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tea ceremony

https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20191104-an-ancient-way-of-doing-business-in-japan

I’m interested in the idea of taking a break for tea, but I don’t have the space for it at work, nor would I want to attempt to acquire it as there are tens of thousands of employees vying for space in the tall office building I work in, surrounded by similar skyscrapers.

What I think is missing from the above ceremony is a dedication to yourself. Everything is spirituality and the workplace, as if those two concepts are related except by personal necessity.

I don’t know about everybody else’s world, but the one I live in needs to be escaped from to keep my sanity. My job is not my spiritual path, but a way to pay my bills and to give my brain it’s daily dose of mental exercise.

My ceremony needs to include a walk outside and thinking of characters in my head that are saving the world somewhere involving the preparation of food on a windy day. In order to facilitate this task, they need to go into an old library with lots of dark wood and dusty attics with creaky desk drawers and an occasional cat and accompanying chihuahua that shouldn’t be free to go upstairs but you can hear him coming because of his nails tapping on the wood floor.

This tea is called Russian Caravan, but I’m not sure it’s Russian. I love Georgian tea, which is close to Russia but still not Russian. Russian Caravan has an interesting story to it’s name: it’s alleged to be oolong tea that was brought in caravans from China and inherited a smoky flavor from the campfires along the way.

“I didn’t say it was true, just that I believe it.” (M. Mignola)

Don’t leave your tea upstairs in the dusty attic unless you finish it first.

 

graphing a dream

If reality lives in a cube riding on a rail (time) and dreams live in a cube on a rail right next to it, it stands to reason that an occasional function may be applied on one cube such that it’s content maps to the other.

I dreamt later tonight and saw some of you in the dream. I’m in the library I remember most fondly from my youth, in the Frankford section of Philly. I’m in the front and I heard you guys fussing over something so I went back and recognized you. After a little discussion we agreed to work together even though we didn’t all start out on this adventure together. [see also: Chance meetings in dreams (Hypatia) pp. 110-309, 402-417, Appx B. – annotated by Chaucer]

Apparently, there’s a book in here somewhere of some inordinate degree of power that is the target of some disreputable character. Our goal is to keep this book out of that person’s hands by any means possible. The book is not necessarily always available, but it’s insisted upon that it is physically present in this library. So, to secure the safety of whatever future we need to find the book and then hide it. (I seem to recall some argument about this part, especially because I remembered it the most after waking later)

Some parts I remember vaguely while others are move vivid. For example, I remember little of climbing up the bookshelf and going up through the ceiling to drop down in the restricted office space in order to let the rest of you in. It’s all a blur, like fragmented images. I remember more the mathematical discussion we had about how adding advanced string theory to simple algebra negated the need for derivative calculus and more than half the functions of quantum theory. You guys told me about my apparent ease of getting into the library’s restricted rooms which prompted wonder from all of us because I don’t think we were in the same library, at least not after the fact.

Anyway, once inside the locked room, we found the book in question and moved the shelf. Quickly: we made a hole in the wall behind the shelf to hide the book in. We patched up the wall from plaster found in the basement and the hole itself was accessible through removal of the whole shelf making us move all the books on it then putting them back carefully. The discussion and argument that accompanied this part of the project was what fulfilled most people’s anxiety quota in dreams.

It was a relief to get out of there finally, though not a great neighborhood in the middle of night. I think we all wondered how we could be as familiar with our surroundings, some more than others, but I was assuming it would all work out.

It would take almost six months to find out from a trusted source that the disreputable person from the dream was indeed thwarted, though it was a painting in Chartres and not a book that he was after.

Irish muse

Last week I travelled to Ireland with family and I found that over half of my observations fed the writer in me.

The trip was spread out to 4 cities across Ireland and although some included metropolitan areas, the majority of my time was spent in or around the countryside. I feel as if I’ve read countless stories trying to describe that countryside, even if the story wasn’t written about Ireland. I often brought a bag containing my notebook in case I got the chance to write, and a number of times I was able to do so. I found myself describing places I saw without story context just because they belonged in a story somewhere.

While the above observations were unexpected, I did have some preplanned research for my stay in Ireland. The first was a need to do any tours I could on Bram Stoker and the second was for the rich folklore of Ireland, specifically what has been expressed in varied forms like the fae, the other people, the little people, the good people, the Aos SĂ­, and many more.

As it turned out, the advice I was given by multiple sources was to satisfy both of those desired researches in Dublin, which surprised me because I would have thought a metropolitan area is the last place I would expect to be the culture center for folklore. Also, I only spent 2 nights in Dublin which didn’t give me enough time to go after these subjects. I did manage a literary tour during the last hours I was in Dublin, and I found to my biggest surprise that Bram Stoker wasn’t very heavily represented. There are important historical reasons for this, including realizing the works of the other notable Irish writers as well as noting the content of what each writer wrote about.

