museyroom

"For the moment, though, fear remains. “I stay in my house at night,” said Mr. Lone, the resigned..."

Fri, 19 Oct 2012 10:30:13 -0400

“For the moment, though, fear remains. “I stay in my house at night,” said Mr. Lone, the resigned sarpanch of Nowpora Jagir. “Only Allah knows who comes, and who kills, and who goes.””

- http://nyti.ms/TxYwGr

- for every article like this, there is an article like that - http://bit.ly/TuhLka

"We know that behind the opaque cloud of our ignorance and the uncertainty of detailed outcomes, the..."

Mon, 01 Oct 2012 12:23:13 -0400

“We know that behind the opaque cloud of our ignorance and the uncertainty of detailed outcomes, the historical forces that shaped the century, are continuing to operate. We live in a world captured, uprooted, and transformed by the titanic economic and techno-scientific process of the development of capitalism, which has dominated the past two or three centuries. We know, or at least it is reasonable to suppose, that it cannot go on ad infinitum. The future cannot be a continuation of the past, and there are signs, both externally, and, as it were, internally, that we have reached a point of historic crisis. The forces generated by the techno-scientific economy are now great enough to destroy the environment, that is to say, the material foundations of human life. The structures of human societies themselves, including even some of the social foundations of the capitalist economy, are on the point of being destroyed by the erosion of what we have inherited from the human past. Our world risks both explosion and implosion. It must change.”

- E.J. Hobsbawm. 1917-2012

Lime Preserve

Sun, 23 Sep 2012 12:25:24 -0400

There was a lime tree in the center of my father’s courtyard. Sometimes my brothers and I would pick the fruit too early, in our rush for a glass of that sweet-sour-salt-sherbet. On cool winter evenings, we would linger in the courtyard, listening to our bellies’ duet with the neighborhood’s pressure cookers. The tree was never large, but I also don’t recall it ever being planted, or it’s ever growing. It simply existed; in that way that memory can sometimes fool you into believing in the timeless nature of things. In my mind’s eye, the tree stands today as I left it, immune to the dust from the concrete slabs being brought in, not hearing the pounding of rebar all around it, unaffected by the sweat dripping from the scaffolds of the workers hanging over it. The tree was uprooted years ago, but today I dreamt of it, the courtyard, my mother pickling the fruit, my father on the pat, my brothers fighting, my house across an ocean, and my memory of it all fading.

The President's Bungalow

Wed, 25 Jul 2012 16:51:13 -0400

The house has now found itself in the center of town, a monument to the time of the Raj when inspectors and administrators each received his personal fiefdom. It was replete with servant’s quarters, a proper garden, and the ubiquitous pat - that flat wooden swing, hung from gaudy brass chains, ornamented with camels, elephants, and deities that all proper desi houses must have. The parlor was outfitted in traditional British style, unchanged, uninhabited, and now looking strangely uncouth. The individual rooms upstairs, each with cots and mosquito nets hanging from the ceiling, reminded one of hospitals in old war films - creaky, wheezing under the strain of the tangled mess of sweat, blood, and bile. I remember playing games with Darum’s son in an unfamiliar room across from the entranceway, speaking in that children’s Esperanto.

Touring around Flanders with a little cirque, day-tripping/canal...

Mon, 02 Jul 2012 10:22:31 -0400

Touring around Flanders with a little cirque, day-tripping/canal meandering in Amsterdam, stumbling upon ruined castles and beer-brewing abbeys in the Ardennes, hamlet hopping in the Moselle, warm welcomes, whiskey, wine and champagne (in Champagne, naturally), but, upon reflection, I was partial to the company.

2 Weeks Running

Sun, 03 Jun 2012 14:27:00 -0400

In fact, I’ve been sitting quite a bit, and my running is mostly accompanied by cramps and spasmodic breathing. Here are some flashes in the Belgian pan, so to speak.

I’ve taken to drinking a beer in the evening alone, staring off into the streets below. Unsure as to whether to call this a moment of zen, or an easy route to forget my days trespasses. Either way, it continues.

I have yet to open my French phrasebook, though I’ve sorely needed it, in my adamant refusal to speak in any language in which I may have remedial compétence. I force greengrocers to make their best guess as to what the hell I am asking for, for no good reason.

One of my other favorite pastimes is asking people where to buy a stamp (working on my third unsent letter) - trying to pronounce lait russe (known throughout the world as a café latte/au lait, but in Belgium as ‘russian milk’) - oh and talking about how much work I have to do (a holdover from the past).

