It is not many words which show an intelligent opinion:
search out one wise thing,
choose one good thing;
for thus you will stop the ceaseless tongues of babbling men.

Thales

I DID in fact get invited to a Chinese New Year party... with Korean BBQ. Can't win them all... but it was pretty good, and there were legitimate desserts.

Gong Xi Fa Cai!
Kung Hei Fat Choi!

An auspicious year for the dogs.

And who would know the year of the horse!

I think a job in Hong Kong would be pretty exciting... I was given cause to think of this by my Chinese friends....but the relative merits of Asia will have to wait.

Some pictures that by no means capture how cool Oxford Circus looks with Chinese decorations:





If I can get my hands on a camera... pictures of Chinatown to come.

??/??/? 0rz

SAD
Emperor Maurice - Stategikon

I didn't wake up very early today (incidentally, the only reason I am up right now is that my flatmate woke me up at 1 am to watch Battlestar Galactica), and as I wasn't going to get any work done, I decided to hit some of the weekend markets.

First stop was the Portobello Road market. This is probably the most upscale one in London. Sure, you can buy a fruit, a clash t-shirt, or a pashmina here (like at any other London market), but it is mostly known for antiques. There are definitely some pretty cool things for sale. Antique cameras, WWI era maps, vintage Guinness advertisements, suits of armor! All of which is a more than a bit out of my price range at this point. It is very quaint:




Whenever I am in any of these markets, I always wish that my grandmother was with me. I simply don't know HOW to buy fruit:




or meat:




or fish:




The health implications of me trying to pick out food from anywhere but a grocery could be grim. I don't think many of us Americans know how to select proper food in such a situation. I would overpay for something that wouldn't taste very good. My yiayia, on the other hand, is still connected enough with the economy in its most basic form that she could utilize any such market maximally. I should go shopping with her as much as possible when I get back to the US.


The end of the road is a bit more typical... there ARE cheap TVs, t-shirts, and bootlegged cd's for sale. There was also a guy handing out flyers for some reggae concert.

Once again, I recognized this guy by his face. I went to a Lee Scratch Perry concert two years ago and this guy was one of the fakestafarians handing out flyers there too. I realize that if someone told me that they NEVER forget a face, I would think they were spewing self-aggrandizing bullshit. I don't think I remember everyone I saw at the Indy 500 in 1992... but if I'm looking at people in more or less a single file, or if they say ANYTHING to me, there's a good chance I'll remember them.

In any event, my digital camera crapped out, so I've had to resort to using my phone to take pictures. It is a big cumbersome and doesn't have much range. (I hope I can get some decent shots of Chinese New Year tomorrow! I also want to take pictures of things I see in a typical day.)

Since most people in the US haven't ever seen a fakestafarian (and no, the guy at IU with the dreadlocks and Greatful Dead yarmulke doesn't count) , I thought I would take this guy's picture. I'm sure most of you can get the "picture" though without a lengthy description. Essentially a wigger who thinks hes Jamaican as opposed to African-American.

Well, it was dark and I was having trouble getting this guy's picture. My future with the CIA is in doubt as the guy busted me in the act (and ok, this was probably like the 5th time I had tried).

He walked up to me and:

Who are you?

....

Why are you trying to take my picture? (Humorously enough, he reverted to an English as opposed to his fake Jamaican accent here)

I'm not trying to take your picture.

WHO ARE YOU? (He started to get a bit belligerent here. At this point I glared up at him, I was acting like I was taking pictures of other things and hadn't made eye contact yet... and he got a bit scared and stepped back. I was thinking what to say. The first thing that crossed my mind was to say that work for MI5... or better the CIA and that we were watching him. Then I thought I could be benevolent and tell him I work for Time Out magazine and we're doing an article on Rasta culture. But what came out of my mouth was...)

I work for Prince Ermias Sahle-Selassie Haile-Selassie. The royal family is planning a return to power in Zion and is guaging the support of loyal followers of Haile Selassie in Britain. We will need British support.

(the guy got wide eyed)

Oh, we must support the royal family... (I cut him off)

I must go now, I have work to do.

After I did this, I feel really badly about it. First of all, for someone who HATES having his picture taken, taking someone's picture w/o their permission is pretty hypocritical. Fucking with this guy's head a la Hunter Thompson (if you ever read his "interviews" he does this to people all the time... telling a guy in a bar at the Kentucky Derby that he is a Playboy photographer in town to cover an anti-Nixon riot instigated by blacks... etc.) is really malicious. He cornered me an I didn't know what else to do. Tell him: "Well, I want to post a picture of you in my blog for ridicule?" or "I'm kind of crazy and I recognized you from handing out leaflets in front of the Hackney Empire 2 years ago?" Poor addled guy. Now I can't post the picture that I DID get of him (to be honest, it's not to clear anyway).


Next I went to Camden Town. Camden town has a market that is kind of like a Middle Eastern souk in that it is covered and cavernous. Except here they sell weed smoking accessories, bondage gear, cds (from reggae to the latest club beats), REALLY trendy club clothes, punk rock gear, tennis shoes, African tribal drums.... many pretty cool as well as pretty ridiculous items. You can also buy a Chinese meal for 2 pounds.

