haiku, history, humor

Time for a Haiku about Time

Historians give us the next best thing to traveling backward in time, so as to look over the shoulders of our predecessors and see how they coped with their predicaments while planting seeds of ours.  Of course, we cannot really do that.
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The protagonist in H.G. Wells’ novel The Time Machine travels fast forward in time, temporarily (!?) separating the passage of time in his own life from the passage of time in the world at large.  Of course, we cannot really do that either.

rod-taylor-time-machine_940x424

On the other hand …

Is Time Travel a Fantasy?
|No.  It just happens
|(whether we like it or not)
|on a fixed schedule.


The still from the 1960 film version of The Time Machine that appears here has been cropped to fit well on this page; it appears in an interesting post on TimidMonster.com.

humor, math, music

Like a Good Priest

I did not have pen in hand when a bemused radio announcer commented after playing Bach’s 4th Brandenburg recently, so the following quote may not be perfectly exact.  It is very very close.

How can anything so complicated and so mathematical be so beautiful?

Imagine a priest who hears one of the great settings of the Mass (or a tour of a Gothic cathedral) followed by

How can anything so complicated and so religious be so beautiful?

That is essentially how I felt.  With considerable effort, one could make enough dissonant noise to be as grating as the remark.  Scratch a chalkboard with the fingernails of one hand.  Bang on the cracks between a few piano keys with the fingers of the other.  Step on a cat’s tail and fart loudly.  Doing all that would suffice.

Amiens_Rose_Window_640x480

A good priest would redirect any shock or anger at the remark into sorrow and pity for the wayward soul of a heathen who meant no harm.  In this one respect anyway, I try to be like a good priest (or a good imam).

Selimiye_Mosque_640x427

Image Sources

Photos were downloaded from Wiki Commons and are used under Creative Commons licenses.

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birds, food, haiku, humor, seasons

Spring from Another Viewpoint

A few seconds near the end of the delightful music video from a CDHK episode have inspired a haiku that looks at a familiar subject from an unfamiliar viewpoint.
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I consulted the plants in my yard for my first response to

Carpe Diem Special #194
A Trip Along Memory Lane — with a twist
,

but I did not consult my plants this time.  They might be shocked.

Spring from Another Viewpoint
|One fat little bird
|welcomes spring in its own way.
|Cherry buds are food.

haiku, photography, seasons

Spring

The plants in my yard have a response to the cherry blossom video shown in CDHK #194.  After the winter, green plants spring back to savor warmth and longer days.  Hmmm.  That’s a haiku.
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Carpe Diem Special #194
A Trip Along Memory Lane — with a twist
.

green-peek_934x657

daffodil-leaves_934x900

Spring
|After the winter,
|green plants spring back to savor
|warmth and longer days.

(reblog), humor, language, STEM

Narrative Starkness and Word of the Year

Kurt Brindley advocates “narrative starkness” that omits extraneous details about the characters in his fiction.  Apart from applauding Kurt’s starkness (and his ability to write humorous introductions for serious issues), the purpose of this post is to remark on a major difficulty with starkness and how the Word of the Year for 2015 may help.
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For reasons explained in the post excerpted below, Kurt Brindley advocates “narrative starkness” that omits extraneous details about the characters in his fiction.  Unless a character’s appearance (or gender or sexual orientation or …) matters to the plot, readers can imagine whatever they like.  Readers may later get a jolt if some details become relevant later and are different from their imaginings.  Maybe such a jolt will loosen the grip of a stereotype.

Apart from applauding Kurt’s starkness (and his ability to write humorous introductions for serious issues), the purpose of this post is to remark on a major difficulty with starkness and how the Word of the Year for 2015 may help.


My Uncolorful* Character(s)
Originally posted on
Kurt Brindley:

I don’t know about you, but as for me – unless it is absolutely critical to the movement of a story – I don’t need to always know every item in each room, or the style and brand of every shoe in the protagonist’s closet.

So it should come as no surprise then when I tell all you other reader dudes*** that I try to write my stories in the way that I prefer to read them: with limited and only absolutely necessary descriptive telling.

While I am very happy that DADT was finally axed and homosexuals are now allowed serve without any restrictions to their being, it was all of that nasty DADT stuff that became the impetus for me writing my novel.

And my goal in writing it was to force the reader to have to apply his or her own values, via perceptions and stereotypes, upon the characters in and events of the story.  Consequently, it was important for me as a writer to not tell the reader what I wanted them to think by way of character description, but to allow them to draw their own conclusions.

This equality stuff sure is a difficult nut to crack – witness the all-white Oscar nominees for this year’s Best and Supporting Actors/Actresses – and I’m not about to attempt to try and crack it here.

