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“why don’t you try to live without him / why don’t you try to live alone”

Who the fuck is Danny Choo?

In a moment of depression I started thinking about Neon Genesis Evangelion, and that genre of animation that tries to gesture at grand things, grander than its art, grander than its scope. NGE has never touched me on an emotional level and I wondered what it was that was so untranslatable, in its heart of hearts fundamentally alien to my experience. In the way that mental trains translate themselves, I started thinking about the blogs Neojapanlisme (entertaining but not really all that informative) and Danny Choo’s blog “Cutlure Japan”.

I had heard of this man’s shenanigans on the internet via friend of mine, tying to explain the Caramelldansen meme, pointing to a video where he danced to it in a Stormtrooper costume somewhere in Tokyo. I dismissed him, as a Japan-fanboy — whatever, uninteresting.

But again, in a bout of depression my mind wandered back here, in a blog post called:

How Discovering Japan Changed My Life

A corny title — still, I sat through it, having no better alternative. It is at every turn, surprising and humbling. This man, who I had previously dismissed as a obsessive fanboy (which he is, I still judge), delineates the difficult course of his life: starting as a foster child (whose parents were both alive) in London, thoroughly bullied and isolated, found something tender, alluring, and nourishing in the idea of Japan — going on to document his incredible, tremendous tenacity and ambition. It seems like he should have given up his dream ten times over — and the fact his present success (self made TV host, influential blogger, etc, etc, etc) touched me in that way that finding worthy human lives makes you feel glad you be alive. God, this man was SO self-driven. Here is a section from the post, about how Danny conceived of the 24-hour day:

The pie is divided into three – each piece is 8 hours. Presuming that you work 8 hours and sleep for 8 hours then you have 8 hours remaining which is one slice of the pie. I then start to cut up the remaining piece.
The 8 remaining hours is needed for things like personal hygiene, nourishment intake, health care (very important), cleaning, commuting and other chores which are important in life but generally don’t contribute a whole lot to your career or personal development.

If you subtract the time needed for all the above from the final piece of the pie then all you would have left each day is 4-ish hours which you need to use on spending with friends/loved ones, entertainment/recreation and personal development – learning a new subject, beefing up current skills, researching etc.

Now imagine that you spent more than 8 hours at work. In order to do the other stuff, you would either have to sleep less or start to drop some of the other stuff. Some folks with long work hours drop “personal development” which I consider to be crucial to the development of an employee’s life, career and well being.

Outside of work and sleep, if you are not getting your 8 hours then perhaps its time do something about it? Could it be the lack of your 8 hours that your Japanese studying is always put on the back burner?

Go ahead, read the post. It is not so much (in my mind) about Japan as it is about how to pursue something with dogged determination… the kind of determination I often don’t see, even in a place like MIT.

Anyway, this was a utterly humbling experience, even to something I would still consider an utter dork.

In the park there is a man, in the man
a poem. In the poem,
a wish for cigarettes.

He lifts his wrist,
so it falls,
like snow in the headlight.

i imagine that

I am no longer held by it, beastlike to an owner.

But now under the tarnished sky I have to find everything again. The toes first, then the kneecaps. The weighty shoulderblades sunk near the watercress. A turn in the woods upon the pond where furrish heat hid my hairs. Each thing I find I put back and each thing is unheld and falls apart again. Every morning the egret sinks into my body and fishes out the wordy organs. Every organ is crowded with rain. I imagine that to have a body is to make a gesture and then make it again and again. And so I do.

curious mutilations of the human form

and therefore everything. immediately the sun. thick oakland fog, dock lights lighting up like windows on a massy forgotten train. the brightly colored and pointy fleshed vegetable sitting above the alcove where the warmth of the night kept out the howling morning wind. the tingle tingle of the after drug.

music flowing luxuriantly, contemplatively, multiple scarves and kites in russet damask. trails where thought wandered outward and then came back and then wavered in the threshold of the self.

(Roof of ACA, Berkeley, 08/27/2010: rediscovering old writings.)

a vision of birds

And then a burst of birds,
birds of bells, pink and shivering.
In the anonymous summer:
treelines,
come apart.

It was April, late evening,
I sat smoking with someone
no longer there.

The ashes fell like lazy words,
subtle and pink.

Boston was melting.
We talked about the music
and the askant sky,
friends leaving and friends returning.

And where are you now,
a punctured aorta some days later,
come apart,
like an ellipse.

What is this clarity,
in the shingled
music of bright mouthed finches–
how jealous a pain,
how beast like,
the way the bee clings to the flower, for its
unseasonable scent.

The window is slightly open,
and the sound and the scent,
green-headed and full of love,
come sliding in.

The Dead

I read “The Dead” from Dubliners today. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland.

Bayesian probability as extended logic

Books I’ve been reading lately: Speak, Memory, and Bayesian Logical Data Analysis for the Physical Sciences by Gregory. The former has been sublime, to the point of instilling silence in me. But let’s talk about the latter.

One of the mind-blowing things mentioned right off the bat in this book is how the Bayesian interpretation of statistics is actually interpretable as an extended logical framework. What follows are paraphrases of the more philosophical points made in the first and second chapters of the book. The rest of the book is good, too, but more technical.

First, a brief description of the frequentist and the Bayesian conception of probability:
Frequentist: p(A) = long-run relative frequency with which A occurs in identical repeats of an experiment. A is a proposition about random variables.
Bayesian: p(A|B) = a real number measure of the plausibility of a proposition/hypothesis A, given the truth of the information in proposition B. A is any logical proposition, not necessarily about random variables.

Apparently, Bernoulli, Bayes, and Laplace (in that order) first “viewed probability as an extension of logic to the case where, because of incomplete information, Aristotelian deductive reasoning is unavailable.” What made it not catch on during the 20th-century was that Laplace could not prove why “the Bayesian definition of probability uniquely required the sum and product rules for manipulating probabilities.” The sum and product rules refer to normalization, and marginalization in statistical, not logical, terms. The frequentist approach was developed to satisfy this point, but Laplace’s point was not proven until Polya, Cox, and Jaynes. The concluding proof was that “if degrees of plausibility are represented by real numbers, then there is a unique set of rules for conducting inference according to Polya’s ‘desirata’ (formalized common sense) which provides for an operationally defined scale of plausibility. The final result was just the standard product and sum rules of probability theory, given axiomatically by Beroulli and Laplace!”

Furthermore, these new rules are not restricted to random variables in a repeated experiment sense, and therefore can be applied to wider situations of inference. Awesome.

For more, read Gregory’s book, or Wikipedia.

Correlations

“The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness. Although the two are identical twins, man, as a rule, views the prenatal abyss with more calm than the one he is heading for (at some forty-five hundred heartbeats an hour.” So begins Speak, Memory. And what if it was really such– if your current self was not a ray of memories trajecting from birth but a hazy dot, a point spread function, both direction of time just as uncertain?

Posters

That journalist, slipping now
again, into an intransparent I, like
lifting a lid from a diorama.

In the park there is a poem
in the poem there is a man
in the man there is a wish for cigarettes.

His voice holds a luminous
thirst, the journalist explains,
because we can’t hear him.

And this man, a star in his circles,
is orchestrated with his own quotes.
Motioning with words,
the journalist tries to translate.
Multiplicity of air.
Sudden dispassion.
Inabsorptive delight. All of these things,
and more.

start up hirings

[everyone sucks at interviewing]

start ups hire on interviews, but maybe they should be doing ‘rotations’ a la graduate school instead.