As to the Irish folklore, I bought some books on the subject in a quaint bookstore in the town of Dingle, in the County of Kerry. Suffice to say that my desired subjects for research, especially the folklore, would require it’s own trip. I also think it’s a trip that would need some pre-planning, as I still can’t imagine the metropolitan area of Dublin being the source for folklore. That still seems to me to be the province of the countryside.

During my time there, I was reading a published journal of Bram Stoker’s, and I found it interesting that some of his entries were near professional quality, instead of scribbling. I know that the published work was a reproduction of his actual handwriting, but I’m pointing out that some entries were final draft quality. Seeing that made me think that there was another, more personal journal of Bram’s somewhere.

My last night in Ireland was spent in a very old castle, where some apartments were renovated and furnished with electricity. My life-long love of Hammer films and the like makes it practically a critical requirement for me to explore the unfurnished rooms of this old castle, and I didn’t disappoint. If anyone is interested in seeing the very amateurish films I made with my phone of my explorations, feel free to see them at the link below.

A night in Knappogue Castle

For everyone that has never been to Ireland, I encourage you to visit there.

The Ireland trip in 2019 ended in an Airbnb at Knappogue Castle, in Quin in the south of Ireland. There will be more added to this, but for now I wanted to get up the videos I made of my late night explorations in an ancient castle.

The general theme behind this is my life-long love of horror movies inspired by the Hammer films of the 60s and 70s I saw in my youth. Here I was staying overnight in an ancient castle…what am I about if I don’t go exploring those non-renovated rooms of the castle where there may not be electricity? Enjoy.

Video #1 (Friday morning to show daytime and to intro)

Video #2 (Thursday night, unfortunately in portrait and no flash set, please bear with it, it’s short)

Video #3 (Thursday night continues where video#2 left off, except I set the flash and went landscape so you don’t have to put your head sideways)

More and more nowadays I’ve been coming to the conclusion that I need to leave the social media platform known as facebook because of the overall toxicity. Is there an artistic segueway for that first sentence? A Kafkaesque reference comes to mind too quickly (I’m thinking Metamorphosis) which I think would threaten my segueway’s longevity. For now, I’ll rename the platform FuBar, after a no-longer extant night club I’d been to a few times during my early 20s.

I’ve tried filters and sub-groups for my friends list but those features are no longer available because of a variety of scrupulously nefarious reasons all pointing back to the company behind the platform. I’m thinking Kafka again but now I’m wondering what would Gregor Samsa have done if he saw someone else turn into the monstrous vermin first. What changes would he have made?

Gregor described his job as exhausting and never-ending traffic, exactly as I have often described the feed on FuBar. The constant repetition of every user to react to the same thing, often without checking the validity, time of creation, and relevant scope of said thing, is maddening and I am realizing now, a major trigger for me nowadays.

I think Gregor Samsa would make changes if he knew how. It also stands to reason that he isn’t the first one the metamorphosis happened to. While Gregor’s experience was a negative one, I’m sure for some the transformation was positive, even liberating.

I wonder now where this metaphor is leading me…either the toxicity that infects so many on FuBar is the unfortunate transformation to avoid, OR the transformation is the act of avoidance, whatever that is.

For whatever reason, I’m thinking of the scene from the movie The Matrix where Agent Smith is torturing Morpheus, specifically the part where Smith goes off-script and talks of the effects of humans on our environment. I honestly can’t place either character in my current metaphor surrounding FuBar, which from now on is the dirty streets at night around the nightclub back then.

I guess everybody works, lives, and/or goes to school in this neighborhood, which is west philly in the 90s for me but you can put it wherever you envision it best.

Going forward, including future posts, I’ll refer to this neighborhood as West Fubar.

So, now that we have that settled, I can talk more freely about it.

Today I saw a friend start yelling out loud about the ills of some collective while pointing to a book. Some engaged with him so he put the book down and went off with them, pontificating away.

I went over and picked up the book to look at the reference. It is with a mix of amusement and irritation to see that the reference is to a considerable time in the past. The amusement was added after some time went on; at the time I was just irritated but my “metaphormosis” has given me a different mindset.

Also, the way I’m describing it is painting it in a good light. A world where everybody carries around large tomes of books all with locks and clasps on the side instead of smartphones. Smartbooks, maybe.

