Rainbow over the minicipality

Rainbow over the minicipality

Saturday 31 October 2015

Why we all coughed during the Jewish Museum's walk, at the start of the week.

Heather and me (so she says!)

IMG_1243.JPG (JPEG Image, 1280 × 960 pixels) - Scaled (60%)



IS THAT WHAT I LOOK LIKE ???? !!!!

Aaha.

Mmmmmm......

If you had shown me the photograph and I didn't know when it was taken, I would not have known it was of me.  I would ask you who he was because he has the same glasses as me.

Now i look closely, I can see my hats in the background and see the butterfly near my ear?  Note, I am not looking closely at "me".  No, can't be.  The shirt colours are not exact as it is greener, so I cannot trust the way it portrays my appearance.  If that is what I look like, no wonder people boarding trams look at me and take other empty seats.  I always made dogs bark and babies cry, and now I know why.  I don't think I paid much attention to the selfie on the tram, and it was more contextual.  I shall print it out with my newly acquired, installed but not yet used colour printer ink when next in Office.  Tuesday is Cup Day.  Have you ever been.  It is a wonderful day out, and you don't need to have the slightest interest in the horses, though they are quite interesting.  Melbourne turns on these big public sporting occasions like no one else.  Anyone can attend, even people that look like I apparently do.

You continue to amaze me with your assistance and encouragement.  This latest feed-back has come at a really significant time.  I cannot believe that High Street is happening.  Of course I have experienced this before, when things start to happen, so I am yet to be convinced the pattern has changed.  I told you that I was significantly different after the counselling, which stopped abruptly but had already achieved a lot.  I know it is negative thinking but I cannot help imagining how I would have been had I felt like this back when I was any age younger than now.  I have a lifetime of memories that are now being revised in the light of whom I find I now look like.

I find I can copy these letters to you and post them on my private Blog, Minicipality.  It is not FaceBook but a Blog run by Google.  I suppose you don't follow Blogs, either.  I don't know how to follow someone else's Blog.

Thank you for taking the picture.  Thank you for bringing Danny into the situation.  I can see why you were keen to deal with him again.  I am not sure if you actually told me that he did your place in where ever it is.  I went there but I am confused about where it was because it had a sense of being not-here.  I guess it was just internationalism that I am not used to experiencing.  I very much liked the scale of your place, the opposite of mine.  I noted you commented on how cosy or something my place is.  I have lots of rooms, but they are all small.  I am now sitting in what I call my Dining Hall, but I imagine sometimes it is of stately proportions, except when I am walking through it, when I am pleased it is a short hall/haul. 

Cheers,
naum


Quoting >:

> Hx

Friday 30 October 2015

To Heather - futurism

Is there much difference? Why bother to send you this second letter, except to pester you, probably when you are most busy, except that they beauty of this sort of electronic communication is that you can read it at your leisure.  I don't know why so many people still drive, as the time can be better spent with the connectivity of electronics.  It is absurd, apart from wasteful and polluting etc.

I think the only reason that I am sending you the slightly revised attachment is that it gives me a chance to continue to write to you.  I like thinking how you will read these words and it will be like talking while sitting in the cafe, except we won't be together in time or space, and yet the mental consequences will be identical, in the sense that reading this must be the same as hearing me say these worlds, or better as they can be written and read much faster than said and heard. 

Soon there will be machines that induce the thought of sounds, by wearing a cap with electrodes or something, and then people like Brett will be able to play music directly on our brains instead of the tedious step of turning into sound waves and then back into qualia.

When will the machines convert thoughts into text without the need to type it?  That will be a very brave, new world.  Eventually, visual images that we imagine within our own, individual minds, will be able to be read electronically, and converted to some sort of holographic image that can be seen in three dimensions by other people, and perhaps entered if it is full size, so we can visit and walk around in other people's minds. 