Except to say that screenwriters can certainly have a hand in keeping an open playing field for actors of all races and ethnicity by – you guessed it – laying off the descriptive details in their screenplays and leaving it up to the director to cast the best actor for the role based on the story’s content and need and not on the screenwriter’s biases.

*Yeah, I know “uncolorful” is not a real word, whatever a real word may be, but I it sounds less negative to me than “colorless” so, for what it’s worth, I’m going with it.

**gender specific

***non-gender specific

View original


Yes, “uncolorful” is awkward.  The aesthetic that urges omission of extraneous detail is well-established in STEM (as in “abstract algebra” or “Occam’s Razor”), but I cannot think of a good word or short phrase for wider advocacy of specifying only what really matters.  An “abstract” character is no more appealing than an “uncolorful” one.

It gets worse.  Writing smoothly and vividly but abstractly is tough.  George Orwell’s forever relevant 1946 essay Politics and the English Language includes a hilarious comparison between a memorable Bible passage and a translation into flabby blather that tries to make the general point w/o the concrete examples:

… the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, …; but time and chance happeneth to them all.

becomes

… success or failure in competitive activities exhibits no tendency to be commensurate with innate capacity, but … the unpredictable must invariably be taken into account.

In one way, a recent event may make narrative starkness a little easier.  The American Dialect Society’s Word of the Year award for 2015 went to “they” when used as a 3rd person singular pronoun that is gender-neutral.  I hope this usage sticks.

Suppose I want to write a story whose characters include a Navy sailor and a PhD scientist.  I could call them “Ensign Wood” and “Doctor Stone” to give them names that leave their genders unspecified.  But the old he-she-it gang gives me no appropriate pronoun to use.  Tho adequate in nonfiction writing, the clunky alternatives “he/she” or “(s)he” are hopeless in speech.  For my story, those pronouns may be making a misplaced fuss about being gender-neutral.  I can use “they” instead.  The ADS will have my back if grammar prigs attack.

It is nice to see that a humble pronoun has gotten the WOTY honor and may even help those who are fighting the good fight.  I have no appropriate haiku to end this post, but a limerick I read long ago does come to mind.

The function that’s nowhere defined
is an orange with only a rind.
But it turns up the hero
(like the null set and zero)
in many a proof you will find.

humor, photography, science, seasons, serendipity

Serendipity with Squid

Did I superimpose 2 images to create a (clumsy) visual metaphor about the interconnectedness of life?  Nope.  The story begins millions of miles away.  It ends on a window pane.
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HeronSquid_581x684Hmmm?  A ghostly translucent squid seems to hover in midair between the viewer and nesting herons.  No, I did not combine a heron image with a squid image in my photo editor.

The story begins millions of miles away, where the sun emits photons even more copiously than the pols emit factoids.  Minutes later, a tiny fraction of the photons bounce off a neighbor’s window, pass thru my window, and hit me in the eye.  There are many ways I would love to emulate people like Bach or Galileo; going blind is not one of them.

Yes, I could pull the drapes. But only a small portion of my window needs to be obscured.  Would rather not waste winter sunshine.  Yes, I could buy a window decal.  Most of the decals I have seen are cutesy.  The rest make a statement:

I am as ugly as a warthog with zits,
but the jerk who owns this dump
bought me as a decoration.  Ha!

Of course, I am dissing only the decals I have seen, not any other decal U may have and like.

The Dec/Jan 2016 issue of National Wildlife magazine has photos from the annual NWF photo contest, including a photo of nesting herons by Mario Labado and a photo of a squid by Jackie Reid.  I read the magazine on paper (yes, I am that old), and it so happens that the photos are on opposite sides of the same thin sheet, w/o much else to clutter what is seen when bright light passes thru.  The fraction of duplex printed sheets that look at all good when both sides are seen at once is like the fraction of photons emitted by the sun that bounce off my neighbor’s window:  tiny.

So I cut out the sheet and taped it to my window.  The image of the squid is actually on the far side; the illusion of being closer than the herons is the same in my house as in my photo.

The composite image is indeed clumsy as a visual metaphor for the interconnectedness of life, but it does tone down the excess sunlight.  It cost nothing beyond what I already spent to help support the NWF, and it looks better than a warthog with zits.

haiku, history, humor, politics

Long After the Sixties

When will things slide …

from liberty to anarchy?

from growing to shrinking?

from bravery to bravado?

from firmness to fascism?

from hope to rage?

The answer, my friend, has blown in on the wind.

The answer has blown in on the wind.

