the soundtrack of über-coolness

While riding on a train goin’ west
I fell asleep for to take my rest
I dreamed a dream that made me sad
Concerning myself and the first few friends I had

With half-damp eyes I stared to the room
Where my friends and I spent many an afternoon
Where we together weathered many a storm
Laughin’ and singin’ till the early hours of the morn

By the old wooden stove where our hats was hung
Our words were told, our songs were sung
Where we longed for nothin’ and were quite satisfied
Talkin’ and a-jokin’ about the world outside

With haunted hearts through the heat and cold
We never thought we could ever get old
We thought we could sit forever in fun
But our chances really was a million to one

As easy it was to tell black from white
It was all that easy to tell wrong from right
And our choices were few and the thought never hit
That the one road we traveled would ever shatter and split

How many a year has passed and gone
And many a gamble has been lost and won
And many a road taken by many a friend
And each one I’ve never seen again

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
That we could sit simply in that room again
Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat
I’d give it all gladly if our lives could be like that

Bob Dylan's Dream, Bryan Ferry

King of cool pays homage to emperor of cool.

life lessons that are priceless – the morning after

«Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of the morning. The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again. A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse. His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he’d somehow been on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad.»

Lucky Jim, Kingsley Amis

life in space

I don’t know if you are aware of this, but a comet is coming. Its name is Ison, and it seems to be leaving a lot of people unthinkingly rejoicing. In the beginning I, too, was caught in the general excitement and began making my preparations for sky-gazing at dawn. Then I found a clipping of the March 30, 1985 issue of The Economist (that’s the thing about old geezers: we remember things from 30 years ago better than what we had for lunch yesterday):

Stop that comet

Allowing Halley’s comet to bring new disasters would be foolish

The world has enough threatening crises to confront without accepting yet another, Here comes Halley’s comet, a phenomenon that hás heralded catastrophes since befoer history began. Halley’s missile is now racing to earth at 73,000 miles per hour. It must be stopped, preferably by a pré-emptive nuclear strike.

A comet like Halley’s, some say, brought extinction to the dinosaurs. Others reckon it was the precursor of Herod’s slaughter of the innocents. In 1066, Halley’s comet was unarguably the harbinger of King Harold’s defeat. In 1456, Pope Calixtus III condemned it as an agent of the devil. And in 1910 – as it streaked across the skies of Sarajevo – Mark Twain, Tolstoy, Florence Nightingale and King Edward VII died.

Calixtus was right. With the power of nuclear destruction at its fingertips, the world cannot afford to risk allowing Halley’s comet to return in 1986. The credulity of comet-struck crowds in the third world will be exploited by unscrupulous politicians and holy men. Elsewhere, it will again bring vapours to our weaker sex. In 1910, women in Chicago boarded themselves into their houses to escape comet gás. People who last year bought more than 1m Boy George records and watched many hours of Dallas cannot be immune.

Annihilation aside, Haley’s comet will damage the world economy and the environment. Businessmen are busily preparing to turn valuable raw materials into comet memorabilia. Because much of the memorabilia will be produced in Ásia and turned to garbage in América, it will increase the strains caused by America’s worsening trade deficit as well as add to the pollution of the environment, both of which are undesirable in a mid-term election year.

Protection from such dangers is by itself worth the vast resources which a nuclear strike against the comet will require. But the endeavour will also leave lasting benefits. For peace, it will help overcome a psychological barrier facing the Geneva talks: instead of dismantling their hard-won missiles, generals will be able to see them off in a blaze of glory. For Dr. Strangeloves, the comet-stopping mission will provide real star-wars experience. And there is power to win.

Any nation willing to send the products of the best minds of a generation and a significant portion of its GNP hurtling into space to blast a ball of ice three miles across will be treated very carefully by its neighbours. The nation that hits the comet, at a distance of 37m miles, will gain new respect worldwide. Let next Monday be the day when statesmen take the first step towards a comet-free future.

And suddenly I’m not so sure. Obviously we were spared in 1986, but who’s to say we’ll be as lucky now? I am particularly worried about the vapours and “our weaker sex” bit. I mean, am I supposed to lock the women in the house – or to lock myself in? I could wish these respected publications employed better editors, to avoid leaving equivocal statements like that for poor, foolish readers to figure for themselves.

life lessons that are priceless – antifragility

“Suckers try to win arguments, nonsuckers try to win. […] More generally, for Mother Nature, opinions and predictions don’t count, survival is what matters.”

Antifragile, Things that Gain from Disorder, Nassim Nicholas Taleb

Or, what doesn’t kill you, heals you. Or, the importance of skin in the game. An exhilarating book even if one doesn’t quite grasp the whole of it.