aMAZEd

Last night I stayed till 3 am trying to find out the resolution of Jeff Noon's Nymphomation. This book was highly suspense as well as two other Noon's books that I have read in the past. Both Vurt and Pollen were thrilling. I could not stop reading them because they were so confusing that I had to find out what this whole thing meant.

Noon is a master of creating new worlds and communicating them to his readers. He talks about things that are extremely difficult to comrehend, yet they seem very realistic. He involves the readers in alternative science, the knowledge of the future. It is really difficult to follow his chain of his thought, but that what makes his books page-turners.

Nymphomation is the new stage of human evolution, it is mathematics of love. Nymphomation is the basis for vurt and polonation. It is the first step towards the age of alternative realities and virtual worlds. Very confusing (read fascinating).

I was really impressed. I still feel that I did not understand a thing about Noon's world, but that is exactly what I am looking for in books. I hope that Noon's anti-Utopias will never become true, yet it would be very ingriguing to finally understand the mazes of his worlds.

A Sense of Humor (or Humorous Sense)

It's been months since my friend Mona asked me to speak to her students and share my US experiences. Mona is a Peace Corps volunteer based in a small village of Kolchugino, which perfectly matches the asceticism that Peace Corps are usually associated with. I was challenged with a task of talking to 6 different classes of students who rarely leave their village to go into the bigger city, for whom seeing a movie in a cinema is a subject for pride.

While talking to these students I felt awkward. For one, I felt sad because I was talking about things that most of them are most likely not experience in their lives. For two, I was ruining the Utopian vision of the US concluded from the numerous Hollywood movies that distort the American reality. I have tried to share what it feels to be a high school student in the US with all the fun that comes along.

Even though it was frustrating to repeat the same thing over and over again, I enjoyed the experience, as it made me think what makes our countries different. One thing that came to mind is the humor.

When I make a joke, I rarely think why this particular joke is funny in a certain environment. In Ukraine, most of the jokes are anecdotal, very situational. A good joke is the one making complete arses of main characters, who are usually archetypes. Unfortunately, often enough ethnicities and nationalities are turned into archetypes thus celebrating stereotypes about certain groups of people.

A man comes to the church and says:
- I have sinned, Reverend.
- What is your sin?
- I have cheated on a Jew.
- It is not a sin!
- What is it then?
- IT'S A MIRACLE!!!

I have noticed that in the US, most of humor is based on play of words. American jokes are witty. They require thinking. They employ the peculiarities of language to ridicule certain phenomena. More often than not jokes are meant to be sarcastic, and even scornful. The point is usually not on the surface, but has to be discovered.

- Did you hear that they have raised the minimum drinking age in Tennessee to 32?
- It seems they want to keep alcohol out of the high schools!

I am really not sure what these differences may mean. They may indicate nothing. Or they may emphasize the cultural differences through humor as a product of folklore.

Picture: The only monument in the world dedicated to The Smile. It is situated in Lvov, Ukraine.

Where are you, wolves?

I have rediscovered him - Hamlet of the Golden Age of Russian poetry. He is a poet, a singer, an actor; he died painfully. He is Vladimir Vysotsky, whose voice whirls your mind and feelings, makes your heart tremble. He is an immortal genious, whose word inspires and depresses, whose image charms and causes pain.


He wrote over 300 poems and songs, yet my favorite is Capricious Horses:

Along the brim line of a precipice, right by the very edge-stone
With a whip to drive my horses I do lash them, I do urge on...
Drink the wind, the fog I swallow, ’cause I feel a lack for breathing, -
Smelling raptures with the horror: getting missing, I’m getting missing!

Little slower, my horses, little slow, I say!
Don’t hear the tough lash’s hit!
But somewhat true is about my horses that capricious are they,
No time left to live and to sing in complete.

I’ll finish my song, I’ll give horses to drink -
Just a moment as longer I’ll stand on the brink...

I’ll be gone, the hurricane will sweep me out like a down,
On the morning snow sledging at a gallop shan’t I drive them, -
Change your pace to one unhurried, oh my horses, slow down,
Please, prolong my way a little to the terminal asylum!

Little slower, my horses, little slow, I say!
Can’t they order, a lash and a whip.
But somewhat true is about my horses that capricious are they,
No time left to live and to sing in complete.

I’ll finish my song, I’ll give horses to drink -
Just a moment as longer I’ll stand on the brink...

