Deep Blue

Whitman (see post below) had my mind ranging through the American Wild.

This is the American Wild that I was shown by my parents, of course.

Which leads me to Pirsig. You see, it’s all connected.

But you know that.

Take a look at that smile riding in back.

Robert Pirsig was indeed a Father to be respected.

He set aside his life to show his son the American Wild, this despite slowly losing his own mind at the time.

That gives a new meaning to ”Quality Time”.

Oh, by the way, just in case anyone is discouraged today: despite literally battling his mental illness to write a book about the experience(s) of the trip, Pirsig completed his book. He then received 120 rejections, and one acceptance, for his Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

One of the greatest modern books I have ever read.

And now you can too. Enjoy. If you read the book I’ve posted here, please also buy it, out of respect.

Thou art that which asserts that everything you think you are, and everything you think you perceive, are undivided.

- Robert Pirsig

Today, it’s Whitman who sings to us, from the American Wild.

I SING the Body electric;
The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul.
Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves;
And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead?
And if the body does not do as much as the Soul?
And if the body were not the Soul, what is the Soul?

- Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

In thinking about Watt this morning (the post below), I am reminded of a conversation with a new friend of mine, wherein we discussed Viktor Frankl.

“What is to give light must endure burning.”

Uri, vinciri, verberari, ferroque necari, Viktor, wherever you are.

You truly were properly named.

Today is the fourth anniversary of Buzzin’ Fly. Ben Watt is not only one of my favorite lyricists, musicians, and DJs, he is also an inspiration. His is a story of blood, sweat and tears, literally. But it is also a story of joy. I go tonight to see and hear his joy.

I look forward to seeing him in action.  I hope Tracey participates as well, as I have always wanted to hear her sing in person. Hers is a truly gorgeous voice, and she knows how to use it.

Keep dancing.

Update: What an excellent event. Three DJs on two SL1200MK5s, two DVJ-1000s, and one heavily used mixing/effects board (I think it was a DJM-800).

They sounded great, built a relentless groove, and moved the crowd without fail.

A good time, to be sure.

More pictures here.

Interesting results from my Samsung phone’s camera: like photos from a Lomo!

First, the historical basis for Bruce’s aphorism:

Nan-in, a Japanese Zen master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen. After he asked Nan-in about Zen, the professor spoke to Nan-in ceaselessly, for some time. Nan-in therefore prepared tea for the two of them. Nan-in poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring.

The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself.

“It is overfull. No more will go in!”

“Like this cup,” Nan-in said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

Now, Bruce asks of us to be both the cup and the water.

Empty your mind. Be formless, shapeless – like water.
Now, you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup.
You put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle.
You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot.
Now water can flow, or it can crash!
Be water, my friend.

Now, realize that these words above do not capture the full impact of Bruce’s water,

and go here.

As some of you know, Brunel is a hero of mine. Tonight is a perfect time to relate some of the reasons why.

“Many of [Brunel’s] greatest creations still exist (Clifton Suspension Bridge, Tamar Bridge, the Great Britain, etc.), and are aesthetically pleasing as well as practical and long lasting. The Great Eastern is perhaps his greatest work.” (attr. School of Computing, University of Dundee).

My favorite anecdote about Brunel was that his propeller design for the Great Britain steamship were compared to a “near-perfect” CAD propeller design, “and the extraordinary thing is that a modern propeller, designed by a computer, in the 21st century, is only 5% more efficient than the propeller on the Great Britain.” - Jeremy Clarkson.

The mind. Unleashed.

Also, for any of those working with me in my current endeavor, Brunel offers his words of defiance to the spiritually small and politically tyrannical.

Specifically, this quote was directed at the idea of government prescribing regulations for bridge design in 1847: “In other words, embarrass and shackle the progress of improvements of tomorrow by recording and registering as law the prejudices and errors of today.”

This has been rising to consciousness in my brain ever since I posted “Translations of my Postcards“, below. In addtion, it’s about Pompeii, so it has an Italian connection. So, (his) truth will out - I must put it to (cyber)paper.

When Stevens died, his coworkers at the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company were surprised to find out from his obituary that he was a poet.

Fantastic.

Wallace ”Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” Stevens 

A Postcard From The Volcano

Children picking up our bones
Will never know that these were once
As quick as foxes on the hill;

And that in autumn, when the grapes
Made sharp air sharper by their smell
These had a being, breathing frost;

And least will guess that with our bones
We left much more, left what still is
The look of things, left what we felt

At what we saw. The spring clouds blow
Above the shuttered mansion-house,
Beyond our gate and the windy sky

Cries out a literate despair.
We knew for long the mansion’s look
And what we said of it became

A part of what it is . . . Children,
Still weaving budded aureoles,
Will speak our speech and never know,

Will say of the mansion that it seems
As if he that lived there left behind
A spirit storming in blank walls,

A dirty house in a gutted world,
A tatter of shadows peaked to white,
Smeared with the gold of the opulent sun.

I had an entertaining discussion with a friend last night which caused me to go onto La Foret’s site. I saw a photo that made me smile. You’ll like this too, Gareth (et al).

Look familiar? :) I like La Foret even more now.

He clearly knows who was the original daredevil of photography:

Margaret Bourke-White.

Take note that she’s farther out than La Foret. :)

To believe in your heart that what is true for you is true for all men, that is genius.

- R.W. Emerson

I started learning Italian this weekend while I was in Rimini. Very cool.

I spoke with my family, and wished My Father/my brothers/many of my friends a happy Father’s Day. They all deserve it.

I also re-read some passages of Vincent Van Gogh’s Letters to Theo.

I dream my painting, and then I paint my dream.

We can be happy for what Vincent gave us. He did not waste his life.

If you hear a voice within you say ‘you cannot paint’, then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced. 

Among the tools of mio nuovo prova (learning Italian):

1. Tu Che Mi Ascolti, by Alberto Bevilacqua.

I am on page 10. That only took me half a day. Hah! It’s going faster now that I understand common structures (word orders, etc.), and have bought an Italian/English dictionary for the occasional words that are not cognates with French, Portuguese or Spanish. È facile.

Bevilacqua has a very personal voice and tone to his writing.

The writing reminds me of  Ondaatje. They have both learned their own “trick with a knife“*.

2. Time Out, by Max Pezzali, formerly of the band 883. He sings very clearly and beautifully, which makes it easy for me to hear how he forms sentences. Questa musica è ottima.

Also, check out Negramaro.

3. Teach Yourself Italian, which worked nicely in combination with my iPod, a chaise longue, and some sun last weekend.

Am on chapter 5, part 2 now. I am impressed with how well this Audiobook is structured/wrought.

4. The patience of my Italian coworkers. :) I now have four or five accidental professors/translators pressed into service. Perdonimi gli amici, io imparerà rapidamente.

Also, see my photos from Rimini over the weekend. What a great place: I hope to return.

___________________

* Translations of My Postcards, by Michael Ondaatje

the peacock means order
the fighting kangaroos mean madness
the oasis means I have struck water

positioning of the stamp – the despot’s head
horizontal, or ‘mounted policemen’,
mean political danger

the false date means I
am not where I should be

when I speak of the weather
I mean business

a blank postcard says
I am in the wilderness

________________

Ciao à tutti!

I have just posted some pictures from my ramblings in England and New York on Picasa. Check them out if you are so inclined.

Much love to James and all the rest of the Merry Band. I had myself a fine time with you all.