Since Feeling is First
E.E. Cummings
since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says
we are for each other; then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph
And death i think is no parenthesis
___________________________________________________
The Theory of Absence
By Dunya Mikhail
Translated by Elizabeth Winslow
The Hypothesis: I am tense and so are you.
We neither meet nor separate.
The desired result: We meet in the absence.
The proof: As tension turns people into arcs, we are two arcs.
We neither meet nor separate (the hypothesis)
so we must be parallel.
If two parallel lines are bisected by a third line
(in this case, the line of tension)
their corresponding angles must be equal (a geometrical theorem).
So we are congruent (because shapes are congruent
when their angles are equal)
and we form a circle (since the sum
of two congruent arcs
is a circle).
Therefore, we meet in the absence
(since the circumference of a circle
is the sum of contiguous points
which can each be considered
a point of contact).
___________________________________________________
A Boundless Moment
Robert Frost
He halted in the wind, and -- what was that
Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost?
He stood there bringing March against his thought,
And yet too ready to believe the most.
"Oh, that's the Paradise-in-bloom," I said;
And truly it was fair enough for flowers
had we but in us to assume in march
Such white luxuriance of May for ours.
We stood a moment so in a strange world,
Myself as one his own pretense deceives;
And then I said the truth (and we moved on).
A young beech clinging to its last year's leaves.
Monday, April 27, 2009
a very creamy chocolate
they say chocolates are aphrodisiac. if you'll ask why a lover gives you a whole box, then at least now you know. 
a part-"Como Agua Para Chocolate" (Like Water for Chocolate) and part-"Dream of a Ridiculous Man", this screenplay of Joanne Harris's novel, "Chocolat" unleashes the roughness and sweetness of life through the story of an unmarried mother, Vianne Rocher (Juliette Binoche), whose wanderlust has blown her into a traditional French village set in a bygone era of innocence and simplicity, inadvertently awakening its sleeping desires and passion. by putting up a chocolate shop across the church, she found herself at the center of gossips as the neighborhood becomes curious of her resistance to follow the norms, as well as her refusal to attend mass.
traveling with her dead mother's ashes, Vianne darted into the lives of religious and conservative villagers who are either long-repressed or faithfully trying to keep up with the collectively-accepted form of morality, dictated by Comte Paul, the village head. played by Alfred Molina, 2005 MTV Movie Awards for Best Villain nominee for his portrayal of Doc Ock in Spiderman 2, the ever righteous and reserve Comte Paul, who's muddled by his own busted-up family affairs and constrained by the limits of what he knew was best for everyone, would do anything to keep the village's inherited pattern of thought, as he makes a slick villain of himself through exercising authoritative control over their new young parish priest, Pierre Henri (Hugh O'Conor), taking part as far as to edit or even write his sermons, and urging people to despise the threatening influence of the radical Vianne. people are compelled to confess and repent for the slightest offense, and even for their so-called "too much indulgence" in chocolates, as if it would contaminate their spirits.
the way the churchgoers passively abide by their traditional guiding principles reminds us of the dear Miss Maudie Atkinson in Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird" as she recounts to Scout Finch her observations of how people seem to live in a circus: "There are just some kind of men who - who're so busy worrying about the next world they've never learned to live in this one, and you can look down the street and see the results."
when Roux (the demigod Johnny Depp) and other gypsies—otherwise called pirates—sailed into the rivers of the village and found a good spot in its banks, Vianne forged friendship with them, which exasperated the comte and the townspeople. their ire called forth a protest against her and her chocolateria, as summarized in a pretext of the comte's ordinance, "Boycott Immorality." Roux, the only person whom Vianne fails to guess his favorite chocolate, offered to repair the chocolate shop's door, which is expressive of shielding Vianne from the persistent unjustified criticisms of the people who are reluctant to accept changes and new ideas.
as for me (yup, that's right, FOR ME; don't protest), any movie with Johnny Depp in it is a good film, though there was not enough of him in this story. working again with Director Lasse Hallstrom after "What's Eating Gilbert Grape", Depp exuded his distinguishing trait as an actor once more in this poetic story of people seeking acceptance and a sense of normality.
aside from the use of food as symbolic imagery, the story partly resembles "Como Agua Para Chocolate" in terms of magic realism, although in this movie, it is very lightly unfolded. at the same rate, Dostoyevsky's short story only does affect the screenplay throughout the entire extent of self-liberation. a traffic of thoughts is revealed to one's judgment, bordering feminism and Christianity.
