Amusing incident. During class, professor somehow was talking about a TV program he saw sometimes ago, about the top 100 most influential people in history. He asked us to guess who was number 1. Everyone was amused, several guesses thrown out, but no cigar. Then he announced gleefully that it is a very surprising answer, so surprising in fact, that he would buy dinner for the person who get it right. Then he gave a hint, "it has something to do with cloning." Lightbulb went on in my head and I said, "Gutenberg." I was right. Much laughter ensued.

I realized that he was just saying that dinner thing in the heat of the moment, and really had no intention to buy dinner for a utter stranger. So I wasn't surprised when no mention of it was made after the class. I graciously made a quick exit to avoid any potential embarrassing moment for him where he would be forced to acknowledge his rash promise.

Paradise Lost is difficult. But there are passages that are very worthwhile. Take the following excerpt, where Satan surveys the millions of fallen angels, essentially his rebel army, who were thrown out of Heaven down to Hell, though all of them battered and in great pain, now forming disciplined ranks to listen to him, their leader, speak,

. . . . . . . . . .Cruel his eye, but cast
Signs of remorse and passion, to behold
The fellows of his crime, the followers rather
(Far other once beheld in bliss), condemned
For ever now to have their lot in pain--
Millions of Spirits for his fault amerced
Of Heaven, and from eteranl splendours flung
For his revolt--yet faithful how they stood,
Their glory withered; as, when heaven's fire
Hath scathed the forest oaks or mountain pines,
With singed top their stately growth, though bare,
Stands on the blasted heath. . . . . . . .

What imagery!

During phone conversation, Mother urged me again to "have more lively facial expressions when meeting people." I insist my facial expression is fine. But she is convinced that I act like a unsmiling Death Robot around people. I guess I know what she is talking about, as I am not exactly the most effusive person. But I really don't think it's that bad. I can usually spot a person putting on a phony display of bonhomie and I dislike such performances. I have neither the capability or the desire to emulate them.

A interesting interview with a journalist who wrote a book tracking the lives of people in poverty. She followed a particular group of people for many years, from when they were teenagers to adulthood.

I never understood why Beuwolf is held in such high regard. All the warriors like to do is to drink mead, take over someone else's meadhall, despatch a monster, drink more mead, despatch mother of monster, and so on. After the book, I am left wondering what exactly is this delicious mead substance and where could I get some. Though it sounds suspiciously like a Anglo-Saxon version of beer. I've heard the argument about its importance as myth. Perhaps so, but the story and characters are totally opaque to me. I see only violent actions by brutish men drunk on mead. For that, I can go watch a episode of COPS.

There was a interesting novel by John Gardener, telling the story of Beuwolf from the view point of the monster Grendel.

As far as reading goes, been on a classics kick recently. Just read a short story collection by Heinrich Von Kleist, a emotionally unstable man who blew his own brains out in his 30's in the early 19th century, and whose stories seem to reflect a intense obsession with human irrationality and cruelty. Right now I am attempting Paradise Lost. Attempting is the key word here. Still wish to dig deeper into Mrs Dalloway, but too busy.

An interesting website that offer links to online articles about culture.

Not good news.

My program coordinator told me that the college is weighing the option of replacing Master student TAs with people hired from outside starting next semester. Apparently, it's much cheaper to pay the salaries and benefits of an employee than it's to pay the tuition and stipend of a Master student. Plus, an full time employee could work triple the load a Master student can, so theoretically a huge class like the one I am working in would only require 1 or 2 full time employee, instead of five student TAs.

I imagine there will be plenty of boardroom meetings, with slick Powerpoint presentations showing nice histogram graphs, and rigorous computational models to show the projected amount of money the college will save. It will be a triumph of financial efficiency optimization.

So in effect, I could be downsized next semester.

books recently read and verdict:

Jennifer Government: a pretty clever satire on the commercialization of the world. Premise: in the future, nations as we know them don't exist, replaced by multi-national corporations. And people take their last names by the company they work for. The plot involves a Nike scheme to gun down the kids buying the new heavily promoted sneakers so as to increase the "street-cred" of the product. Enjoyable light read.

Cousin Felix Meets the Buddha: the observations of an American reporter in current China. Interesting, but author tries to hard, strains after profoundities where none could be found.

