Where the danger is
grows also what can save us.

Friedrich Hölderlin

(via TM)

Sontag, on love and sex:

 We ask everything of love. We ask it to be anarchic. We ask it to be the glue that holds the family together, that allows society to be orderly and allows all kinds of material processes to be transmitted from one generation to another. But I think that the connection between love and sex is very mysterious. Part of the modern ideology of love is to assume that love and sex always go together. They can, I suppose, but I think rather to the detriment of either one or the other. And probably the greatest problem for human beings is that they just don’t. And why do people want to be in love? That’s really interesting. Partly, they want to be in love the way you want to go on a roller coaster again – even knowing you’re going to have your heart broken. What fascinates me about love is what it has to do with all the cultural expectations and the values that have been put into it. I’ve always been amazed by the people who say, “I fell in love, I was madly, passionately in love, and I had this affair.” And then a lot of stuff is described and you ask, “How long did it last?” And the person will say, “A week, I just couldn’t stand him or her."

I was satisfied with haiku until I met you,
jar of octopus, cuckoo's cry, 5-7-5,
but now I want a Russian novel,
a 50-page description of you sleeping,
another 75 of what you think staring out
a window. I don't care about the plot
although I suppose there will have to be one,
the usual separation of the lovers, turbulent
seas, danger of decommission in spite
of constant war, time in gulps and glitches
passing, squibs of threnody, a fallen nest,
speckled eggs somehow uncrushed, the sled
outracing the wolves on the steppes, the huge
glittering ball where all that matters
is a kiss at the end of a dark hall. 
At dawn the officers ride back to the garrison,
one without a glove, the entire last chapter
about a necklace that couldn't be worn
inherited by a great-niece
along with the love letters bound in silk.

-Dean Young, Changing Genes

Susan Sontag was born today in 1933.

INTERVIEWER

Is it old-fashioned to think that the purpose of literature is to educate us about life?

SONTAG

Well, it does educate us about life. I wouldn’t be the person I am, I wouldn’t understand what I understand, were it not for certain books. I’m thinking of the great question of nineteenth-century Russian literature: how should one live? A novel worth reading is an education of the heart. It enlarges your sense of human possibility, of what human nature is, of what happens in the world. It’s a creator of inwardness.

—Susan Sontag, the Art of Fiction No. 143

 

because it is spectacularly random and curious, i wanted to share the list that amanda shared of all the notes we created during our 18 days without regular internet to look things up. she took notes on the various topics we discussed and wondered about while being unable to do a google search.

here's just a tiny part of we came up with:

1. What does the fox say?
   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jofNR_WkoCE update: http://www.popsci.com/science/article/2013-09/what-sound-does-fox-make
2. What is the name of the Star Wars robot?
   C3PO (yeah, Rose!!) note: we thought of this question when we determined that i would make a good ewok. after hours of hiking and some brainstorming, we finally remembered the stupid robot's name. hah. 
3. Tell me more about Afrikaans (origins, uses today, etc.)?
   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Afrikaans
   