Chinese people seem to be running every other stall. It is one thing to see them selling Hello Kitty bags or lo mein, but to see Chinese people selling fiteer or Motorhead jackets! It reminds me of a souk I went to in Alexandria. I (thought) I was the only non-Arab there. The shoppers were mostly middle aged women and the things for sale were for the most part mundane, linens, cutlery, clothes...It wasn't upscale nor in a particularly nice neighborhood. And lo and behold, there were Chinese people selling towels and galabiyas! (Incidentally, I did NOT end up buying a galabiya...I'm not Rudolph Valentino after all) I REALLY wanted to find out if they spoke English, but I was under strict instructions not to speak any English in there and was limited to saying la'a and aiwa (no and yes) to my chaperone's comments (which were unintelligible to me). Are there not enough merchants in Egypt? Is there a better life to be had in some dingy souk in the middle of al-Iskandariya than in China? Certainly challenges MY economic as well as cultural assumptions...

Camden Town is quite a vibrant place. As far as interesting things to look at, it is probably the best market in London. I shall have to investigate further in the future. Though I can do without the dozen Brits practicing on African tribal drums. It is like a bad Tarzan movie from the fifties. It's not so easy to play the durbeki.

After wandering in the market for awhile, I had really overpriced Greek food... and the desserts were terrible once again. 3 pound for THREE loukoumades! My search for good Greek food continues.

??/??/? DP?

European Studies is GREAT! I wholeheartedly suggest it to anyone who is graduating from college and doesn't know what to do. ESPECIALLY if you can get funded. Heck, if my life doesn't go anywhere (ok, I shouldn't state that passively... if I don't get my shite in gear), *I* might be doing European studies next year!

If it weren't for European studies, I wouldn't have been here tonight. Ok, it's technically not even a club. For me though, it may as well be. And tonight I learned:

1) I am possibly the only guy in London who knows the words to "Baby I Got Your Money".

2) I am CERTAINLY the only guy in London who has seen "Dolemite." (though not been skiing in the Dolemites)

3) East German girls know how to shake it. Not to marching music either.

4) Do NOT touch West German girls if they don't want to be touched. I have to explain that lest you think I'm a welsher. Some dude (not me) put his arms around a West German girl, and she pushed him away so violently, that he almost fell to the ground.

5) Bulgarian girls can be EVERY bit as exotic as any sort of Asian girl. Dovizhdane Kitayski!

6) There are many mitigating factors that can make the night bus tolerable.

For one thing, one of my favorite stock characters is always there.

There are certain archetypes that I consistently run into in London. One of them, for example, is the (usually Asian) girl banging her suitcase trying to drag it up the stairs of the entrance to the tube. This girl will be grunting and trying to look as pathetic as possible. She is not even necessarily attractive...all girls can pull this off. She will also perfidiously make friendly eye contact with every guy who walks by until someone takes her luggage up the stairs. That some guy has often been me. Not that I've ever asked for a phone number or in ANY way behaved egregiously under these circumstances. (not that I've GOTTEN a phone number either)

Well, I don't do it anymore. One day, I was in a bit of a hurry... SO much so that I wasn't even scanning people's faces. Suitcase girl was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. (On this day, she turned out to be (white) Australian) So without even looking at her, I grabbed her suitcase and vaulted up the steps. When I got to the top and was fumbling in my pocket for my ticket to get out the gate (yeah you need them to get both in AND out of the tube. She caught up to me. She had friends with her! (Who could have helped with her luggage!) They said to her, "Wow you got up here quick!" And I heard heard her say, in the most patronizing voice possible, "Yeah, I had a little helper." At this point, I looked at her face and she WAS rather comely, and I was rather pissed. So now, she can carry her own luggage.


The relevant character tonight is drunk on the night bus girl. This girl is almost always Northern European. She is with friends... usually a solitary girlfriend, though sometimes two guys who are both vying for her favors. Her makeup is smeared, her clothes disheveled, and her hair mussed from coming into very close contact with far too many people in some club. This only makes her marginally less attractive. What makes her REALLY unattractive is her coarse (and vulgar) body language, slurred speech, and the doner kebab and fries she is eating and spilling all over the floor (and likely all over me). She is so drunk that she can't stand up for more that 3 seconds. She flops across the bus everytime it turns a corner, starts, or stops. Eventually, she sits down on the floor. At this point, I usually feel sorry for her and offer her my seat. She generally takes it without acknowleding me, and then spends the rest of the bus trip giggling at the double entendres of the Brit potheads sitting across from me. Then she'll step on my feet on her way off the bus and block me from retaking my seat so one of the stoners gets it.

Luckily, tonight she was French and cackling profusely while spraying beer everywhere (no open container laws here). But at least the two guys with her weren't about to let her get far enough away from them to take a seat. Not even a sucker's seat.

??/??/? De Profundis?!?!?!?!??!

Walking to Sainsbury's, that is the sort of mid-scale grocery that sells out of produce and bread by 9 o'clock, leads me along a road that follows some elevated train tracks. I'm not sure what to call the edifice on which the tracks lie. A bridge? In any event it is black and grimy and bespeaks Victorian gloom. The sidewalk next to it is splattered with pigeon feces and there are a series of brick warehouses built on either side of it.

