"Another Story" and the silly, stupid comment

Another Story 

-I like to go to bed with strangers.

-Really? Me, too. 

-Well, how strange are you?

-Strange enough.

That was how we first talked with each other, at a poker table in Bellagio Poker Room in Vegas. It was July. That means two months ago when the ambient temperature was in the 115-120 range for the whole damned month. She had a low-cut blouse almost down to her navel. She didn't wear a bra.  She was on my left. Whenever she leaned forward, I and the whole table could see her enormous nipples which were bigger, I swear, than my thumbs. I was afraid I was developing a cross-eyed problem by the time the session was over because I kept glancing to my left. She must have liked my visual inspection because twice she leaned over and whispered into my ear "Enjoy the view of the pyramids?". I was red faced the first time, but I didn't say anything. But when she repeated the question the second time, I had an answer ready for her,  "Yes, but I would like to know if the pyramids are for real or just an optical illusion because of silicone enhancement." That was when she came up with the follow-through that she liked to go to bed with strangers (to be continued)

Note:

The above paragraphs are part of a "story in progress". I sent it out to various acquaintances and friends. Lo and behold, an irritating and stupid comment arrived in the inbox. The writer missed all the points about the eye-catching, attention-getting paragraphs. He was complaining about "proprietary" bullshit where there was none. Once you post your views on the Internet, they take on a life of their own. The writer showed shallow thinking and lack of empathy and sympathy in criticizing the Pyramid Lady. That prompted me to post the following in response: 

What's the big, fucking deal about the display of tits and nipples in public settings? We are not in Victorian Age, for Pete's Sake. We are amidst the times and mores of nudist colonies and public nudity running amok and rampant pornographic photos and movies on the Net. A more appropriate question is about the motive of the Pyramid Lady, not her behavior per se. I further wrote:

Each human relates to the world in his/her own way. The Pyramid Lady uses her body to connect with men, to get their attention. She has no finesse and is coarse. But a person's inner core should not be judged on the finesse and coarseness spectrum. There are far more important criteria. 

True thinking is hard work. Usually it is a gift. It does not matter how persistent a dude with room temperature IQ is, he cannot understand Shakespeare nor can he grasp the notion that time and space are related and part of the broader framework. Lesser humans tend to exhibit envy, facile generalizations, and put-downs. They cannot accept the notion that they must learn to be comfortable with who they are and their limitations. They fantasize of being greater than they are. They take a bigger bite than they can chew. I despise and feel sorry for them at the same time. All they have is fucking stupid and cheap sarcasms to make them feel " smart". Little do they know any asshole can utter a sarcastic remark. Sarcasm is cheap wit. 

Roberto Wissai/NKBa'

Where are you now and where you think you're heading

Where are you now and where you think you're heading

Where are you now
That was the question you asked of yourself
More than fifty years ago
You're asking yourself the same thing now
Wow, the French were right
The more you changed, the more you remained uptight
You're back to where you were
The only thing different is you look old
Your hair gray and you're getting bald
But you're not wiser
Not at all
Two nights ago, you showed up at the airport one day late
You didn't know that until you got to the gate
It hit you then maybe you're about to get a visit from Dr. Alzheimer
This morning, the periodontist pulled out a tooth
He said solemnly, call my office if things don't go smooth 
Then she called, asking about the dental visit
You replied, I feel like shit
She burst out crying, nobody loves you, she said
Not your wives, sisters, friends and mistress
Why, Why, Roberto, Why
What did you do wrong
On and on she cried
While you continued bleeding, even now. 
Nietzsche once said, if you know the why, you'll come up with the how
Problem is: deep, deep down 
You don't know if you want to live
A woman wrote to you that she loved you 
You wrote back with a poem
But she knew she and you were just playing an Internet game
Love is easy and then it's not 
It requires much more than being hot 
Three am and you can't sleep
You're bleeding inside real deep

