Reading

A little bit of serendipity in my reading life: I snarfed the new translation of Elie Weisel's "Night" within a few hours of picking it up. And days later, another testament from that era is unveiled for the world at large: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070604/ap_on_re_mi_ea/israel_holocaust_diary. The relapsed English major who lives inside me was spinning a few alliterative comments ("courage and cravenness", "humanity and horror"), but, on second thought, that would be like pasting rhinestones on a priceless work of art. Rutka and Elie do quite well without my embellishment.

Speaking of books, I stayed up until nearly two in the morning a couple weeks back to polish off "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell". I'd been gape-jawed enthralled with Strange at the Battle of Waterloo, and the Venetian meeting of Strange and Drawlight was nearly as powerful. The denouement was quite well-done, with everything coming together to its bittersweet ending. Yet, oddly, the sense that the story is truly "over" is missing. Mind you, there's not much wiggle-room for a sequel; still, "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell" had the feel of being merely a chapter in a larger book not yet finished. Apart from too much ink given to the incredibly tedious gentleman with the thistle-down hair, it's a glorious read. If I hadn't been running short on lucidity at that hour, I probably would have sniffled a few times at the victory of love over pettiness and ego.

And, lastly, a link to an LA Times article about a (re-)re-discovered manuscript of Archimedes. Science nearly stifled by religion and chicanery...until science comes to its rescue: How apt. And, by the bye, if the git who forged the paintings that covered part of the text is still alive, I'll pay to be first in line to smack the effin' twit into his/her next incarnation. Moron.)

I left it too long between the essay-chapters of "Why I am not a Christian," so I'm missing some of the full effect. I personally think that Russell uses an ever-so-slightly oversized hammer on religion, even making allowances for the historical context. I'm not sure whether Marx and Engels could have more deeply despised the poison-laced Ovaltine the bourgeoisie claim as "morals" than Russell. Yet, surprisingly, the "Nice People" chapter wasn't nearly vicious enough--not for me, at least. I like Bertrand Russell because he is spot-on in calling out Fascism and Communism as competing religions, not outgrowths--and especially not the "logical" conclusions--of atheism itself. Once the Church is dismantled as an obstruction to the revolution, the wrecking crews can't seem to resist building a similar structure on the site, can they? The state is merely swapped in for God, its bureaucracy for the priesthood, and its perpetrators for prophets. Perhaps Russell speculates on the "why" of this elsewhere. Sadly, I haven't encountered this yet (and I'm almost finished with the book). Perhaps between different covers...

That's all the book-related goodness I have at my to pass along just now. Further reading will have to wait until after this coming weekend, when people with DNA similar to mine will be congregating some three hours away. I have promised to be among their number, and will be hosting a few fellow pilgrims besides.

Party checklist

Just back from helping two friends paint their house in preparation for selling it. Dearest and I owed them big-time for helping us move several years ago.

During the wall-washing and taping and such, I compiled a mental checklist of how do do a painting party or moving party the right way. Or at least my idea of the "right" way. So I'm posting it as a public service to anyone who has to call in friends, rather than pay professionals, for these unpleasant (though karma-building) jobs:

___ Don't procrastinate on the prep-work. It won't kill you to have it done ahead of schedule, for pity's sake. If your friends think they're coming over to help you move, they should not have to help you pack.

___ For love of the FSM, have a Plan. Then make a backup Plan in case the original Plan goes astray due to mishaps or people not showing up.

___ Clean the place thoroughly. "Thoroughly" as in, "We could perform surgery in the bathroom and pre-wash our scalpels in the toilet." Moving and painting are sweaty, ooky jobs as it is.

___ Arrange to have children and pets out of the house, or at least out from underfoot for the duration.

___ Stock the refrigerator/cooler with beverages and have munchies at the ready, even if you're feeding folks later on.

___ Have enough equipment and supplies on hand for everyone.

___ Take responsibility for being the straw boss, knowing what has to be done, and communicating that to everyone else. Don't just get stuck into your piece of the job and ignore what's going on around you.

___ Better still, have a checklist posted. (H/t to Dearest for the idea)

___ If possible, have another person designated as gopher, namely the fetcher and finder of things, who orders the pizza, restocks the 'fridge, etc.