It is perennially dark and wet, but it is the shortest way to the grocery.

So I was walking down this road, daydreaming about... when two West Indian guys emerge from the shadows and give me a:

"Hey mon, you give us a hand pushin this car?"

"Sure."

So I help them push it almost parallel to the car behind it, thinking for some reason they wanted to jump it, and I turn to leave.

"No boss, we gotta take it a bit further. Come on, be a sport."

I hesitated briefly.

"Okay."

So we push it around the corner through the gate of a 10 ft tall chain link fence into utter darkness. At this point the car gets heavier and I realize I am the only one pushing. I start to wonder if the guy is going to crack my head like an egg with a tire iron. We round another corner and are now behind a warehouse. Suddenly, the car stops. The left rear tire is in a huge pothole. I clench my teeth and rock the car backward and push it with all my strength. The car lurches out of the hole and starts forward at a clip. The guy next to me almost trips trying to catch up to the car because he's been trying to preserve the illusion that he is pushing too by keeping his hands on it. I hear the clanking of a serrated metal door raising and a dim light. The car turns into it and the guy says,

"That's good, Thannks mon"

I rock my head in acknowledgement and with a sudden burst of bravado try very hard to walk at a normal pace out of there. I have to admit, I'm too preconditioned against African-Americans. I don't think I would have EVER done that in NYC or Chicago. But the Carribbean accents these guys had only brought about associations of reggae and 7up... and though I was scared once we were in a dark alley behind a fence that thoughts of foul play (beyond them stealing a car which I thought when they first wanted it pushed off the street) only entered my mind. It occurs to me that this is an utterly irrational way to look at the world, but one that is as conditioned as ketchup on french fries. I think most people, myself included, could do with some introspection as to why they perceive people as they do.


I think I'm going to start posting which books I'm reading, just in case anybody ever wants to discuss them. Maybe I'll myspace-ify the whole blog!

Current Mood: Sassy
Currently listening to: Pussycat Dolls
Currently watching: The Notebook
Current favorite magazine: Tiger Beat
Current favorite color: Royal blue
Current interests: Eating, Sleeping, Partying, Movies, Video Games, Goin out wit mah girlfriend!, staring at racks
Current orientation: North
Current relationship status: Terminal
Currently reading:

Liudprand of Cremona - "Antapodosis" (Medieval Chronicle of western bishop sent on diplomatic missions to Constantinople)

Constantine Porphyrogenitus (Emperor Constantine VII) - "De Administrando Imperio" (Foreign policy guide for his son... briefing him on the political situation of all peoples surrounding and within the Empire... this is AMAZING)

Anonymous - "The Russian Primary Chronicle" (pretty self explanatory)

Partonen and Magnusson - "Seasonal Affective Disorder: Practice and Research" (My dad bought this or me... Do I seem that gloomy?? I want to read it before winter is out.)

I have to kick my reading into overdrive now. I've been slacking. I think this is about the maximum I can read in one day with any hope of recalling any of it. We'll see if I'm successful if I put up new books tomorrow. I'll be honest :P The science book will actually help. I've somehow convinced myself that if I read in one genre for too long continuously, that my reading slows down and comprehension decreases. So by mixing in something different my mind stays alert. Hmmm.

??/??/? 0rz

No more holidays to write about...


Well, Chinese New Year is coming up, but I once again failed to finagle an invitation to dinner for that :(...so I may go eat some moo goo gai pan by myself. Perhaps I'll take some pictures of Chinatown to post soon.



...no more movies...no funny stories...I should let the history drop a bit...

There are already too many political and theological blogs out there. It's not that I don't have political or theological thoughts, I just dont' feel quite up to pontificating.

Have you ever clicked on "next blog"? Other than religious and political ones, the two most common categories seem to be Chilean comic book nerds and Chinese girls with HTML so complicated that they are unreadable.

I did once take a class in HTML... I wonder if anyone remembers my IU webpage with lots of BLINKING font and a large picture of Carmen Electra. I had grandiose plans for this page... "Marche Slave" streaming...the comments font being a medieval manuscript... Icons and images of hoplites and cataphractoi... but I just don't have the steez. The code for the posting seems complicated to me to begin with... and I don't have the time or know-how to change it much...

??/??/? 0rz

I saw the movie "Jarhead". I liked it quite a bit. A nice post-modernist war movie.

Rather than "war is pointless for us", it was "we are pointless in war." Ultimately the protagonists couldn't cope with not being able to do what they were "created" to do. Modern warfare is pretty inconceivable to most of us. We can rain down death upon untold millions without ever seeing their faces. But in the movie there IS something to see, and the soldiers see it.

It brings up the question: What IS the meaning of a death when one has the power to inflict it upon anyone and everyone with the push of a button. No imperator or khan in history has ever had that sort of power. Why is it even necessary to send troops into harm's way? Can people just be bombed into political submission? How many people should die and who? If we bomb a village in Pakistan to try and kill one terrorist, is that okay? If we bomb a maternity ward in Belgrade to try and humiliate Slobodan Milosevic, is that okay?

Is glory for the sake of glory (our economic power IS our glory) worth killing for? How are we different than the barbarians of the Middle Ages? Goths, and Avars, and Turks plundering out of lust... their enduring monuments the mounds of skulls left behind...