"Chocolat" oozes in fragrance and sweetness with every delicate scene of melting and molding chocolates, and at the same time, this concoction of sweet tales about individuality, family, and coexistence has a fairy tale look and feel, and is narrated on a light, enchanting note. the peculiar thing about this, though, is the tralatitious spreading of chocolate syrup on every dish, as seen on the birthday of Vianne's landlady, who later on became her friend. spending the rest of the party on a decadent evening of dance at Roux's boat—a pre-taste of the fertility feast on the coming Easter Sunday—is not surprisingly bothersome for the comte and his followers, and which they also find extremely immoral. the viewer soon learns how strong his words impact his subordinates. however, in the attempt to topple down the chocolateria, the comte finds himself caught in a dilemma of his own cynicism and blinded by the same idea he is selling.
and although Vianne was only brought to that land by a sly northern wind, bearing her mother's kismet, dispensing ancient cacao remedies and traveling forever with the wind, she finds her roots in the village in an enchanting tale of standing up for one's belief and finally, the glorious feeling of being released.
"I think that we can't go around... measuring our goodness by what we don't do. By what we deny ourselves, what we resist, and who we exclude. I think... we've got to measure goodness by what we embrace, what we create... and who we include."- Pierre Henri
oftentimes, a movie with what seems to be a simple plot on the surface turns out to be something wonderful, and it's amazing how people can make sense so deep and philosophical with the use of sweet little things like chocolates. four out five stars for "Chocolat"!
*photo from The Reader's Eye
*my god, this has 913 words in it, and this is not required! (longer than what i passed in our Reviews class. haha!) :p
*oh well, i'm soooooooo bored...
sometimes it's also in the name
i have a theory. a very lame theory. for years i've been trying to formulate a fail-proof technique on how to gain favorable outcomes from almost everything i do, although i know things don't always come as planned and expected. i was just thinking, is there something in me that dictates what i would become, as well as the actual part of getting there? above all, i admit that the basic equation is effort plus a little luck plus what you know and who you know. but, could it be that it is also in the genes? zodiac signs? size and shape? color of the eyes? birthmarks? or even in names?
i can't help sharing my self-woven fact that the most successful people (here in the Philippines at the very least) have peculiar names or those that are sure to ring a bell on one's ears. of all the names i've heard, it is almost always true that either real strength or metaphoric rays is radiated through one's name. here, people with non-generic names, i think, have an inherent "plus 50 points" or bluntly said, are 50% ahead in terms of making and building a name.
in the literature and arts, we have Bienvenido Lumbera, Nicomedes Márquez Joaquin, Virgilio S. Almario, F. Sionil Jose, Mario Eric Gamalinda, Mauro Malang Santos, Juan Nakpil, Levi Celerio, Lucrecia Kasilag, Lino Brocka, and Ang Kiukok, to name a few. in politics, it is pretty obvious that their names are as strange as their personas. how these corrupt politicians kill and steal our money and come home to dine with their families at night is just bemusing! but, yes, their names are strange and they are famous.
my very lame theory was somehow supported by a blog i've seen on www.good.is, which is a well-substantiated explanation of how names eventually affect the lives of people in terms of their chosen careers, and i had a good laugh discovering that there are actually people whose names have amusing connections with their professions. read and find out if you are one.
What's in a name? Sometimes, a job
by Mark Peters
The Synchronous World of Aptronyms
Have you heard about the gardener named Alan Bloom or the defense attorney Scott Free? How about the brilliant professor of genetics, Dr. Murray Brilliant? Or the winner of the the Nez Perce County Fair hog-calling contest, Jolee Bacon?
Such perfect marriages of profession and handle sound like old-fashioned jokes from a paleo-comedic era.
Nuh-uh.
