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| QUOTATIONS 2208-2228 |
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| 2208. It doesn't require a special gift of astute discernment to conclude that what an individual chooses to wear says something about him or her. What exactly (or even approximately) and how much is a more complicated matter altogether, making it more prudent to be expressed in terms of assumptions rather then categorical characterization. But what about someone like me whose only criteria for any garment I show myself to the world in is its size, i.e. whether it fits me or not, and its appropriateness to the weather this world confronts me with on this or that particular day, what does this obvious indifference to the kind of clothe I wear says about me as a person beyond that? Does it mean that being indifferent is a core of my nature, and that I'm indifferent to other things as well? Definitely not in my case, for I pay a great deal of attention to the kind of books and newspapers I read, moves I go to see, TV programs I watch, music I listen to, etc., etc., etc. It is clear that though indifferent to what I wear, I'm far from displaying the same attitude towards many other things. Which means, that my particular indifference in one instance does not indicate the universal one, in all cases and all the time, and in this sense is not particularly revealing about who I actually am. Now, if this is true about me, is it not possible that the same principle applies to some other people as well? And if this is so, how valid is any generalization based on one particular trait? Moreover, since it is apparently not, what about this standard literary device, used so extensively by fiction writers, to introduce a character by a detailed description of the kind of clothe he/she wears, color of eyes, amount of hair, height and weight, etc., implying that this should suffice to let us know who this person really is, when in fact it doesn't tell us anything more then what has actually been said. As someone remarked, referring to Freudian analysts' obsession to interpret the everyday objects as the symbols of repressed sexuality, "sometimes a tree is just a tree," someone has to point out to fiction writers that sometimes a clothe is just a clothe, and does not reveal a man, or even a woman, wearing it. 2209. Manifesto To anyone who hasn't figured out yet who or what I am, here are some clues. I'm an intellectual, a European intellectual, a European-Russian intellectual, a European- Russian-Jewish intellectual, a European-Russian-Jewish- Odessa intellectual. And not necessarily in this or any other order. Each adjective is as important as any other. Moreover, though a civil engineer, I also worked as a construction laborer in Israel, one Jew among twenty Arabs, and in United States, one "white" among thirty blacks. Therefore, I don't take shit lying down from anybody. I give as much as I take, and then some. I don't prevaricate, equivocate, or obfuscate. I'm not given to understating or toning down. I tell you like it is. My words are chosen to reveal with clarity the way I feel. Fake ambiguity of meaning be damned I've nothing to conceal. I may be right, or I may be wrong, but nothing will prevent me from saying what I think. And I may use the language of an academic or vocabulary of a truck driver, depending on how I am treated. Them who have nothing more to lose beware of, for they tell the truth. Antisemitic derision wouldn't work with me. If I feel you're an antisemite I'll tell it in your face, and then may add some unflattering comments about your own ancestors. You know, nobody is perfect. Putting me "in my place" wouldn't work with me. I have no place. I'm everywhere. I am not afraid to lose face, for I have many faces. Treating me as inferior wouldn't work with me. I neither consider anyone below or above me. And to be perfectly honest, I never met anyone intellectually superior to me. Forget your titles entering this door, we don't worship idols anymore, one will be listen to, no matter what one says, as long as one gives other the same chance. I love those who love me, and hate those who hate me. I need you only if you need me. It's a fair barter. To love is to be loved To hate is to be hated One always gets back what one intends to give, as if it has been fated. If you want to tell me something, anything, use frank words and clear sentences. I don't read signs or respond to nuances of moods. This is not my game. If you want to play it, play with some one else. I put my cards on a table, faces up. I expect you to do the same. If you can't, don't sit down at my table. Go some place else. There are plenty people like you, and few like me. 2210. I am 68 years old. At such a venerable age a wise man should be widely recognized and admired, have numerous followers, and, most importantly, be surrounded by the devoted disciples eagerly anticipating his slightest whim and zealous in the extreme to relieve a great man of any trivial efforts which may interfere with his noble mission to bring light into our dark world. And since I fancy myself to be a wise man as well, I also try to turn the switch on, occasionally. And sometimes I succeed. Certain things I've written could be called wise. But not me. For unlike bona fide wise man, I still do everything, from trivial to significant by myself, the way I did it when I was 20, the way I've been doing it all my life. I write my books by hand, I typed them , I format the pages, design the covers, and arrange their printing. I sell my books at various fairs, and mail them to the libraries upon request. No one offered to help me in anything I've ever done. And if this is not unmistakable sign of failure, I don't know what is. And wisdom and failure are mutually exclusive, no matter how hard it is to acknowledge this fact of life. 2211. I generally agree with this popular in publishing industry maxim: “A writer is only as good as his last book,” as a realistic reflection of the precariousness of relationship between an author and the reading public which, being bombarded by more and more books, is becoming increasingly fickle and unforgiven. Moving to another type of human relationships, the sexual ones between a man and a woman, a similar maxim seems demanding to be expressed: “A man is only as good as the last orgasm he was capable to provide a woman with,” and this is disregarding the fact that an average woman’s choice of lovers are substantially smaller than of the books by an average reader. 