??/??/? 0rz

This is one of my favorite artifacts in the BM. It has been dubbed, "The Queen of the Night." I'm not really sure why, no one knows what it is. I think that perhaps it is similar to the bird creatures that constantly drink people's blood in the afterlife. In the Sumerian afterlife, everyone goes to hell where they are forced to eat dirt for eternity and be attacked by such creatures.

However, one theory is much more interesting. It has been suggested that she is actually the Sumerian version of Ishtar (called Inanna by them), the Akkadian (ancient Semites) goddess of love. The Akkadians (and the Neo Babylonians and Assyrians after them) apparently adopted the Sumerian gods much as the Romans adopted the Greek ones. This forms the basis of Kramer's idea that Western Civ started at Sumer (I really should read his book someday).

I kind of like the idea that she is Ishtar. Aphrodite/Venus is all softness and pleasure, this goddess has the darts of Eros embedded in her very nature. The Sumerian face of love is ready to rend the flesh of all who approach her. She is more like a harpy, chasing after men and tormenting all who are weak enough to look upon her. It certainly fits in with the Mesopotamian worldview

According to their stories, Ishtar descended into the underworld. At each of the seven gates of Hell, she was forced to remove some of her clothing. But in this story, love doesn't conquer death. The Queen of Hell, Ereshkigal, gives her the death stare and puts her on a meat hook. Unfortunately, the Promethian god Enki (who saved mankind from the deluge in this mythology) decides that mankind also needs love, and summons Ishtar back. It wouldn't be Mesopotamia if someone didn't have to propitiate death, and so Ishtar has to find a replacement.

So she goes to Tammuz (yeah the same guy mentioned in the Bible... I'm not sure about the Koran, but the Arabic month is named after him) the king, and reveals herself to him. Unable to resist he is totally taken in by her. And then she unleashes the demons of hell on him and they drag him down to hell.

THIS could be the Queen of the Night... not nights of sensuality... night of inescapable darkness... and there she is, revealing herself with her demons ready to pull him clawing and screaming into perdition.

The picture doesn't really do it justice; you have to go see it for yourself. It is just a small terracotta plaque, but it is impossible not to gaze it, both in admiration and revulsion.

??/??/? 0rz

I have filled in several posts in December and January... I marked them with asterisks should anyone want to know which ones are new.

I just realized that I didn't even write about the significance of the cross carved in the ice or of water in general (the Russians bath in that cold water AND drink it)... but I'll spare you.

On to more profane subjects, I have to thank my Bulgarian flatmate for the fact that I spent last night in a pretty swanky bar (ok that was my doing) in the company of two pretty attractive girls. Certainly better than the more typical company of... myself.

There is a song called "Dr. Pressure" that is played in all the clubs and bars here. Whenever it is played, all the females in the place go "woooooooo" and start dancing. This phenomenon is not unlike how girls responded to a certain Eazy-E song that shall remain unnamed whenever it was played at any frat party. Of course, the
notable thing in that instance is how girls shake their shit and squeal with delight when one of the most degrading songs possible is played.

The lengths that some girls will go to try and please the WORST sort of guys. It's as if their brains have been pulverized by pervasive modern notions of sexuality. Ok, I don't know by what... but by something. On the other hand, these same girls are then just as capable of being stone cold and humiliating some other guy...a topic for another day.

In any event, I like THIS song myself. For one thing, any song that gets a room full of hot European girls to shake their asses is bound to evoke warm feelings. (Interesting how I say "European" when I want to stress beauty...otherwise I say "British"...but they are (generally) the same). Anyway, I also like having this secret knowledge of a song "everybody" knows... when I'm not really part of everybody. I'm in on something Hoosiers don't usually get to know.

Doctor Pressure

Ok the Europeans like degrading songs too...

but they don't get quite as into this one...though it's a club staple too.


??/??/? 0rz

Today is Old Calendar Epiphany.. for me, now Christmas is finally over. Keeping with the water theme, Russians cut crosses into the snow and then punge into them in commemoration of Christ's baptism. Well today brought record cold temperatures to Russia -24 F (-31 C)... but that didn't stop the Russians:








Even the priests!




If the Russians are that tough, what CAN'T they do!? I often wonder why we have so many problems (I refer to all Orthodox now) if we are capable of such resolute behavior. A thought for another day.


Here is just a cool picture of Epiphany in Serbia. The cross is made of ice and...well.. that mustache:






And for a bit more historical accuracy, in the Jordan river. What an experience that would be:



In Ethiopia, it is called Timkat, and is an amalgamation of a pre-Christian holiday and Epiphany. As such, it is possibly the oldest continuously celebrated holiday:




All these pictures are from the AP wire. I hope someday I will be able to take some pictures of these events for myself. It would make my blog a whole lot more interesting.


??/??/? 0rz

I caught a late showing of "Memoirs of a Geisha" tonight. Let me just get this out of the way before I start. Gong Li and Zhang Ziyi are hot. REALLY hot. They overcame my aversion to the story (well founded as it turned out) based on second hand accounts.