These kismetic combos of name and job are truth, not truthiness. Preposterously well-named people like Rita Book the librarian and Diane Berry the mortician have aptronyms—names that are particularly suited to a person’s profession. Folks have been wondering about “nominative determinism” and the “name-career hypothesis” for decades, and collecting the words also called aptonyms, jobonyms, namephreaks, perfect fit last names, and euonyms is a perennial hobby of word-herders.
The word aptronym dates back to at least 1925, and no less respectable a publication than New Scientist has been the home of much aptronym-discussing, though they prefer the term nominative determinism, a name for the phenomena that is both science-y and destiny-ish. In 1994, New Scientist introduced that term and discussed such cases as Dr. Misri (a depression-focused psychiatrist), R.A. Sparks (author of electronics textbooks), C.J. Berry (a make-your-own wine maven), and J. Angst, who co-wrote a book on bipolar disorder. Over the years, the letters page of New Scientist has been an ever-replenishing source of aptronyms, and I particularly enjoyed a 2005 issue that mentioned fish researchers Andrew Bass and Steven Haddock, as well as the journalist Elaine Lies, who probably does not agree that her aptronym is apt.
Timothy Noah of Slate—who lacks his own aptronym, unless he collects a metric ark-load of animals—is a top contender for collector laureate of the aptronym world, as his pieces have brought many to light. He’s collected dentists named Fear, Hurt, Toothman, Chu, Plack, and Puller, as well as an economist named Dollar, a gastroenterologist named Colon, a professor of religion named Godlove, an ophthalmologist named Blinder, and a urologist named Peters. (I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that…) Noah’s crowning glories are the discovery of sexual misconduct researcher Charol Shakeshaft and lawyer Sue Yoo, two professionals whose names must make their lives very interesting (and annoying).
For aptronym insight, you can’t do better than Verbie Prevost, literature professor and head of the English department at the University of Tennessee-Chattanooga, who I heard give a paper on this topic at the American Name Society conference a few months ago. As to whether or not the name influenced her, Verbie said her parents probably did not intend to steer their daughter toward an inevitable destiny as an English prof: “They were simply naming me after my grandmothers—Verbie for the maternal grandmother and Ann for the paternal one. I’m not sure it ever occurred to them to think about the connection even when I displayed an early interest in become a writer or an English teacher—as early as elementary school, in fact.”
In her paper, Verbie said that taunt-bearing schoolmates were equally uninterested in her name’s meaning: “I also do not really recall much reference being made to the aptronymic quality of my name during my K-12 school days, but then my classmates probably weren’t fully aware of my future plans. Instead, they primarily teased me about the unusualness of the name.” Admirably, Verbie has managed to not go bonkers from endless jokes about her name, like an old boyfriend who said her sister was named Nounie and another friend who calls Verbie’s children the pronouns.
You could say I have an aptronym, though it’s a bit of a stretch. As I’ve heard tell, my great-grandmother, who was more than a tad bonkers, wasn’t thrilled with the choice of Mark, saying, “What’s that? Like a mark on the wall?” (Guess she never heard of the Bible. Yeeps). But since making marks on paper is my favorite thing to do, even more than plowing through a bag of barbecue chips while watching about five episodes of The Shield in one sitting, the name does fit. I am a mark-er.
What about you, oh nameless readers? Is there a Randall Anonymous, who floats name-free notions across the web, or a Carol Comment with something to say? You know what to do, commentadores.
i can't help sharing my self-woven fact that the most successful people (here in the Philippines at the very least) have peculiar names or those that are sure to ring a bell on one's ears. of all the names i've heard, it is almost always true that either real strength or metaphoric rays is radiated through one's name. here, people with non-generic names, i think, have an inherent "plus 50 points" or bluntly said, are 50% ahead in terms of making and building a name.
in the literature and arts, we have Bienvenido Lumbera, Nicomedes Márquez Joaquin, Virgilio S. Almario, F. Sionil Jose, Mario Eric Gamalinda, Mauro Malang Santos, Juan Nakpil, Levi Celerio, Lucrecia Kasilag, Lino Brocka, and Ang Kiukok, to name a few. in politics, it is pretty obvious that their names are as strange as their personas. how these corrupt politicians kill and steal our money and come home to dine with their families at night is just bemusing! but, yes, their names are strange and they are famous.
my very lame theory was somehow supported by a blog i've seen on www.good.is, which is a well-substantiated explanation of how names eventually affect the lives of people in terms of their chosen careers, and i had a good laugh discovering that there are actually people whose names have amusing connections with their professions. read and find out if you are one.
