Bus ride

While the driver is finishing his cigarette outside, the passengers steadily assemble inside. Glad they don't have to stand up for the whole bus ride. The bus driver inhales for a last time, piercing his lips as though he were to say "We'll meet again, my love, but now the battlefield is waiting."

The engine lights up, the rays of sunlight burn away the fleeding shadows. The midsummer bus roars its way through the concrete jungle, carrying blood, flesh and bones in its womb. A protective warrior mother, safety is her first concern. Red light, left turn, four wheel drive and cubic buildings; all are devious tricks to startle the balance. But as she is approaching her safe haven, the lighter's silversmooth reflection falls in the eye as the symphony of coins falls into the ear.

"Darling, I'm home again."

Birth of a boy

Her nasal voice makes the water boil.

It gives its breath in round shapes,

-fertile-

and about to give birth
to what has been before.

-time-

I see my mother.
Smoking a rare cigarette,
standing by the window,
staring.

Hello tears,
hello world.

Girl, where are you?

Memory of the nose

Leaving for the supermarket, I was overwhelmed by memories of when I stayed here in Japan two years ago. The reason for that was a distinct smell that somehow made me remember. Actually, rather than the Proustian notion that smell induces memory, it felt more like a revival of a smell induced atmosphere. Aaaah, that sweet fragrance that springs from the relief having been able to avoid the immanent threat of a summer storm! Thunder and lightning in the mountains nearby, yet the cicadas do not cease their monotonous chorus. It's as if this relief had lit up the hot bubbly baths of every home and house, while little children are throwing away their dirty clothes in the washing basket and getting prepared for mom's Sunday evening meal...

It was one of those moments I felt true happiness without any apparent reason. Gratitude.

Crazy

Yesterday, two people have called me crazy. One because I was eating a raw carrot while walking around in town. The other one because I said I always take a shower with my plant. Admittedly, these actions could appear somewhat awkward, but to me it's just plain everyday normality. It's not like I'm some poor crazy sod prophetizing we should return to the jungle.

People, it's just eating a carrot and watering my plant! Let's not forget we human beings too are just like the carrot and the plant. Oops.

The contemporary church

A quote from Tyler Green's blog about modern and contemporary art, Modern Art Notes:

"I think that the link between religious art and minimalism is especially apt. For many years now museums have been where secular America goes to church. In an era where most mainstream entertainment is designed to be as baroquely overblown as possible (what else could possibly explain The Rock?), museums provide rich visual quiet. Minimalism is the art that best typifies what art museums are now. It is quiet. It is sublime. It rewards careful attention and a meditative gaze. It is quiet."

Very postmodern of you to say so, Mr. Green...

As an observation it could very well be true.

But that would mean this new minimalist art/religion like any other religion in the west knows considerably few active devotees.

Which of course could very well be true.

It would also mean that the (post)modern (or whatever you want to call it) religion gains devotism through an emotional realm that cannot be tied or limited by dogma and therefore resembles some kind of mysticism of the extra-natural.

But also that could very well be true.

However, what is there to believe in?

I too plead guilty.

Thank you, Andreas!

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Suicide bombers - part II

I recently came across this essay by Juan Cole, who is professor of History at the University of Michigan. The essay is on Al-Qaeda’s Doomsday Document and Psychological Manipulation of the 9/11 suicide terrorists.

A number of interesting quotes:

* On the self

- Admonishing the self is the way to contain it and remain true to the death vow.

- The base self is depicted almost as a brute animal that can be trained to do as it is told with sufficient effort, evoking the techniques and terminology of the Islamic tradition of piety.

- The mass murderer is encouraged to see his action as selfless. He is to “purify” his “heart” and cleanse it of “stains.” He is to forget that there is even such a thing as “this world.”

