It's a Bull Roaring Monday!

It's time again for another round of answering your questions!
AND remember people, if you'd like me to answer your questions, throw a question at me (gently) through this link! Ask early and ask often. http://www.formspring.com/forms/?805682-tVpvj8P8KQ




What's the most embarrassing thing thats ever happened to you, and what's the worst thing you've ever done?

Wow, Ms. Walters. I see we're not pulling any punches this time. Two things immediately spring to mind, which I have to assume is for a reason, so I'll tell you about those. Neither are what others observing my life might call my "most embarrassing" and "worst" but they're not the ones who have to live in my head. So there.

The most embarrassing memory I have (although I took an active role in it "happening to me") that I can remember immediately was in an Acting Shakespeare class in college. My scene partner and I were doing a scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream in which Oberon and Titania are fighting. What I did wrong was this: I did all of my work on my own, alone, and only met with my scene partner once or twice (I think twice.) The day of the scene, my partner could not remember her lines. It was a debacle. We should have rehearsed together many many times, but she didn't really want to and I really didn't insist. I felt I could do my work just fine individually, but, turns out, theater is a group effort. The quality of the work showed. It was a tremendous life lesson (probably best learned in the classroom instead of out in the world), but also embarrassing.

I know that it may surprise some people to find me telling of such a seemingly innocent and harmless experience, people probably thought I would more likely have a long list of things from my pharmaceutical period, but there are reasons. The first is that it's a clear memory. The second is that I knew what I should have done and I didn't do it. And third, and most importantly, it was about my art which should never be half-assed. If something is worth doing, it's worth doing well.

I've done a lot of bad things in my past. More of my distant past now. But in thinking back, the thing that keeps springing to mind is a girl I loved once telling me about how she wanted to go to Calcutta to help people in some capacity, and I tried to talk her out of it because I didn't want her to leave me. I tried to talk her out of her dream. I apologized later, but in spite of all of the things that I've done, I think that may have been one of the worst.


What should I get my boyfriend for his birthday?

Well, that depends on what you think of him, how long you've been together, and what your intentions are for the future. Before I start sounding even more like a mother, here are a few suggestions at a few varying levels of boyfriendhood. If he's new to you, get him a book and some good wine. I know some would say that a book is an impersonal gift, but that's a lie from the pit of Hell. There's nothing more intensely personal and exciting than a book. I would recommend for a good boyfriend "Life of Pi," by Yann Martel, "Valis," by Philip K Dick, or something by Jonathan Carroll, Milan Kundera, Ray Bradbury or John Gardner.

If he's a keeper and you're both aware of it, get him something fun with form meeting function (this is on my own personal wish list) along with the wine and a book.

If he's new and you're not sure what you think about him yet, get him wine and a book that every human should read before they leave this Earth like, The Little Prince, or, Leaves of Grass, or something like that. Something great, but great in a general sense.

If he's been around a while and you're not sure if you want him to be around much longer, get him a book that you think would make him into a better person or teach him a lesson that you think he needs to learn. If he gets the lesson, score! If he doesn't, maybe he'll get all upset and leave you, in which case, score!

This is why books are the perfect gift. There is nothing books can't do.


What's the sickest you've ever been?

I think this last Spring, last April, I may have been the sickest I've ever been. We weren't diagnosed so we can't say for sure, but we think we had the swine 'flu. The symptoms sounded similar. I am hard pressed to remember being more sick than we were for those days which, immediately after, I 1) was laid off from my job and 2) developed and was diagnosed with asthma.

I've had a few rough patches in my life: stopped breathing once in my early 20s, had a "botched wisdom tooth surgery" horror story. But I think this last Spring was the worst.


What's the real story about the 1930s or so guest lodge on Mount Baldy once owned by the mother of the late aviator, Barnes?

Um, you may need to make these questions a little more personal.

Naturally, as you well know, I climbed Mount Baldy with my father. We did not, however, travel in time that day nor did we stay at the Lodge. I heard it was inhabited by spirits who possess people and release their dopplegangers into the real world in their place.

Actually, that's a lie. I heard no such thing.

This question could be referring to Pancho Barnes. She was an aviator as was her son. She was a contemporary of Amelia Earhart although in a rare instance in history Barnes is someone who actually became less famous by not disappearing.

I don't know if she ever lived near or owned land near Mount Baldy, but a few interesting facts about her are:
* she knew a young Buzz Aldrin
* she started the Happy Bottom Riding Club. I did not just make that up.
* when she died of a heart attack alone in her house, her body wasn't found for days and her dogs had partially eaten her. Every time I think of Pancho Barnes, I wonder what my dogs would do to us in a pinch, and remember that we are, and are also surrounded by, wild animals who can revert to basic animal instincts at a moment's notice.

In short, to answer your question, I have no idea.

Short Cuts

I thought I would do a miscellaneous post as there are a few short items in our life worth mentioning.

- We took Agnes to the vet, which was something we'd been meaning to do for about 3 years now. Agnes was the stray who used to be fed by our neighbor who moved away and abandonded her. Several months ago, you'll remember, we brought her into our home, gave her worm medicine, tried to clean her ears, and generally gave her a happier, safer, warmer life than she'd probably ever had before. But her ears continued to bother her and she wheezes so we took her to the vet.
She had stuff (pus, earmites, etc.) in her ears so bad they had to put her under to clean it. Even then they couldn't completely clean her left ear. She has had a respiratory infection for probably about as long as we've known her. She's on antibiotics (the good news is that she seems to love the flavor of the medicine. That makes our job a lot easier.)
The most striking thing is that it's like having a new cat. In spite of the cost, there is no doubt in my mind that we did the right thing. She has such a visible sense of peace in her expression that she's never had before. She's not nearly as timid anymore and will come up seeking attention. She's playing. This afternoon she even jumped up in my lap for the first time completely unbidden (although not in the least unwelcome.)

- So, there was the noise of an evil, hell beast living underneath our bathtub. At night we would hear it clawing, breathing, sometimes growling. All of our pets were beside themselves when this noise would start up. So, we rented a trap. My assumption was that it was a possum and we would trap it and release it somewhere far from our home. But after almost 2 weeks, we only managed to trap our outdoor cats a few times. Finally we assumed it was a large rat and went to buy poison.
There's a panel in Tony's bedroom closet which opens on the plumbing of the bathroom which is the next room over from his. It's clear that his room and that bathroom were later add-ons. It's also clear that this place was a rental for decades and there wasn't a lot of love put into the place. Hence, there's a panel you can open and look at the pipes coming out of the bathtub.
We opened it to put the poison down there and found a big possum looking back at us. We closed the panel, freaked out for a few minutes, then called Animal Control. They told us 1) it's illegal to trap and relocate possums (in which case I don't really understand why the feed store even rents them, but that's not really any of my business I guess) and 2) we would have to call the county trapper (yes, that is a real job that someone holds) and the trapper would, for a fee, come and kill the possum in our wall.
Hours passed and I walked into the kitchen, and this is the part of the story where a lot of people might think we're crazy, but I saw our cats on the counter eating their food and thought "you know, that possum isn't going to eat our wiring or anything. The only real difference between that thing and our cats is aesthetics, really. And how messed up is to to kill something just because you think it's ugly."
I told all of this to Laurie and we decided that we would throw some mothballs and ammonia down there some night while the possum is out to encourage it to find another place to live and be done with it.

- Last week I had an interview with what will probably be the most serious job I've ever had in my life. I am fully convinced of my capability to do it. I have no idea how the interview went, although one of the interviewers did tell me that I did "very, very well" on the test. I should know at least if I've made it to the next round by the end of this week. I'll write more on this then.

- Laurie and I watched My Dinner with Andre (one of my favorite movies), the Spalding Gray monologues (which is what I wanted to do for a living about 10 years ago. My own monologues, of course) and then almost got whiplash going to a silent film, City Lights (which competes in my brain with The Third Man for the position of "my favorite film ever.")
Synapses seem to be popping and I seem to be moving in a spiritual/well being direction I'm not entirely sure of yet. Some people who have known me for a long time probably know about the spark that went out of my eyes a few years ago, the peace and joy that went away. Well, I've had a few moments like the "we're going to need a bigger boat" scene from Jaws lately. More on this soon as well. Laurie and I have been talking a lot and she's been helping me tremendously in my walk and keep my internal reactions focused in the right direction.

-The dining room is almost finished and then we paint the front room. Also, Schubert and I have lost a little weight. I'm trying to walk him at least five times a week as both Schubert and I could use to drop a size or two.
So things are good. More soon.

