Thinking Of Cheesecake

The chapter What's Up with the Arts? in Gazzaniga's Human, which I read over the weekend (the chapter that is, not the book) provoked me into thinking of yet another little reading project - one that looks like supplanting my rather silly plan of becoming a bit of a (strictly amateur) minor expert on cognitive psychology. The original plan involved a rereading of four of Steven Pinker's books in this area before moving on to the latest I could find in scholarly articles of weight (obviously as yet unread.) But that's not going to happen, much as I enjoy Pinker as writer and thinker.

What is going to happen - at least, this is the plan of sorts I'm now formulating - is to read the appropriate chapters in Pinker on his ideas about the arts in relation to the workings of the mind (encompassing the controversial stuff about music as auditory cheesecake, etc.) and then expand into other thinkers on aesthetics more broadly (just the ones on my shelves, like Scruton on Beauty) with the aim of settling on a definite position of my own regarding why I see The Arts (capitalised this time) as being central, crucial, vital to human experience. Because I do; but I'm not sure why I do.

At the moment I fall back on Joyce's brilliant theorising through his alter ego Stephen in A Portrait as a way of explaining to myself what I can't articulate, or think through clearly. And I've been doing that, one way and another, since I was twenty. Time to move on just a little more, I think.

Searching

It's that time of year when I feel the need to acquire an appointment diary for the year ahead (as the dates start coming in.) And it has to follow the week-to-a-view format. Time was there would be many available, but not these days, I'm afraid. And the ones I've managed to acquire for the last three years have been shoddily put together. This year's fell apart a month ago and I needed to apply the sellotape, as in 2025, to hold it together. Not sure it will last to the end of December.

Anyway, we popped into the fairly large Popular Bookstore at Clementi Mall just now, where Noi had noticed some diaries for 2027 on the shelves a few days back, but there was nothing for me. Plus they didn't stock the kind of red pen I need for marking purposes, the type of post-it notes I prefer, or the kind of little black notebook I favour (for jotting down the names of all my enemies. Hah!)

Something tells me I'm grievously out of step with the modern world. But, then, I've known that for the longest time.

Double Negative

Question: What's worse than having nothing?

Answer: When you ain't got nothin' you got nothin' to lose.

Context: Me, on the elliptical trainer just now. Last two minutes. Less than zero.

All Too Human

A couple of years ago I started thinking of pursuing what I thought of as little 'projects', particularly with regard to my reading. I suppose I was experimenting with ways of giving a bit more purpose & direction to the life of the mind, given an enhanced consciousness of my years being numbered. I figured that the notion might help me prioritise my limited allowance of time.

But I'm doubtful that this idea has real legs. As an example, I've just abandoned a project to get myself broadly up to speed in the field of cognitive science. I think it's reasonable to make the claim that I'm fairly well-informed of matters pertaining to the workings of the mind, but not in any systematic manner. And I'd intended to reread all the stuff on my shelves related to the field and make a determined effort this time round to remember stuff. So I picked up Gazzaniga's Human: The Science Behind What Makes Your Brian Unique a few months back for a slow but purposeful read to make sure the key points really went in this time round. (Which I knew had not been the case on my first reading some ten years ago - I think it was.) And now I'm at the halfway point, and much as I've enjoyed the reread I know that I still don't really know what I think I know. Yes, I understand this stuff conceptually; no, I couldn't teach it to anyone else.

I can see a possible solution: to make systematic notes and commit these to memory. But I'm afraid I don't quite see the point, since I'm not in any way seeking to become some kind of accredited practitioner in this area. So I'll carry on reading and enjoying and vaguely remembering but generally forgetting.

Slow Learner

Those good people at Apple TV sent me more than one message with regard to the new series of Slow Horses getting underway yesterday. Unfortunately when I tried to access the first episode of Series 6 I couldn't find it anywhere and settled instead for a re-run of a couple of episodes we'd watched already (from Series 5.) Funnily enough I found these very watchable, despite the fact I'd seen them before. I suppose that's a sign of being a fanboy.