Fiscal Responsibility
|Debts rise; incomes fall.
|Hard times demand bold action:
|tax cuts for the rich!
 

baseball, flowers, haiku, humor, photography

Orange and Blue

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orange-blue_938x337I had no interest in baseball during my misspent youth.  My late wife had some interest in it, her interest was contagious, and we had become casual fans of the NY Mets by the time they won their 2nd World Series in 1986.  With stamina unthinkable today, we saw the sights in Washington DC by day and watched much of the 1986 World Series by night, on the big TV in our motel room.  There were no games on the nights of travel days, but we managed.

While fans of the NY Yankees got to see many more wins over the years, Mets fans got to see more strategy because there is no designated hitter in the National League.  A great baseball team has an unusual combination of strategic leadership, individual initiative, and teamwork.  It is like a great army, but nobody gets killed.  Moreover, a not-great team can try again next year.

Tho definitely not a great team in most years, the Mets did and do have great colors: a strong orange and a strong blue, much like the colors in my photo.  Many fond memories of 1986 were refreshed by seeing orange and blue on a great postseason team in 2015, in addition to seeing them on foliage walks.

October is blessed with a riot of reds and yellows (and some persistent bright greens), as well as the glorious oranges of many of the sugar maples (Acer saccharum), some of the red maples (Acer rubrum), and NY Mets uniforms (but only in a few special years).  One color I seldom see in October is pink.  In 2015 I saw that also.

cactus_oak_888x504

Willful Cactus
|My “Christmas” cactus
|blooms whenever it pleases.
|Pink for Halloween!

 

haiku, history

Motion in Haiku: 2 Surprises

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Some fine haiku were among the few good things to come out of World War I.  My experiment with one of them provides a response to Carpe Diem Perpetuum Mobile #2 rainbows sparkle (or movement in haiku).  While refining my nuanced stance on the 5-7-5 Rule ( Helpful guideline? Yes! Firm requirement? No! ), I tried tweaking a few classic haiku that broke the rule.  Could something that was already good be improved by revisions to comply with 5-7-5?  In particular, I considered a World War I image by Maurice Betz.  Neither the French original nor the straightforward translation on page 50 of The Haiku Handbook (2013 edition) obeys 5-7-5.  This post ends by quoting the translated Betz haiku (which is utterly static) and my [5-7-5]-compliant version (which has both fast and slow motion).  I was surprised twice.Duck-Rabbit_illusion_439x242

  1. The history of the shell hole can be narrated succinctly within the confines of 5-7-5.
  2. I do not have a stable preference for either version.  Like someone viewing the classic ambiguous image that can be seen as a duck facing one way or as a rabbit facing the other, I flip-flop between the still photo by Betz and the movie by me.

© Maurice Betz
|A shell hole
|In its water
|Held the whole sky.

Redemptive Trickle
|A shell exploded!
|Water slowly filled the hole
|and held the whole sky.

Image Source

  • Jastrow, J. (1899). The mind’s eye. Popular Science Monthly, 54, 299-312.
  • The soft copy used here has been downloaded and cropped.

 

haiku, photography, seasons

Chiaroscuro

Autumn is the best season of the year and also the shortest, unless we submit to calendar tyranny and say that “late fall” includes the leafless gray weeks before the winter solstice.
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Chiaroscuro_moon_443x449
I have a daylight photo that looks much like a shot of the full moon thru colored leaves, so I can illustrate Chèvrefeuille’s beautiful evocation of true autumn while responding to

Carpe Diem Haiku Experiment #1 an introduction

with a short haiku (in 3-5-3 form) about how short the season is.

© Chèvrefeuille
|light of the full moon
|shines through colored leaves
|at last … autumn

Ending Too Soon
|Wind speeds up!
|Leaves fall in panic!
|Clouds roll in …

haiku, history, humor, photography, science

Moving the Earth

Sometimes the Earth moves, quite apart from the constant motion in orbit around the Sun.  No, I am not using hyperbole to describe a big, screaming orgasm.  I am considering an even rarer event.
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Sometimes a really big idea challenges and ultimately transforms deeply held beliefs about the fundamental nature of human life.  Centuries ago, the idea that the Earth does indeed move around the Sun was such an idea.  Oh shit, we may not be at the center of the universe!  Astronomical humble pie from Copernicus has been pretty well digested; some people still cannot swallow humble pie that was pulled from the oven in 1858.

Already know what happened in 1858?  Please don’t leave.  I will keep it brief, keep it light, and put my own eccentric spin on the story.  (Honestly now, when was the last time U saw the phrase “big, screaming orgasm” in the 2nd sentence of a note on the history of science?)  Sources are thanked at the end of this post.