Oh, and we're almost at enough questions to warrant another Bull Roaring post, so if you have a question, any question, you would like to ask me, I can't guarantee a right answer, but I can guarantee a response. Personal, recommendations, advice, anything. Send them here: http://www.formspring.com/forms/?805682-tVpvj8P8KQ

Reading the Classics with Paul- Walden part 4 (the conclusion)

And so we say goodbye to Thoreau and Walden. It was a difficult journey, a reading experience like I've rarely had in my life. It was a book which, largely, I disliked, but then at other parts loved.

In a way, I disliked what the book did to me, which was to hold up a few ugly mirrors (along with apparently driving away the rest of the Reading the Classics Reading Group participants. Did anyone else besides my mom make it all the way through this one?) I found myself ranting often about a work of classic literature. Normally I strive to be a champion for the cause of more people reading "the classics" (whatever they may be.)
I think I had a sort of Naked Lunch moment last night when Laurie and I had this conversation before I went to bed. I was reading a rather garishly covered glossy graphic novel.

Laurie: "What are you reading?"
Me: "Camelot 3000. It's a comic book from the 1980s about King Arthur fighting aliens. It's kind of a living document to why Alan Moore had to happen."
L: "Well, I guess after Walden..."
Me: "After Walden, I feel like I've earned it."
L: "You've earned the right to read some crap."
Me: "Hey, look, Walden would have been a lot better if Thoreau had been fighting aliens through it."
L: "Hm. Seems to me someone else did that with another book and zombies."
Me: "... Egad! What have I become?!!?"

Part of the problem for me this week was that I loved this week's section almost without a single qualm. There were a few off-putting phrases, but for the most part it was really lovely nature writing and a conclusion which I actually liked. Which left me feeling a little cheated as well. Here I had built a huge case of disliking the book for the first 160 pages and the last 60 really aren't that bad taken on their own. Really, in my opinion, if Thoreau had not been so consumed and focused early on with pointing out the flaws of people who were not like him, he could have pulled off a beautiful book.

We start this week with a section on firewood. He talks about the universal value of wood, which is even more dear today than in Thoreau's day. There's a lovely description of ice bubbles in the pond. Largely this week's reading was about the pond from Winter into Spring with a conclusion. I would have most likely loved this book without reservation if the book has been only the section we read this week.

The Former Inhabitants section describes a dramatic and failed effort to save a farmhouse from a fire. There's a visit from a poet. There's a description of watching an owl. A lovely bit about staying in the courtyard in the evening in case a guest should show up, whether they do or not. Descriptions of birds landing on the wood he's carrying to the cabin in his arms. Fathoming and sounding the depth of the pond. The men coming to take ice from the pond to ship it to points southward (the neat bit about people in New Orleans, et al, drinking at his well) and the greenness of the ice described so vividly. And then the new growth of spring, the loud cracking of the ice, the silly squirrels. This is what I wanted this whole book to be. I found all of this really compelling, charming and meditative. Although I have to add that all of the previous sections had tainted all of these positive feelings this week.

The only weird bit I have marked from this week's reading is this quote "In our bodies, a bold projecting brow falls off to and indicates a corresponding depth of thought." To which I wrote "phrenology?" Be careful, little children, what you believe.

The conclusion is the section of the book I think I underlined most heavily without a single outraged comment in the margin. He deals (albeit briefly) with how not everyone can go run off and have a "top of the mountain" experience which, as you'll recall, was one of my main objections to the first fourth of the book. He ends with such a hopeful note. "There is more day to dawn."

So, I think my own conclusion about Walden is this: I agree that it's a classic and would recommend it to people with one stipulation and it is a very serious and earnest stipulation. I would say to anyone, "If you want to read Walden, go, get a copy, and immediately tear out the first 150 pages." This is not a suggestion of censorship, it's simply what I think an intelligent editor would have done in the first place. Or, to put a finer point on it, had I been Thoreau's editor, I would have cut out so much of the Thoreau and tried to leave Walden intact.

Anyway, our next book in the series is The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. It is a wonderful book which we will do in one go. That means if you want to read along, get a copy. At the end of next week I shall (Deo volente) post a reminder to start reading. The following Friday, two weeks from today, we will post our thoughts on The Metamorphosis.

Mourning toast

I was absolutely crushed this morning to get this news. There has been a tradition for around 60 years in Baltimore on January 19th, which is Edgar Allan Poe's birthday, of a mysterious man in black coming to the grave in the early morning, toasting Poe with cognac and leaving the bottle, also leaving three red roses on the grave. No one knows who he is or if they do know, they aren't telling (although more than one person has claimed to be the Poe toaster. It's usually fairly transparent that these people are braying asses and their facts tend to be wrong and easily discredited.) It's a kind of magical tribute, much like the mysterious woman in black who appears at Rudolph Valentino's grave to leave roses on the anniversary of his death. It's also a tradition every January 19th for me to report to Laurie what happened with the Poe toaster and for her to call me a "nerd."

Edgar Allan Poe was an amazing author beyond measure. American literature owes Poe everything. Everyone stems from his influence. Not everyone is aware of it, but Poe's influence is incalculable. The fact that such a magical, spooky, and solemn ritual rose up around him is fitting.

The Poe toaster has had a strange history in my lifetime. Up until the late 1990s it pretty much went like clockwork, like a tribute should go. Toaster shows up, toasts Poe, leaves the flowers and bottle, and vanishes. In the late '90s, a note was left with the roses and cognac which read "the torch must be passed." The next year, the Poe toaster was noticeably more spry. In 1999, another note was left which stated that the original toaster had passed away. And that's really when things started to get dodgy.

In 2001, the new toaster left a note with a cryptic prophesy about the Baltimore Ravens losing the Super Bowl. Yes, you read that correctly. First, the Poe toaster is surprisingly not a Ravens fan. Second, this was hardly the venue to talk sports. Third, he was wrong.

A year or two later the Poe toaster left a note explaining that he was reluctant to use French wine (and apparently unable to control himself from saying so) but would defer for the sake of family tradition. This was a reference to a controversy perpetuated at that time by a large portion of America's thriving idiot community suggesting the boycotting of French products because France did not ally themselves with America in the Iraq war. I'm sure almost anyone else can readily identify that this was hardly the venue for politics as well. First and foremost, the event is supposed to be about Edgar Allan Poe. Also, I think everyone collectively groaned at the specific political viewpoint of the Poe toaster. I know I did. However, I think I would be just as upset if the toaster had left notes which agreed with my political point of view. It is not the time and place for that.

And Poe fans certainly did immediately identify the sullying nature of the sacred event with these knuckledragger's notes! In 2006, some people tried to accost the Poe toaster because they were outraged over the disregard for the solemnity of the event by the current toaster. Bear in mind, people travel from all over the country to see this event and one doesn't like to make a once in a lifetime pilgrimage to find it being trivialized by the people who are supposed to be continuing the tradition. I, for one, have had attending a Poe toasting on my list of "things I would earnestly wish to do someday if ever I am able" for most of my life. High on the list, in fact, as well as something attainable on that list. All I have to do is be on the East Coast on January 18th and I will find a way to his grave for the morning of the 19th. Although I would add that I am hard pressed to think which upset me more, the notes or the people who tried to accost the toaster. Both struck me as the behavior of people ruining a very cool thing.

Since that unruly year, the toaster has behaved himself and left no notes. And then, this morning, for the first time in around 60 years, there was no Poe toaster.

I feel upset, sure, but very sad. Surprisingly sad. I didn't know something like this would effect me so much, but it's really kind of terrible. In a time where there is so much vanishing magic in this world, the loss of more is something to be mourned. We go about our lives, day to day, mechanically eating, drinking, working, watching TV. The cities grow larger and the rural areas want to become more like the cities, want to pump loud celebrities into their homes at every waking moment. We have lost our sense of ritual and are quickly losing awareness of life, of the world around us.
Little events and rituals like the Poe toaster are precious, crucial in this anemic culture. Like holidays or interesting events in our personal lives, they break us out of our routines and help us to look at the world again.

I suggest everyone out there read some Poe today. Read it out loud to one another. Maybe, this evening, propose a toast to Poe.

As for the Edgar Allan Poe Society in Baltimore, I would recommend finding someone to pass the torch as the up-until-this-morning Poe toaster isn't making himself known. Next year, have your new Poe toaster come a little early and then bar the gate from any other Poe toaster who might show up. This is too important to leave in the hand of incompetents or the uncaring. Admittedly, the toaster could very well have died himself (possibly immured in a wine cellar wall by a leftist literature fan?), in which case I probably shouldn't be so harsh, but since we'll never know, shouldn't the tradition continue?

I would also mention in passing that I am still looking for a job, if you catch my drift.