Admittedly, the movie was in places quite aesthetically engaging. The use of light and constrained spaces of certain scenes almost evoked a film noir. This made the sporadic use of vibrant color (the cherry blossoms or kimonos come to mind) all the more compelling. The well choreographed dances featuring Zhang were the height of grace (and pretty sexy, no doubt).

All that doesn't make up for the serious flaws inherent in the film. For one thing, nearly all these archetypical Japanese were played by Chinese actresses. While they may all look the same to use whiteys, it DOES diminish any authenticity the movie might have had (I'll get to the story in a minute...that finishes the job). Zhang's English is less than perfect and there are a few places where it seems that Chinese actresses are trying to imitate Japanese accents ("Rook at my carrigraphy!"). It was almost as ridiculous as Angelina Jolies' gypsy vampire accent in "Alexander". The movie also relied on some cheap Japanese stereotypes to convey familiarity.. there was the "Mr. Miagi" character (a conflation of Mamiya and the old woman who dies halfway through), the stern bushido (the scarred man), the buffoonish American soldiers, and plenty of ridiculous aphorisms such as: Sometimes man want to put eel into cave (ok with THOSE actresses who WOULDN'T be interested in spelunking); It like letting tiger out of cage; and of course, (Looking at the protagonist's blues eyes) You have water in you, you wearing down rocks and rusting iron.

The blue eyes are in and of themselves a ridiculous point, and I think the theme of the movie. An attempt to sexualize Asian women in a way that will titillate Westerners and yet be accessible to them. If I were Japanese (or Chinese for that matter) I would HATE this move. (I didn't like it as it was)

The problem lies in the book. Here we have one of the more esoteric aspects of Japanese culture, one not easily accessible to those who aren't Japanese, and the book is written by some American. He interviewed an actual geisha, who ended up suing him for libel. Apparently she took offense to his depiction of the auctioning off of her virginity. She claims that such a practice does not and never has existed. I am in no position (being quite ignorant of Japanese culture myself) to comment upon this. However, it seems that it would sure sell a lot of books (and the book did indeed sell quite a few copies). Perhaps some real Japanese historians will set the record straight. One the one hand, human nature being what it is, I'm sure quite a few geishas have been taken advantage of. However this movie was yet another example of hypersexualizing Asian women and depicting Asian men as lecherous and weak.

In general, I found the sex scenes in the movie to be nauseating. This was not because they showed virtuous woman bowing to the unseemly desires of beastly man, but because they showed a woman who felt unable to make choices. If strength is in submission, there isn't much to hope for in life other than a series of passive aggressive confrontations.

I couldn't help but snicker at the scene in which her virginity (annoyingly referred to by a Japanese term I can't quite remember... mizagumi?) was taken by the the dirty old man. Anyone who has read Herodotus will recognize his description of the Babylonian temple prostitutes lying down on sheets in front on incense to give themselves to men. A creative author indeed!

Understanding another culture takes hard work and an open mind. You can't learn the subtleties of ANY other culture merely by 2 hours of entertainment. This movie was nothing more than Cinderella in a kimono and platform shoes. Well, a skanky Cinderella... more like Flashdance I guess.

??.??.? Your condescension is so misplaced, it boggles my mind. I am a polymath, you are a peasant. And yet the peasant struck. TELOS really now... 0rz

Ricky Martin is out of control. He needs to contain the Latin explosion. Recently in an interview, he said:

"I love giving the 'golden shower.' I've done it before in the shower. It's like, so sexy, you know, the temperature of your body and the shower water is very different." Ricky went on to say, "I'm open to everything. There are moments for soft, gentle sex. And there are moments for a good spank in the butt."

What the fuck frack is this? He thinks this ISN'T going to upset people? Does he think he's Antonio Banderas? At what point does something think they are so sexy that they can degrade anyone and this is an attractive thing?

The guy is obviously a moron if he is truly shocked that this interview had a negative effect upon his "charity". (And let's face it, he's not curing cancer)

The thing is there are so many females out there that are so stupid, they can't WAIT for Ricky to piss on them. I for one, have to step n' fetch even to get a girl to go out for coffee. I've been so unsuccessful with THAT, I haven't broached the topic of sharing excrement yet. It's no wonder Step N' Fetch converted to the Nation of Islam. I could use the Mothership myself... This must be Yacoob's doing!

Ricky Martin can't actually be this much of a perv. Maybe he's just bored with having any hot girl he can possibly imagine throw themselves at him... Of course, he could always try talking to women instead of pissing on them. Or if he has to piss on a woman, how about the new president of Chile (she has suitable disrespect for social mores).

??/??/? Sabrina!! 0rz

******SNOVI GODM! Today is Old Calendar New Year's Day.

I went to an Old Calendar New Year's Party... Russians, and Romanians.... It was pretty crazy. I was discussing NGO's in Eastern Europe for about 2 hours.

I did NOT in fact go to church today. God gives second chances, and I blow them.

Here is the cathedral in Belgrade (this picture is totally gratuitous but I have a theme to keep):

******MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!

Today is Old Calendar Christmas... so Christmas in Serbia, Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Palestine, Egypt, and Ethiopia. And I REALLY wish I were in one of the those countries!!!!!! Don't ask why Greeks, Bulgarians, and Romanians use the Gregorian Calendar... I wish we didn't.


