Bonus

Wasn't sure where to post this one, but, chose this blogsite.

So, driving in my car just now (no, not like the Beatles' Rubber Soul), I heard Jimi Hendrix's "Purple Haze" and I realized it really was my birthday.

Unlike in the States, where you have Classic Rock stations, to hear Jimi on Studio Brussels is about as rare as spotting the Dodo bird.

So, I knew it was my special day.

I used to listen to KISS, Jimi, Rush and Led Zeppelin on my Walkman II nearly 30 years ago before all of my swim races. So, what a treat to hear the Seattle man back on the wavelengths. Officially, he only put out 3 LPs, but unofficially, there are nearly 80 Hendrix albums. A man after my own heart, behind the scenes.

So, here is a second video for the day...

Rob The Obscure, Redux

I am in Cambridge, UK right now, visiting the University in order to attend a memorial lecture at Pembroke College tonight for a high-school friend who died tragically young, but before that left his indelible mark on the world of Theoretical Physics. This is the 7^th Annual Andrew Chamblin Memorial Lecture about the Higgs Boson and the Large Hadron Collider. It is a brilliant tribute to the wily-haired Andy I knew in Calculus class, who would drive us nuts humming the entire class as he was also a musician, evinced by the annual Chamber Music Memorial at Oxford every year for him, where he also blazed a trail.

Cambridge has been a peripheral part of my life since High School as well, so it is interesting that because of Andrew, I have an “excuse” to come over here each year if I am able to. I first really heard of Cambridge from my eccentric and inimitable Junior Year English teacher, Mr. Gary Biggers, who had also been my sisters Humanities and English teacher as well as leading their school trip to Europe. Mr. Biggers came to Cambridge each year to participate in a Summer School program at Gonville and Caius (pronounced like “keys”), which is where my eldest sister eventually did her Masters in History, bringing Cambridge to me in real-life having visited here because of her. Similar to my sister, Andy went from Rice University to Oxford for his Masters and then Cambridge for his doctorate under none other than Stephen Hawking..., setting up a strange parallel universe of sorts as I followed his career over the years, as well as of course my sister’s, whose has been likewise as illustrious.

I recently re-read Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy, a depressing novel if there ever was one. Hardy is not known for his levity, to put it “lightly.” Jude is always on the fringe of academics, despite teaching himself Latin and Greek, thinking one day he would make it to Christchurch, a thinly veiled parallel Oxford University. But, Jude is a common man, from common backgrounds, and people like him don’t get to Christchurch, at best, they might work there, which is what he does for a while, as a stone mason, helping erect the lofty Gothic spires to the skies, making the Ivory Towers higher and more inaccessible for people like him.

And, like the common man, life gets in the way. And, Jude’s fortunes go from bad to worse, to simply desperate.

Times have changed a bit since Hardy’s time, and the common man does go to Cambridge and Oxford and they are no longer merely for well-heeled British men to come up, and later to “come down” from the Ivory Towers to lead a “normal life,” though once you come down from Ox-Bridge, you are no longer normal. You belong in a different universe than the common man, no matter how much modesty may hide that. That is not a judgment, but a fact.

However, as I say, times have changed here, and even since the first time I visited some 25 years ago. It is a highly touristy town, and a very international student body population. It seems “cleaner” and “brighter” than I once remember, and there is a very gaudy covered arcade filled with Starbucks, GAP, and whatnot. It is truly a bike town, so there is not much traffic, and everyone seems to walk around with a “purpose.” I am always a bit confused in such places, because I never seem to walk around with such a purpose. I felt this way last time I was in London as well. I felt that everyone had a place to go…whereas as usual, I am just wondering. Usually feeling again like I am on the outside looking in. Although I have been associated with a few very prestigious universities in some capacity, there too, as one student said I was always in the shadows, despite how much influence I may have had.

I am quite shy by nature, and perhaps this is why I feel the need to write, because I have had ideas swimming in my head for decades, but never found the right outlet. Ultimately, I believe that this medium is still just a weigh station, a place for me to put out as many thoughts as possible, without editing (as someone rather bluntly pointed out to me recently), but just talking without getting interrupted or feel like I am boring someone or manipulating a conversation as I have been wary of in the Past as it has happened.

As such, though, because it is a private blog, and I don’t really know whom is reading it, though I seem to have a small following in Russia of late…, I am in some sense, still “in the shadows” feeling a bit like Jude at times when I am in Cambridge. It is a very intimidating place, especially when you are not from here, and I am really just here because I knew someone who did make it on the inside and even has a bust in Pembroke College next to Sir Isaac Newton. Otherwise, I don’t really have a reason to be here, except as a tourist.