Sins of the Father: a few thoughts on the subject of Nietzsche

So, a friend of mine suggested I write a little about Friedrich Nietzsche. This was sparked a few weeks ago when I mentioned a story about a new book being published which claims that it will prove that the more problematic of Nietzsche's philosophies were probably later additions and perversions of his writings by his sister, who was a sort of proto-Nazi in her own ideology. This may be wishful thinking on the part of some philosophy students who appreciate parts of Nietzsche while rejecting the gruesome associations the bulk of the world tends to associate with him. Or maybe not. Personally, I'm not entirely convinced we can ever know for sure.
Unfortunately, Nietzsche is another one of those historical figures that one must approach discussing with apologetics and corrections. He has been so deeply appropriated by so many groups and ideologies. Not to mince words, many of the Nazis claimed to build upon and enact Nietzsche's ideas. Of course, they were wrong, deluded or lying (or all three).
To quote Walter Kaufmann, "In any case, no other German writer of equal stature has been so thoroughly opposed to all proto-nazism - which Nietzsche encountered in Wagner's ideological tracts, in his sister's husband, Bernhard Forster, and in various publications of his time. If some Nazi writers cited him nevertheless, it was at the price of incredible misquotation and exegetical acrobatics, which defy comparison with all the similar devices that Nietzsche himself castigated in the name of the philological conscience." I think that Nietzsche himself, were he alive and in his right mind again, would probably have been quite grieved to find some of his ideals appropriated by such an ugly group. Also, it's worth noting that Nietzsche was distinctly non-political.

I just taught a class this past Sunday on The French Revolution. One of the things I noticed and called attention to, possibly because I had this post in the back of my mind, is that so many of the ideas of the very bloody and violent French Revolution can be traced to American founding fathers (Franklin certainly springs to mind and I don't think it's a reach to link him to French thinking at the time) as well as Voltaire. Certainly Liberty, Equality and Fraternity as well as free speech, the separation of church and state (in extremis in this case) and such a strong emphasis on Reason can be traced to those thinkers. However, you don't often hear people linking Benjamin Franklin to the nearly 40,000 people beheaded by Robespierre. Maybe that's because I live in America where Franklin is nearly sainted. I don't see Nietzsche's face on anyone's currency.

Of course, the Nazis aren't the only group to (probably falsely) lay claim to Nietzsche's ideas. I took a course on Existentialism once which spent a lot of time and energy on Nietzsche. I got the strong impression that the professor included so much on Nietzsche in that course for the same reason I started my class on the life of J.S. Bach by talking about Karl Lagerfeld. Which is to say, because I felt like it, and it's my class so I'll do what I darn well want.

Also, Ayn Rand attempted to stake herself a claim in some Nietzsche. I've not yet been able to find the bottom of my dislike for Ayn Rand. In her case I also think her understanding of Nietzsche is twisted and perverted. I almost read an essay by her where she lifted Nietzsche's concept of Apollonians versus Dionysians and tried to apply it to hippie culture versus her philosophy of Greedheadism before I threw the book across the room and spent the next half hour washing my hands and eyes with soap.

But let's back it up many steps. That was an ugly way for me to start this post, but I think it's a fair indication of where history has left the man. Let's back it up to the man himself and his ideas and then maybe we can make some sense out of what happened after he could no longer speak for himself.

Nietzsche, for the most part, was an excellent writer, which is sort of a novelty in philosophers. His books are for the most part highly readable (although I could never make it through Zarathustra.) Some of his major ideas were:

* Immoralism- which is not to say that he was some kind of monstrous Mr. Hyde type. People who knew him say that he was very well behaved. But by calling himself an "immoralist" he meant that he desired a re-examination of morality, why and where we need it, how it would be naturally, where it comes from and why. Which leads to -

* Master and Slave Morality- Nietzsche was extremely enamoured with the ancient Greeks. He saw "Master Morality" as striving for excellence, power, glory, honor, fame, renown, and so forth. But along came Christianity, a school of thought which Nietzsche rejected loudly. Nietzsche would say that Christianity popularized a "Slave Morality" which takes the major concepts of Master Morality (fame, power, wealth) and turns them into vices. In his own words "It is not surprising that the lambs should bear a grudge against the great birds of prey, but that is no reason for blaming the great birds of prey for taking the little lambs. And when the lambs say among themselves, 'These birds of prey are evil, and he who least resembles a bird of prey, who is rather its opposite, a lamb,—should he not be good?' then there is nothing to carp with in this ideal's establishment, though the birds of prey may regard it a little mockingly, and maybe say to themselves, 'We bear no grudge against them, these good lambs, we even love them: nothing is tastier than a tender lamb.'"

I might add, while we're paddling around in this thought experiment, that those in the Master Morality may have come up with the Slave Morality to keep the lower classes from aspiring to their level, but lately it seems I'm incapable of having a conversation without shifting into Socialism at some point. I should probably have that looked at by a doctor (but I can't afford medical insurance! [rimshot] )

* The Ubermensch- who shows up at the beginning as a character in Zarathustra if memory serves. Also if memory serves, it's Nietzsche's philosophy embodied, a higher version of humanity to which one can aspire. Of course, this was one of the concepts misapplied by the Nazis coupled with a rather extreme misreading of Darwin to condone ethnic cleansing and eugenics. Far to the contrary, the Ubermensch in Nietzsche would be one who creates a new morality based on a love of this world and life (see the eternal return concept below.)

* The death of God- I often find myself explaining the scene Nietzsche wrote where there's a madman in the town square yelling "God is dead! And we killed Him!" The first half of the quote is often quoted, the second not so much. This is not a happy scene and is, in fact, an indictment of human complacency even in their own religion. Although elsewhere Nietzsche, who was almost certainly an atheist (but he is not often "owned" by the atheist community probably because he was not particularly at peace about it, and also because of the bad associations many make with Nietzsche), says that the death of God in our society would lead to either an unfixed morality, a sort of extreme relative world which celebrates diversity and differences OR nihilism (which, if I understood correctly, was the part that made the boy in Little Miss Sunshine stop talking.)

* The eternal return- this is one of my favorite concepts that he played with. He asks, what if you found out that after you die, you then relive this life, exactly as you've lived it, over and over eternally. Would that be Heaven or Hell? Of course, for most of us, it has elements of both and for the sake of the thought experiment it should probably be ignored that Nietzsche ended in extreme psychological turmoil, which is a nicer way of saying tortured madness.
The point is being aware of the weight of life, the weight of the infinite. If one is going to go through something once, one might not care so much, as you can endure anything for a time. But if you learn that you're going to go through something eternally, it adds a weight to everything and behooves one to pay great care and attention to what they are doing, how they are thinking, where their priorities are, and why.

* The Will To Power- sort of an expansion of his Master Morality. The idea is in response to the Darwinian concept of the major driving force in the story of life on Earth as "the will to live." Nietzsche claimed that it is rather "the will to expand one's power" that drives the story of life on Earth.

It probably isn't terribly difficult for you to see how these concepts were twisted by the Nazis (and, if memory serves, I think Leopold and Loeb had some weird Nietzsche kink as well.) Richard Wagner and Nietzsche started as friends on a similar philosophical track, but Nietzsche broke ties rather dramatically with Wagner (no pun intended) mainly over Wagner's anti-semitism which Nietzsche interpreted as coming from Wagner's Christianity, especially as presented in the opera Parsifal. My own two cents: it's a pretty big reach to call Wagner a Christian, but I share Nietzsche's disgust with anti-semitism.

My own reaction to Nietzsche is that I find his ideas fascinating, brilliant, and I disagree with nearly all of it. However, I think part of the great value of reading Nietzsche, which I would recommend to everyone, is to be challenged to figure out why you disagree with him. I certainly appreciate his appreciation of the problem of morality without God. I am a Christian, which immediately disqualifies me from Team Nietzsche. I believe in mercy, compassion, reverence for life, that all people are equal, and that I ought to strive to love everyone as I love myself. I believe in peace and peace-making. Nietzsche would call this slave morality. I find his concept of Eternal Return quite beautiful and compelling. I certainly agree with the call for a realization of the weight of life. I don't believe in the Eternal Return, but I certainly think it's a valuable thought experiment, one that more people might do well to keep in the front of their minds.
Also, no, I do think I am in agreement with the Darwinists and Albert Schweitzer in so much that the course of history has been formed by wills to live, not wills to expand power. I find Master Morality repugnant on many levels, although especially in that it attempts to rob me of striving for excellence and beauty in my own morality.

The whole story of Nietzsche, his life and his philosophy, is a dark and difficult one. There is so much to wrestle with, but I would also say so much to gain from wrestling with it. In the end, I think that I would recommend reading Nietzsche to everyone... And I think I would recommend following him to no one.