Speaking of - I am, as I like to refer it, ‘data mining’ as a regular occupation and feeling at once humbled by my ignorance and mental torpor, yet also emboldened by the apparent ineptitude of what I’m (at times) reading. It is confusing, but I am easily bewildered in the dark reaches of this PDForest I’ve found myself. Who knows what integral IFAD report I’ve yet to hack down, left to grow gnarled and knotted, and eventually forwarded to confound me further.

The Butterfly - A. Kolatkar

Sat, 02 Jun 2012 11:34:49 -0400

There is no story behind it.

It is split like a second.

It hinges around itself.

It has no future.

It is pinned down to no past.

It’s a pun on the present.

It’s a little yellow butterfly.

It has taken these wretched hills

under its wings.

Just a pinch of yellow,

it opens before it closes

and closes before it o

where is it

"I have heard cocoa beans are used to make a kind of food young children love. People say the taste..."

Wed, 30 May 2012 05:38:08 -0400

“I have heard cocoa beans are used to make a kind of food young children love. People say the taste is sweet”

- the 25-year-old said, standing in an orchard full of yellow cocoa pods.

Why is This Man Laughing?

Mon, 21 May 2012 09:33:21 -0400

Why is This Man Laughing?:

Mr. Romney. This is great.

The Case for BYO-everything, If it Wasn't Obvious Already

Wed, 25 Apr 2012 09:53:09 -0400

The Case for BYO-everything, If it Wasn't Obvious Already

Bashar and Blake

Tue, 20 Mar 2012 17:01:38 -0400

Bashar and Blake:

Delusion, denial, debasement, and death.

Why Global Warming Skeptics are Wrong

Sat, 03 Mar 2012 17:07:31 -0500

Why Global Warming Skeptics are Wrong:

Yale’s very own Billy N. throwing down the gauntlet. And on that note, see you in sunny Puerto Rico.

Those Fabulous Confabs

Thu, 01 Mar 2012 12:53:09 -0500

Those Fabulous Confabs:

The article I didn’t realize I’ve been waiting for.

"Underneath his hand her shoulder felt cushioned in a way that his wasn’t. There was her skin. There..."

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 14:36:55 -0500

“Underneath his hand her shoulder felt cushioned in a way that his wasn’t. There was her skin. There was her muscle. There was her bone, her blood and all the blood’s attendant particles keeping her alive, particles whose names he’d never know.”

- samantha hunt, “the yellow” - keep coming back to this, the only lines I remember from a long-forgotten new yorker piece

Aschinger by Robert Walser

Mon, 13 Feb 2012 11:14:59 -0500

Aschinger by Robert Walser:

sometimes excerpts are just the right amount.

Bill Callahan: "So Long, Marianne" (Leonard Cohen Cover)

Sat, 11 Feb 2012 11:49:53 -0500

Bill Callahan: "So Long, Marianne" (Leonard Cohen Cover):

I’ve been told to love both Callahan and Cohen - I suppose its time they came together.

"Better than the assent of the crowd: The dissent of one brave man!"

Mon, 16 Jan 2012 20:00:24 -0500

“Better than the assent of the crowd: The dissent of one brave man!”

- —Sima Qian (145–90 BC)
Records of the Grand Historian

Haiti & History

Sun, 01 Jan 2012 11:27:45 -0500

Haiti & History:

Currently reading History, Historians, and Development Policy, and finding a need to refresh my knowledge of colonial/post-colonial isms.

"This scheme is an outcome of extreme starvation at an age when I knew only to cry when I was hungry...."

Wed, 28 Dec 2011 16:59:51 -0500

“This scheme is an outcome of extreme starvation at an age when I knew only to cry when I was hungry. But for the munificence of a woman next door who extended a bowl of rice gruel to us and saved us from the cruel hand of death, we would have departed this world long ago. Such merciful women folk, having great faith in me, elected me as Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu. To wipe the tears of these women I have taken up this project…”

- film-star-turned-Chief-Minister, M.G. Ramachandran, 1982 introducing the guarantee of one meal a day to children in government aided schools.

Schumpeter - Standing for Convictions in a Democracy

Tue, 27 Dec 2011 22:33:01 -0500

Schumpeter - Standing for Convictions in a Democracy:

He seems to be involved in everything I’ve been reading lately, and I’m intrigued enough to give it a whirl.