Stardust at the Proms. Hoagy C. seems to be orbiting back into the cultural view. Probably won't extend to the more playful corners of his catalogue. But there is some worthwhile magic in his stuff. I remember walking through the part of the campus at Indiana that inspired Stardust -- quite an idyllic spot.
This is a part of the world marked by atavistic political structures. Perhaps this country is a kingdom. A kingdom has a king, and usually dislikes him intensely. (At least one of his two bodies. Girard goes so far as to say that given the fascination with the model, and the rivalry that it generates, a king is simply a condemned prisoner with an exceptionally long commutation of sentence.) But in such a culture, it is thought, nonetheless, that there should be a king, and this king is the one at hand. A republic tends to function in a different, more mercurial manner. With occasionally problematic results, given the types of people who can come to power. Historically, this part of the world has seen many states in this model -- witness the monarchies that essentially governed the old Republic and the large nation to the east for decades.
A nation doesn't change its character by political action, but by cultural transformation. A kingdom can't become a republic by electing a republican slate. In the same manner, the government has nothing to do with whether a country is a kingdom, a pure democracy, or a republic. The people make the king. Transformation, if it is desired, has to come in the nation's notions of itself, before its political actions can be characterized as transformative.
Apolitical, of course, as to local questions. None of the local political factions or paradigms seem to hold much truth or seem justified to me, which is as it should be. They exist for the people of this place, and the people of this place are the only ones who can find them either necessary or superfluous. The form of the state is a matter for the people of the place.
One thing to keep in mind in the context of American political discussions: In East Germany a generation ago, the border guards were convinced to fire on people attempting to escape by being told that the people scrambling over the wall were stealing the value of their education from the state.
These questions are not entirely anodyne.
Still trying to find a way of using these rooms. Picked this one over the usual residential place, as a business seemed safer than a random person given the politics, and, more importantly, there was a solid table and chair. I cleaned out as much of the accumulated dust from the climate control as I could reach, wiped down all the surfaces, and cleared the drains (no chemicals), but the air still feels bad, and there are some corresponding systems. (To understand the nature of a place, watch the way your physical and psychological mechanisms function.)
Wind from the south in the AM brought clean air, but the shift to the west and the heat of the afternoon made things stale again. Hard to tell if the the bad things are coming from inside or outside. Likely a bit of both.
Since there turned out to not be a laundry room, it's hand laundry for the most part, a skill I acquired from the (also peak tourist--summer) garret across from the economics college in Bucharest. Part of the difficulty is that some shenanigans a couple of months ago left me with a bit less of a reserve than I'd like, and I couldn't book the last two places sufficiently in advance.
Onward.
Interesting, Taverner's Veil of the Temple is opening the Edinburgh Festival this year. I remember the Lincoln Center performance shortly after the Temple Church premiere. Groundling ticket, so the floor for the full eight hours -- composer in attendance, signalling for the audience to rise by raising both arms in a grand gesture as he stood. And then on to the dawn. Time (and the time) can be known in many ways, if you don't take it for granted.
Interesting talk about sugar in the carbonated drinks. The pivot to corn syrup was Nixon, I think, primarily because of Cuba. Wondering if there's anything in play there -- Florida businessmen seem to be driving it. When I was still eating processed foods, Diet Coke was the elixir of choice, it's sort of a NYC business thing.
Not exaggerating the current quarters. It's near a nice part of the capital, basically the UWS of the city, but it downhill, in an industrial quarter, with a bit of a canyon above a narrow, busy street. Basically like going from the most unheimlich quarter of Louisiana to the most toxic corner of Bayonne. (At several multiples of the prevailing local rents.) Hopefully, the one month's stay won't be too catastrophic on the health.
Odd and powerful dreams after leaving the last country, a country characterized by strong dreams. I haven't entirely put aside the notion that there might be a spiritual ground for the wars in this part of the world. A divided sky.
Onward.
Interesting, the guiding trope of the TLS this week is the deep state, as reflected in American thought. Given that the notion first surfaced in the LRB, describing political structures in the Arab states, the long arc of thought appears to have reached its end--and hopefully not its apotheosis. Like the other expressions, having reliably indicated a certain thing in being for a certain space of time. The bits of sapient mud will have to think up some new noises now.
I've mentioned this several times, but I think the general notion is important, and might explain many things: within the prosperity of the postwar industrial forms, which can function equally for a strong civil society and a weak civil society, things are starting to fall apart a bit. Academic credentials, experience, and skills tend not to count for much. You must be liked. They're not creating an ordered society, they're inviting people to a party. If you're the sort of person who is to be invited and you have the right education, skills and experience, so much the better. Frankly, I've never liked parties, and I've never thought that the point of life was to be found acceptable by other people. Our task is to hold the tent up in the present age, not to relax in the billowing part with the greatest ease. A society, within its time, continues to strain upward using the shared forms of experience, rather than severally enjoy the ultimately meaningless party until it's time to leave.