It's A Bull Roaring Sunday!

It's time again for another round of answering your questions!
AND remember people, if you'd like me to answer your questions, throw a question at me (gently) through this link! Ask early and ask often. http://www.formspring.com/forms/?805682-tVpvj8P8KQ



Are you an animal?

Yes. Here is an interesting fact about me. I am by all appearances and to the best of my knowledge a bipedal primate belonging to the species Homo sapiens in Hominidae, which is the great ape family. Although science fiction has taught me that it is entirely possible that I am actually:
1) an android who appears human and is programmed to think it is human OR one who is programmed to lie to you and say that I am human
2) the only human and everyone else is robots
3) some completely alien being somewhere having a wild dream or, in fact, a crazy alien or
4) part of a virtual reality program.
I am by all appearances of the only species on this planet with advanced consciousness and language although the dolphins seem to be gaining on us.


What are your thoughts on pre-destination?

The question refers to the biblical Christian doctrine of predestination which asks if God had His Elect, that is to say the specific people who he would save, in mind (or, indeed, planned) before Creation and for all time. It also often suggests (assumes the converse, derives, extrapolates, etc.) to some a doctrine of reprobation or, in even more stark language, a class of people (a very large class of people) who are "the damned."

As with any theological doctrine, one must turn to the source material and see what it says, otherwise one may as well just make up whatever doctrine one feels like. If you're subscribing to a spiritual path, your doctrine comes from the source text. Predestination is in the Bible. In fact, it's all over the Bible. A few starting points, if you're new to this, are Romans 8:29 & 30, Romans 9 the whole chapter, John 6:63-65, Genesis 50:20. But even more so, all of Scripture. I think that one must find in the Bible that God is all-knowing, all-powerful, Creator, not subject to time, not to be derailed by the schemes of humans, and above us. In short, I don't know how I would be able to understand Scripture without believing in some form of predestination and the sovereignty of God. It's there throughout the text.

In shorthand theological speak, I hold to the Reformed view of predestination. This means that I fully believe that God has predestined His Elect and that His will shall not be foiled. Yes, I think that also means that God has always been fully aware of those who do not fall into that category. We know that God works all things out for good and for His glory, so we must trust that if it is His will, it is good, fair, just, right and holy. If one has a problem with that, I usually refer them to Job chapters 38 through 41. I think God answers any reasons and objections just fine without my help.

A helpful model I have found is one written by John Frame in his book "The Doctrine of God" where he goes through many models of the relationship between God and Man suggested by different points of view. One is the teacher-student model, one the general-troops model. The one I think is the most helpful model is the author-character model. He uses as an example Macbeth killing King Duncan in Shakespeare's play Macbeth. "The reason why every event in Macbeth can have two complete causes without irrationality is that the two sets of causes are on different levels. In a sense, Shakespeare and his character Macbeth live in two different worlds. Shakespeare could, of course, have written into the play a character representing himself... But Macbeth cannot ascend from his position in the drama and become an author on the same level as Shakespeare... We can see one reason why Macbeth is responsible for his actions, even though Shakespeare in one sense `made him' kill Duncan. In his world, on his level, Macbeth is the necessary and sufficient cause of Duncan's death. He is fully to blame." And so, of course also as scripture tells us, you can see that God is not the author of sin.
And he goes on to say that characters are how they are because it is in their character and they like themselves and defend their character even though there is an author whether they know it or not. Again, this is a model and not to be interpreted as my exact view of reality. As with any model, it breaks down eventually. For example, although Shakespeare could write himself as a character in a play of his, the character of Shakespeare would not be Shakespeare in the same sense that Jesus is God. But I find it to be a helpful model in some ways.

It also does not tax reason. If you were to study physics or neuro-biology or even psychology in a major modern university (or even pick up some of the popular contemporary scientific texts. I would highly recommend this one), you would find that our lives are largely "predestined" or predictable, that time is relative in spite of appearances, and that the choices we make are a result of many factors, not from an autonomous Will which resides somewhere in a vacuum free from external influences.
Now, I should hasten to add that unlike many Reformed people I've met, this is not usually one of my first stops on my theological tour. And, unlike many people I've encountered on both sides, it's also not a point in which I think it's necessary for people to divide upon. I think that my view of predestination points to a sovereign and almighty God. I don't think it informs a change in my behavior toward my fellow man in any way. I don't know who is of the Elect and even after someone has died, even if all external evidence points in one direction, I don't think it's for me to say. As Laurie often says, "You know how you know God is still showing someone mercy? They're still breathing!"
I can have assurance in my own salvation by looking to Christ and His atonement for my sin. As for others, I preach the gospel, I love others and try to be as kind as I possibly can.


I don't know much about classical music, but I'd like to learn more. Do you have any suggestions for where to start?

You don't know how much you've made my day.

First of all, listen to a lot of classical music. Hopefully you've a decent classical radio station in your area but if you don't (Chico), you can stream KUSC or WNYC or WGBH or any number of classical music stations from major metropolitan areas who have the support to maintain a good classical station, on iTunes or their websites. You can listen to them anywhere in the world through the miracle of the Internet. Which is not actually a miracle, but, rather, a explainable system.

If you're in America, use your local library. If they do not have a large classical music library, often they will have a "resource sharing" program with other libraries and you can request material from other places or even request that your library GET a certain recording that you just feel like listening to. Libraries are cool like that. Ask your librarian.

As for what to look for specifically, start with Beethoven's odd numbered symphonies, Bach's Brandenberg Concertos and the Goldberg Variations (or any recording by Glenn Gould) also Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 and if you're feeling ambitious his Mass in B Minor, Wagner's Die Meistersinger Von Nurnberg (or, if you naturally like to geek out on things, grab yourself a copy of Das Rheingold and jump right in to The Ring Cycle. Some people spend years in that cycle of operas. Heck, some people spend their whole lives in there), Liszt's Hungarian Rhaphsodies and Brahm's Hungarian Dances and Saint-Saen's Carnival of Animals (you'll recognize a few tunes with these three), also Brahm's 4th symphony and his piano concerto no. 1, Mendelssohn's 4th, Schubert's Wintereisse or Trout Quintet or String Quartet no. 15 in G major "The Death and the Maiden" or Impromptus or his 8th and 9th symphony (Schubert is, as you probably know, one of my favorites), Mozart's Magic Flute (especially if you can borrow a DVD of it) or The Marriage of Figaro and also his 40 and 41st symphony, Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake or his Pathetique symphony, anything by John Dowland, Gershwin's An American in Paris and Rhaphsody in Blue, Vivaldi's Four Seasons, Haydn's Emperor String Quartet. If you find a Strauss, go with Richard. Steer clear of recordings of Leopold Mozart which mainly only exist to show why there aren't more recordings of Leopold Mozart.

If you're looking for an intro to modern classical, check out Philip Glass, John Adams, Meredith Monk, Steve Reich, and John Zorn. Although I have probably just dated myself as well as I think every person on that list is pretty close to at least old enough to collect social security at this point.

So much more I don't even know where to begin, but you can print and clip that for your wallet. But poke around. There's an embarrassment of riches out there for anyone who wants to get started (and a lot of free material too.) See what you like and what you don't. Look around for things you've heard of and for things you haven't. When you see something you like, check out some composers from roughly the same time and place and see if you like that too.
As for books, Aaron Copland wrote a fine beginner's text called What To Listen For In Music. It's your basic music appreciation text (and, to be candid, I like it a lot better than any actual music of Copland's. Apologies to his fans out there, but aside from Wagner, I usually don't go for "cinematic" music.) There's a good collection called The Glenn Gould Reader of his various writings. There's another good beginner's reference text by Jim Svejda which you can probably find used online called The Record Shelf Guide To The Classical Repertoire. It goes through the major works by the major composers, guides toward the better recordings, and gives a lot of basic information, trivia, and opinion. Svejda is way more of the "music died with Stravinski" crowd than I, but his work is beyond value. If you listen to KUSC streaming, you'll probably hear him as a DJ at some point.

There are a few entry level movies too, if you'd like. Amadeus is a fine film about Mozart and Immortal Beloved is a fine film about Beethoven. Both are very true to the events of their life, except for a key thesis which is entirely made up by the people who wrote the scripts. Both are excellent films on their own, but I mention them because both kind of immerse one in the music. You ought to come away from both passionate about the music of the composer.