Particularly in old age, when our bodies have shrivelled back to baby proportions, we will be suspended in comfort while inhabiting cyberspace, communicating directly with our thoughts.  If only I can manage to live long enough to benefit from the future. 

We are on the edge of an exploding time, with the generation of energy of various types rising to unprecedented levels.  It could be a consequence of Global Warming where some of the excess energy converts from Atmospheric, like temperature of strength of huricanes into Social Energy, and is absorbed by human Social Systems.  This could be facilitating the Globalisation of many human activities that are much larger Social Systems than the world has previously known.  As a seperate energy topic, we are surely close to the cross over in energy production when we start to produce more than we need.

Saturday 24 October 2015

Auntie Fay

A new story about a group of children, or perhaps two or just one,  anyway, they want directions in life and to know how to understand the world around them.  They go off to see Auntie Fay.
She is a witch of a woman who communicates with the fairies and lives in a cottage on the edge of the forest..  Auntie Fay is based on my Mother, whom I never really remembered in vivid detail so I could observe her and see her through my now-adult eyes.
She teaches them the secrets of the universe, like a children's adventure story.  Perhaps she sets them tasks that they must overcome to learn lessons

Friday 23 October 2015

Music is very ancient and powerful



Music is very ancient and powerful.

Perhaps our hands developed their dexterity after we learnt to play music.  There are some Palaeolithic flutes made from pierced long bones.  Anyone who could play music must have attracted multiple sexual partners very easily and hence any genetic advantage in music playing

So, I imagine myself standing in a darkened place, on a small, circular platform that gradually rises, and above me is a circular opening that is brightly lit.  As I rise up into the space above, I start to hear the shouting.  I am now on a tiny, round stage in the centre of an enormous auditorium, surrounded by a quarter of a million people, on many level all the way round, and they are all shouting. 

Then rising up from around me, where a ring of dark space divided me from the cheering throngs, was a hundred and twenty piece orchestra that gradually rotated around me, but all I could hear was the cheering.  The lights were intense an kaleidoscopic but the brightest spots were on me.

The world was mine for the taking, and then I pissed my pants and woke up.

Saturday 10 October 2015

childhood dreams

Here is an idea on the difference between the sexes.
Little girls dream of being princesses, but with boys it is the other way round, and princes just try to be little boys.
It is the Romance of Royalty that is the best reason to keep the Monarchy.  Yet it is the least significant reason in terms of Constitutional change and the nature of our social structures and institutions.  It is astonishing that it has survived into this modern age.  Everything is changing fast.  Some people do want to remake society in some idealised way, and certainly there are improvements that are long overdue, but there are aspects of human culture that will remain, like the nursery stories that all involve the dream of being a Princess or a Hero, the two archetypal childhood fantasies.
If there were no real Princesses, the aspiration would be lost.  The chances are remote that from any generation some girl, otherwise 'ordinary', would be plucked from obscurity and become a Princess.  However, it happens, and perhaps no less remote than the single sperm of the millions that are in each ejaculation, or the single seed that germinates from the entire tree full of fruit, 

Thursday 8 October 2015

I have to reply at once

Hi Heather,

I have to reply at once, with first reaction before I lose it.  Firstly, thanks for the review of the Circa.  Just a few days ago I accidentally hit the button on Billy's remote that took me to what I thought was ballet, that cleverly used skipping ropes.  As it became more gymnastic and less balletic, I realised it was a Circus dancing rather than rather more agile than usual dancers, and then at the end they said it was Circa.  It is all about cross-over, mixing different art forms.  I didn't know abo8ut the Monteverdi-slash-circus.  It is very hard to conceptualise the union of chalk and cheese, but if nothing else they would both need to be the best quality.  A lot of these productions are in the "points for trying" category.  Good on them for making the attempt.  Perhaps it could never work, even with excellent singing; I am not sure how Operatic emotions would translate to gymnastics.  A trapeze artist filled with self-doubt or a jealous rage would be dangerously doomed, even if it wasn't in the libretto. Some unlikely pairings do work and lead to bigger things, but they are only found by accident when lots of unlikely pairings are tested.  Musical Comedy stars who can both sing and dance as well as act are greatly admired, but taking those combined skills to the level of High Art would be super-human.  I love Brett's image of Jesse Norman in a tutu.  That is sort of what Walt Disney did in Fantasia with the ballet dancing elephants and hippos, or perhaps Absurd Theatre, like Ionesco, but they were making the point that the combination was absurd, not passing it off as serious "culture". 