Another note along these lines: until I spent some time abroad (writes Ovid), I didn't have a sense of my own ethnic identity in the minds of others. When you grow up from childhood in a certain context, you tend to assume that the way you are being treated is the way that people are treated. There is the notion of "the conversation" among disfavored minorities in America, when the adults try to point out the dangers to their otherwise blissfully ignorant children. I never had any real grounding in my ethic heritage, but in retrospect I can see that it was a cause of some contention within my family and among their associates. As I looked back over my experiences, noticed how things worked out, and remembered the things that were said, it dawned on me that, at least in some cases, my perceived ethnic heritage was the dispositive factor at certain crucial moments. The challenge, now that I've had such a conversation with myself, is to preserve the transcendent ground on my side of the fence, and keep those kinds of thoughts on the other side of the fence--where they have been all along.
Peculiar journey. The last rooms, although I had stayed in them before, proved difficult, as with the midsummer foliage and the wall opposite, it was a bit like a basement, and the reason for the dozen or so air fresheners around the WC and hallway became apparent, as I slowly became aware that there was a sewage blockage. Rented at multiples of the local cost, of course, with added insurance costs. Looking back on it now, as I consciously just swam the tide, as it were, at the time. Travel in this part of the world for an American of Slavic/German ancestry isn't necessarily straightforward at times. There's an ethic of rules of hospitality, and everyone's eager to make a bit of money on the tourist industry, but they sometimes clearly expect clueless Americans from Disneyland with rolling luggage from the airport. And Bosnia is not a place where you would want to tally up and remember the micro-aggressions on sidewalks, benches, and grocery stores. Just swim on through a country bedeviled by more spiritual forces than most Americans could handle for more than a few days. (Like many other countries in the region.)
Rented luggage storage on checkout day, which I had previously thought to be a luxury, but came to understand a necessity. The contractor was a Celtic pub, which was reassuring, but I then checked that sense as deceiving when I realized it was staffed entirely by (kilted) locals. Peculiarly un-Hibernian. So I made a point of going through the bag item by item on a park bench afterwards, as I have no intention of spending a decade in a Serbian prison from contraband that had accidentally fallen inside somehow.
Then the difficult journey. Afterwards, figured out enough of the tram to get from the distant bus station to the center. The Sbux across from the parliament had a WC that reeked of sewage, so I just briefly ducked in before decamping to a chair outside for the 90 minutes or so before the diplomats' mass at the Cathedral. (Audibly translated from English to French by someone in the back, including the words of institution and--perhaps--consecration.) Then to the check-in, did the first level of cleaning in the rooms in a rather noisy and industrial neighborhood (but very close to desirable areas and the main roads). As it turns out, the listed shared laundry facilities amount to contacting the staff, scheduling a pick-up, and then paying 5e/load, so I'm back to laundromats and hand-washing, like in Bucharest a little over a year ago. Humble quarters. And then the grocery for water and food. (Made sure to go back to the Sbux and the same grocery the next day, rested, cleaned, and more professionally dressed -- all of the cultures in this part of the world are honestly an inch from fascism (in different, interesting ways), and one does have to both be careful of such things and not care a bit about them.
Last bit of cleaning of the rooms today, including prising the half-inch of caked dust from the internal filter of the AC unit. (Peculiarly, the way these units are designed here, presumably given the inability to run ductwork through external walls of unreinforced masonry, there's no fresh air from these units -- they invariably recycle room air.)
Onward, in a (or perhaps the) manner of speaking.
Day of setting up, reacquainting myself with this part of the city, remembering that is was possible to work and think here. If you try to make these jumps without care for that sort of thing, it's five days before you can read, a week before you can think, and a week and a half, if not a fortnight before it's possible to write. The dog doesn't bark, and the caravan moves on.
Part of looking to the types of folks who were displaced during the second world war (Adorno, Benjamin, Mann et al.) is creating a mimetic model of a person who does something more than survive the journey.
Le Carre told the story of going backstage to meet Thomas Mann after one of his unsuccessful lectures on the latter's return to Germany. The writer, standing there in his suspenders and collared dress shirt. The young student Cornwall asked to shake his hand, and did, and remembered it. The reason we make statues is that we can then think about ourselves as being in the company of such folks, not just staring up at the plinth. Becoming like them, to a certain degree. It allows us to place ourselves in the contexts of ideas and experiences that we would otherwise consider completely alien to us. Imitation is a door, not a way of life, but it is a good door.
The Kantian notion of appearances ultimately being the ground of things does point us in the direction of the things themselves (perhaps the ultimate goal, answering Jacobi's complaint), and it also makes us aware of what other people are doing with their truth claims. The world has always been overlaid by shared views of the world composed of gossip, misdirection and mistake -- the risk of present error might be that in the attempt to ground these perceptions in the way that things actually are, one of these systems needs to acquire extraordinary mechanisms of perception and corresponding influence so that truth can govern the world. And the things going on now quietly, behind the scenes with certain California data-based companies, when combined with AI management, might actually being such a scheme into existence, and more troublingly, action.
To which, I can only reply, with a bit of Kant in my rucksack -- go back to Kant!
Interesting balancing of continental civil rights and archaic practices of privilege aiming to eventually accomplish much the same thing.
https://www.thetimes.com/article/a072aa94-9264-4076-8542-15177b2d80e3
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