Astonishingly I actually managed to find the new material earlier today, more by luck than by design. Not sure why most people find it easy to negotiate streaming services and the like, but I certainly don't. Show me an interface and I'll find a way not to be able to figure it out.

Now it just remains to start watching, but The Missus is deeply engaged in the production of her curry puffs and that must take priority. Patience is, of course, a virtue to cultivate, and even as a very slow learner I've taken that lesson on board.

Uncertainties

They managed to be thoroughly confused and still seize power because the Provisional Government simply vanished, just as the vaunted autocracy had vanished. Thus Kotkin makes a kind of sense of the events in Russia of October 1917 in his captivating biography of the young Stalin. The despot and monster to be isn't yet the Stalin we're all familiar with; indeed, in many ways he's very far from that figure in the year of the two revolutions. Not exactly likable, and obviously possessed of a drive that makes him far from ordinary, but not a man necessarily destined for power - and nor, as Kotkin makes clear from the quotation above, were the Bolsheviks. 

Previously in my encounters with the events of this period I've tended to read in the inevitability of it all. Not in Marxist terms, but just those of the common human experience of the betrayals of revolutionary energies. Now I'm thinking it was all a bit of a mess, a series of sometimes quite daft accidents & coincidences  - like all history. 

At one point Kotkin suggests that a couple of well-aimed bullets taking out Lenin & Trotsky would have changed everything, and that feels true somehow. How much suffering might have been avoided if someone with a gun and a bit of authority had listened to the British military attaché Alfred Knox? Mind you, things could have turned out even worse. You never really know, do you? 

Inside And Out

Have managed to get to the gym a couple of times since returning here from Malaysia. Happy to have done so, but didn't enjoy my time there one little bit. In contrast, running round the taman last week was a genuine pleasure. Am actively considering mixing my stints on the elliptical trainer with some running around the track outside. But aware this might be foolhardy, tempting as it is.

Still Jolly Good

Noi has been talking about going to watch Mansur & Liu again with some of her chums from these parts. It's not likely to happen, given the logistical constraints of her getting back up to KL again within a tight time frame to do so, but I'm delighted to see just how much enjoyment she's got out of the show. That's how theatre works. When you know there's something deeply special about your experience and feel you need to repeat it.

One thing that has taken me by surprise though has been the negativity she's told me about in the social media connected to the musical. It seems that the male lead is regarded as something of a bad boy in certain quarters of the Malay community and there's enough controversy about this to provoke some folk into suggesting boycotts of the production. The fact that the guy in question is pretty close to perfect in his role seems to escape these 'critics'.

I'm sort of reminded of how easy it now seems to be anywhere in the world to get 'cancelled' for not ticking all the boxes. Isn't it fairly obvious that anyone concerned with the arts - whether acting, writing, singing, painting, dancing, whatever - is likely to be at least a bit disreputable? So it's best to just get on and enjoy their talent for the good it brings to the world and turn a blind eye to their more questionable characteristics. 

Can't help but think of the delightfully succinct question put to Malvolio by the disreputable Sir Toby: Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? 

Mildly Glowing

Just successfully completed some mandatory training regarding the use of AI, Quite surprised myself by passing the quiz at the end, though I must say the information provided through the training (via a website for public servants entitled Glow) struck me as quite bland. But then I suppose it would be if mandated by the government here. Nothing related to the current scare stories associated with out of control, swarming AI agents, a la the Hugging Face attack. Or even the problematic ways in which kids are using AI platforms to fake the submission of authentic work.

Quite soothing really to deal with a comfortingly comfortable account of how easy AI will make life for all. Hope it's true!

On Being Provided For

Now back in our usual Far Place, happily feeding our faces back at Swensen's for their Unlimited Buffet this afternoon. This time the occasion was a wedding, as they host wedding dinners there, and we made good use of prior knowledge to scoff more of our now favourite dishes. And since our living quarters are piled high with the generous offerings of students from Teachers' Day we haven't needed to get in any further supplies for the weekend.

Noi made a reference the other day to it not being long to Fasting Month (though, in truth, it's still a few months away) which put me in mind of the much-needed sense of balance the fast gives to a life of abundance.