   Afrikaans /æfrɪˈkɑːns/^[3] is a West Germanic language, spoken natively in South Africa and Namibia, and to a lesser extent in Botswana and Zimbabwe. It is an offshoot of several Dutch dialects^[4] spoken by the mainly Dutch settlers of what is now South Africa, where it gradually began to develop independently in the course of the 18th century. Hence, historically, it is a daughter language of Dutch, and was previously referred to as "Cape Dutch" (a term also used to refer collectively to the early Cape settlers) or "kitchen Dutch" (a derogatory term used to refer to Afrikaans in its earlier days).^{[n 2]}
   Differences with Dutch often lie in a more regular morphology, grammar, and spelling of Afrikaans.^{[n 4]} There is a large degree of mutual intelligibility between the two languages—especially in written form.^{[n 5]}
4. Marriage citizenship test 
   Sample questions from NYT: http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/06/11/marriage-test/?_r=0
   More sample questions:http://www.nolo.com/legal-encyclopedia/free-books/fiance-marriage-visa-book/chapter13-20.html
5. US Citizenship test - did you pass?
   20 Q's that will be graded: http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/07/03/12546953-could-you-pass-the-us-citizenship-test?lite
   100 Sample Q's:
   http://cltr.co.douglas.nv.us/elections/100questiontest.htm
6. Mr Jones Lyrics meaning - verdict: about a real person (via Wikipedia)
   The primary topic of the song itself is perhaps how two struggling musicians (Duritz and bassist Marty Jones of The Himalayans) "want to be big stars," believing that "when everybody loves me, I will never be lonely." Duritz would later recant these values, and in later concert appearances, "Mr. Jones" was played in a subdued acoustic style, if at all.^[2] On the live CD Across a Wire Duritz changes the lyrics "We all wanna be big, big stars, but we got different reasons for that" to "We all wanna be big, big stars, but then we get second thoughts about that," and "when everybody loves you, sometimes that's just about as funky as you can be" to "when everybody loves you, sometimes that's just about as fucked up as you can be."^[4]
   The song is often interpreted differently. Some believe it is a thinly veiled reference to the protagonist of Bob Dylan's "Ballad of a Thin Man",^[5] a theory supported by the lyric "I wanna be Bob Dylan, Mr. Jones wishes he was someone just a little more funky." Others^[who?] have suggested that Mr. Jones refers to flamenco guitarist David Serva (Marty Jones's father), although the lyric "she dances while his father plays guitar" seems to suggest Mr Jones' father is another separate character within the song.^{[citation needed]} Another possibility is that Mr. Jones is an imaginary friend, or Steve Jones of the Sex Pistols.^{[citation needed]}
   In a 2013 interview, Duritz explained that the song is named for his friend Marty Jones, but that is about Duritz himself.^[6] "I wrote a song about me, I just happened to be out with him that night," Duritz said. The inspiration for the song came as Duritz and Jones were drunk at a bar after watching Jones' father perform, when they saw Kenney Dale Johnson, longtime drummer for the musician Chris Isaak, sitting with three women. "It just seemed like, you know, we couldn't even manage to talk to girls, but if we'd — you know, we were just thinking if we were rock stars, it'd be easier," Duritz said. "I went home and wrote the song."
7. Black sheep origin? (via wiki)
   In most sheep, a white fleece is not albinism but a dominant gene that actively switches color production off, thus obscuring any other color that may be present.^{[citation needed]} As a result, a black fleece in most sheep is recessive, so if a white ram and a white ewe are each heterozygous for black, in about 25% of cases they will produce a black lamb. In fact in most white sheep breeds only a few white sheep are heterozygous for black, so black lambs are usually much rarer than this.
8. Are penguins monogamous? - Sounds like some are for several seasons.
   Many penguin species are monogamous and may stay with the same mate for several breeding seasons. And penguins make very good parents. Both the male and female care for eggs and chicks.
9. Why do penguins shake their heads? There may be other explanations, but here is an interesting one - penguins were interested in us? (http://www.sciences360.com/index.php/courtship-and-breeding-cycle-of-king-penguins-5224/)
   Despite the fact that mate selection is female choice, the males do display a short courtship behavior to get the attention of the female penguins. Male king penguins will raise their flippers and point their beaks toward the sky in an ecstatic way to catch the eye of one or several females. If a female shows interest, she will stand face to face with the male. Both of them vigorously shake their heads. After this occurs, the male will strut around swinging his head from side to side. Many people refer to this as “the advertising walk” of the male king penguin. After this victorious walk, both the male and female face each other again in a sort of dance by shaking their heads while stretching up and bending down in sync with each other. They will also become vocal as well as clapping their bills together.
10. How do penguins defend themselves?
    To protect themselves from the cold, emperor penguins huddle together in close groups. To protect themselves from killer whales, they depend on their very skillful flippers to swim very quickly, darting back and forth in the water. Because killer whales cannot turn quickly, this gives the penguins an advantage. The penguins quickly head to shore because once they make it to land, they know the whales can't get to them. They don't have much in the way of protection from leopard seals so the only thing the can do is stay alert and remain in a group with other penguins, knowing that the leopard seals will go after any stragglers.
11. What is the type of fruit that reminds me of sweet potato?
    Sapote - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sapote
12. Coochie Face song from the musical Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (get ready to be weirded out)
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpxysdGFwyM
13. Why does the default camera vs video on iPhone look different?
    I can't figure it out.