Photographs from our life

So, a friend of mine suggested I write a blog entry about Friedrich Nietzsche. I am working on it. As you can probably well imagine, I've been thinking about it for many days. Also I am gathering enough questions to produce another Bull Roaring blog entry. As soon as I get enough questions we'll have more of that.
But rather than going several days between posts (and leaving us the foul taste of Walden in our mouths) I thought it might be fun to post a few photos of some of the things Laurie and I have been doing.


The big news is the dining room (formerly the "other" living room.) As you probably noticed in our Christmas pictures, we have brought a dining room table into that room. We have now (and by "we" I mainly mean Laurie. In this particular room project I seem to have been little more than a furniture mover) stripped the old, disgusting wallpaper (long time readers will remember that was the wallpaper that we said, when we first had a walk-through of this house almost three years ago, would be the first thing to go.) We've painted the upper wall a sort of burnt sienna and the lower and trim a sharp white. Also, Laurie has a new hat.


We've moved the bookshelves back since I took this picture, but it gives you an idea of what the room now looks like. The front room, which you can see in the background through the arch, is going to be painted gold very soon.
















Of course and as usual, I am spending a lot of time walking in Bidwell Park when weather permits.

















Laurie and I have some foul hell-beast living beneath the house (not on purpose and it is not the animal in this picture.) We are fairly certain that it is an opossum. So we went to the feed store to rent a trap. At the feed store we encountered the largest cat we've ever seen in our life (which is the animal in this picture. You'll notice it's about one-fourth the size of Laurie.)
So, I've set the trap for several nights, caught both of our outdoor cats at least once, and still the Stygian beast claws at the bottom of our bathtub to the gross chagrin of our menagerie of pets.
When I do trap it, I will drive it 15 minutes away in some direction and let it go.



The other news is Agnes, our cat who you'll remember we rescued over the summer. She is doing remarkably well and adjusting wonderfully. Her eyes are bright and she jumps up on our laps now, we've even caught her playing a few times. She had a horrible life outside and we're really happy that she's doing so well in our home. She does have an ear problem of some kind (you'll notice her left ear is down) and we're taking her to the vet next week.

Reading the Classics with Paul- Walden part 3

I want to start this week by talking about a concept behind a phrase which is thrown around in theological circles. The phrase is "destroying your witness." Simply put, it is when you're known for your bad behavior so much that no one can take your positive message seriously. For example, after Pat Robertson says something evil, wicked and hateful toward a group of people, why would anyone then listen to him if he starts preaching the gospel (although I'm hard pressed to think of a time when he was ever in danger of doing that); no one is going to listen to him. He's proved himself a hate-filled man and now he's going to talk about a God of love and grace? This can be applied to so many situations. It also works for hypocritical behavior. I remember a pastor telling me once, with much humility and repentance, about driving to work on a weekday morning and getting stuck behind a slow driver whom he then tail gated and glared at with daggers shooting out of his eyes. Finally he sped around them, cut them off, and eventually arrived at the church to find the slow moving car pulling into the parking lot behind him. It was an older lady and she had been distressed by the sudden death of her child and on her way to seek comfort and counsel at the church.

I tell you these things because my struggle with Thoreau has reached a kind of fever pitch. I think that this book could probably be condensed into a 30 page pamphlet of nature writing and it would be a much better book. Last week, I could see past his cranky, mean-spirited passages because of his good nature writing. This week it flipped on me. I can't enjoy the good nature writing because Thoreau is otherwise so cranky and mean-spirited. To indulge myself in a bit of hyperbole, I can't applaud Mussolini for making the trains run on time.

There's only one week left and then we get to move on to Kafka, which will be way more pleasant.

Thoreau's nature writing is very well done. He communicates his awe, his love and reverence for nature. It's not exactly armrest-gripping reading, but it's pastoral and nice. Some of it is stunning and unexpectedly beautiful like the axe when it falls through the ice. Brilliant!
Unfortunately, he's destroyed his witness for me with his sections about the world and his interactions with other people, most of which has to do with why one group is better than another group, specifically how he is better than other people. For those of you not reading the book in this book group, I assure you, most of the book is about why Thoreau thinks he is better than other people. What's more, those sections seem so labored, contrived and superfluous. He would do so much better to show and not tell.

He starts our reading for this week with a section about his bean field. I find I highlighted a section and wrote that it was the nicest part of the book yet but for the life of me I can't remember why I thought that at the time. If anything, it's a completely benign section.

I especially liked his comment in the Village section when he promotes living simply by saying that if all people lived and desired to live simply, there would be no theft. Theft takes place in places where some have more than is sufficient while others needs are not met. A rare instance of me appreciating his social commentary.

He talks about how the villagers are a bunch of gossips and men with idle tongues, but also that he goes into town to hear them! Also to buy things! I don't know about you, but this really blew the whole "solitary monastic simple living" fantasy. The book is touted as a "back to nature" treatise and here he's got a train going by his cabin all of the time and he walks into town every day to hear the gossip.

He talks about how Flint's Pond is a bad name and speculates over the person who may have named it that. Although, the bit about the folk history of the Native Americans and how Walden Pond may have been named was an interesting bit of information and one that probably wouldn't have been remembered today if he had not recorded it.

He even has a section about how some people get halos in a certain light and others don't.
The Baker Farm part was the worst for me. He finds shelter from the rain in the home of a poor Irish family. Thoreau seems entirely incapable of charity or compassion of any kind. He criticizes how the Irish family live, in poverty, and tells them that they ought to live like him and go a-huckleberrying for amusement and sustenance. The couple share a glance which Thoreau reads as desire for the things he's describing, but I found myself wondering if the glance wasn't "This guy is a nutball! We have a baby. If we don't work for proper food and shelter the baby could die. A baby can't live off of a-huckleberrying!"

Thoreau is an educated man who turned his back on a potentially productive life, a bit like Schweitzer minus all compassion and charity. Thoreau is a single man. He doesn't give a rip about the problems of a struggling family, a man seeking to provide for his family. I kept remembering that song by Pulp (as loath as I am to regurgitate pop culture references, it really did keep running through my head) Common People, about the rich art school girl who wants to live like common people but, as the narrator says, she never will because if she lived in poverty she would always have the option of calling home and being saved from it immediately at any time, a luxury which actual common people will never have. I don't know about Thoreau's family or financial situation, but he is not responsible for anyone else or anything really. It's unfair for him to look down his nose at people who are responsible. Sort of an ugly example of Nietzsche's master/slave morality. Thoreau describes the man as a hard worker, but shiftless and I failed to see the distinction Thoreau made between that description of that man and himself. How is Thoreau not shiftless? And how is a poor man who is "bogging" to feed and shelter his family "shiftless?"

In all honesty, part of the reason this section stung me so much is that I am a man who has been earnestly searching for work for a while now and there are simply no jobs out there or, at least, I have not found one yet. I continue to look. I find it difficult to sympathize with Thoreau who willfully shunned a life of work and responsibility to go do whatever he feels like whenever he feels like and to criticize everyone else.

Then he goes on to say why American children are better than British children. Then how he's better than fishermen. Oh, and surprise! He's better than omnivores too. Also he's better than drinkers of alcohol and caffeinated drinks.

Then we get into Thoreau's theology (which, surprise again, is very muddled) and I began to see why I am struggling so much with Thoreau. He says that there is an animal within us all which awakens in proportion to how much our "higher nature" slumbers, which is asceticism defined. He continues into a section which may be the very core of why Thoreau and I do not get along. His theology is so dark and works-based, so unsustainable to anyone being honest with themselves, so very very man-centered. He writes "Man flows at once to God when the channel of purity is open." In other words, make yourself pure and you can flow toward the divine. My whole belief system revolves around faith in God, in God's ability and willingness to uphold me and save me by no work of my own. Because if I am to be counted upon for any part of my salvation, I am doomed. It is only by the grace of God that I can have anything to do with Him, not by any ability of my own to "make myself pure." If I must depend upon my own ability to keep myself saved, I will fail. I thank God that the Universe is not as Thoreau describes it.

On the next page, Thoreau asks, in essence (and paraphrase) "what use is it to be a Christian if it doesn't make you better than other people?" Again, I refer to Emerson's statement that "no truer American existed than Thoreau." What an ugly way to look at religion!
I don't know about you, but for me this book is WAY darker than our last book, Of Mice and Men and way more than our next one, The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. Those authors both have obvious compassion for humans and their struggles. Thoreau is the pinnacle of self-importance and self-absorption. Thank God the Existentialists came along about 70-some years later!