Wissai
August 16, 2013

Notes on Humans and Language

1. Two phases of human expansion: a)  movement of Homo erectus out of Africa 1 to 2 million years ago; b) spread of Homo sapiens around the globe, beginning 100,000 years ago and reaching every continent 60,000 years ago (The Science Times Book of Language and Linguistics, 2000, p. 46) 

2.. Dr. Cavalli-Sforza's genetic studies using DNA markers have indicated that Europeans are a mixed population that emerged only about 30,000 years ago and appears to have about 65% Asian ancestry and 35% African ancestry (plus or minus 8% error rate). Australian aboriginals, though they appear to look more like Africans, are genetically closer to Chinese. (ibid., p.49)

3. Christopher, 29, cannot draw simple figures, add 2 and 2 or tie his shoes. Yet he speaks 16 languages, half of them fluently, and is also a gifted translator. But his language abilities are independent of his cognitive abilities. He is not able to think about what he translates. 

Carla, 22, grew up speaking Italian and English . When she began training to become a simultaneous translator, her language ability was localized on the left side of her brain. But after the training, English shifted to her right brain while her Italian remained on the left.  

Study of individuals like Christopher and Carla, together with sophisticated new instruments like PET scanners have led neurophysiologists to suspect that there is not a single center for language. Some findings:

-Like the Cray computer,a person's first language is tightly organized in terms of nerve cell circuits. Second languages are more loosely organized in the brain, which is why it often takes longer to find words in them. But a knock in one part of the brain can knock out a native language and leave later- learned languages intact or vice versa. 

-Different aspects of language, like proper nouns, common nouns,  and regular or irregular verbs, are processed in different areas of the brain. But these areas do not send their signals to a common destination for integration. Rather, language and perhaps all cognition are governed by some as yet undiscovered mechanism that binds different brain areas together in time, not place. 

-Each human appears to have a unique pattern of organization for language ability---as unique as facial features or fingerprints. Broca's  and Wernicke's areas are indeed important language-processing regions in most people, but many additional language-areas are found elsewhere in the brain. Two left-brain regions called the temporal and parietal lobes are particularly rich in multiple-language areas. Each essential language area is composed of sharply defined patch of nerve cells, each about the size of a grape. The cells in each patch appear to be connected to many others located in distant parts of the brain. Different patches govern language functions such as reading, identifying the meaning of words, recalling verbs and processing the words and grammars of foreign languages. The essential areas can be thought of as "convergence zones" where the key to the combination of components of words and objects is stored. Thus knowledge of words and concepts is distributed widely throughout the brain but needs a third-party mediator---the convergence zone---to bring the knowledge together, during reactivation. The convergence zone concept explains the odd language disabilities of a stroke patient named Adam. When shown a picture of a dog, Adam can say it is man's 
best friend, has four legs and barks, but he cannot summon the name for dog. Nor can he distinguish one animal from another by its name. But Adam can name man-made tools with ease. The explanation: language convergence zones for natural objects are significantly damaged, but zones for man-made objects are intact. 

-The process of learning a language shapes the formation of the essential areas. From birth to the age of two, the child's brain undergoes a explosive growth of synaptic connections and is primed to learn the sounds and grammar of any language. After the age of two, language synapses that do not receive inputs from early vocalizations begin to be eliminated or suppressed, a process that continues until about age 15. (ibid., pp 134-140) 

-Williams syndrome---an enigmatic birth disorder caused by the loss of one copy of the gene that makes elastin, a protein that is the chief constituent of the body's elastic fibers, and possibly by the loss of another gene or genes of unknown function that lie next to elastin on chromosome 7---characterized by enriched language and sociability skills may help solve the huge debate in cognitive psychology over the nature of language: is language special from the word go, under the control of special genes and located in special parts of the brain or does it piggyback on general mental function and intelligence? Studies involving children having Williams syndrome suggest that language is unique because there is a genetic defect that spares it (ibid., pp. 149-150).

