Because the future has just started
In honor of the 125th birthday of Jorge Luis Borges, today I visited a library. To my delight, there was a book there all about celebrating the birthdays of famous people.
Curious, I turned to page 125. Within that page was the description of a library.
The library it described contained one special volume. The book gave instructions how to find that volume, and then it suggested turning to page 125, and reading the words that I would find on the page.
I wonder what they would say.
Today is the birthday of William Ernest Henley. Were he still alive, he would now be turning one hundred and seventy five years old.
Henley wrote my dad’s favorite poem, which our father would often quote to us when we were kids. Here it is, in its entirety.
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul.
— William Ernest Henley
Today on Dorothy Parker’s birthday, her sage advice for those who would pick up the pen:
“If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.”
I tried to read a description of a recent speech by the Republican candidate for U.S. President, and I found it very disconcerting. It just seemed to be a random sequences of grievances, conspiracy theories and personal grudges, aimed in all directions.
It feels weird that one of the candidates for our nation’s highest office now seems to be a completely unhinged old man, rambling crazily while angrily shaking his fist at the sky. After a point, this just seems like elder abuse.
When you are riding on a Metro in any major city, and you look around you, you see pretty much everyone is on their phone.
I wonder whether this new way of being, this need for constant external stimulation, is coming at a cost.
There was a time, not that long ago, when people were perfectly capable of spending 20 minutes doing absolutely nothing. This is only a theory, but I suspect that that may have had mental health benefits.
Being able to simply slow down and reflect, and be in your own thoughts, is probably good for you. The simple capacity to do nothing.
I am concerned that as a society we are losing this capacity.
When you enter any given date of the year into Wikipedia, you are taken to a page that describes the significant events on that day of the year, together with the births and deaths of significant people who were either born or died on that day.
In the births or deaths section, you can hover over the name of any given person, and their picture will often pop up. Wikipedia grabs this picture (if there is one) from the link to that person’s page on Wikipedia.
Unfortunately, the picture that ends up popping up is somewhat random, and therefore less than informative. It might be that person at the height of their fame, or as a child, or at an advanced age.
And yet, there are thousands of images on the Web of most significant people. Many of those images are tagged either by year or by age of the subject.
Given that, I would like to see the following enhancement to Wikipedia’s pop-up feature: When you hover over a person’s name, you should see a scrollable gallery.
As you scroll left, the person gets younger. As you scroll right, they get older. Rather than accepting a single arbitrary representation of the life of a significant person, you can choose which aspect of that person’s life you are looking for.
I wonder whether that would be difficult to implement.
There is a moment in Visconte’s The Leopard when the Prince, played by Burt Lancaster, is throwing a grand ball. A young noblewoman believes that she has a chance to win the heart of the Prince’s nephew, played by Alain Delon.
Yet in one moment this all changes. Another woman walks into the room, played by the astonishingly beautiful Claudia Cardinale. Delon and Cardinale lock eyes. In that one moment, the young noblewoman knows that it is all over.
For me, that is the most powerful moment in a very powerful movie. Not just Delon and Cardinale, but the look on the other young woman’s face, as Visconte cuts to her reaction.
It is a look that says “For me there will be no justice, there will be no hope. There can be no argument in the face of such impossible beauty.”
I thought of this moment when I read this morning of the sad passing of the great Alain Delon. There can be no argument in the face of such impossible beauty.
They say that one year is seven dog years. Alas, having known a number of wonderful dogs, I have learned to accept the fact that you rarely get to spend more than about fourteen years in their delightful company.
At the moment I am dealing with a rapidly aging computer. It seemed like only yesterday that it was shiny and new and super fast. But age is now quickly catching up with it.
And I am reminded once again of a truth that I learned a long time ago: One dog year is seven computer years.
“No matter where you go, there you are.” — Buckaroo Bonzai
Yet another opportunity to celebrate the great Jimmy Webb, who turns 78 today. And appending my favorite song lyrics here, just because I can.
See her how she flies
Golden sails across the sky
Close enough to touch
But careful if you try
Though she looks as warm as gold
The moon’s a harsh mistress
The moon can be so cold
Once the sun did shine
Lord, it felt so fine
The moon a phantom rose
Through the mountains and the pines
And then the darkness fell
And the moon’s a harsh mistress
It’s so hard to love her well
I fell out of her eyes
I fell out of her heart
I fell down on my face
Yes, I did, and I, I tripped and I missed my star
God, I fell and I fell alone, I fell alone
And the moon’s a harsh mistress
And the sky is made of stone
— Copyright Jimmy Webb, 1974