* On guilt

- Inwardly they (ie. the hijackers) were committed to piety and asceticism and self-sacrifice. Outwardly they frequented bars and strip clubs, both to throw the intelligence agencies off the scent and to get a foretaste of the rewards of martyrdom. If it was Bin Laden who put them up to this double life, he may well have done so with personal knowledge of the kind of guilt it would induce, and the kind of self-hatred and openness to manipulation to which the guilt could lead.

The self and its guilt? Hmmm, maybe I should start reading Sartre again...An application and/or comparison with existentialist thought could prove to be quite interesting.

Oh well, let's just play Unreal Tournament...

Resolution

I have made a resolution for myself. A resolution to become more aware. To become more aware of every particle of air around me. Aware of every matter I touch, eat, drink or think. Of every person I come across. I feel it should all become one and none. I should become all, one and none. This is my resolution.

Sit. Originally uploaded by Yptucide.

Super-extreme-best...of all time!

A quite obstinate thought has managed to grab hold of the drain-pipe walls towards my internal oblivion, thus remaining a source of reflection for longer than the instant at which it arrose.
The thought is this: Japanese movie publicity has the awkward tendency of portraying a movie as though it were the best of its kind, surpassing its predecessors, making it the best ever in history. What has made the obstinate thought remain is the use of this word "in history" (史上). For instance, Shrek 2 is said to be "the most powerful fantasy of all time", while Harry Potter 3 is "the most powerful fantasy of all time". Yes, your eyes do not deceive you, they are both "the most powerful fantasy of all time". So, judging from their release dates we cannot but conclude that Shrek 2 is even more powerful than Harry Potter 3. No?

1. Hypothesis:

Shrek 2 is actually more powerful than Harry Potter 3.

That would mean that all publicity stating that Harry Potter 3 is the most powerful fantasy ever made has lost its validity. Yet, the world of publicity is not the academic or science world and the truth is but a wrapping paper. So, false information can continue its miserable life and distort our vision of what is true. Death to Harry Potter 3, long live Shrek 2! Banzai!

2. Hypothesis:

Harry Potter 3 and Shrek 2 are just two commercial products.

So, basically, the truth -which in this case is rather a subjective concept- is of no real importance at all. However, it seems that the publicity campaign people are appealing to the natural human urge for more and better. This concerns an innate need to surpass the preceding, to create and of course see something which is even bigger and better.

Yes, the sky is the limit! Evolution knows no ending! What has past, just can't be as good as the new. Oh no, history doesn't repeat itself! One great ascending line, that is the path mankind has been and will be treading. It is this 19th century romantic hope towards the future still luring inside every human being's heart to which publicity like this appeals. Maybe in a sense one could even proclaim that the role of these campaigns is to create an "illusion" that breaks with postmodern lack of faith in history as such. The same could go for the subject of publicity, i.e. the movie, itself for that matter. But that's another discussion.

Although publicity like this refers to "history", thereby affirming the timeliness of things as well as expressing a certain awareness of the past, it only seems to make use of just part of that romantic image of time and evolution. That is to say, it has obliviated the idealist tendency to euphemize the past as the glorious road that lays behind. The reason for that, I believe, is simple: the past has already been consumed. Harry Potter 3's publicity campaign is already over. Bygones be bygones.

Body count in Iraq

Thanks to Terry Brogan @ Fotolog (amazing pictures by the way) and a visit to his blog I found two different lists of body count in Iraq. One is on U.S. & coalition casualties and published by CNN, the other on Iraqi civilians by this website. Also check out its "rationale", that says:

We believe it is a moral and humanitarian duty for each such death to be recorded, publicised, given the weight it deserves and, where possible, investigated to establish whether there are grounds for criminal proceedings.

Right they are.

I wonder if CNN would also publish their names and pictures...

