: they offer me japanese magazines that i can't read and ask questions i don't understand. the most useful phrase in japan is "that's fine thankyou" as you can use it to answer every question:
"would you like a magazine?"
"is the water too hot?"
"do you want it dyed?"
"how about having your eyebrows plucked?"
"would you like it shorter?"
"would you like a point card?"
the end result is often something i don't really care too much about as if it is crap then it will grow back; and if it is cool then i am really cool for the next few weeks to people that judge people on haircuts. i sat in the chair for about 40 minutes and looked at the blur in the mirror.
time passes. i like this haircut. he explained to me that the hair on the left hand side is longer than the hair on the right hand side because my crown is off centre and the excess hair is needed to make my head symmetrical. i thanked him and he thanked me. i paid and he bowed. i left with everything balanced.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
booked
finished the story of english by robert mccrum, william cran and robert macneil. i only found out after starting it that i had the 3rd edition and the first came out in 1980s: everything in it is pre email and internet, which makes the book oddly outdated already.
the book is about the evolution of english and the future of english; how english survived the romans and normans; the spread of english via the potato famine, slavery, imperialism and hollywood; to new variants of english such as american, australian, jamaica, singapore and india. some people think that english will become a world language, and survive in a simplified standard form. others believe it will break up and form independent languages, like latin did in the middle ages.
i can't help thinking that english, as we know it, will break up. witness the word coffee. in england, where i'm from it is pronounced: co fee. in japan, it is pronounced: cor hee. someone from new york might say: cquwor fee. in hong kong: gar fe. could i order a gar fe in new york or cor hee in london? maybe not. and who's to say who has the correct pronunciation? even in england, the home of english, someone from glastonbury differs from someone from newcastle to someone from norwich. and couldn't you argue that american english is the most familiar due to the movies ergo an american accent should be standard? (of course there is the same problem with regional variation in the usa too).
dr samuel johnson said english is a living, growing language anyway so it may be beyond our parental control.
ps. on the subject of pronunciation, you may think foreign tongues corrupt the sound of english, but doors swing both ways: karate is pronounced ka la te in japan; not kaara tea. sumo is pronounced su mo; not sue mow. karaoke is ka le o ke; not karry okey.
hamlet
i read hamlet twice. i had to read it twice because i couldn't understand it the first time. i still feel i should read it again still.
rather that write a brief ill conceived discourse, i will leave it with other writers far more qualified than i. i will just say a few words though, and if you do not want to know what happens at the end of the play, stop reading now.
the first time i read it, my favorite part was when hamlet's mother drinks the poison. not the big soliloquies about life and death and revenge and duty, but a simple slice of treachery. i just couldn't believe it: she was just beginning to bond with her son again too. oh well, she probably deserved it anyway.
in fact they all kind of deserve it for being stupid. hamlet is surrounded by morons. idiots. why would claudius marry the widow so soon? it smacks of gulit and stupidity and parades your motive. and why would gertrude say yes after only two months? has she no concept of gossip? why is laertes such a willing dog; has he no brain? ophelia: why are you so sad? you dumped him, remember! horatio, you bloody dummy! hamlet is your friend! advise him, talk to him: do something! rosencrantz and guildenstern: well, if you were alive today, you'd make very good middle managers of a small to medium sized company.
ps. a petard is a bomb. to be "hoist" by your own "petard" is to be blown up by your own bomb. some people may be interested in that fact.
finished the story of english by robert mccrum, william cran and robert macneil. i only found out after starting it that i had the 3rd edition and the first came out in 1980s: everything in it is pre email and internet, which makes the book oddly outdated already.
the book is about the evolution of english and the future of english; how english survived the romans and normans; the spread of english via the potato famine, slavery, imperialism and hollywood; to new variants of english such as american, australian, jamaica, singapore and india. some people think that english will become a world language, and survive in a simplified standard form. others believe it will break up and form independent languages, like latin did in the middle ages.