2212. My mother, who was born at the beginning of 20th century in a small provincial town in Ukraine, was the first and the only one in her family to receive university degree. After graduation she could have looked toward to a promising scientific career. Instead, she married my father, gave birth to me and became a full-time housewife. She always regretted this choice, but could never find enough strength to extricate herself from that situation. What made it especially difficult was my father’s perfect satisfaction with status qua, and his skills in imposing his will on my mother, always appealing to her exaggerated sense of duty as a wife and a mother (I was a sickly child and required a lot of attention to survive). To say that this state of affairs had a profound affect on me is an understatement. All my conscious life I was aware that hers was tragically wasted and was driven by fear that the same fate awaits me. And if I achieved anything it was due to this perpetual, all-pervasive fear, and also by a sense of obligation to redeem my mother’s lack of personal fulfillment. For sometimes it takes more than one generation to fulfill the ambitions. In such generational relay of ambitions, as a baton is being passed from one to the next, and then to yet another these ambitions gather strength and increase the urgency to finally realize them now or never. Thus, one who crosses the finish line does it for everyone who was in the running, and his success belongs as much to him as to the all of them. 2213. That’s how democracy really functions: people elect a group of politicians and they do whatever they want to. People throw the rascals out and elect another group of politicians. And they do whatever they like to. The only thing that democracy – the rule of the people – cannot do is to allow these people to elect the politicians who will do what the people actually want them to do. 2214. The relationship between a writer and a reader is characterized by inequality, by intellectual coercion and aesthetic/cultural cajolery. Directly or in a roundabout way, a writer tells a reader what to think and how to feel, putting himself, albeit implicitly, in a position of superiority while treating a reader as an intrinsically inferior. I am a spider weaving web of words while waiting for a reader to ensnare, to tie his mind with my thoughts as cords, to make him breathe my feelings in as air. 2215. To modern poetry dismay at such an insolent display of hubris, I dare to expose its false pretenses, and to say: “The Emperor has no clothe. You are but a bare prose.” 2216. Preempting Fate To do a thing before its time, Preempting fate, Has never been a gift of mine I’m always too late To seize a day before its dawning, To act and not to wait, Instead I linger through long morning Too late to love, too late to hate. Too timid in forming an ambition, Too slow in pursuing a dream, Too weak in craving recognition, Too scared to follow a whim. Thus fear and worry, its fast twin, Take care I neither lose nor win, But walk through life at even pace And never make a leap of faith. 2217. Within the reasonable limits (and what is reasonable is clearly subjective in each particular case) a woman, paradoxically, would prefer less than a perfect man to the one who seems to be more so. A man with a few flaws (not too many, and not too excessive, mind you) provides a woman with certain amount of ammunition in the “war of sexes.” Being pointed to more or less often (and most women are very good at it) these flaws make a man feel deficient and eager ( knowing how lucky he is to have a woman tolerant enough to put up with them) to compensate for his inadequacies with extra commitments to a relationship. A woman may even encourage some bad habits in her man such as drinking, for example, or would provoke his violent outburst (again, all within the manageable limits) to extract “reconciliation fees” from the guilty offender desperate for forgiveness. Also, feeling less than perfect himself, a man, in his turn, is more willing to forgive a woman her imperfections,gaining in the process, as a bonus, belief in his own magnanimity and tolerance, which is always good for boosting one’s ego. All in all, such relationships have more staying power than when a man believes he has nothing to apologize for, and therefore is less willing to compromise in the many disputes and confrontations any relationships are inevitably so prone to. And compromise and mutual toleration is what keeps people together. 2218. On any other subject talking nonsense is always a risky undertaking. Some may take exception, question, or downright denounce and ridicule it. But religion seems to be exempt from such a harsh treatment. In ours generally critical, often unforgivingly so, age it became a kind of refuge for the most outlandish and outrageous statements, which are generally allowed to pass without a slightest incredulity permitted to the listeners not only to express but even to feel. It is as if the otherwise perfectly sensible people when exposed to religious discourse suddenly lose all their critical faculties and fall under the spell of this universal dogma– thou shalt not speak against religion. And the strange thing is we all, including the most dedicated atheists, obey it. 2219. Recently I saw a German film "The Lives of Others." It is about love and life, and how both were affected by the omnipresence of the secret police STASI in communist East Germany before 1989 and reunification (actual time is 1984, in the obvious homage to Orwell). Among the characters is a blacklisted theater director who at one point says that a theater director is supposed to direct plays, and if he doesn't his life is "nothing." Shortly after that he kills himself. Of course it must be a terrible thing for an artist to be blacklisted for his political views and actions by the oppressive regime. But it is not as simple as this. For before being blacklisted, the above mentioned martyr of conscience was "listed" after all, and by the same despotic government which controls every aspect of life in a typical totalitarian state. And, one may surmise, not for nothing. Something he has done must have been pleasing to such a malevolent state, something which probably would not pass an absolute integrity test. But more important, what about all those who were never "listed" in the first place and by all kind or regimes, oppressive and otherwise? What about the "unlisted" ones? At least the blacklisted martyrs at the hands of political tyrants may even embrace