And then we hit a fine example of the problem. Thoreau spends a lengthy section describing a battle between red and black ants. He anthropomorphizes them in order to prevent us from having any valid scientific interest in the events he's describing. And, you know, maybe this harsh world has beat some of my sense of magic and whimsy out of me, but after about three sentences I found myself wondering why on Earth is it a good thing for a grown man to go into the woods alone to watch ant fights?!!? There was a "painting miniature pewter orc" moment for me in this section where I saw Thoreau there on his haunches looking at the dirt and calling out the fight like a sportscaster and I thought, "This book has gone from frustrating me to making me very sad for a very lonely man."

No, I do not like Thoreau and I do not like Walden. I think he was a horrible man and I have no idea why this book is considered a classic. I really have to assume most people haven't read it and, instead, like what they think the book is about. Oh well. One more week of this, people, assuming there's anyone left in the reading group. Finish the book this coming week and we'll meet back next weekend. After this, Franz Kafka should be like a breath of fresh air.

It's A Bull Roaring Tuesday!

What is your favorite season and why?

This turned out to be a much harder question than I expected. I can find delights in every season. I was tempted to say Winter and I certainly like how the world looks in winter, so austere and minimalistic. But there are two main problems. One is that at this time of year I catch colds or the 'flu and the other (perhaps not entirely unrelated with the first) is that I can't convince people (or even my dogs) to go on walks with me in this time of year due to the wind, rain, fog, snow, cold, and so forth.

So, I think the time of year I like best is probably around the first third of Autumn. The trees are beautiful, it's good walking weather with a light sweater, and all of the holiday season is in front of me. It's a bit like that "moment before you eat the honey" which is better than actually eating the honey, to paraphrase a stuffed animal in a children's book. Also, I am "an autumn" in the fashion sense. My complexion works best with fall colors.

Unless we're talking about Vivaldi, in which case Winter is, in fact, my favorite season.


Where are you from?

I was born and raised in Garden Grove, California (in Palm Harbor Hospital which is now a low income senior apartment complex), which is about a 15 minute drive from Disneyland and a 15 minute drive in another direction from the beach (when there's no traffic... which is never.) My parents were the folk music types in the 1960s, Quakers, and my father was a conscientious objector. My father was also a psychology major and one of the earliest computer technicians, back when computers were the size of my house. He still is a computer technician. He built and runs the computer network for LA County Fire. My mother was a stay at home Mom and then a secretary for the Quaker church and then an administrator for a Quaker retirement home. They are still married. My brother and I grew up in a remarkably stable environment at least where home-life was concerned (at school, turns out nerds get bullied.)

I lived with my folks until a brief stint in a college in Oregon, then I moved back and went to Chapman University, a private, top-tier university with all of the prestige and debt associated with such a thing. After I graduated I moved to Long Beach for a time and waited for my then-fiance to finish college. When she finished college she dumped me. After an aimless year or two I moved to Chico where my brother and his family live. After a few years I fell in love with and married Laurie.


Why do you have a pitbull? Don't you know they are dangerous, evil creatures brought straight from the fires of hell?

In defense of the anonymous person who asked this, this is a valid question as everyone knows that the thinking man's dog is the Schipperke-Chihuahua mix. So, why then did I get an American Staffordshire Terrier before I got a Schipperke-Chihauhau?

Also, this question is the first (and how about we make it the last) instance on this blog of Paul Baiting. Which, as you know, was a very popular sport during the reign of Elizabeth. It involved chaining a Paul by the neck to a post, removing his teeth with pliers, and letting dogs attack him to see which would win. Naturally, the dogs would always win as they were pit bulls which are Nature's own evidence of the existence of the Infernal!

Actually, in all seriousness, Ginger was found by my step-daughter Gina through the Butte County Humane Society when Ginger was five months old. As with all pit bulls, they are not any more aggressive than any other dogs, very sweet and loyal, trusting and seeking to please their masters which, yes, if you're putting this together with the dog fighting ring stories you hear tell about on the sensationalistic television newsfotainment shows, it quickly becomes apparent that mankind is the evil, wicked, violent, dangerous, monstrous species to be capable of betraying the trust of such wonderful animals. I am way more worried about Schubert going nuts and attacking someone someday than I am with Ginger. So, the answer to your question is that we love her and she loves us. She's the best dog I've ever had and the second best dog Laurie's ever had.

Although I do play with the media-fueled hysteria myself, I have to admit. Clearly the person asking the question has never seen the neighborhood in which I live. I think we all sleep easier knowing that the people who wander the streets at all hours can see a pit bull in our window looking out at them. Little do they know, the only bull she behaves anything like is Ferdinand.


If you want to send a question anonymously for me to answer in future postings of this kind on this blog, here's the place to do it: http://www.formspring.com/forms/?805682-tVpvj8P8KQ

It's A Bull Roaring Sunday!

So, I created an account with Formspring. For those of you who don't know, you can ask me a question and I receive it in my email totally anonymously. I have no idea who asked me the question. And I thought it might be fun to, every once in a while on this blog, answer the questions that I receive. We might make it a weekly thing or so depending on how quickly the questions come. But bookmark this link and, as questions come to you, just spit them into that box and I will answer them. It'll be fun: http://www.formspring.com/forms/?805682-tVpvj8P8KQ



What are your favorite books for children?

I think I would feed my hypothetical child Ray Bradbury as young as possible. The Little Prince certainly, Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book. Actually, any of Neil Gaiman's children's works are lovely. Believe it or not, I'm actually really fond of the Lemony Snicket books. D'Aulaires' Book of Illustrated Greek Myths is a must own for every child. I'd get the child into Middle Earth, Narnia, Wonderland, Toad Hall and Oz. Jules Verne is wonderful for people of any age. When they're a little older, needless to say Dickens, Twain, Dumas and Poe.
You really want to fill a child's head with fairy tales. I imagine that's largely why one would have children in the first place. The tried and true standards are great (Grimm and Andersen) but there are also many wonderful geographic specific collections of fairy tales. Above all, I would advise any parent, do not neglect the fairy tales of Oscar Wilde. I think that they are some of the most underrated works of children's literature.
I grew up on Carl Barks' and Don Rosa's duck adventure comics. I think my child would know the inside of a comic book store. Jill Thompson's Scary Godmother series is one I would for sure get for my hypothetical child. They come in both comic and storybook form. The art is delightfully whimsical, the stories good fun, and come with cooking and craft projects within the story, so you get kind of an interactive aspect to the story. Highly, highly recommend them and if you don't want to go to a comic book store, I won't think any less of you. That's why the Good Lord gave us Amazon. As for other picture books, they're kind of easy and abundant.
Poetry for children is an embarrassment of riches as well. Certainly I'd go with Ogden Nash, Edward Lear and without a doubt Shel Silverstein.
As soon as my hypothetical child is old enough to sit through a movie in a theater, I would start taking the child to the live theater, the symphony and the opera. I know you asked about books, but theater is literature. Expose them as soon as possible to A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Tempest, Peter Pan, and musicals. Lots of musicals. You might be surprised at how affordable it can be with a subscription or keeping an eye on "pay what you will" nights at live theaters. How awesome must be the vicarious thrill of a child's first Into the Woods, The Music Man, Peter and the Wolf, Fiddler on the Roof, The Mikado, Swan Lake, and so on (although, as with everything, I would also advise you to do your homework. Don't come crying to me if you accidentally take your 6 year old to Sweeney Todd or Hair.)
Although that does bring me to a larger point. Much like with developing a taste in food, I think a child should be encouraged away from crap and toward real nourishment (don't get me wrong. I love both Sweeney Todd and Hair. You'll notice that this is an entirely new paragraph.) In books as in food. And in music as well, while I'm thinking of it.
I know Jeanette Winterson has written at least one children's book. I haven't read it, but I love her work, which brings me to another wonderful point on the subject of children's literature. You get to explore with your child! You get to learn and experience new things too.


What would you say you listen for in music more than all
else? Your primal sense of "resonance" or "taste" - what do you find
it connects to? Musicianship, skill, prowess? Culture? Intelligence? Some sort of raw,
undefinable quality?

I think I like the resolution games composers play, be they elegant or clever. I do enjoy complexity and certainly enjoy a good puzzle, but I can also be dazzled by simple perfection. One thing I've often been accused of by so many and diverse a group of observers, enough to make me think there's probably some truth to it, is that I tend toward music that ratchets up the raw nerve emotion to a fever pitch. Be it Tom Waits or Nicki Jaine or Richard Wagner or even, in a completely different way, Glenn Gould interpreting Bach's Goldberg Variations. I appreciate music that successfully, in my estimation (let's not kid ourselves, it does boil down to personal taste at some point), aspires to the highest yearnings of humankind. This is also why I prefer hymns, music that is well composed, lyrics that have levels and depth and reveal theological lessons.
Although, let me also add that this doesn't mean everything I listen to demands the attention of everyone in ear range. Brian Eno's Music for Airports also falls into this category for me.
I should also add that talent and ability are aspects of musicianship I've come to greatly appreciate, especially since my young, punk rock, garage band years. There is a lot to be said about something that is lovely, something that is well done, and something that others might not be capable of at the very least without unattainable hours of practice.