Done in time it: there may be no delay to see God’s palace, -
Why are the angels singing there with one voice in such a malice ?!
Whether this is just a small bell in hysterics and a sob all,
Or when shouting at horses it’s my trying them to stop call?!

Little slower, my horses, little slow, I say!
Could you lower your racing a bit!
But somewhat true is about my horses that capricious are they,
No time left to live, if only sing in complete!

I’ll finish my song,
I’ll give horses to drink
Just a moment as longer I’ll stand on the brink.

The Betrayal

Finally done! I have been trying to finish this book for two months, but had virtually no time. The Lords of Discipline by Pat Conroy is officially in the 'read and liked' section of my library. This book was just great.

Pat Conroy took me back to my school years and reminded me about the good, the bad and the ugly of my strange days in the all-boys boarding school that I have attended. While reading, I made certain parallels, and found numerous similarities. It wasn't a military school, yet it had its own unwritten code of honor, system of subordinance and discipline. It wasn't as harsh or crude, yet it hold everyone to high moral (and physical) standards.

One part of the book that really touched me was the honor violation committed by Pig, when he was caught trying to siphon gasoline from his friend's car. The consequences he faced and the way he was disgraced were troubling - he was expelled from the school, and has become the one, whose name was not to be spoken ever again.

The abuse of trust is something that I was always afraid of. In friendship, I long for mutual understanding and high level of trust. I hate being cheated on. To my regret, I have been betrayed and I was greatly hurt.

At some point in high school, we have started observing an increased number of money missing from our lockers. That was troubling and it was continuing for some time, before we decided to take some action. My tutor resorted to my help and using certain tricks, we have managed to find out who the 'rat' was. It was my good friend, who I forgave, and he was never aware of the fact that I knew. Our friendship continued, and I actually stopped thinking about the past accident, when a stealing happened again - he stole from another friend of ours just before both of them came to visit my house. When we were back to school, I was really mad, and I never talked to the guy again. What he did was pitiful and pathetic, and I did not respect myself for giving this person a second chance.

Since then I have become more cautious with who I make friends with, yet I can never be sure. This guy never stole a penny from me, but he did from every other classmate of ours. This lesson was useful, but it had a very painful price.

Picture: (c) Ashley 'Ariarnith Silver Flame' Mutek (http://elfwood.lysator.liu.se/art/a/s/ashleym/betrayal.jpg.html)

The Facebook and The Exhibitionism

I have a pen pal of 40+, who often challenges my view of the contemporary world. In our correspondence, she once mentioned that the way I post pictures online seems voyeur to her. I gave this idea a thought, and have realized that indeed most of my activity online is rather scopophilic. The way I live and make friends, forces me to utilize internet as a medium for communication with them, and the way I expose moments of my life are nothing but exhibitionist attempts to impose my personality.

In the contemporary world, voyeurism and exhibitionism have accepted new shapes, and mostly refer to exposure of personalities, rather than physical bodies.

The more you think about it, the more pathetic it seems. The facebook seems to be an ideal tool for contemporary scopophilia. Sometimes I feel really naked posting my pictures, and sharing things that I should keep private. But the more you share, the more addicted you become. You loose touch with the sense of real friendship, making it more virtual. Subliminally you act voyeur, when browsing through the profiles of your friends, and act exhibitionist when trying to display yourself for everyone to see who you are...

Even at this very moment, writing this blog, I am exposing my ideas, which otherwise would have found their place in my journal. Yet I voluntarily choose to make them public. I am being exhibitionist?

Skating on Thin Ice

My sister never ice skated, but really wanted to try. Today, I gifted her the experience of I-am-determined-and-I-don't-care-about-bruises.

While watching her learning to skate, I thought of an interesting allegory. Skating is a lot like any other new experience in our lives...

Any novelty is preceded with a bit of anxiety and excitement, and some fear of something unknown. Once you make your first step on the rink, you realize that you have no idea what to do, and you are about to fall. You grab whatever or whoever is there by you, so to gain some support. You keep falling and rising. At some point you either loose your determination and quit, or bring together all your will power and make another effort. You reach that breaking point between I-don't-know and I-know. You start skating short distances at a time, until you gain more confidence. One day you realize that you know how to do it, and it is a piece of cake...

But the ice is unpredictable. Your skills might betray you unexpectedly when you hit a bump. You might fall and raise to look back and see what caused your failure. That bump taught you a lesson and you try to avoid it every time you make a new circle.

You progress. You learn how to make new tricks. You learn to jump. You feel really confident, but you are never sure if the ice you are scratching is not going to ruin your life.