I suppose if I were a bit more dedicated, I could have gone to the Russian Church here in London.. but being so close to Russia (relatively), I would LOVE to experience it. How much fun do these guys look like they're having?




Not to mention, look at Vlad celebrating Christmas in Siberia (and who knew there were Orthodox who looked that Asian!):




This is GUM department store... it was the premier store in all of the USSR. I don't think anyone would imagine that it would ever be decorated for Christmas!!! But sometimes history does offer some restitution to the injured... or miracles do happen... I agree with both sentiments:



In Serbia they communally break Christmas bread (with a gold coin hidden inside much like we have on St. Basil's/New Year's day):




They also burn a yule log, which most Orthodox don't do... as it's a pagan tradition. But so what? Can't those things be accommodated within a Christian framework?




This picture is kind of sad... but a bit heartening too. It is a church that was firebombed in Kosovo:

******Today is Epiphany/Theophany, the end of the Christmas season in the New Calendar. Western Christians celebrate the coming of the Three Wise Men and Eastern Christians celebrate the baptism of Christ.

To commemorate the baptism water is blessed, and in the Balkans a cross is thrown into the nearest body of water and the young men dive in to retrieve it. In the US, the big celebration is in Tarpon Springs, Florida where thousands of Greeks live. This year, the Patriarch of Constantinople was there.






In Constantinople, this is done in the Bosporus (though this year without the Patriarch):












So the dove is released to symbolise the Holy Spirit and the spread of peace throughout mankind.

As usual, Turkish nationalists protested this event. They want the Patriarch out of Turkey and don't want Christian celebrations there. Of course, Greeks have been celebrating Epiphany on the Bosphorus for 1700 years, since the Turks were in Turkistan... I guess the 2,000 Greeks that are still in Constantinople are too much of a threat to Turkish identity. And the Patriarch is too much of a radical. Despite lobbying all over Europe that Turkey be admitted to the EU and defending Turkey from criticism publicly, he DARES to ask that the reopen the ONLY remaining Orthodox seminary in the country which was closed for no reason in 1971.

These guys apparently have nothing better to protest:







??/??/? 0rz

Today is Twelfth Night, ie the end of the Christmas season in the West. One would think that it would be possible, nay certain, that one would be able to see a production of Twelfth Night in London on this day. One would be very wrong. I was very much prepared to go to the theatre... but luckly, I didn't shower before searching extensively online for said production, which was not to be found.

What is wrong with these Brits? It's bad enough that they've totally displaced themselves from their culural roots, but they can't even keep up appearances. Granted, I don't know what goes on in Staffordshire during the Christmas season, but it is A Very Superficial Christmas Special here in London.

I noticed that there were no old Brits out on New Year's Eve. The only elderly people I saw were from the subcontinent. Allow me to speculate as to the reason for this.

Perhaps people from the subcontinent still know how to celebrate communally. Perhaps they don't look at celebrations as a time for individualistic self-indulgence (ok I DO overuse that term). If the old people are participating in a society's celebrations, then the young people have to behave in such a way that that they don't embarass themselves. The eyes of tradition are upon them

Is it the case here that old people don't feel welcome because the young people don't want their style to be cramped? The elderly can be just as festive as anyone. They certainly looked as happy as anyone to be out. There were old sikhs and even some old muslims out on the streets... participating. But I didn't see any vomit spewing from a grey beard onto the sidewalk.

??.??.? Sina classica 0rz

Ok, ok, a list of New Year's resolutions. But I really can't afford to make resolutions like: I will finish my thesis by June 1... or I will study Greek every day... or I will have a reasonable abstract prepared by the 26th. The reason for this being that if I mold these into resolutions, that leaves open the possiblity that they may not come to fruition, something that I absolutely CANNOT afford. If I don't do all of that, I may as well go to Serbia and join the mafia... or go to Mt. Athos and become a monk, because my Western life is over.

So, I will write resolutions of self-indulgence (bearing in mind my parameters for resolutions):

1) Eat at St. Elmo's. Everyone in my family... everone I KNOW has been there. I don't care if it's overpriced steak.

2) Learn to ride a motorcycle. I may not get one...I may not ride it from Lisbon to Vladivostok...

3) Read a novel in Spanish. I've never done this... It may take awhile. (Ok, I'll fess up.. I bought the biography of Mineko Iwasaki...the woman whom Golding slandered in "Memiors of a Geisha"... these are her actual memiors...in Spanish...well that makes it not a novel...but it counts)

4) Learn all the Mandarin words in the vocab cards I bought. This is pointless, but I like to follow a trend.

5) Go to a major monastery or church on a major feastday. Decani on Dormition. Athos on Annunciaion. Petcherskaya Lavra on Pentecost. I AM in Europe.

6) Go to winter Olympics. I don't know if I can swing this. We'll see how work goes.

7) Watch all the Kurosawa and Tarkovsky movies I haven't seen.

8) Read a novel in Russian (yeah right! well.. I AM going to be doing quite a bit of reading in Russian... so we'll see if maybe this becomes more realistic than Omar becoming dentist to the stars within a few months)

9) Go to the major clubs: The End, Fabric, MOS, Pacha, etc.