I also am very much a sucker for two things in lyrical content: cleverness and subversion.

Although, as those around me well know, when I'm in a hair-letting-down mood I tend toward music that sounds like a raucous drunken Eastern European party for some reason. The Poxy Boggards, Jason Webley, Gogol Bordello, Flogging Molly, even the tamburitza music I love so much. Although I lead a very sober and focused life now, something about that sound, the accordions and violins, appeals to some weird kink in my DNA strand. I'm also fond of zydeco.
As to what it connects to, I think one of those ancient, visceral, hip-shaking appeals. Music is a language which, like other art forms, are used to express things that can only be expressed (or, maybe let's be generous and say can best be expressed) through that medium.


What was the first thing that attracted you to your wife?

Well, it depends to what you are referring by attracted. I know I've struggled for years with feeling like an alien in my own religion and when I first met my then future wife at a church function she was wearing leopard print gloves. For some reason when I saw that I thought "Hey, here's someone I might be able to talk to!"
We were only friends for a while and, although she is a magnificently attractive woman, I kind of had her in the "friend" category where one does not look at a person in that manner. When she helped me move, we became very close that week, spending a lot of time together. She quickly became my best friend and it became clear to me that I didn't want to spend another day of my life without her. It would therefore be necessary for us to marry. In essence, I proposed to her that night although the ring came a few weeks later.
At the risk of grossing out my step-kids who may or may not read this, at the same moment that the fact that I must marry this woman became evident to me, it also became evident that the category of "just friends" had been shut off sometime when we weren't paying attention and mutual attraction had developed. So the shift into romance was kind of an organic process. She was and remains my best friend.

Something for the Foodies

So, last night I made my secret chili recipe and, in a bold move acting out my belief that information should be denied no one, I live tweeted my cooking, giving away almost every detail of how to make my secret chili recipe. Now you can make Paul Mathers Style Chili. I left a few things out because of time and 140 character limits, so I thought it might be fun to expand on the event here. I've never put a recipe on this blog before, so this is something a little different.

I waited until last night to make the chili because Gina's boyfriend Stefan was in Nashville this past week until Wednesday and he wanted to try it. I don't make my chili often because there has to be an inciting event. The inciting event is that someone will give me really good and special meat. I won't use ground beef from the supermarket. Someone has to give me venison or (as it was in this case) bear. Or even if it's home-raised meat like a goat or a cow from a farm where the animal was able to use its legs and see the sun. That sort of thing. It's a matter of taste on two levels. The point is, you need a really good and special meat.

So, here's how you do it.

You take your meat out of the freezer much earlier than I did yesterday. If you're like me, you'll start your cooking time by putting the partially defrosted meat into a bowl of hot water and get to work on your puree first.
In a food processor, cut up your red bell pepper with olive oil and garlic. Puree and throw into a soup pot. Crack a can (not a bottle) of Guinness stout and pour the whole can in. Pour in one can of kidney beans and one of black beans. Get your tomato replacement sauce which is 1/2 cup molasses, 1/4 cup brown sugar, 1/4 cup cider vinegar, 1 tsp basil (although, as you can probably imagine, I just eyeball the measurements for the most part) and throw all of that in the soup pot as well. Squeeze a lemon in there (not lemon juice from a bottle!)
Let that simmer and by now you should be ready to brown the meat. Throw it in a pan with lots of olive oil, a whole diced red onion and even more garlic. Get your meat good and cooked, nice and brown, like you'd be ready to serve it just like that, and then throw everything in the pan into the soup pot.
Get it up to boiling and then let it simmer, stirring occasionally. Maybe throw Tom Waits' Glitter and Doom album on the stereo. Clean up a bit before Laurie sees what a mess you've made. You can let this simmer with occasional stirring for over an hour. I think I went about an hour and a half with this step. You want to give the flavors you have so far a good chance to get to know one another. You also don't want to put the spices in too early. The spices go in about 40 minutes before you're going to serve. Go ahead and throw about a glass worth of red wine in there. I go with a Shiraz.

While we're waiting, this is the first meal in our 3 years together that I've made for Laurie. She doesn't let me cook. First of all, because she's an excellent cook, so I don't mind. I like to cook, but every picture she's seen of things I cooked before we were together were dishes with a fried egg on top. Laurie hates eggs. The other reason is that I kind of explode all over the kitchen when I cook.

Okay, so now it's time for the spice drop. Do not use a mix. 4 tbl chili powder, 2 cumin, 1 cayenne, a bit of cinnamon, a bit of paprika, a bit of curry and salt. Maybe some black pepper. Let that mingle for about 20 minutes and taste it. It will probably have a strong after-kick and if you're trying to win people over with your cooking, especially people who are not spice-heads, now is the time to throw in some butter and grated cheddar. Slowly so you don't do too much. You can also throw in some dark chocolate here if you'd like. I didn't this time, but sometimes if you find you went a little crazy with the vinegar, lemon or wine, it's a good, sweet taste balancer. If you're like me, at this point you'll start to regret having toned the spice down so much and you'll throw a bunch of Tabasco into the mix.
Now, about 10 minutes before you're going to serve, cut up some carrots and your green bell pepper so that there will be a little crunch to it.

Laurie made kind of a whole wheat corn bread yesterday that went really well with it. The good people at Guinness sell their product in 4 packs, so a glass of Guinness goes well with this.

It was a success. Everyone liked it. Laurie even cleaned her plate.

Reading the Classics with Paul- Walden part 2

Okay, look. Nobody said the Reading The Classics series was going to be easy. I had a very difficult time with the first part of this week's reading and strongly anticipate that some of you did as well. I stand by my statements that this will be worthwhile.

I came to a few conclusions with this week's reading. The first was that I decidedly do not like Thoreau as a person. Although I maintain that it is a very well written book and profitable to read, as I'll defend in a moment. Just because I don't like or disagree with someone doesn't mean that I won't like the work they produce or that I won't profit from looking at the world through their point of view for a time. I probably wouldn't like to spend a week with Picasso, Wagner and Baudelaire, but I certainly enjoy all of their work immensely. Likewise, sometimes someone I like quite a bit can produce work that is sub-par or poorly thought out. Basic decency forbids me to make a list of them here. And then there are those who I hate personally and also wrote books of very poor quality. Hitler and Norman Mailer come to mind.

Thoreau is a fine writer. It's his attitude and world-view I dislike. Although, as a side note, this week's reading seems to have finally broken down my wall against writing in the margins and underlining. I've found it very profitable to interact with this text, even if so much of my marginalia is snarky in this case.

We start this week's reading with Thoreau coveting farms with great relish (he relishes the coveting, that is. They are not pickle farms as far as I can tell.) One of the frustrating aspects I've noticed so far is Thoreau's tendency to hint at spirituality without going at all into details. Maybe he will later, but I was hoping for a treatise on Transcendentalism, a philosophy which, on paper, appeals to me quite a bit. So far he gives no such explanation. To wit "We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us in our soundest sleep." Amen. More of that, please, and less of the arrogant "Only one in a hundred million [men is awake enough] to a poetic or divine life." Also, I strongly disagree with Thoreau that men who believe that the chief end of mankind is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever is a hasty or misguided conclusion. Unfortunately, Thoreau saw no need to explain or back up that claim so, for me, it's yet another instance of a cranky guy shooting off his mouth.

I don't agree with him that one should "keep one's accounts on one's thumbnail." This is a rare instance where I agree with and invoke a quote from Robert Heinlein, "A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."

Thoreau's finger wagging at people who follow the news struck me as both hard-hearted (specifically there was the metaphor of the "gouged out eyes" which would be fine except that Thoreau is speaking in metaphor from the comfort of his own life while an actual human went through the real pain of having their eyes gouged out) and calling for the thing in this world I may be most dead-set against: willful ignorance.

All of Thoreau's talk against working makes me nauseous. I hate not working. He loves being idle, I hate it. The worst times, in my experience, is when I am not working. And he talks about it in his presumptuous way of absolutes that he has as though there is no doubt in his mind that we will all be on board with him on that point.

