Cruise Ships

I have nothing against cruise ships really - except for the fact that I never want to go near one. Other people seem drawn to these massive boats for reasons that I can't quite understand. The idea is that you can have an actual vacation on one of these traveling resort hotels in exchange for making yourself a voluntary prisoner to the buffet table, the slot machine and the shuffleboard tournament, with the occasional "shopping binge" on the mainland if that "floats your boat." Theoretically it all makes sense, I guess, except that a few of us suffer from a condition known as CLAUSTROPHOBIA so that spending time on a boat that is actively not trying to reach a final destination is sort of akin to being on a crowded elevator with the same lack of ambition. But fortunately for us (fellow claustrophobics), at this particular stage of human history,  in the year 2012, cruise ships have become, oddly emblematic of the places where lightning is most likely to strike. Just say the words "cruise ship" and you are virtually inviting unforeseen mishaps, disasters, epidemics, and negligent, cowardly handlers of bad situations to come your way. Not sure what any of this means, but there you have it. I'm filing away cruise ships as my weird symbol of the year .... #314.... following closely by etch-a-sketch toys and sweater vests.

Breach of Decorum (I wanted to say something, but...)

If you're one of "those people" (and I hope you are) that others have branded as "uptight" just because you happen to have standards of basic decorum that rise above sea level, you've had one of those moments when you wanted to say something, anything, about someone else's bad behavior in public, even though, technically there's no law against the activity you were witness to (against your will), and you just couldn't find the right words on the spur of the moment to get your point across. And, as you've heard a million times before, the minute you try to point out that breaches in decorum do have negative side effects on the average variable civility quotient, here in North America someone always stands up and hollers: "It's a free country, bub, don't tread on me!" and "Who are you to impose your morality on the rest of us?" But this time, you were pushed over the edge, for whatever reason. Oh, maybe it was something as simple as a few folks (probably young, restless and festive junebugs) talking throughout a seriously intense movie that you were trying to enjoy - i.e. pay close attention to - with them checking their lighted cell-phones in the dark; or perhaps someone was belting out one of your least favorite songs - a cacophonous screech-fest of a tune - while cutting in front of you in line somewhere, and you didn't really appreciate that maneuver, so you sighed loudly and groaned audibly but to no avail. Hey (what the other person did) - it's not a felony - am I right? Or perhaps it was that menacing group of "youths" (a.k.a derelicts, a.k.a hoodlums) who were moving rapidly in your direction, knocking over merchandise as they grazed past your torso with their hard-to-miss stone-cold stares and drug-infested bravado. (I'd be surprised if they didn't remind you that YOU were staring at THEM...what's your problem, bub?) Or maybe it was that crazed-looking fellow having a mysterious hygiene malfunction (involving hands, nose, mouth, lungs, arm pits, pant legs, who knows?) that you thought might lead, somewhere down the line, to you contracting malaria or even worse (although the mere thought of that gave you intense feelings of guilt for even harboring such anxiety, despite the high empirical likelihood of that being the case), or perhaps it was that fractious, vituperative haggard-looking woman, off-duty from being a real parent, you know, the one with the perpetually bad attitude, who was continuously (operative word) - scolding and berating the uncomprehending toddler with the far-away look in her eyes; or the young hyper-active couple on crystal meth, making their way through the fabric store, looking for God-knows-what type of yarn, dropping F-bombs as they went and calling every clerk in the store by their first name (arrgh!), or that guy waltzing with the mop on aisle #6 at Walmart, and making weird noises. (Well - maybe weird to you, but who are you to judge?) And let's not forget people who don't watch what they're doing or where they're going and are trying (it seems) to run you over or bump into you in narrow shopping mall corridors or in crowded restaurants or at the Gap. They almost seem to overshadow the assorted loiterers among us, who, always, busy doing nothing in particular, can be seen, at regular intervals, milling about on side streets, whooping it up, having spontaneous parties and make-out sessions as they go, shouting and cavorting and losing most of their bodily inhibitions in parking lots or other open venues not designed for such exhibitionism.  For me, it was being surrounded by a horde, nay a dangerous "flock," of hungry-looking shoppers, affectionately known otherwise as "pod-people," all reaching for, clutching at, those hideous yellow and green marshmallow candies, I mean those foamy, inedible, processed, padded-insulation-like candies (!) that I just can't ever seem to digest (!) - and their hands reaching out in unison, grabbing blindly at me, mistaking me (!) for one of those squishy packages (!) - having to absorb numerous "gropings" without making a peep - for a good cause at least (?) - this all happening at a certain time of year (a time that is typically referred to as "Easter," although out of respect for the Almighty, I'd prefer to instead to call it the "first-glimpse-of-spring equinox shopping corridor") and me looking for the green and yellow "plastic grass stuffing" to fill baskets with so as to hold the Cadbury chocolate along with something that I could digest, and feeling really down about the whole ordeal and wanting to scream (What are we all doing here in this forlorn, god-forsaken warehouse pretending like we're celebrating some profound, sacred holiday???) Come to think of it, this also happened at a Walmart store. Could it be?  Do you see a common thread developing here? But some would say that I'm just a highly sensitive person, and that episodes like these come and go, so there's nothing to be done about it....