Mrs. Dalloway: A great book, very complicated. The ordinary day or a ordinary English upper-class woman in 1922. The day starts with Clarissa Dalloway stepping out to buy flowers for a party she will throw in the evening, and end with the wrapping up of that party. Nothing dramatic happen in the exterior world, it is just an ordinary day, but in the interior, the characters are fully alive and complex, bombarded by sensations, remembrances. Still don't understand parts of book.

I am very saddened by the ransack and destruction of the Iraqi museums, where countless artifacts are being stolen or smashed by looters. In fact, my feelings on this is stronger than on other reports of anarchy and chaos. Is this too cavalier an attitude? After all, much more immediate sufferings are occuring all over the place, why should one be sighing over pieces of broken pottery? Maybe, but I can't help it. Human lives are ephermeral, but what they leave behind, the things they shaped and touched, can achieve a kind of immortality. A humble craftsman in ancient Mesopotamia may have had fashioned a clay pot. He is long dead, but the clay pot may still exist, bearing every trace of his effort and concentration, a enduring testament to his existence. Now this hypothetical clay pot and many other items are looted and smashed and it just breaks my heart. It breaks my heart because these artifacts are the concrete, tangible parts of the souls of the great civilizations that gave rise to humanity. They are the visible testaments to all the billions who trod upon the same Earth and toiled under the same Sun, who lived and died and whose lives, however small and unremarkable, form the fabric of our past. Without these artifacts, and the books that transmit ideas across the ages, to anchor us, we would be adrift, for our identities, our thoughts, even our emotions, are build upon the experiences of all those who came before us.

The quality that I am annoyed with the most: Ignorance + Arrogance.
The quality that I despise the most: Ignorance + Arrogance + Aggressiveness.

Scene witnessed today:

Early afternoon, in central USC campus. A student with bullhorn leaped up to the base of Tommy the Trojan statue. From that elevated position, he pressed the bullhorn to his face and yelled something like: "Come around! Come around if you want to support the troops!" Grand sweeping gestures, as if he was pulling in the crowd by the irresitible flailing of his arm. Rather like a circus hawker, advertising the latest curios and weirdos to be found in their tent. In no time, a sizable crowd gathered, students blinking up toward the pep-leader so high above.

"So who here is proud be an American?" He rasped.

The crowd: "WOOOOOOOOO!"

"So who here support the troops!" He agitated.

The crowd: "WOOOOOOOOOO!" Louder this time.

At that point hair was starting to stand on my neck so I quickend my steps to get out of there. Pure rabble rousing, shouting of meaningless slogans. These people may not even have a serious opinion about the war. They are walking in the campus on a sunny day, they hear the loud voice, they are attracted by the spectacle, so they WOOOOOO. The man with bullhorn shout, and they respond. One doesn't need to be Hitler, one only need a bullhorn and some catch-phrase that has saturated the somnolent brains of people to such a extent that any mention of it will provoke a Pavlovian WOOOOO. People gave their attention, their enthusiasm too quickly, without consideration. Here I am, a empty vessel adrift, please fill me with meaning! They do not stop to think what the words mean. They don't ask themselves exactly how the hell are they supporting troops? Are they knitting sweaters for the soldiers? Are they riveting battleships? No, they are WOOOOing.

Just read a beautiful essay by German poet Heinrich von Kleist, On Marionette Theater. Initially, it's about . . . . . puppet shows. But from this unlikely beginning develops a fascinating discussion on human movements, innocence, knowledge and grace.

I found it becaused it was a central inspiration for His Dark Materials.

Saw Red Dragon today. Always liked Dr. Lecter, and in this one he is in fine form. Although I have to say this is the weakest movie of the three. Lecter wasn't even the main character, and I have a feeling his role was expanded so we can have the pleasure of watching Hopkins clearly enounciate his vowels. Ralphe Fiennes was, as usual, very very good at playing extreme mental torment, though I could have done without so many shots of his tatooed butt. Despite the strong presence of great actors, this movie lacks the depraved grandeur of Hannibal, or the psychological tension of Silence of Lamb. As a thriller, it worked only so-so. The psycho's motivation, despite the standard suggestions of child-abuse and ominous references to the works of William Blake, remains a cypher. Also, the ending twist felt very tacked-on. Clever as it may have been, it really didn't add much to the story and feels like a homage to the teen slasher genre.

My favorite Lecter movie remain Hannibal.