You Have The Most Hilariously Naive Politics I've Ever Seen, It's Milquetoast Pacifist Liberalism Meets

You licked houmous off my fingers which is one way to win an argument — Shailja Patel, Love Poem for London

I’m not so worried about the dangers of mental junk food. No, my worry is that you won’t put enough really excellent stuff into your brain. I’m talking about what you might call the “theory of maximum taste.” This theory is based on the idea that exposure to genius has the power to expand your consciousness. The theory of maximum taste says that each person’s mind is defined by its upper limit—the best that it habitually consumes and is capable of consuming. ... Our maximum taste shrinks. Have you ever noticed that 70 percent of the people you know are more boring at 30 than they were at 20? I’m worried about the future of your maximum taste. People in my and earlier generations, at least those lucky enough to get a college education, got some exposure to the classics, which lit a fire that gets rekindled every time we sit down to read something really excellent. I worry that it’s possible to grow up now not even aware that those upper registers of human feeling and thought exist.

David Brooks

Fine Art of the Forest

(c) riverwindphotography, August 2024

Apple Trees, Sunset, Eragny, 1896, Camille Pissarro

Medium: oil,canvas

untitled by Irina Troitskaya on Flickr.

"Mäletan, kuidas sa mõne aasta eest südametäiega pahvatasid metsaraiumise kohta: see on ju riiklik laastamine! Ja veel enam jäi hinge kõrvulukustav vaikus, mis peale seda mõtteruumis maad võttis. Ei tõtanud keegi noid sõnu parandama ega ümber lükkama, las vana mees räägib, maailm veereb edasi, uued uudised tulevad ja ebamugavus lahtub, piinlik apsakas ununeb. Aga see, mis oli varjul nende sõnade taga, jäi. See pilt, kuhu osutas sinu tõstetud sõrm. Vaadake seda maad, milline häbi! See, mida riik on teinud oma loodusega, ei ole olnud väärikas. Eesti loodusega on läinud samamoodi, nagu läks indiaanlastega. Selle maa loodus on lõputute seadusemuudatuste, arengukavade ja töötubade kaudu viimaks ikkagi inimeste käest välja petetud, nende hinge on väärkoheldud, väärikust alandatud. Eesti Loodus elab edasi reservaadis, see on ilus, seda saab imetleda, sealt metsaande korjata, piltegi teha, seminare ja töötubasid korraldada. Aga midagi on muutunud, lõplikult. Midagi väga olulist on surnud – eks sõnastagem see. Mis see siis on? Pihta on saanud loodus, aga ka usk elu põhiväärtustesse. Usk Eesti looduse kaitsesse on kokku kukkunud. Selle asemele on tulnud teadmine, kui odav on riik, kui alandlik ja hirmunud, kui lihtne on teda raha ja ähvardustega üles osta, panna tegema seda, mida ta mingil juhul teha ei tohiks. Riik on samm-sammult taganenud raha surve ees. Riik on kaotanud väärikuse. See on kõige hullem asi, mis saab juhtuda. Loodus annab riigile väärikuse. Loodus on riigi südametunnistus. Ühiskonda ei iseloomusta mitte see, mida ta loob, vaid see, mida ta keeldub hävitamast. Nii on arvanud Ameerika looduskaitsja John C. Sawhill."

- Valdur Mikita Järelhüüe Fred Jüssile "Head teed sulle, kotkas"

A fact is what won’t go away, what we cannot not know, as Henry James remarked of the real. Yet when we bring one closer, stare at it, test our loyalty to it, it begins to shimmer with complication. Without becoming less factual, it floats off into myth. Italo Calvino’s Mr Palomar looks at the sky, his lawn, the sea, starlings, tortoises, Roman rooftops, a girl, giraffes and much else. He wants only to observe, to learn a modest lesson from creatures and things. But he can’t. There is too much to see in them, for a start. … And there is too much of himself and his culture in the world he watches anyway: the universe is littered with the signs of our needs, with mythologies.

Michael Wood

look, it’s 01:32, and the notebooks in the pits of my drawers are not enough for the horror that is tropical disease biology studies…

I wonder, when you decide to voice your questions, when you send off your impressions, when you speak or write or type, out of the blue, to your unsuspecting peers, is it done with an obstinate hope that you will receive at the very least any kind of response? A measured reply, despite the overwhelming standard of there seeming to be so few who would not only appreciate the question, but would consider an answer at all. 

In a manner that is self-deprecating, I think, I have been hunting for forms of connection that are more opportune for people who would rather not engage in anything so "aggressive" if "cute" without first throwing their daily habits into disarray. For whom such randomly expressed vexations of admittedly pretentious proportions pose as minor amusements, surprising puzzles, forms of performance art, and above all, a craving for approval–the latter, undoubtedly, many of my hurriedly scribbled down remarks are, but more, I suppose, a form of reassurance to myself that it is fine if I cannot help myself. Rather that than a kind of validation that is supposed to instill in me, over and over again, my sense of self-identity and worth. That would be very silly, don't you think? But it is to be expected that more often than not we will seem silly regardless, and are loved despite of it, than seem as we want to be, and are loved because of it. So herein then, ought we not to give free reign to the expectations of others, and to our own, and tailor our contentment accordingly? 

From there has emerged, I reckon, the infamous, “Nevermind that,” for which I am chastised here and there alike. Yet it occurs to me that I do not dismiss so much myself, but what I see as the toil and burden for you to bear if I did not do so.

I have never thought of it like this before, or thought of any of it for the longest time, if only in passing sneer in relation to my own expectations of people. Suppose I have dismissed thinking about it entirely, but wouldn't that truly be considered as “settling”, after all?

original artwork for Agalloch, by Fursy Teyssier of Les Discrets