___ Take care of yourself, but also expect to work harder than what you ask of anyone else.

___ Understand that the people helping you are working for YOU, not for beer and pizza. They can buy their own freakin' pizza and beer, and have the rest of the day/weekend/whatever to do something they'd really rather be doing. Don't undermine the karma--you might need to ask these same people for help again soon.

Tattered paper, frayed string

There is no neat way to wrap this up within myself, and I begin to suspect that I never will.

The young man to the left should have been seventeen in a few weeks. What was arranged in the casket last Friday was a poorly-done parody. Even in black and white, this image--sort of a blonde Daniel Radcliffe--is more reminiscent. This, more than the actual corpse, tolls the slow churchbell in my brain: "You will never see him again."

Understand that I cannot and will not pretend to mourn the personality that was a the cliched "perfect storm": The product of abuse and neglect and selfishness from some quarters and overindulgence and the warmed-over mistakes (of the previous generation) from others. During the downward spiral, I, like his grandfather (my father), shrugged at the waste and more or less washed my hands of him until such time as Real Life bitch-slapped some sense into the stubborn skull. "Some people just have to hit rock bottom," Dad and I parroted to each other.

Yet the memories, good and bad, appear in motley crowds at the oddest times: A baby's first cry heard through the maternity room door. Frog-marching a post-toddler to the bathroom to wash precocious profanity from his mouth. The nephew cheering his uncle in a tournament (and booing the same uncle's opponents). Introducing my padawan carnival ride junkie to The Zipper and dodging the hail of the change he forgot in his pockets. Ruthless, take-no-prisoners dogfights between two equally hot (and short) tempers.

Now I--ever so dimly--understand why fundamentalists (of any creed) automatically uncork the "moralizing" bottle to get themselves through times like these. There is nothing at all for the living in a death this unexpected, this random. Not unless we can shoehorn it into connect-the-dots notions of cause and effect, Manichean landscapes of Right and Wrong. Being deficient in that reflex (and a slow learner besides), I have come to expect to pay dearly for any truly valuable wisdom/insight/knowledge that I gain. I assume that others learn more readily than I. Yet there is no recompense for this loss to the ones that I love. They suffer, and I have so few tools with which to lessen that suffering.

"Oh, baby, what were you thinking?" I whispered to the remnants of my nephew during the visitation. I don't expect an answer now--or ever, for that matter--any more than I did then.

Ghosts

I read Gilbert's "Nuremberg Diaries" back-to-back with Speer's "Spandau Diaries" six or seven years ago. I wish I'd gone back to them in 2003 to be reminded of this gem from the Nazi who cheated the hangman (a.k.a. Hermann Goering):

"...voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same way in any country."

Excepting the hard-core Republican Guard, my gut says that Joe Sixpack has largely arrived at the same conclusion.

As Dearest and I were on the road last week, I wondered aloud whether the Democratic Party (and any moderate Republicans who haven't been driven out for the heresy of using the padding between their ears) had dropped the proverbial ball on scrutizing the book-cooking for the Iraq War...or whether the case for impeachment was being built with quiet, but devastating thoroughness, leaving no 'i' undotted nor 't' uncrossed.

As much as I want to see a trial that would make Nuremberg look like traffic court, the thought of how much damage Dick "Mr. Potter" Cheney (avec eminence grise Karl "the Kingmaker" Rove whispering in his ear) could do before January 2009 nearly gives me a facial tic.

(Granted, it's not much to choose from, between malice and stupidity. But stupidity may be, ever so slightly, the lesser of the twin evils.)
...

There will be another, more personal post later in the week. I've let finals and other obligations drive my priorities these past few weeks. Including the "priority" of distilling some very convoluted emotions into words.

Another drive-by blogging

Just ran across this during the (belated) news-cruise: http://www.physorg.com/news97953648.html It's just mind-blowing to think that anything as perishable as cloth could survive for going-on-three millennia. History's flotsam can be so boggling...

A random act of violets

Our freaky Spring played hob with the lilacs, but the lovely white violets with their purple centers turned out in droves for it. Alas, the lawn (desperately) needed mowing, so I figured that picking them to digitally memorialize their beauty was better than the alternative dismembering.

A banal composition, but I'm still in "finals" mode. Enjoy.

A science "quickie"

The next week will be as ugly as the past few have been, but after that, there will be time for things other than duty.

In the meantime, here's a tardy dose of kewlness: http://news.yahoo.com/s/livescience/20070423/sc_livescience/ancientrainforestrevealedincoalmine