Walking along the Backs, seeing the cathedrals of learning, it is hard not to be astonished by the enormity of the University, beginning from its humble beginnings in the city with a Bridge over the River Cam, much like its sister city, which began as a Ford for Oxen, and now, Ox-Bridge is easily the most powerful intellectual twin city in the world. It makes me wonder what my life might have been had I really pursued something like this more, rather than opting for a more common route. Not sure. It does no good to go down that route, for one will end up like Jude, but, it is hard not to when you see so many people truly believing in being filled with “purpose.”

Once Upon A Time in America

Although I have seen neither Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter nor Oliver Stone's Lincoln (portrayed by an Irish actor...similar to Elizabeth being played by an Aussie...), though I most likely will see the latter, I am no less aware of the "Lincoln Hype" of late. So much, that dare I say it, Lincoln is in danger of overexposure, like so many, many things in America. Once the band wagon starts a rolling, there's no stopping it, until the next fad, that is.

And, sadly to say, it seems that that is all Lincoln is right now, a fad. It seems that nothing would put you into bad favor more than saying something negative about Lincoln. A CNN report shows that bi-partisan agreement votes Lincoln as the best President ever.

Yet, the reality that I see is not that of Lincoln bringing the country together, but rather fraction upon fraction of the fabric of the Stars and Stripes seems to be showing lately. I do not see the Land of Lincoln when I read about politics there, but that is supposedly what everyone champions. So, where is the disjunct?

The rift is in Time. It is fine to talk about a dead President and how he tried to unite, but when we are in the Present, it is almost counter the grain to even suggest a current President could unite. Lincoln has become legend, and is no longer history. And, when history becomes legend, it loses its true hold on the Present. When the man becomes a myth, the responsibility to live up to his standards ceases to apply. It becomes transcendent, and becomes the stuff of movies, not motions in Congress.

When I was in India, Lincoln was far and away the most well-known American, along with MLK and Bill Gates, but, there, the kids actually knew his words, not that he was an axe-wielding vampire killer. I swear, if I see one more, stupid series based on Vampires, I will scream. The only logical next step is "My Vampire's Vampire is a Vampire!" Seriously, people. Get over the vampires...

I digress.

Back to Lincoln. What is amazing is how recent in history Lincoln actually is. For some, he is literally only a few generations back (my mother's family included), but the world of Lincoln is light years away. The speed in which America grew and developed, like an adolescent on steroids, is mind-boggling when you view the History of Europe, much less something like India or China. As such, the relativity of Time's arrow seems so much further for me in America than when I go to Brussels, for example and think of King Leopold, who was before Lincoln, but is so much more tangible than thinking of the gangly man from Illinois taking office and taking on the biggest challenge of the country's history.

I imagine that Lincoln's comet will burn brightly right now, but within a few weeks or months at the most, it will disappear again from sight, perhaps to come back in another sesquicentennial. Will his words and deeds, however, burn as brightly in the schoolrooms when learning history, or will he be lumped together with Buffy and Sookie Stackhouse? Or, much like the looming fate of the lowly Lincoln Penny, will he just become a thing of the Past?

Americana, writ large

Today is the biggest day in American sports for many, the Super Bowl. It’s what distinguishes Soccer from Football. It always amuses me to hear Europeans try to claim that Soccer players are better athletes than American Football players. No, they are better actors. That’s about the end of that story. I would love to see some of those skinny-ass Europeans try to play one quarter of American Football. I think then they really would be crying, unlike the crocodile tears that are shed on the pitch on any given day. There was a moment when I actually thought I respected Soccer, but living in Italy and watching the histrionics, no thanks. Watching Cricket in India, now that was an eye opener.

However, today is about the Ravens and the 49er’s.

Two team names that epitomize America in a nutshell. The former is named after the quirky poem by Baltimore native, Edgar Allan Poe, and the second is the name of the gold-diggers of the 1800’s, trying to make their name and carve out a piece of history by hook and by crook in the American West.

No two teams could be more iconic about America than these two at this moment. Poe, America’s “bad boy” poet, was the Johnny Depp or Marlon Brando of his time. French, and I repeat FRENCH poets, looked up to him as the harbinger of new poetry to come.

As for the 49er’s it was that gold fever that fueled the trans-continental railroad and the infamy of Chinese labor and the exploitations of Manifest Destiny.  And, yet, that is what makes the United States of America what it is. It is riddled with contradictions, it is the land of extremes, it is the land of opportunities and missed opportunities, the land of the American Dream and broken dreams. It is the land of Poe and the Gold Diggers.