-Brains may have separate units to digest reading and speech (ibid., pp. 155-157)


Comments/Insights/Personal Observations:

My interest in language development and foreign language acquisition has been long and tinged with a mixture of humiliation and pride. As mentioned before, my speech development was slow as a child. I was slow in learning to speak and when I finally did (as told to me by my mother), just before I turned three years of age, I couldn't articulate several speech sounds and I badly stuttered. That of course worried my mother and caused me to suffer from humiliation and anger when I was taunted and laughed at by the neighborhood kids and classmates. (The deep anger was recently rekindled when I  ran into certain ignorant and stupid pontificators of Vietnamese descent, who pathetically tried to prove to me that they were smarter and more informed than me in their sputtering, error-filled, broken English despite having lived  in an English-speaking environment for over 35 years). By the time I reached high school, the stuttering subsided much and the articulation problems largely disappeared. During high school years, I discovered to my delight I had no problem absorbing English and French. Still, I was painfully aware that my articulation of the speech sounds of these two languages was very poor. Nowadays I still have problems with the final /l/ articulation.

When I found myself dreaming in English I knew then I had become bilingual. Although I could navigate in French and Spanish when I have to, I know at best I am still a bilingual speaker. Knowing a language in depth takes a lifetime of dedicated study. And to be bilingual is to understand what Goethe meant when he observed that one must speak two languages to fully understand one. Learning English has helped me be more aware of the intricacies and beauty of my mother tongue.

Wissai
July 29, 2013

Em tôi ơi! tình có nghĩa gì đâu?

Em tôi ơi! tình có nghĩa gì đâu?

Nếu là không lưu luyến buổi sơ đầu?

Thuở ân ái mong manh như nắng lụa

Hoa bướm ngập ngừng cỏ cây lần lữa

Hồ Dzếnh

My Báby! what does love really mean? 

If not the lingering moments when we first met? 

The love-making sessions as tenuous as silk in sunshine 

As tentative as when flowers hesitatingly greeted butterflies

While grass and trees were not in a mood to start a fire

Translated by Wissai

August 6, 2013

Thou walked in beauty in the night

Of bright moon and starry sky,

But nothing could be as bright as thy smile

When thou softly said in a voice so fine 

That thou would like to look into my eyes, 

Then whisper into my ear while holding me tight

That thy love for me could no longer be denied. 

 I felt then and there I was bathed in a shower of lights.

Wissai

August 15, 2013

Flaskbacks

Flashbacks

Yesterday I met somebody from the past. He reminisced of past times which brought back unpleasant memories, but I coped all right. Memories are only important--good or bad---if we let them. Man is a wondrous being if he knows how to harness his mind and if he has a clear understanding of the nature of things. People suffer because of their ignorance of the workings of the human mind and let "intangible" and yet very "real" "things" like ego and pride hurt and even destroy them. The more I live, the more human behavior fascinates me. Most of what humans act (my own behavioral patterns included) are not driven by facts and realities, but by wishful thinking and cravings for insubstantial and unworthy concepts and "values". 

At any rate, what matters to me now and in my remaining time on earth is my daily attempt to control and master my emotions while preparing for my inevitable death. I must live my remaining life with insouciance, peace, and utter contempt for the human animals. I must have an airy, light, happy attitude about "things". As Ralph Emerson once remarked, truths are beautiful but so are lies. Make use of both if you are after beauty. I was once affected---like everybody else, I guess---by beauty. But nowadays, I value honesty and loyalty more. I write so I can get there, hopefully.

I used to love harping on the fact that I lived for facts and truths. But Pontius Pilate, if my recollection is correct, once rhetorically asked Jesus of Nazareth, "What is truth?" And the good Russian doctor turned playwright and short story writer Chekhov  once said through a character in his play, The Cherry Orchard, "What truth? You see where truth is, and where untruth is, but I seem to have lost my sight and see nothing." 