10) In the UK:

a) Go to Scotland

b) Climb Mt. Snowdonia

c) Go out to Land's End and see all the King Arthur stuff on the way there. Run around Merlin's cave making SUPER nerdy Dungeons and Dragons comments: "I cast a level 3 levitation spell... ON MYSELF"

d) Go to the rest of the major cathedral cities: Ely, Lincoln, Winchester, York... speaking of York... also go to where Constantine was crowned Augustus on July 15, 306 AD... daydream there for at least 2 hours...alzheimer's be damned.

e) Oxford

??.??.? The one who loved China 0rz

I would think this is the most useful site for the new year...for those not in London.


As I am the magister ludi here is the story as promised:

I had an odd experience today. I have the characteristic of never forgetting someone's face. It is almost a curse, as many forms of remembrance are for many people. When I went to registration earlier this year, there was an
(admittedly) attractive Chinese girl pacing outside the building. I didn't
know where to go, so I asked her if she was there for registration. Her face
contorted into the deepest scowl imaginable and she said, "No." Apparently she
thought I was going to hit on her? Well, I eventually found where I was
supposed to go, and later, I saw her in there registering. Four months later, I was at an exhibit of the first three emperors of the Qing dynasty at
the Royal Academy... I was looking
at the emperors silk robe and in the reflection of the glass... I saw a familiar
Chinese face... even Chinese, who should all look alike to begin with (I would like to think I wrote this all for that zinger!).
I glanced around to verify, and she noticed me. It seems she might have
recognized me, or else my face provokes a common response as the scowl returned
to her face.

It seems like a bit of a paranoid story, but I contend that the two easiest things to read in a person's face are recognition and disgust.

??.??.? Feng min 0rz

My mind was not vacuous for over two weeks. I'll fill in some of the missing posts over the next few days, so you'll still have to check 2005 if you don't want to miss out. This month is going to be rather busy. I have to present an absract on my thesis on the 26th. I still have to finish my prosopography, three papers, and study for a few exams as well... Dammit Darnit when is Alex Trabek going to call!

I think posting New Year's resolutions is almost a mandatory activity for bloggers... but I must desist. At this point (perhaps a line, or a plane, I hope it's just a point) publicly stating any such aspirations would be more pathetic than fruitful.

??.??.? Erin 0rz

Well, I didn't make it for Agios Vasilios. Luckly, the Greek Church must have had that in mind when changing the calendar unilaterally. Rather than taking the drastic step of having two liturgies a day like the infidel Catholics (ok they're probably only something like perfidies--perfideles these days). So, though I didn't make it for I can Agios Vasilios day, I can still go to a Russian church on Jan 14 (the REAL Jan 1) for Sveti Vasili day:



Today I had a major dilemma. I brought a vasilopita from Chicago, but I am all alone. (Ok, it's not actually a vasilopita, the orange cake Greeks eat on New Year's/St. Basil's Day w/ a baked in it.. .it is just some sweetbread they were selling in Greektown in Chicago with a coin baked in it) Do I still get the good luck if I get the coin? Well, I'm not actually alone. The rules state that there has to be a piece for the Virgin Mary/the Church too. (Yeah, I know, technically one for the house as well, but this flat has been nothing but a pox on me so it doesn't get a piece). In any event, I think that me versus God is more than a challenge as it is. I cut the bread in half and stake out my side. While dividing that side for consumption (partial, its a big loaf), the knife hits the coin. DOUBLE LUCK! I guess God knows who needs it. Incidentally, it is about the dirtiest 1987 quarter I have ever seen. I think I'll make french toast with the other half.

There isn't much to do on New Year's Day in London save go to museums which are all open. As I've hit all the other exhibitions, I head to the Royal Academy for the exhibition of early Qing dynasty art.

On the way there, I run into the parade on Piccadilly Street. It makes getting across the street quite bothersome. Once again, the band that was on the plane with me from Chicago managed to be bothersome. It seems as if there were 500 marching bands and 2 Macy's day balloons. Yet the Brits are transfixed. They simply can't get enough of the "Rule Britannia"/"Theme from Oklahoma" medley! Maybe it's nice to see marching bands here that don't smack of Prussian militarism. I don't know. But it is nice to see the hold that Americana still has over foreigners. We managed to do something great in our bubble. And that greatness just might be the Coronado High School band dressed in outfits that look like Klingon uniforms (they were blue form-fitting one pieces with a large silver diamond on the chest) playing 5 bars of "I Can See for Miles and Miles" over and over again. If only I had been on the plane with these guys! That's kind of mean spirited. For the record, I was in band for four years, musical genius that I am.

The painted scrolls were highly impressive. Though also HIGHLY influenced by Renaissance art. In fact, many of them were painted by Jesuits from Italy or France who were staying at the imperial court. The naturalism and linear perspective combined with Chinese colors and motifs are striking, as are naturalistic figures on an axonometric scale.

The silks are beautiful and I can't help but notice the similarity to Byzantine silks (after all we did send some monks there to steal the worms). Most of the stuff was pretty typical, I won't go into a lecture about the role of Buddhism and Daoism in China, or the Han's relationship with the Manchus and other steppe peoples, or the discovery of European technology in the 17th century. I'm sure it's all in Wikipedia. I was impressed how the role of the Jesuits was stressed in the exhibition though.. after all, the Chinese invented gunpowder and paper.