So, how fitting is that?

High Noon, Not so OK

2012 may not have been the end of the world, but 2013 already looks to be a year of challenges, both for me on a microcosmic level and for the world at the macro. My homeland is no exception. In fact, from afar, it seems rather in disarray, but, as we may learn from the past, things always seem in disarray. It is only later analysis that makes sense of the Chaos.

In sports, the tarnished career of Lance Armstrong, once the world champion and icon of a sport, leaves little question that cycling is a very, very dirty sport with no winners and mostly hampered by scandal and hypocrisy. The obsession now instead of Tebow (which I predicted would end as it did), it is the “catfishing” hoax of Te’o. As the NFL playoffs near closure today, Michael Crabtree, the star receiver of the San Francisco giant, the 49er's, is embroiled in yet another sexual assault case by a star athlete.

However, as big as sports is in America, that is not what has my country divided, despite the media attention. It is the obsession with guns that once again has come to the theatre of the absurd. Following the shooting massacre of 20 kids and 6 adults in Connecticut, there have been measures suggested for gun control. This is gun control, not abolition of guns, as the far-right sees it. The second amendment is always invoked and misinterpreted by such people, for it is in the time of militia that every one has the right to bear arms, not just to go into movie theatres and kindergartens with assault rifles.

Extreme conspiracy theory monger Alex Jones went nuts on Piers Morgan’s own show, whom Jones petitioned to have deported, because Morgan had voiced his opinion about guns. What Jones forgot is that before the number Two comes One, meaning, the 1^st Amendment gives one the right to free speech unless it does harm.

Yesterday, at “high noon,” there was a “guns across America” rally. High Noon? Seriously people? Last evening I went to see Gangster Squad, a movie riddled with gunfire. During the movie, I found myself thinking, “wow, America has changed so much since the 50’s.” But, then, walking towards my bus stop, having time to think, I realized, “no, they just dressed differently.” It is still all about guns. Who has them, who doesn’t. How they are used, for “good” or for “evil.” Nothing has changed, The gun has remained the same, however.

Whenever there is a shooting in America, and they happen with shocking regularity, many gun-toting wannabe vigilantes will say, “if I had been there, I would have shot the bad guy down, but I can’t carry my .357 Magnum because of the goddamned pinko, liberal faggots in power.” Ok, Mr. Harry, and when the “good guy” cops come and everyone is waving a 45 or brandishing a Belgian SCAR assault rifle, whom are they to shoot???? It would be high noon at the OK Corral, and the result would be the ending of Reservoir Dogs. Everyone is dead. No good guys, no bad guys. Everyone is dead.

While recently driving from New Mexico, back to Texas with my young daughter when we were visiting the States again, we stopped at the border, at a gas station just inside the New Mexican State line. As I was in the bathroom two men were complaining that the government would not stop at guns, but would soon ban silverware and steering wheels (I kid you not, that’s how absurd it got), because “steering wheels could be used as lethal weapons.” The second, a burly Texan responded, “I just wish I could kill the half of the population that voted the son-of-a-bitch back into office.” And they left. Yep, back at “High Noon” at the Corral.

I personally have never owned a gun, something that has shocked many people here in Europe. In college, a friend of mine and I took a road trip up to Canada. At the border, the man asked if we had anything to declare. Nope. He saw our Texas license plate and asked quite sternly, “are you carrying any guns?” Nope. Somewhat surprised, “do you own any guns?” Nope. Now, very surprised, and with a friendly wave, he said, “Welcome to Canada!”

My father loved guns, though a special kind, mainly black powder rifles and pistols that he made himself. I went shooting a couple of times with him, and trust me, I know the kick of shooting a gun, at a target… I get it, and I like to shoot a bow and arrow as well, at a target, not at a human being. Would I use lethal force against someone harming my daughter, yes, if it came down to it. So, it is a paradox. I get it. The NRA suggesting that President Obama was a hypocrite for having armed guards for his daughters was nothing short of ridiculous. It is precisely because there are lunatics out there with AK 47’s and so forth.

There has been conspiracy that the Newtown shooting was staged so that Obama’s administration could ban guns. The Obama administration has not even put this on high priority until now. It was not a driven agenda for the past term.  In addition, I repeat, it is not an abolition of guns, it is a control of a specific type of a massive killing machine that is not even used for target practice. The hysteria that can be whipped up at moment’s is nothing short of mind-boggling.

I don’t see an endgame on either side. It’s a draw, and that’s what I’m afraid of.