I was kind and patient to a boorish fellow, but he mistook my kindness and patience as symptoms of an unbearable loneliness or weak will. He didn't understand me. A female friend of many years didn't understand me either. She kept saying she loved me as if her love would overcome and transcend everything, including her lack of understanding me. Ego and pride, while "intangible", are very real to me. They are the prime determinants of my behaviors. I do things mostly not to further my physical existence, not to obtain money or to attain fame, but to validate myself, to seek self-confirmation as a sensitive, intelligent, creative, artistic human being. He and she said and did things that pissed me off. So I am staying away from them. I am not emotionally masochistic. Far from it. 

I also know a sensitive and artistic fellow who is very proud of being a chameleon in dealing with people. But in my book, being sensitive and artistic and chameleonic does not really mean shit if you are also cowardly and ungrateful and deracinated and don't give a damn about your native country, especially if it needs your help. In addition, I think once you are a barbarian, you stay a barbarian, regardless of the fact that you are at the gate or not, or if you have money or not. You can be rich, but still an ignorant, stupid, vulgar, pontifical, sophistic barbarian. As regards myself, I may be obsessive-compulsive and somewhat vulgar, which is not necessarily confined in my predilection for earthy language. So don't think I don't know myself. But unlike many others, I don't have an inflated sense of self nor do I try to affect a civilized and humble personality. 

Many years ago, Tony, a friend of mine who was in the contract business told me, "Everybody dies, Roberto. It's a just matter of when. So make up your mind if that's you or some quack doctor who gets paid for somebody's death. If you're interested, I'll show you the ropes." I declined his kind offer because I had neither the courage nor the cynicism required to be in the business. But I have stayed in touch with Tony in case I need a helping hand. 

Nevertheless, I remember one basic lesson Tony was kind enough to inculcate in my consciousness, "Remember, never think of yourself or put yourself into a position as a prey. Aways think you're a predator, an alpha male, and train yourself to act like one: with alertness, purpose, and confidence. We all die once. Nobody dies twice. Don't fear death. Fear will paralyze you and make you weak. Think of yourself as a samurai. Immerse yourself in the knowledge of Bushido. You have three weaknesses: you talk too much; you confide in people whom you hardly know; and you seek sympathy. Remember, a hard man is good to find, not a good man is hard to find. Be hard, not good. Good may get you killed. Finally, don't let ego rule you. A guide, yes, but not a ruler. You are the ruler, not your ego. So don't stand out. Be an Everyman. Be incognito. One more thing about ego. Don't ever think your life is better than anybody's else, even if that person is a scumbag or a  homeless guy. You're wrong if you think like that. That's ego thinking. That's stupid thinking. Your life is valuable to you because it is yours. It is no more or less valuable than anybody else's. Forget about gene selection and propagation. That's sentimentality talking. You will suffer if you are sentimental. Be hard, not sentimental."

I like Tony's unadorned, hard-hitting, direct style of speaking. Of course, I didn't take to heart my friend's advice. I did everything opposite of what he had told me to do. It has been a miracle I am still alive today. But I am changing. Finally. I really want to live, now that most people I know are dropping dead. Death is the end point of a life and should be the definite and final point. But Man is an organism steeped in delusions and wishful thinking.  So he invented all kinds of religion and as far as I know, the main ones (monotheistic religions originating from the Middle East, and Hinduism and its offshoot, Buddhism) all stress that Death is not final and many humans actually believe that. Some of them also believe in the physical locale of heaven and that's where they are going to reside after they die. Some of them even they are going to live again, in another incarnation as a human. Man is very strange and deep down not rational at all, if you ask me. He is the only self-conflicting animal on this planet. 

War Horse

The movie "War Horse", Aesthetics, and "Criticism/Opinions/Comments"

Spoken words may or may not linger in memory, but written words, especially in the Age of Internet, last forever. So wise men refrain from writing anything that makes them appear stupid and ignorant. But,  Alexander Pope, a British man of letters, remarked in his poem "An Essay in Criticism"  that fools rush in where angels fear to tread, a statement that appears to have been immortalized in the English language. I am a fool so I am going out on a limb and share with you certain views.