I long ago admired Pina Bausch and remember the dumpster tragedy.  It is always sad when a young person dies pre-maturely, but when they display the potential for exceptional creativity, it is a loss to all humanity, not just to that person.  I have been somewhat obsessed with my own mortality recently.  [Cancer diagnosis does that sort of thig.]  Had I died young, as I fully expected to do as a sick child, the world would be very little different as my contribution has been close to minimal.  That is the result of being a  very introverted person, and as you would probably tell me, is irrelevant.  Even people who do great things are often just the person who did something that was part of the cultural development and would have been done by someone else if not them.  It is the equivalent of the "great man" theory of history.  If Einstein hadn't worked out Relativity and so on, they would not have remained unknown, but we would have attached other names to that knowledge.  Similarly the silliness of people going crazy over sports-people that they do not personally know, as someone had to win the race, so their adulation is meaningless.  But I don't think any of that matters, because there are only so many of us in the boat and we all have to row together, and if anyone does not pull their weight, but just gets carried along, then it does make a difference.

Yes, please do jot down ideas.  Keep a notebook/diary.  It could be the raw material for something later, even edited by someone else.  Also, writing things archives them and makes room for new ideas.  I write quite differently with a pen.  I write letters on paper to Marie in Queensland.  I would write to you too, but I have no address.  It takes five days for our letters to pass between Vic and Qld, but Germany might be quicker.  That makes me think: the City of Berlin is the equivalent of a State in Germany, isn't it?  In feudal times cities had their own sovereignty equivalent to Bishoprics and Dukedoms.

