st_gilloise

The frontpages of broadsheets lately have been horribly fascinating not because of the  'bad news' itself (fascinating is an utterly tasteless word to use in this context) but the way in which they are reported . As natural disaster succeeds revolution succeeds strike succeeds war succeeds natural disaster succeeds nuclear meltdown, stories have been moved around, reprioritised, accorded 'live updating' status. The latter facility is something which used to be reserved for reality TV shows but now keep us updated with details of events on which we cannot vote or (ironically) at least not in a very direct, immediate way.  Details which simultaneously pull us in and repel, and urge us to learn more. It creates the impression of democratic access to information but is probably  just more information slightly censored and filtered through editorial guidelines and the all important human factor.
And its in this situation that you feel the full meaning of 'news'. 'Old' news (and therefore non news) such as Iraq, Afghanistan, deaths from Aids and poverty have seemingly disappeared from the ether. 
And its uncomfortable - one feels morally obliged to know what is happening and yet morally uncomfortable at 'learning about', commenting on and analysing events when other human beings are actually experiencing such suffering, hardship, and existential threats.


' Why do the dying think they're floating through tunnels? Under extreme pressure, the various centres of the brain which organise a coherent view of the world begin to break down. The brain scans its collapsing field of vision, and constructs out of its last few rings of cells that it desperately hopes is an escape tunnel. Right to the end the brain is trying at all costs to rationalise reality - whether its starved of input or flooded with sensory data it builds artificial structures that try to make sense of the world. Out of this come not only near-death experiences but our visions of heaven and hell.' 
Everyone had been intrigued, but the BBC declined to buy the series.
'Dr Sutherland,' the head of science programmes had commented, 'your description of the dying brain rather resembles the BBC...'


(JG Ballard, The KIndness of Women)

Don't come to me with the entire truth.
Don't bring me the ocean if I feel thirsty,
nor heaven if I ask for light;
but bring a hint, some dew, a particle,
as birds carry only drops away from water,
and the wind a grain of salt.

Olav Hauge (translation Robert Bly)

-  Is that all?
- Almost. A few grains of sand
- Sand from the river?
- From the sea, the type you find on the Normandy coast
- Is it different from sand by the Mediterranean?
- Yes and different from sand of the ocean.
Maigret paced around in the lab, emptied his pipe by tapping it against his heel. When he came back down it was after midday and the inspectors had left for lunch.
Simenon 'Maigret and the dead Girl'
 
The most intriguing phrase Simon has used regarding The Wire is to say that it is about “the death of work.” By this he means not just the loss of jobs, though there certainly is that, but the loss of integrity within our systems of work, the “juking of stats,” the speaking of truth to power having been replaced with speaking what is most self-serving and pleasing to the higher-ups. .......Police departments manipulate their stats for the politicians; schools do the same; newspapers fake stories with their eye on prizes and stockholders. Moreover, in the world of The Wire almost everyone who tries to buck the system and do right is punished, often severely and grotesquely and heartbreakingly. Accommodation is survival at the most basic level, although it is also lethal to the soul.
In the Life of ‘The Wire’ NY Review of Books OCTOBER 14, 2010    Lorrie Moore

The only beauty in work is at the micro level, focussing on the task and doing it well. Thinking too much about the macro consequences or even immediate ramifications can be soul-destroying. But is it possible or even advisable to do the former without the latter? Don't we always do something for a reason or a strategic end?

You know you are British when you automatically append 'gone mad' to 'health and safety' echoing a thousand daily mail headlines. Anyway......
I really liked this post  by the French-American journalist Anne Sinclair about the threatened Koran burnings in US:

Haven't posted anything for ages - partly through lack of a computer at home and partly have not felt a strong desire to write. Its important not to force yourself to do these things just for the sake of it and equally its important to follow your instinctive impulse to sit and write because it may not last very long.

That balmy period known as summer is coming to an end in Brussels. The air is much cooler, it rains frequently and the city is filling up again with parliamentarians and Bruxellois who typically spend a month or more away during July and August. I spent all but one glorious week in Bordeaux here and enjoyed every minute. An appealing aspect of smaller cities is that when festivals and celebrations happen, they genuinely take over and practically everyone joins in. Because of the rhythm of the European institutions it is also possible to take it easier over the summer for those who choose not the follow the mass exodus to France.

As we prepare ourselves for the coming effort I thought it would be nice to remember summer through this lovely piece by the japanese journalist Kazuhiko Yatabe which appeared in the latest edition of the Le Courrier International:

I get up, look in the mirror, pout my lips, raise my eyebrows, wink and think, "Wow, it all works!" Then I go for a run, in celebration of being alive.
Benjamin Zephaniah

The picture's no longer monochrome, evidently because now I can see the colours of our belts. Keith's, also fastened with a metal snake curled in the shape of an s, has two yellow bands on a black background, mine has two green bands. We're socially colour coded for ease of reference......... not just his belt but everything about him was yellow and black, everything about me was plainly green and black. He was the officer corps in our two man army. I was the Other Ranks - and grateful to be so"

Spies - Michael Frayn

For some reason I quite liked this passage from David Leavitt's short story 'Saturn Street'

And that, basically was it, No career, not even any 'interests', really, except going to the gym and watching the movies on which his father had raised him. He didn't practice TaeKwonDo, He didn't make his own pasta. He didn't read biographies of ex-presidents (to judge by the paucity of books in his apartment, he didn't read anything.) And yet if Phil wasn't a 'go-getter,' at least he also hadn't wasted his adulthood (as it sometimes seemed to me I had) scrabbling on a rat's wheel of ambition and distraction. Instead he lived in the moment, by which I mean that he experienced the moment, he felt the moment on its own terms. Me, if I experienced the moment at all, it was the anticipated nostalgia of its loss.

So, visited a great pakistani specialist who examined me, prescribed various antihistamines, and suggested a nose operation if my nose doesn't unblock after 2 months (apparently its too narrow). Also advised me not to drink Belgian beer as those who react to dust, are likely to react likewise to one of Belgium's main achievements. Thinking back, I indeed could see linkages. Ah well, farewell hoegaarden, for the moment anyway...

I also took the decision to join a gym as much as i loathe the general ambiance of such places. I have to face facts, that someone who travels as much as I do and often needs to work late cannot rely on running clubs located in the Brussels forest for exercise. So, have now been to two 'cycling classes' in the gym 1 minute from our office. The second was run by a tour de france fanatic who yells 'don't you know thats its tough in the mountains?' and 'Peloton, mount your attack!'. So at least there is some element of craziness and its not all body beautiful and leotards.

Eat your heart out Eddie Merckx...