I think dictators pretty much stay the same. Much like Stalin or Saddam Hussein, the Kangxi emperor had his picture painted as propaganda to portray him as ideal in every way. So there are pictures of him as a Buddhist monk, Confucian scholar, Daoist mage, Mongolian warrior. The funniest was him as a Frenchman hunting a tiger with a spear. He is wearing a curly black wig and, knee high breeches, and a waistjacket, but he has a fearsome look on his face and he is charging a tiger. It is like a painting that would be made off a sub-Saharan African or Sumatran in the West, the primitive warrior. The primitive warrior dressed as a dandy in the court of Louis XIV.

The exhibition also produced my second girl in the glass episode.

??.??.? Anya Ruskaia

Typically, my New Year's Eves are spent alone in my parents sun room, drinking ouzo and watching Dick Clark and Mtv. Usually, I complain that I wish were somewhere exciting. This year, I am alone in my flat drinking gin (when in Rome), and I decide at 11 PM to go somewhere exciting.

I take a shower and shave with my rosewater shaving cream. Thus my face smells like as well as resembles loukoumi. I head out to the tube, which for one night has non-stop service. It skips quite a few of the stops, but this is more or less acceptable because so does the subway in NYC and the El in Chicago at night, and it stops at Bethnal Green which is all I really care about.

The Central Line is surprisingly not crowded. When I switch to the Piccadilly Line at Holborn it is a bit more so, but nothing like rush hour. There are some drunk Brazilians with their arms interlocked swaying in a circle singing, "Ole, Ole, Ole, Oleeeeeeeee." Not much different that post soccer game hooligans on the tube.

I get out at Leicester Square, and the streets are jammed with people. Everyone is wandering towards Trafalgar square. The pace and determination seem like the zombies headed to the mall in "Dawn of the Dead." Only spontaneous outbursts of jubilation break the trance. Or rather, they are the trance.

I smoke 10 cigarettes on the walk. I don't have any booze with me. I am filtered with the other zombie revelers through several perpendicular lines of police men looking none to comfortable, only smiling when the occasional person stops to wish them a "Happy New Year." The sound of helicopters is overhead and there are police announcements from a bullhorn telling everyone which streets are inaccessible. Finally Trafalgar Square is surrounded by metal gates with one entrance down the steps which leads past several lines of neon bobbies. Something like this:




I descend into Trafalgar square and I see:


I shortsightedly didn't take a picture, but Nelson's column is covered in scaffolding and blue wooden boards so that it looks like a prison guard tower. There is also a redlight ticker with lots of useful messages like: "Be on the alert for suspicious behaviour." Usually suspicious behavior slips right by me too. At the west end of the square is a huge monitor showing the great fireworks displays in Sidney, China (as if they give a fuck er, fudge), Moscow (wait... why not the 14 there?), and Paris. Also lots of useful interviews with no sound.

Finally, the countdown begins... I can barely make out the numbers on the screen.
10...

9...

8...

7...

6...

5...

4...

3...

2...

1.........



Brilliant eh? That's Trafalgar Square at 12:00 AM. The cloudy sky burns red. I'm sure just like 1666 AD. I can hear the fireworks, I can see the red sky, but I can only see them on the big screen. That's it. Nothing. The Brits don't even know the words to Auld Lang Syne. Granted, it's written in Scots.. but that's not the same as Scottish Gaelic, it's just a dialect of English. And I think most people from Boston know the words to Dixie.

People are hugging and kissing. Hooray for being alive in another year. Hooray for being here. Hooray for being. I suppose it is better to be happy for no reason than sad for no reason... But for me, happiness is contingent upon accomplishment, in the broadest possible terms. There comes a time in everyone's life when countdowns as well as countups are unwelcome. Being so far away from any such, I can't say I welcome temporal markers in the least. People searching too hard for transcendence seem to cause a lot of the world's problems, and it isn't hard to see why. Sex, death, ideas... all can be driven just as much from the opposite end of the human condition as from the baser instincts... and this motivation is the more powerful sort. Anyway, ontos halepos estin, when one's ousia binds their epithumontos. Biology is destiny?

I squeeze back up the stairs, through the cold drizzle up the Strand. I catch a glimpse of the fireworks between the buildings:



How could I not deduce that the fireworks would be over the Thames near the London Eye and Parliament? Maybe I would have gone to Trafalgar anyway, since everyone does. The lure of the mall is just too great. The inveterate suburbanite I am.

I walk back through Covent Garden and pay three quid for some mulled wine. The spices are a bit much for my throat, now a bit too raw from the smoking. As soon as I try to take a sip, my abused epithelium rejects it and I spray myself with wine. There is no pretty face in the glass, she will come tomorrow.

I get to Holborn and there is a Korean guy selling chicken and noodles for four quid. I'm pretty hungry. I tell him I'll take one. He asks how many are in my party. I AM the party, give me the noodles.

I gobble them down and home with some more gin and go to bed already with a headache.

The prospect of making it to church for St. Basil are slim:



We'll see.

??.??.? Palladina Ruskaya 0rz