I spent the weekend in strangers' arms.
Many asked if they could do it again.
Many smiled noiselessly.
Many felt music differently from me.
I spent the weekend saying hello and then walking away quietly in the span of 3 minutes and 28 seconds.
We can live a lifetime like this.
We can build a lifetime like this.

1) hello, my name is
2) where are you from?
hold each other.
move with each other.
feel intimate, or don't.
"i'm sorry i hurt you, it was an accident"
pause. or move on.
staccato, or to add a fermata.
"i am sorry, this is too fast for me. perhaps next time."
"could i find you again later?"
"i really enjoyed that. could i dance with you to different music?"
3) are we on the same rhythm? can we coexist to the same rhythm while moving differently?
move quickly, violently.
move slowly, sensually.
improvise. or follow patterns.
fall into habit.
fall into novelty.
try something new. fail.
try again.
fall down.
4) thank you.
5) ...
look for the next one.

I came to, feeling thrilled. I had lost the past three hours. The room was still throbbing with light and sound. I realized I couldn't feel anything below my shins. The first thing I did was turn to my friend and whisper, "it's so hot in here."

She put a glass of water to my lips.

this earth we live on(!)

 we should stay a while.
maybe even find ourselves enjoying it a little.

how to improve any work day: ginger snaps, hot tea, and good music.

I sat on the edge of the luxurious bathtub, watching it fill. We were quiet from an argument after dinner. Something about a tone, and then a look someone gave, and someone got offended, but we don't remember which was which. If you asked us now, it would seem immaterial. I remember silently getting up to get my coat, and stepping out into the unreasonable cold. The icy streets had rendered my leather-soled boots absurd. I wanted to laugh, but even smiles froze before they could get to my face.

The water in the bathtub was too warm. Still, we sat - touching but not really touching since the touching wasn't intentional and it was only a byproduct of the size of the space- in the tub with the roaring jets that sprayed hot water at our backs.  

We made lighthearted conversation about how good it felt, and how soft our skin was from the salts. 

Our hands brushed occasionally. I watched my long hair surf the waves. 

We fell asleep wearing our robes, not touching, but side by side, in front of the fireplace. 

I awoke, groggily, and my stomach felt like it had a fist trying to punch outwards from inside. 

I spent the next twenty four hours prostrate on various surfaces and feeling like dying. Sometimes, I would shuffle to the window and watch the snow. Mostly, I watched various shows that I didn't understand because they were all in French. Even Harry Potter spoke French. Willing my stomach to feel better. 

We held onto the privacy of disappointment. Allowed that to be a place where we hid from each other a little while. You raised your voice once, telling me to stop telling you to go do something else exciting, away from me. Because, you said, it wasn't that I was sick. If I was sick, we were sick. Together. Then you apologized for raising your voice. 

You force fed me some water from my purple water bottle. We ate chicken soup from tin cans and congee that I made. 

An hour before midnight, I woke you up.  Wearing more clothing than I had ever put on at one time in my life, we walked outside. Our bodies, limited by the huge lumps of warm clothes covering them, twisted in funny shapes as we tried to dance with each other in the snowy cold while holding hot beverages. Our gloved hands clumsily clung to each other. Our eyelashes and nosehairs froze as we shook off all the ache from the previous day. As we lifted our eyes, fireworks filled the mountain sky. 

Paula Schargorodsky's 35 and single

here's to not settling!

For a new year's resolution:
"Be the best prisoner you can be." - Chris Huntington for the New York Times

When the battery in my watch died, I still wore it. There was something about the watch that said: It doesn’t matter what time it is. Think in months. Years. Someone loves you. Where are you going? There are some things you will never do. It doesn’t matter. There is no rush. Be the best prisoner you can be.