Back in 1858, there were no search boxes.  No Google.  No Wikipedia.  No e-mail!  Anything called a “manuscript” really was a collection of sheets of paper on which letters and symbols had been written by hand.  Want to show it to somebody U cannot visit?  Put it in the mail and hope it eventually arrives intact.  Want to have a backup copy in case it gets lost or damaged?  Write it out all over again before mailing.  No scanners.  No soft copy.  Yuck.

I am old enough to have lived and worked in a hard copy world, albeit with gadgets like electric typewriters that made it less painful than in 1858.  Collaborating with somebody several time zones away was agony in my early days and impossible in 1858.  In some important ways, doing science in my early days was more like it was in 1858 than it is now.  So I can imagine how Charles Darwin felt when he read the mail on 1858-06-18.

Correctly anticipating that his concept of evolution by natural selection would ignite a firestorm of controversy when published, Darwin had spent some of his time over the previous 20 years thinking about possible objections or misunderstandings, devising ways to answer or avoid them, and organizing a mountain of evidence.  Already an A-list biologist, Darwin was in no hurry and wanted to dot more i-s and cross more t-s before the firestorm.  Naturally, he wanted to wait a while before publishing his big idea.

The letter and manuscript that Darwin received on 1858-06-18 came from Alfred Wallace, a younger colleague then roughing it somewhere in one of the places that would now be called Indonesia or Malaysia or New Guinea.  Wallace sought advice about how to publish a new idea: evolution by natural selection.  Tho Wallace did not have a mountain of evidence, his pile was plenty high enough to justify publication.

Wallace earned his living by collecting natural history specimens for sale and was being hassled for the amount of time he devoted to nerdy “theorizing” when he should be killing things.  Naturally, he wanted to publish his big idea soon.  Naturally, he sought the opinion of a senior colleague with whom he had already exchanged a few letters on smaller matters.  He did not know (and could not know for months) that he had independently come up with the same big idea that Darwin had been quietly refining and supporting for years.

How could the differing priorities of Darwin and Wallace be reconciled?  How could Darwin respond to Wallace in a way that was fair to both of them and feasible in 1858?  No e-mail.  No conference calls.  Darwin consulted a few friends.  More than a century before the exhortation to

Let it all hang out!

enjoyed a vogue, they decided to do exactly that.  Those who attended the meeting of the Linnean Society of London on 1858-07-01 were treated to an explanation of the unusual situation, a reading of a summary of Darwin’s work, and a reading of Wallace’s paper.  Wallace was still in the boondocks and did not even know that his work (presented for him in his absence by one of Darwin’s friends) was sharing the spotlight on equal terms with Darwin’s.

Wallace did eventually return to England, make further contributions to biology, and enjoy a long friendship with Darwin.  Yes, they disagreed on some points.  Yes, creationists took such disagreements at the frontiers as an excuse to claim that the whole enterprise was “just a theory” with no greater plausibility than an extremely literal reading of Genesis as translated from a translation of the original ancient Hebrew.  But the Earth had begun to move again.  Oh shit, we may not be descendants of a pair of idle nudists who took advice from a snake!

Archimedes in 1858
|Darwin and Wallace
|found a lever long enough
|and a place to stand.

Greater Bird of Paradise
Greater Bird of Paradise

Sources

      • The brief biography of Wallace by Andrew Berry in the September 2015 issue of Natural History is very readable and provides some details I had not known.  No access to that issue of the magazine?  Pasting a few phrases into search boxes will compensate nowadays.  I have zoomed in on June/July of 1858 to elaborate on collaboration technologies (then and now), Darwin’s fairness predicament,  and why I applaud the way he resolved it.

    • Tim Laman’s many bird of paradise photos are featured in the September 2015 issue of Natural History.  The photos that appear here have been cropped to fit well on this page.  The originals (and many other splendid photos) can be seen on Tim Laman’s website.  Prints can be bought.

  • The concluding zinger about Adam and Eve is believed to be original; it is inspired by the edgy absurdist humor in Eric Wong’s blog.

 

haiku, humor

Pegasus

Tho childhood fantasies about flying horses are long gone, I can see the upside.  I have 2 favorites to share before my own take on Pegasus.
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In response to Carpe Diem #825 Pegasus:

I have 2 favorites to share before my own take on Pegasus: Chèvrefeuille’s beautiful Hippocrene-inspired image and Haiku Plate Special’s charming reminder of the way I and so many others were introduced to Pegasus.