i can't help thinking that english, as we know it, will break up. witness the word coffee. in england, where i'm from it is pronounced: co fee. in japan, it is pronounced: cor hee. someone from new york might say: cquwor fee. in hong kong: gar fe. could i order a gar fe in new york or cor hee in london? maybe not. and who's to say who has the correct pronunciation? even in england, the home of english, someone from glastonbury differs from someone from newcastle to someone from norwich. and couldn't you argue that american english is the most familiar due to the movies ergo an american accent should be standard? (of course there is the same problem with regional variation in the usa too).
dr samuel johnson said english is a living, growing language anyway so it may be beyond our parental control.
ps. on the subject of pronunciation, you may think foreign tongues corrupt the sound of english, but doors swing both ways: karate is pronounced ka la te in japan; not kaara tea. sumo is pronounced su mo; not sue mow. karaoke is ka le o ke; not karry okey.
hamlet
i read hamlet twice. i had to read it twice because i couldn't understand it the first time. i still feel i should read it again still.
rather that write a brief ill conceived discourse, i will leave it with other writers far more qualified than i. i will just say a few words though, and if you do not want to know what happens at the end of the play, stop reading now.
the first time i read it, my favorite part was when hamlet's mother drinks the poison. not the big soliloquies about life and death and revenge and duty, but a simple slice of treachery. i just couldn't believe it: she was just beginning to bond with her son again too. oh well, she probably deserved it anyway.
in fact they all kind of deserve it for being stupid. hamlet is surrounded by morons. idiots. why would claudius marry the widow so soon? it smacks of gulit and stupidity and parades your motive. and why would gertrude say yes after only two months? has she no concept of gossip? why is laertes such a willing dog; has he no brain? ophelia: why are you so sad? you dumped him, remember! horatio, you bloody dummy! hamlet is your friend! advise him, talk to him: do something! rosencrantz and guildenstern: well, if you were alive today, you'd make very good middle managers of a small to medium sized company.
ps. a petard is a bomb. to be "hoist" by your own "petard" is to be blown up by your own bomb. some people may be interested in that fact.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
book
i finished gangs of new york by herbert asbury. it`s a bit shit. the best bit is the bit about the draft riots, but even that gets a bit tedious; with him talking about 14th street and 34th street and precinct 8 and 66th street, it's all a bit boring. the biggest problem is that it's a bit samey. he describes, what feels like, hundreds of gang clashes that they all become on big bloody crushed anonymous body. he hit him, she cut her, they beat them... yawn yawn yawn.
the best bit about it, apart from the ok bit about the draft riots, is the language. he talks about sling shotting and blackjacking someone. the process of sneak thieves and inmates working in the brothels; people live in tenements and get violent tremens after drinking at the ball.
i started reading the story of english by 3 guys whose names i don`t remember at this moment. it`s pretty good. also reading a play about denmark; where everyone speaks english.
films
mystic river: good.
bourne conspiricy: good.
school of rock: good.
barry lyndon: ok.
barry lyndon had a great duel sequence in it.
i finished gangs of new york by herbert asbury. it`s a bit shit. the best bit is the bit about the draft riots, but even that gets a bit tedious; with him talking about 14th street and 34th street and precinct 8 and 66th street, it's all a bit boring. the biggest problem is that it's a bit samey. he describes, what feels like, hundreds of gang clashes that they all become on big bloody crushed anonymous body. he hit him, she cut her, they beat them... yawn yawn yawn.
the best bit about it, apart from the ok bit about the draft riots, is the language. he talks about sling shotting and blackjacking someone. the process of sneak thieves and inmates working in the brothels; people live in tenements and get violent tremens after drinking at the ball.
i started reading the story of english by 3 guys whose names i don`t remember at this moment. it`s pretty good. also reading a play about denmark; where everyone speaks english.
films
mystic river: good.
bourne conspiricy: good.
school of rock: good.
barry lyndon: ok.
barry lyndon had a great duel sequence in it.
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