The "Reading" section was a little easier on my relationship with Thoreau although he still very often indulges in being sanctimonious and self-righteous. So I write "Amen" next to passages like "For what are the classics but the noblest recorded thoughts of man?" While I find myself writing "Pooh! Nonsense" next to passages like "for later writers, say what we will of their genius, have rarely, if ever, equalled the elaborate beauty and finish... of the ancients."
I recently read a column on how there are Red State and Blue State mentalities in the classical music community. The Red Staters are inclined to want to preserve the classics and bathe in them as much as possible as they are. The Blue Staters fear an increasingly irrelevant form and seek to champion new, experimental works. The writer of that column (and I for that matter) have what I think is a balanced view of being a little of both. We can love the old and the new. We can also identify that neither are virtuous in and of themselves and that there are great (and awful) works in both the classical and contemporary.
Thoreau seems to be a Von Karajan-level Red Stater. On one hand, I can respect this and largely agree with it. On the other, when he starts his "new is bad, old is good" rants, I have to part ways. His precious treatment of the classics remind me of conspiracy theorists who love that they have some imagined special knowledge that makes them better than everyone else. I sort of get the impression that if everyone had shared his love of the classics, he would hate it because it would mean that he didn't get to be all special and, in his mind, justifiably misanthropic anymore.

I don't have a lot to say about the "Sounds" or "Solitude" section except that his descriptions are very well done in my opinion. I underlined a lot but had little to remark upon. Also, I don't usually think about freight trains when I think of Walden, but there you go.

He begins the "Visitors" with "I love society as much as most, and am ready enough to fasten myself like a bloodsucker for the time to any full-blooded man who comes my way." So, wait, is this whole book satire and I just didn't get it until now?
The section on the Canadian was very well done. It brought to mind, for me, some of the better work of Kerouac or even Whitman. A bit romantic, but done well in that way that swept me right into the romanticism. It was also a breath of fresh air to see Thoreau talking about another living human being that he actually liked. He was good at it. I wish he'd done more of it.
I also liked his statement "if a man is alive, there is always a danger that he may die, though the danger must be allowed to be less in proportion as he is dead-and-alive to begin with." We are all Schrodinger's Cat.
I really loved this section. I would remove this section from the rest of the text and be happy. Or, in other words, the "Visitors" section was the sort of thing I had in mind when I said that Thoreau had some worthwhile things to say if you slog through it. And there is more to come.

Some of you may groan at this (including, probably, myself about a week from now when I'm just barely finishing what I've assigned for myself), but I really would like to finish this book in two more sections (and be done with it.) So, this next time will be reading through page 160 in my copy, through the section titled "Brute Neighbors."

Thursday News In Review

Well, we're back. Last week we had a week off from News in Review due to the lack of any news which was not lists of "the best of the past decade." As much as I generally loathe them, I was encouraged to see film critic Roger Ebert's list of the best films of the last decade and that I am in full agreement with him over his choice for #1.

Our Main News Story:

Of course, this is the main news of the week. Computer scientist Fabrice Bellard used his desktop computer to calculate pi to nearly 2.7 trillion digits, some 123 billion more than the previous record. The previous record was set in Japan back in August, but what's remarkable about this story is that that calculation was made with a supercomputer. This one was computed by a simple desktop computer.


Varnish News:

This week, scientists have discovered the secret behind the Stradivarius. As you well know, the Stradivarius is considered by many to be the finest violins ever created. Antonio Stradivari was a violin maker in Cremona around the turn of the 1700s. There has been speculation for years that there was a secret ingredient in the varnish of the violins, most likely powdered unicorn horn, that gave the violin its tone.
Scientists took a minuscule sample from a Stradivarius and learned this week that, no, there is no secret ingredient in the varnish. The beautiful tone of the Stradivarius is apparently from the most masterful craftsmanship in human history. Perhaps another example of the old quote "significantly advanced technology will be interpreted as magic."


Crashing Things into Other Things News:

Yesterday I began to read news about a Japanese whaling ship hitting a small boat full of protesters. All I knew at the time was that the whaling ship broke the other ship completely in half and that no one was injured in the incident, but that they sure could have been. Today the activists have stated that the whaling ship intentionally rammed into them in what at least the British media is perhaps slightly sensationalisticly calling a "whale war." Which I guess would make this Whale War One.
This on the same day as the story of a Bluefin Tuna selling in Tokyo for $177,000. Why so much for a tuna, I hear you cry? Mainly because someone in this generation will most likely eat the last living one on Earth.
So, to all of my vegetarian readers, clip this whaling story for next Thanksgiving when your rancher Uncle Fred inevitably says "You know what's the problem with you environmentalists? You value animal life more than you value human life!"

Although also do bear in mind this is from a man who is going to be live tweeting cooking my very meaty chili tonight. And you can follow along with all of the action and copy my recipe here starting around 4:30 PST.


Publishing News:

An interesting book is in the works. The latest edition of the "Nietzsche Encyclopaedia," written and researched by around 150 academics, is claiming that it will show how Nietzsche's Nazi sympathizing sister had a lot more to do with what was published in Friedrich Nietzsche's name than was previously thought. The publisher claims that Nietzsche was victim to "the most insidious falsification scandal in editing history... the biggest falsifications were not limited to Nietzsche's posthumously published work The Will to Power; one can prove that even the works that Nietzsche released to the printers himself were substantially distorted by his sister."
The claim is that Nietzsche's sister actively and horribly distorted Nietzsche's original material to suit her political and ideological agendas. "The encyclopaedia now documents the extent of her alterations, some of which were made while the philosopher was still alive, though already mentally deranged, and they mostly had catastrophic consequences," Niemeyer said.
Which begs the question, probably unanswerable, in my mind: is this true or is this, in fact, academics who otherwise adore bits of Nietzsche trying to rescue the philosopher from some of the extremely regrettable material he produced? I really wonder what evidence they produce in the book. I guess we'll see when the book is published and then if it makes it to an English translation.

Reading Resolutions

There was an article I read yesterday about the writer of the article's New Year's "Reading Resolutions." As I said before, I don't tend to go for New Year's resolutions because I think if there's something you see that you can do, you should do it without waiting for an arbitrary date. But I thought it might be fun to take a moment here at the beginning of the year and gaze at my reading navel.

One thing I do have is a list of books I would like to tackle some day but, for one reason or another, I haven't. Books on the list tend to be ones that intimidate me or simply ones I've been meaning to get to and haven't yet. Last year I think I tackled most of my list and found several that I loved (House of Leaves, Nightwood, The Bell Jar, Breakfast at Tiffany's) and some I learned conclusively that I either really don't ever need to read them or at the very least this is not the time in my life where I need to read them (Ulysses, Dune and Gravity's Rainbow.)
Right now I have a few in mind for the coming year. This year I think I'd finally like to delve into Nabokov. I think I'd like to try to get through Plato's Republic. The guy with the article mentioned his desire to read more contemporary works. I don't feel I'm contemporarily anemic. In fact, very often I find myself, in reading contemporary works, slapping my forehead and thinking I could have had a V-8. Still, there was another article I read yesterday of people in the literary community picked there "book of the past decade." I'd only read two of the books picked by any of them and I only enjoyed one of the two. Not that I care, but the list did remind me of four I could probably put into my list for this year: White Teeth, The Road, The Thin Place and Cloud Atlas.
Oh, and maybe Persepolis. Whoops. I guess I'm capable of that thing I hate when others do: when people put graphic novels in a different category from literature. I should know better than that.

Of course, I have my Reading the Classics groups which will take me through eight more of the Western Canon. When I'm done, at this point I'm pretty sure I'm going to continue with classics I would have chosen for that list of essential classics. More on that later. Much much later at this rate.

Also, Laurie and I have started a "read the Bible in a year" schedule.

I am of mixed feelings over the advice that life's too short to read books you're not enjoying. I think "enjoying" is a relative term and sometimes we can profit from material we don't like or agree with. I'm not really "enjoying" Thoreau like I enjoy Poppy Z. Brite's Liquor series, but I strongly feel it will profit me to have gone through it. Much like when a student says "I don't want to take my Final." Well, really they do want to because they want the result of a grade and a diploma. They just don't want the immediate stress. If they really didn't want to, they just wouldn't show up on Finals day. So, I find I kind of have to play it by ear.

One thing I wish I could do is what Laurie does. I've read Mortimer Adler's argument and agree that a book should be ravaged, lived in, worn, truly enjoyed. Laurie does that. She writes in the margins and pours over pages. She underlines and dog ears. I envy her that ability. I am entirely incapable of doing that. All of the books in my office have been read and they all pretty much look as new as they would in a bookstore. The few times I've tried to read a book interactively, the underlining and margin notes stop about 1/4th of the way in and I go back to reading with a gingerly placed bookmark. It's funny because Laurie and I are totally reversed otherwise. But she's the Oscar reader and I'm the Felix.

Other than that, I'm pretty happy with my reading habits and plan to continue much as I have.