Earlier today, someone needed to restate their false assumptions, so they accomplished this by yelling at the top of their lungs. I imagine Kepler was similarly frustrated by the failure to prove his assertion that the orbits of the planets be perfectly circular and fitting into the geometric equations he had previously stated so emphatically. He may have yelled like this.

The parallel ends here regrettably (Kepler would agree).

Actually, I can see Kepler making the same trip as Samsa in an alternate universe and perhaps needed to exercise some mechanism to prevent it.

I could use such mechanisms. More on this later.

 

 

The character who came in from the outside walks up the steps to the library of the world, and once inside, sits down at an information kiosk and types:
“How do I find the meaning of life?”

After pressing the enter key, the screen showed a collage of images, words, sound-clips, and speech fragments while it worked on the answer, finally emitting a loud auditory generated token that resembled a rusty toaster reluctantly giving up it’s bread. Finally, it displayed one sentence:

Eat a potato.

This was followed by a half screen-full of biography links and references. With a shaking of the head, the character who came in from the outside typed the following:

“How do I find true happiness?”

More incessant randomizing of images that could be anybody…some person..somebody, maybe at a birthday party…in their past…..with the text of a book report this person had to write…under duress because of…their school assignment in the past that would be easy to do now….accompanied by a song this person sang with their friends when they were young and happy and prideful all the time seemingly…..

….finally emitting a loud auditory generated token that resembled the sound of a soft pillow’s dream, and displaying the words:

Launch root access shell
Run Control Panel
Go to Credential Manager
Go to User Credentials
Go to Generic Credentials
Click the item that starts with get:happiness.content
Click Edit
Enter User Name
Enter the auditory generated API token as your password
Save

filmfest 2018

A few weeks ago was the annual film festival I’ve been attending for years. http://filmadelphia.org/festival/

As I do every year, I scheduled the week off from work so I could give as much time as needed. What was different this year was I finally bought a pass which gave me full access to all movies (instead of having to buy tickets to any of them, scheduling them, etc.). It may be more expensive but I am more than comfortable with donating to the Philadelphia Film Society, the organization that runs the film fest as well as films all year long. I’ve been a member for years and remember the time in the past when the film fest was in financial trouble. I remember them struggling for a year or two, then acquiring a historic Philadelphia film theater and turning it into their headquarters.

Now, they have acquired another theater with the size, location, and presence to positively match up with any other in the city. Formerly named the Prince, it is now named the Philadelphia Film Center and is located at Broad & Chestnut Streets in the heart of Philly’s center-city district. The non-profit, member and volunteer-run organization has come a long way and I’m proud to be a member of it.

Having the pass this year enabled me to just show up every day at the beginning of the movie times, and pick a movie. I usually try to keep it spontaneous by day, since I’m on vacation and don’t like to be so dependent on a schedule. Doing it this way for the past few years has given me a different perspective on what films I’m drawn to and also has opened my eyes to films I may not have seen otherwise.

I set out each day with a trip to a cafe near the theaters in Philadelphia’s Olde City section, an area I’ve always loved to walk around. Writing has surpassed reading as an activity that I immediately associate with being in a cafe sometime in the last ten years. 🙂 As such, I began each day with breakfast in the cafe and writing in my journal (longhand). I write whatever is on my mind and in whatever voice comes to me. I cover the films I’m seeing or are about to see, what I’m looking for from them, the setting around me, what I want to write next, what writing of mine needs revisiting, etc.

During each film, the PFS representatives (film programming, etc.) talk a little (thanking the members, volunteers, turn your phone off, etc.) before introducing each film. A lot of their introduction I’ve heard hundreds of times over the years so I usually tune out until the start of the film. In previous years, I’ve gone over the film program book to read the summaries of other movies. This year, for the first time, I brought out my writing journal and continued where I left off in the cafe. I found this an amazing experience, especially as I occasionally continued to write while the film was on and the theater was dark.

There was one film that I was really starting to dislike, and it turned around for me. I can’t say for certain that my narrating it longhand had this effect, though it is likely that my writing about why I didn’t like it seemed to slow my reaction down. The music for this film was amazing and I needed to note that. Maybe it made me more patient to see what else the film would offer. I ended up loving the film and I think writing about it is worth noting. Reading about it afterward was interesting and should be in the future as well as the lines of my writing wavered on the page during the filming.

I was sorry to see the time come to an end as I had settled into the daily film routine quite comfortably. Going to old city cafes, seeing films, reading, and writing is a routine I can do forever. Now I’m reviewing the filmfest program book to see what movies have made distribution so I can acquire the ones I didn’t get a chance to see in the theater. These movies are unique and in my opinion are better than the mainstream movies. Feel free to visit the site above and look through the movies. I believe you won’t be disappointed.