Into the Slipstream

When Fall comes around, I am reminded of my childhood time in Kentucky. Or rather, when I am in a place where Fall comes around since it didn't really last year when I was in India, and sometimes in Austin it was a blink of the eye, but here in Belgium, Fall is a serious season, spanning several months with a multi-colored display of foliage and the world-famous orchard harvest from the Haspengouw areas. Belgium is replete with trees and when the Fall falls, there are a LOT of leaves.

Today, I saw a group of kids playing in huge piles of leaves that they had made. However, given that this is the Time that it is, they of course were filming it all on smart phones, probably sending uploads to everyone within seconds of having just plunged into the swiftly decaying midden heap of leaves.

Back in the day, in Kentucky, of course we did not have the smart phones to share our experience, but it was such great fun to rake up giant piles of Poplar, Maple, and Oak leaves and taking off like Charlie Brown go flying into them, smelling the damp, musty, earthy aroma that is unmistakably the perfume of Autumn's enchantment.

Though this is no new sentiment, it is again through the eyes of youth that we realize how jaded we can become, how needy we are for entertainment, for something to happen, for something to mean something, for Time to go by and we "got something done," and for the sense of feeling guilty for wanting to do something silly or fun, or taking the Time to rake up a whole pile of leaves, just for the sake of scattering them again, like Buddhist monks spending weeks on a sand mandala, only to whisk it away with a dry branch.

We want permanence in an impermanent world. What is wrong with this picture? I was thinking about what it would be like if one had grown up in an equatorial region and then for the first time, without anyone telling that person what was happening, to then travel somewhere where the Summer turned to Fall. Think about that. It would seem as if literally the entire world was dying! What a shock that would be. It would signal the end of the seemingly permanent status of sun up/sun down at 6 and 6 with the same temperature all year round. Suddenly, the impermanence of Reality would be thrust upon you. Without warning, that would be overwhelming to say the least, not to mention Winter.

I was talking with my daughter the other day about the difference amongst the divisions of Time: seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, and years, etc. We were talking about how the mo(o)nths are related to the Moon and the year to the Sun. There was an eclipse the other day in Australia, which thinking of Twain, is yet another instance of thrusting the seemingly permanent existence of the Sun and/or Moon into a tailspin of impermanence and Chaos. Again, imagine the impact of that if one did not know what was happening...

But, that is like our lives and memories. We try to fix some sense of pattern upon an ever-changing stream of vicissitudes, grasping at the bank of the river of Time as we float on down, having the bank of the Present "seem" to recede in the Past.

And, then, at times, with the smell or sight, those two come crashing together in some Proustian digression, as when I thought back to diving headlong into the leaves in our backyard in Brownsboro Farms outside of Louisville. But, as soon as it was there, it was gone and I was back in Antwerp, nearly 40 years later...

The seasons do bring out reflections if we let them, or they can signal hope, or for others despair. Yet, they will continue, and to stubbornly hold onto the Summer, when the Fall is here, is futile. Let go of the bank and enjoy the ride down the slipstream... 

In a Fog

Living in a foreign country has many challenges.

Belgium has no shortage of them.

Currently I have just moved from probably one of the most amazing neighborhoods in northern Europe, that of the Zurenborg area of Antwerp to another beautiful neighborhood, but without the dynamics of life that my former place had. I am sad, but at the same time, the move was necessary. I am closer to my daughter's school and she has more of her own space.

However, I am in a fog about where exactly I fit in in this society. Am I an ex-pat? Yes and no. Am I a conjugal EU citizen? Yes and no. Am I merely an American who has found himself as a stranger in a strange land? Yes and no.

Recently there were elections for the local level and Bart De Wever was voted in as the new Mayor of Antwerp. Make no mistake, Mr. De Wever is extremely intelligent, but I question his motives. Being part of the nationalistic movement, he wishes that Flanders succeeds to its own "country". Now, not that it could not do so, but it is a bit odd being mayor of one of the few cities that literally has representation from almost every country on the planet. There are residents from 173 countries in this city. Think about that. Seriously, let that sink in.

And, yet, the city just elected an elitist, exclusionary mayor. I am confused. Antwerp has been a world center for 500 years. I seriously doubt that Rubens, a friend of the Mayor at the time would have supported such exclusion. Known to be fluent in about 8 languages and was the diplomat par example, Rubens was what made Antwerp a city on the map.

I don't know what will happen with Antwerp and/or Flanders. I fear the tribalism that is rampant, but it is a sign of the times. All the while, Europeans are criticizing America for being narrow minded, Europe in the background is becoming more and more limited in its scope.

People in glass houses should not throw stones I guess is the motto... Or, when in a Fog, don't drive too fast...