The Sleepwalkers by Hermann Broch

Cosmology Happens...

 Thought-Provoking yet Accessible Books on Cosmology

The State of the Universe: A Primer in Modern Cosmology by Pedro Ferreira
The Big Bang by Joseph Silk
The Whole Shebang by Timothy Ferris
The View from the Center of the Universe by Primack and Abrams
Big Bang: The Origin of the Universe by Simon Singh
Origins: The Lives and Worlds of Modern Cosmologists by Alan Lightman
Wrinkles in Time: Witness to the Birth of the Universe by George Smoot
The Shadow of Creation: Dark Matter and the Structure of the Universe by Michael Riordan

Measuring the Universe: Our Historic Quest to Chart the Horizons of Time and Space by Kitty Ferguson

Behind the Wall of Nice

Behind this wall of nice, wherein,
with many polished stones, built up,
adamantine and unyielding,
sunlit, smooth, foreboding to the touch
of newcomers, I have housed a labyrinthine path
for climbers, seeking solitary green,
past thicket of trees, dilapidated fence,
down stony path with hanging branches,
narrow and severe,
with rush of river,
through fog and mist,
promising little except
shared respite from the crowd.

Rage Against the Elites! #$@$%^&)!+=$?

"Can you believe what those "elitists" are up to now? Did you read the headlines today? Did you see that clip on youtube? Were you at the rally downtown? Guess who got acquitted (again) for bilking their own shareholders? Did you hear what our "favorite talk-radio host" had to say about them? He really pummeled them. She really hung 'em out to dry. Those jerks! Yeah - I'm talking about those insufferable, unmeritable, snooty-snobby, self-appointed "few" who think they're all that. Zounds and begorrah - it doth boil my blood to see them preen and strut about, patting themselves on the back, hogging the spotlight, monopolizing the conservation, spending their disposable income on narcissistic self-worship equipment, voting "liberal" to assuage their guilty consciences, voting "conservative" to keep their golden parachutes safe in the bank...those goatish, toadish poseurs, made-over twice, three-times, facially plasticized, tucked and lifted, dressed to the nines, hiding out amid their entourage of servants, wallowing inside their privileged gated enclaves, with their fancy cars driven by dutiful chauffeurs, and their subtle "I'm better than you..." assumptions sneaking out from behind liltingly cheery voices. How many times do we have to hear about where they went to school and who they grew up with and when they married their "perfect soulmates" and how they're busy now, purchasing a third home in the tropics (!) and why their children are superior to ours and where they plan to "summer" next year and which celebrities they've had dinner with recently and when their latest "how-to" book will be coming out? Who are they you ask? And what did they ever do to me? And why am I getting so riled up about them, when there are so many other things I could be doing with my precious time? You want to know why I'm getting so upset? And don't I have anything better to do? And can't I just "live and let live" while these frauds and cheats are out there on the loose - scamming the system for all it's worth? And why do I begrudge them their stellar education and their impeccable resumes and portfolios, their undeniable beauty, charm, intelligence, cunning, guile, ambition, energy, vitality, patience, persistence - qualities no doubt partly responsible for  their bountiful success in life? And doesn't that reflect poorly on me and my basic attitude toward the powers-that-be, when I'm the one defending the relentlessly competitive capitalist system of life-ain't-fair "winners" and "losers" so follow the money if there's a market for it and let the chips fall where they may morality? Or am I the one who's going-off-the-deep end about the 1% at the top of the ladder and jumping on a completely different band-wagon to boot just because my populist ire has been unleashed? And isn't it somewhat embarrassing that I sound so envious and resentful all the time? But isn't that a raison-d'etre for myself and many other "dregs" and "underlings" - who, after rousing ourselves from fretful sleep every morning, waiting upon our  "20-minutes hate"  - continue to suffer from that slow, sinking feeling of having been "out-played" by people we consider to be our social inferiors? The wretched middlebrow ascendancy!  Question: So what should we do then? Is all this ranting and raving really working? Answer: [calming down at last] Whew.... I suppose you're right. No, it isn't. What should we do? Question: Keep venting until nothing continues to not happen? Answer: Alright, sounds good to me. Question: Why such a cynic? Answer: Not a cynic, simply a very, very tired realist. Question: So, what I want to know is who's the real enemy? Does there have to be one always and everywhere? Answer: That's politics, kid. When in doubt, blame THEM. Question: And who would "they" be? Answer: You know very well (depending upon your mood). Just fill in the blank.

The Ambassadors by Henry James