Category: lifestyle

Word up: quantitative rap analysis

A friend just pointed me to a quantitative text analysis of the range of vocabulary used by hip hop artists, comparing them to Shakespeare and Melville.

Screenshot of Matt Daniels' website
Screenshot of Matt Daniels’ website

I’m thinking of doing something similar to texts of different actors in environmental politics. Let’s see, if it’s gonna make “rap news“..

„Intelligence … is really a kind of taste: taste in ideas.“

It’s been a while since a sentence has struck me with such insight. It instantaneously helped me to accept my predilections in a way that is expressible and intelligible and yet profound. I’ve been struggling with this issues for more than ten years by now. While its grip has loosened, this sentence, written by Susan Sontag more than 50 years ago, feels like it cut open the Gordian knot that has so long strangled the flow of my thoughts.

„You are far too analytic!“

I was 21, working in a care home for special needs children in England. She was working there, too. Perhaps two years younger than me. I adored her. „Far too analytic“. Me? She was probably right. I tried to impress and to bond with her by being witty and thoughtful and geekily funny and that’s what I got: „too analytic“. It didn’t sound loveable. As it turned out, she wasn’t that much into me, indeed.
As a good-bye present she gave me a collection of fragments from the Dalai Lama’s speeches. Buddhism.
I took that away: It’s not sexy to be analytic.

When I started uni I once again got thrilled by ideas. Sometimes, it got a bit much: During term paper weeks, my small talk got stiff. I felt helpless and uneasy. The rewards, however, outweighed these temporary bursts of nerdiness. The rewards came in grades, of course. But even more so, in thrill.

I was never so much into systematic inquiry. I was into ping pong, into compression and expansion. Thinking had to be dynamic: alive and always on the move, ready to change perspective. Conversation was a way of jointly exploring possibilities. With one of my best friends, I could be that way – without feeling overly analytic (I perhaps was, but it felt good.). That was one of the things I appreciated most in her.

I wasn’t so much into it for functional reasons.
I was driven by wanting to pursue something with a purpose. Yet, with readings accumulating, the more arbitrary such pursuit became. Towards the end of my studies, my taste in ideas had taken precedence over this yet existent but diffuse feeling of purpose. If intellectual curiosity had initially been fed by political ambition, by now curiosity had evolved into an appetite distinct yet not dependent on any specific diet.

I despised people of who I had the impression that they were just pursuing their academic careers, just assembling their arguments in order to drive forward the professed advance of reason. Reason, it seemed to me, could be inhuman. It could take hold of people, narrow their perspective and turn them into adjuncts of monstrous assemblies of technology, infrastructure and ideologies. Knowledge promises liberty — but it can also perpetuate slavery.
I felt like I had climbed a tower, only to look into the abyss.

The bureaucrats had taken ideas to build their fortresses. To perceive of ideas as being dense as stones — that was fetishism. You can’t play ping pong with stones. I didn’t want to become a bureaucratic fetishist.

A connoisseur, instead, does have a taste in ideas, he can discuss the merits of one idea over the other, but he will not forget, that what he seeks is pleasure.

Why travel? Environmental destruction as a marketing device for the tourism industry

Double hulled vaka, Rarotonga 2010

As the chorus of professional environmentalists makes us worry about the ongoing destruction of nature, even this worry serves as a marketing device that makes us cherish seemingly untouched landscapes — far away enough to make resource-intensive travel and commercialised hospitality a necessary prerequisite for savouring it.

There isn’t much time left. Neither personally — it does take labour time to make the dough for travelling — nor, perhaps, will it be possible to enjoy the unspoilt nature in the decades to come.

Let’s better go and see the animals and the forests now. Or someone else will, anyway.

Well, on a more serious note: I think we need to change our work-vacation rhythm, change the way we travel. Look at the Polynesians:

The early Polynesians were an adventurous seafaring people with highly developed navigation skills. They colonised previously unsettled islands by making very long canoe voyages, in some cases against the prevailing winds and tides. Polynesian navigators steered by the sun and the stars, and by careful observations of cloud reflections and bird flight patterns, were able to determine the existence and location of islands. (Wikipedia)

 

You see, the Polynesians were not only adventurous, they also took their time. If we also did that, we wouldn’t need to hurry up so much to see everything in time.

Why do you travel? How fast? Feel free to share your thoughts.