their martyrdom, may feel justified and elevated by the nobility of their cause and righteousness of their stance. But what about being blacklisted by philistines of all sorts, by the petty wheelers and dealers in position of absolute power to make or break your artistic career for nothing more than kissing the wrong ass, or kissing the right ass the wrong way? And what about all those who never even had a chance to kiss this all important ass in the first place? Doesn't leave too much room for self-adoration, does it? And since everything is relative, in some perverse sense, being blacklisted is definitely preferable to not being "listed" at all. The first is at least an acknowledgment of sort of one's importance, while the second is a sure sign of one's utter insignificance, of being condemned to the total darkness of not necessarily deserved obscurity. And the name of those is multitude. Take for example Canada, where I've spent half of my life. Definitely not a police state ruled by the oppressive regime. On a contrary, it is a country as free as any on this planet. And yet, how many Canadian theater directors there are who do not direct plays at any given moment? How many actors who do not act, opera singers who do not sing, dancers who do not dance, etc., etc., etc? Should they think, like that blacklisted director in communist East Germany, that their lives are "nothing?" Should they also kill themselves? At any given time, in any given country, and regardless of reasons, only a tiny minority are allowed, by who knows whom, to realize their artistic ambitions, and thus to have the fulfilled lives. The rest are condemned to "nothingness." Whose fault is it? Whom are they to blame? Is there a way out of this eternal nightmare? 2220. The most often used word in America is "love." The most popular sentiment is hate. 2221. Great Britain is known for Shakespeare United States – for Britney Spears. 2222. I am an intellect disguised as a man. 2223. Among my many and various internal organs vying for the privilege of eventually finishing me off, my heart, I'm sure, will get the honor of accomplishing this not so difficult task. 2224. Perhaps the true reason we love so much those simple country folks, and are so sentimental about their quaint, rustic ways is that they stay down on the farm, and don't come to the big cities, where we prefer to dwell, and make them even more overcrowded and unlivable than they already are. 2225. Despite of being browbeaten and thought of, probably, as mad I had to write what I have written, I had to say what I have said. As if moved by an inner voice, or driven by a higher power, I never, really, had a choice and won’t, perhaps, till my last hour. 2226. Imagine Life as a train going from point A to point B — from birth to death. As a passenger you have a wide assortment of choices: to occupy this or that compartments in sleeping or a sitting coach (depending on the means at your disposal or your personal preferences), move around, read, rest, or sleep, go to the restaurant and have various meals (whatever you can afford), strike up a conversation with some of the fellow passengers, develop friendships of different duration and significance, perhaps a romance, etc., etc., etc. What you can’t do is to stop the train, get off , or even to slow it down. For no matter what you do inside of this train sooner or later it will arrive at its final destination, and the trip will be over. And if you have too little power over your innermost thought and feelings to put this admittedly depressing fact out of your mind, at least try as best as you can to prevent the unavoidable awareness of it from spoiling your journey completely. 2227. To paraphrase Orwell, all man are unique, but some are more unique than others. 2228. Two Types of Universality. Let me make it perfectly explicit, right from the star, that by “universal” in this particular case I don’t mean the universal truth, but what is universally accepted as such. And there is a great deal of logical and actual difference between the two. Now, clearing this potential source of ambiguity and misunderstanding, we may proceed now to discuss the subject at hand. There are two distinct types of universal religion (or ideology)depending on two different ways they has evolved. By analogy with colors one may be called monochromatic, the other — polychromatic. The first starts with one general idea and in the process of confronting other general ideas (seeing them all as rivals, actual or potential) defeats and eliminates them one after another until it emerges triumphant and universal, while remaining essentially the same. It is important, however, to emphasize, that such a victory is not the result of its intellectual and spiritual superiority, but due entirely to the single-minded dedication and military prowess of its adherents. Again, by analogy with colors, this type of universal idea could be compared to a color so strong that no matter how many other colors are added it dominates them all and remains practically unchanged. The second type of religion (which we called polychromatic) also starts with one general idea. Yet, unlike the monochromatic one, as it spreads geographically and meets other general ideas, it views and treats them not as rivals but as the potential allies. Consequently, instead of defeating and eliminating, it absorbs them, so that at the end the wholly new religion emerges, this time as a conglomerate of different elements, coexisting and mutually accommodating, which in their totality become universal by virtue of inclusion rather than replacement — its triumph being due to flexibility and ability and willingness to compromise. Once more, by analogy with colors, every time another color is added to the original one, its substance changes, so that after series of additions the new and unrecognizable color is created — the sum of all its ingredients. To conclude and to compare , the first type of universality of religions or ideas is characterized by intolerance and confrontation, while the second — by compromise and cooperation. The another difference between this two distinct types of religion and ideology is that the first is intentional in its goal and means to achieve them, while the second slide into universality seemingly effortlessly, as if by accidentrather than design. And as the Islam may be viewed as rough example of the first (with all necessary qualifications), so the Christianity at it best - the second. |
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