Cheers,
Na'um

Tuesday 6 October 2015

Hi Heather 2,

Hi Heather,

Please don't feel obliged to reply at length.  While of course I delight in your comments and letters as you are one of the few people that have understood me, perhaps about the only one.  I am still coming to grips with the concept.  Your ideas and perceptions make so much sense to me.  I greatly envy you mixing in a milieu of people with such mentalities.  It is my own fault, of course.  I apparently was born with the ability to understand things and hence, with some effort, to become good at something.  Ability?  Now all I have is a Billy, and we drink coffee, not tea.  I have such a different perception of myself since I had all the counselling.  (I still confuse the 'se' and the 'ci'.  My late Father was the latter in the City of Malvern, and totally failed in the former, which is what a Parent ought to be, after milk supply of course.  Now I can understand how other people must have perceived my "intelligence" as I suppose I was mentally precocious, occasionally.)  I suddenly recall * when I was very young, perhaps four or so, after I had "recovered" from being dropped on my head in that very same bathroom, when I delighted everyone, meaning my Parents and all the family and friends they told, when I told someone who asked how I slept that I had "slept like a Mally root:, because I had heard other people say they slept like logs.  How odd that now i can only sleep with chemical help, mostly herbal but sometimes antihistamine; nothing prescription only, drat! * I started this letter in the reply page of "webmail", but suddenly I copied what I have written and jumped into my Blog.  I have written some things as letters, including by hand to Marie, that I should have put in my blog.  I never mentioned anything at all about the operation or is consequences.  I suppose that was part of the closed-mind approach that did me so much harm.  I am improving in some things but not in others.  I call the Blog Minicipality, and it is on Google's Blogger system.  It is nothing to do with Facebook or other 'social media'.  It is mostly snaps from my world and comments about who I am, but sometimes I post personal things, and should post more, instead of writing it all to you, except that thinking that you are reading makes it so much easier to write.  I suppose knowing that there are then thousand people listening to you play the bagpipes or whatever, would be a great incentive to do one's best.  Just playing for oneself is like dipping one's toe in the edge of the ocean, but not bothering to go in because there is no one with whom to cavort, or share the buzz.
[Suddenly, at that point I noticed the time, with ten minutes to put on my shoes, grab the shopping trolly and head to the bus stop, just a stone's throw away, but the other side of the main road.  Anyway, I made it with minutes to spare, and reached Chaddy with nearly an hour to go.  Had a crepe with fromage and Mexican Coffee.  The appointment at OPSM took nearly an hour, but after endless tests in various machines, with all sorts of flashing lights and puffs of air, I ordered the replacement sunnies.  Did I mention that yesterday, or was it the day before, suddenly they had dematerialised and I cannot find them anywhere.  Perhaps taken by Ravens.]
While waiting for the bus, I thought more about the libretto I am writing for another Opera.  It is one of the literary forms I like to play round with.  This one not in hexameter like the great German Poets, but in free form.  I was taken by London Road.  It is now out as a movie, but it was reading about it and seeing that they were going to reprise it at the National that was my inducement for my second trip to London.  I had dinner first on the terrace, reading all about it in advance.  The idea of setting normal conversation to music and making "reality" into High Art was a new direction, that I have wanted to follow ever since.
I was thinking this morning of six voices, three women three men, of course, permitting various combinations.  As a flaneur, I imagine walking though crouds and hearing snippets of conversation that overlap and seem to repeat, or not quite.  The theme I am currently working on is Justice, and how to present the argument that the Criminal Justice System is mistaken to administer Retributive Justice, including "punishment" instead of rehabilitation, and is divisive of society creating us and them classes, instead of being inclusive.
Later, I was thinking about the column in the Age Business section claiming Australia needs to be a Republic so we will be somehow more independent and also it would be better for business, in ways that he didn't seem to be able to elaborate.  Rupert Murdoch was the original 'angry young man/journalist' who never grew up, and he leads the pack.  He must be amused that he is reviled by the so called "left" because he is Fiscally Conservative as well as being Socially Progressive, something the Chinese are now combining to great effect. You might have read all of this.  I am sorry I went on at length just now about nothing much at all.
Please do not feel the need to match me in length, detail or flippancy.  A single character from you would let me know you are thinking of me.
Do you type up any accounts of your experiences?  You are visual, Brett is aural, but I do words.  If I do anything at all, it is string words together.  This is quite a new experience for me as I was semi-illiterate for most of my life due to being sick as an infant and missing crucial, foundation lessons. [Arguably, to my benefit as I also missed the brainwashing and being convinced of falsehoods at an early and impressionable age.]  But I have mostly thought the words to myself.  If only I had bothered to type them up as I thought them, I would have had a shelf of books by now, perhaps a couple of plays and at least one epic opera.  I like Epic as an Art Form.  In India, I saw nearly all the Ramlila, that goes for ten nights at about four hours per night and tells the story of the Ramayana in singing and music, and is traditionally performed every year in many cities and villages all over India.  It is Epic in the true sense of the word.  Wagner's Ring is smaller but of that type, as were the Classical Greek play cycles.  That is why I can write long letters.  This one might never end, now I have started it in this new Blog-format.  I can save it on Google's hardware and retrieve it in an instant to extend or change it.  People who search the labels might find it, but it is just an extension of my thought processes.
Stop.  Stop. That is enough.  Shall I revise it or just send it?  I had the plumber at High Street as the basin upstairs was totally blocked and needed new pipes.  I don't know why we didn't do down stairs at the same time.  Anyway, he did not go in the back or see your paintings.
Cheers, Na'um (previously unknown as e-normus)