I just finished watching the movie "War Horse". I came across it on a lark. I picked it up from the library, solely from the basis of the title. I grew up in an absurd, stupid civil war during my formative years. I watched my native country bombed to shreds by the American Air Force and my people maimed and their morals shattered. I like horses for their beauty, grace, and strength, but not enough to watch any movie about horses (I have not watched "Sea Biscuit" and "Black Stallion"). But the combination of "War" and "Horse"compelled me to pick up the DVD and examined the jacket. I finally decided to take it home. And I was glad that I did. The story was good. The directing was sensitive and faithful to the time period of the story. The pacing was right. And the acting was convincing, not laborious. 

I am no movie critic. I had no formal training nor exposure to the craft of movie-making. I react to a movie on the basis of: 

1) how it makes me feel about it as a work of genuine art or a clumsy, pathetic attempt of telling a story visually and suggestively, along with a hidden message, if there is any, and 

2) if I learn anything from the movie--if I am transformed by it and become wiser.  

That's my personal approach to movie-watching. I am not saying that it should be the way to approach a movie. But movie-watching is an experience steeped in reactions to visual, audio, and thematic presentations. The reactions may be a bit slower to those involved in listening music where the immediacy of sound arrangement makes the listener react to a piece of music at a visceral, not analytic, level. We either like or don't like right away a piece of music when we listen to it. 

Because of the accessibility of "understanding" a movie and a piece of music, every Dick, Tom, or Harry fancies he can be a movie critic or a music critic or, heavens forbid, both, and thus won't hesitate to pontificate on the merits and demerits of a movie or a piece of music when he himself has no training nor exposure to the process of making these works of art. He then extrapolates and extends his pontifications to other arts like painting, architecture, sculpture, or literature. I personally know a nitwit who does not know crap about literature, who cannot write a single stanza of poetry in any language, but he stupidly and obstinately maintains that he can dispense comments about poetry. When questioned about his lack of familiarity with the craft of poetry writing, he gamely and blithely answered that he did not have to be a musician to appreciate music or a cook to enjoy good food. He, of course, was very proud of his answer. Little did he know that his answer exposed further his pathetic ignorance and pitiful personality. Not all arts are the same and requiring the same level of cognition and appreciation. Some arts are more accessible than others. Poetry is an art that requires from the reader a modicum of poetic sensibilities, a sensitivity to sound, music, and meanings, and a love for words. Poetry is always at a higher level of cognition and appreciation  than prose because of its compactness and suggestibility.  Everybody can write prose--- with some training, but poets are born, not trained. One does not say, okay today I decided to be a poet. One writes poetry because one has to. There is no other way. Words, arranged in a certain rhythm and sometimes rhyme, are a better tool for him to express himself about certain subjects than mere prose. A poem comes to him from deep somewhere in his subconscious and demands expression. Any fool can enjoy and pontificate about a good meal and a glass of fine wine, but that does not mean he possesses a sense of aesthetics about the arts  of cooking and wine making. It just means that his palate is not impaired. A pig can consume food with a gusto, but I seriously doubt that it has any sense of aesthetics about gourmet cooking. 

To conclude, it took me more than 40 years to be able to render into English the following stanza written by Hồ Dzếnh:

"Em cứ hẹn nhưng em đừng đến nhé!
Ðể lòng buồn tôi dạo khắp trong sân
Ngó trên tay, thuốc lá cháy lụi dần…
Tôi nói khẽ: Gớm, làm sao nhớ thế?..."

"Go ahead, make a date with me, but don't bother to show up!
So in sorrow, I'd walk around in the courtyard,
Watching the cigarette burning itself backwards on my finger tips...
And softly saying to myself: 'Damn! I do miss her much.." 

One of these days, I will translate the rest of the poem. 

Wissai
August 6, 2013

Is Life fair or Unfair?

Life is neither fair nor unfair. Life itself is just is. It "knows"/"has" no values. It is a process. It is Man who labels on things all around him to help him navigate through Life. 

Life is the here and now, not next life, not afterlife, not a pie in the sky, not mental slavery to some mind-controllers. 

We need to think to the essence, the bone marrow of issues and subjects.