© Chèvrefeuille
|after the rainstorm
|horses galloping through puddles
|droplets of poetry

© Haiku Plate Special
|winged horse
|flying through my childhood
|Mobil Gas

Tho childhood fantasies are long gone, I can be good-humored about practical matters.|

Pegasus
|Ever been shat on
|by a bird? Be glad there are
|no flying horses.

Pegasus_RM_450x450
Perhaps the image credit requested by the Rijksmuseum refers to a likeness of Persephone on the other side of a coin? Perhaps some copy-then-tweak editing did not go far enough? A magic spring with water that ensures complete editing would be a worthy companion to Hippocrene.
haiku, seasons

Another Maple Seed Haiku

This post responds to a CDHK challenge by sharing two haiku about seeing maples consign their seeds to the warm wind: my own and one written by Betty Hayes Albright.
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In response to CARPE DIEM HAIKU KAI: Carpe Diem Utabukuro #10 Wim Lofvers’ “a maple seed”

In late May of 2015 I happened to be out walking on a perfect day for seeing maples consign their seeds to the warm wind.  Having neither the skill nor the equipment to capture the moment on video, I kept walking and composed an appropriate haiku.

I like to use a haiku to wrap up a discussion that not even Basho could fit into 3 lines.  Having no more to say at that time, I typed the haiku into my computer and left it there.  Now I have a CDHK opportunity for my haiku.  As of this writing, there are 9 responses posted.  From a wealth of good haiku about maple seeds, I will share as a favorite the same favorite (written by Betty Hayes Albright) that is shared in the 5-th response.

Albright’s haiku stands out for me because it is vivid and reads quite naturally as English w/o any apology for squeezing into 5-7-5.  It also uses ordinary capitalization and punctuation, which I prefer over the affectations common in poetry.  At the risk of shooting myself in the foot, I will display it alongside my own haiku at the end of this post.

Seedling_911x655

© Betty Hayes Albright
|The air is spinning!
|Squadrons of maple-copters
|take the fertile earth. 
|Seize the Breeze
|Helicopter seeds
|fall from maples and travel
|far enough, this once.

 

(reblog), love

Holding On

Poet Rummager has written a splendid tribute to fallen soldiers, with a simplicity and directness reminiscent of Hemingway’s 6-word short story.

Am I the only one who was initially bewildered, having read “while” literally at first? The leave-taking and the funeral need not have been simultaneous. Time passed slowly while there was still hope that the soldier could return home on the scheduled date, relatively unhurt and relatively unhaunted. Then, suddenly, it felt as if he had left moments ago.

Poet Rummager's avatarPoet Rummager

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

His wife was crying

He held her hand while his son

Saluted his tomb

(Photo from Definitivamente)

View original post

haiku, humor, photography

Various Viewpoints

To a female mosquito, I look like lunch: a big bag of nice warm blood.  From her viewpoint, my birdbath was a good place to lay eggs after lunch.  But then I rigged a hose to drip into it.  The drip also made the water better for washing down a bird’s caterpillar lunch.  I have another view of what makes a good lunch; my friend has yet another view.
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To a female mosquito, I look like lunch:  a big bag of nice warm blood.  The bag is annoyingly mobile, but she is also mobile and is quite good at using a mix of cues (chemical, thermal, and visual) to home in on the bag.  Then it will be time to lay eggs.  From her viewpoint, my birdbath was a good place for egg laying until I rigged a hose to drip into it.

birdbath-ripple_840x312
The dripping also keeps the birdbath full and makes it more attractive to the birds, who consider it a good place for a sip of water and sometimes a bath.  From the birds’ viewpoint, it never was a good place for egg laying.  I am glad that the mosquitoes have finally come around to the birds’ opinion.

Blood for lunch does not appeal to me.  Neither do caterpillars, so I do not compete with any past or present birdbath visitors for food.  I eat something healthy (from a human viewpoint) and finish off with something obscenely healthy: a few raw carrot sticks and then a few raw snow peas.  (That lets me get away w/o brushing my teeth after lunch.)  I also view the veggies as colorful objects to be arranged in a very temporary display on the plate before they become ugly mush that is mercifully out of sight.

A few days ago, I happened to arrange my lunch veggies so as to look a little like a dragonfly, with snow peas as wings.  Hmmm.  Maybe I could pull more veggies from the fridge and make an arrangement that looks a lot like a dragonfly to me. (No real dragonfly would be fooled.) This little project reminded me that a dragonfly is the enemy of my enemy, and thus my friend.

Dragonfly_480x481

What’s for Lunch?
|Mosquitoes in flight
|are seen as meat on the hoof
|by a dragonfly.