What's in a name? Sometimes, a job
by Mark Peters
The Synchronous World of Aptronyms
Have you heard about the gardener named Alan Bloom or the defense attorney Scott Free? How about the brilliant professor of genetics, Dr. Murray Brilliant? Or the winner of the the Nez Perce County Fair hog-calling contest, Jolee Bacon?
Such perfect marriages of profession and handle sound like old-fashioned jokes from a paleo-comedic era.
Nuh-uh.
These kismetic combos of name and job are truth, not truthiness. Preposterously well-named people like Rita Book the librarian and Diane Berry the mortician have aptronyms—names that are particularly suited to a person’s profession. Folks have been wondering about “nominative determinism” and the “name-career hypothesis” for decades, and collecting the words also called aptonyms, jobonyms, namephreaks, perfect fit last names, and euonyms is a perennial hobby of word-herders.
The word aptronym dates back to at least 1925, and no less respectable a publication than New Scientist has been the home of much aptronym-discussing, though they prefer the term nominative determinism, a name for the phenomena that is both science-y and destiny-ish. In 1994, New Scientist introduced that term and discussed such cases as Dr. Misri (a depression-focused psychiatrist), R.A. Sparks (author of electronics textbooks), C.J. Berry (a make-your-own wine maven), and J. Angst, who co-wrote a book on bipolar disorder. Over the years, the letters page of New Scientist has been an ever-replenishing source of aptronyms, and I particularly enjoyed a 2005 issue that mentioned fish researchers Andrew Bass and Steven Haddock, as well as the journalist Elaine Lies, who probably does not agree that her aptronym is apt.
Timothy Noah of Slate—who lacks his own aptronym, unless he collects a metric ark-load of animals—is a top contender for collector laureate of the aptronym world, as his pieces have brought many to light. He’s collected dentists named Fear, Hurt, Toothman, Chu, Plack, and Puller, as well as an economist named Dollar, a gastroenterologist named Colon, a professor of religion named Godlove, an ophthalmologist named Blinder, and a urologist named Peters. (I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that…) Noah’s crowning glories are the discovery of sexual misconduct researcher Charol Shakeshaft and lawyer Sue Yoo, two professionals whose names must make their lives very interesting (and annoying).
For aptronym insight, you can’t do better than Verbie Prevost, literature professor and head of the English department at the University of Tennessee-Chattanooga, who I heard give a paper on this topic at the American Name Society conference a few months ago. As to whether or not the name influenced her, Verbie said her parents probably did not intend to steer their daughter toward an inevitable destiny as an English prof: “They were simply naming me after my grandmothers—Verbie for the maternal grandmother and Ann for the paternal one. I’m not sure it ever occurred to them to think about the connection even when I displayed an early interest in become a writer or an English teacher—as early as elementary school, in fact.”
In her paper, Verbie said that taunt-bearing schoolmates were equally uninterested in her name’s meaning: “I also do not really recall much reference being made to the aptronymic quality of my name during my K-12 school days, but then my classmates probably weren’t fully aware of my future plans. Instead, they primarily teased me about the unusualness of the name.” Admirably, Verbie has managed to not go bonkers from endless jokes about her name, like an old boyfriend who said her sister was named Nounie and another friend who calls Verbie’s children the pronouns.
You could say I have an aptronym, though it’s a bit of a stretch. As I’ve heard tell, my great-grandmother, who was more than a tad bonkers, wasn’t thrilled with the choice of Mark, saying, “What’s that? Like a mark on the wall?” (Guess she never heard of the Bible. Yeeps). But since making marks on paper is my favorite thing to do, even more than plowing through a bag of barbecue chips while watching about five episodes of The Shield in one sitting, the name does fit. I am a mark-er.
What about you, oh nameless readers? Is there a Randall Anonymous, who floats name-free notions across the web, or a Carol Comment with something to say? You know what to do, commentadores.
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