This blog is fully airconditioned

Temperatures are rising here in Japan. We've had peaks of 36 degrees Celsius (that would be about 97 in Fahrenheit), but the major problem for a northwest-european like me is the humidity. Get outside for exactly two nanoseconds and the first sweat drops start appearing on your forehead. Maybe if I could stop time at the first nanosecond I would actually believe heaven's weather feels like this. But it doesn't. So at days like these, after drinking the night before, I prefer to stay inside, do some research, enveloped by the artificial cold air produced by my best buddy Hitachi. The curtains closed, I have created my own space, the box is sealed. All contact with the outside passes electronic media: cell phone, tv, internet. The age of communication, inside a box. What if I were to open the curtains, could it be snowing? Yes, it's winter. Thank God I don't have to go outside in this freezing climate.

After 3.5 hrs of sleep

It has come to my attention that I have used the word 'acknowledge' in every post so far. Use of words actually reveals the way a person thinks. Hmmm, maybe I should have slept longer...

Beyond Borders

Yesterday, I had the pleasure to see Angelina Jolie's shoulders (I'm a sucker for shoulders). But that's not what I wanted to talk about. What is more important is that I saw those shoulders in Beyond Borders, a highly weighty though quite erratic movie on love and war. The extremity of some of the images (small children without a single ounce of fat dying in the desert, a baby receiving a grenade from a Khmer Rouge rebel,...) is beyond words, but that is of course what director Martin Campbell intended. The message of this movie is clear: war is horrifying, in essence man knows only suffering and the only star that can be seen through the fumes of the moratorium is the one called 'unconditional love'. As a message it is as clear as the dentist's spotlight, as a movie experience it's just like being at the dentist's: although it hurts, you have to listen to his cheesy jokes. Beyond Borders shocks but the script lacks both solidity as well as intelligence. Anyway, it sure makes one think. We can either close our eyes for the horrors of this world or we can acknowledge them. But what can we do? Risk our lives? Throw away our individual 'self' for a higher cause? Can we become David the individual kicking the legs of mankind and its ever roaring ego called Goliath? This message-movie is food for thought and self-reflection, but don't expect dramatic talent. I suggest watching Roland Joffé's The Killing Fields for that.

Suicide bombers

Last night, a Japanese news show broadcasted a fragment of a video made by a terrorist group in Iraq just before one of their fellow companions drove his truck full of explosives towards the end of a bridge. The man's meaning of his individual life lay in killing six US soldiers, thereby fulfilling his duty and obtaining grace by Allah. In a way, for suicide bombers like this man, life has meaning, a preset goal. We, "normal human beings", do not share this relief of knowledge. We continue to ponder on why it is we have fallen onto this earth. In a way, self-sacrifice could be considered a flee from this insecurity, an escape from the ever arising doubts of daily life. In essence, it is this sense of "reason" that constitutes the popularity of religion.

Giving oneself unconditionally to a larger cause makes the individual transcend his own boundaries in favor of that cause. In an ideal way, he should feel no affinity with his individual self. He should have thrown away all attachments to the self. Yet, the fragment broadcasted last night contained the man's last words: "Don't forget about me."
This man, although he was about to sacrifice his own life for the larger cause shining brightly through Allah's blessing, expressed his extremely individualist desire to be remembered. "I, me, am doing this. Remember ME." Although this man was about to give his life for Allah, as a means of revenge for the loss of his inmates and relatives, he couldn't fully transcend the boundaries of his individual self. In a way, he sought for acknowledgement, he sought for a way to continue his life in the memory of his companions and all who would see the video. It was as if his belief in the transcendental didn't suffice for him to complete his mission, his mind needed extra recognition. His words were an expression of a frightened soul trying to grasp eternity, needing of the comfort that he would be remembered.

Belief can only be acknowledged by something or someone in this world, in this life. If there is no connection whatsoever, no sign or token of this transcendental world, one can never really know for sure there is one. If other people believe I am doing this for the right cause, then it must be the right cause. As the ancient Greek sophists said: "The truth is what everyone thinks is the truth." But these 'everyone' are not part of the transcendental world I believe I am about to enter, they are part of this world, the only world I know for sure.

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