The White Tiger

July 28, 2014 § Leave a comment

What’s that you say, Mr. Jiabao? Do I hear you call me a cold-blooded monster?

There is a story I think I heard at a train station, sir, or maybe I read it on the torn page that had been used to wrap an ear of roasted corn I bought at the market—I can’t remember. It was a story of the Buddha. One day a cunning Brahmin, trying to trick the Buddha, asked him, “Master, do you consider yourself a man or a god?”

The Buddha smiled and said, “Neither. I am just one who has woken up while the rest of you are still sleeping.”

I’ll give you the same answer to your question, Mr. Jiabao. You ask, “Are you a man or a demon?” Neither, I say. I have woken up, and the rest of you are still sleeping, and that is the only difference between us.


Sia – Chandelier

July 20, 2014 § Leave a comment


July 20, 2014 § Leave a comment

“An argument of sorts on Friday night. On adoption. I: that more people should adopt, were they conscious, if they wish to have children (rather than reproducing in their own image). To take children from bad situations and in need of parents, lacking parents and in poverty, in areas with poor healthcare and few opportunities and poor education, and to give them better opportunities. This assuming the move were good and the adopting people good. Perhaps already too many assumptions. Regardless, I argued that and was met with the counter argument (and I probably do it injustice, misrepresent, unfaithfully reproduce): that you may not change the world, that always people have suffered and there been bad situations. (And so do nothing?)

I gave the first argument and felt still a small part of me that, were I to have children, would want my loved one and they in me also, reproduced. That mesh of blood. And added weakly that of course perhaps one’s own child is indeed easier to love.

The argument of course is personal. I feel indescribably grateful for my own adoption and so also eternally indebted.

Anyway, it was good to walk the streets talking and to speak of real things and so at least to be shocked a little from routine. Not shocked but jolted ever so slightly, even with topics familiar. To look again. To argue, to discuss real things. As a kid I used to beg my Dad please just to argue back with me. Because it seemed that no one would.

Isn’t challenge worth something? When people care enough to engage and challenge?”

(from an email)

July 19, 2014 § Leave a comment

Can you be bothered?

Luke Rhinehart ,The Dice Man

July 19, 2014 § Leave a comment

p. 47 “Pastor Cannon, his father, seemed to be a good man — in the traditional sense of the word: a conservative, restrained defender of the way things are.”

From Hesiod’s Theogony, from Charlie:

July 16, 2014 § Leave a comment

“Shepherds of the wilderness, wretched things of shame, mere bellies, we know how to speak many false things as though they were true; but we know, when we will, to utter true things.”




July 11, 2014 § Leave a comment

Where Am I?

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