Friday, August 25, 2006
No, please believe me, I was touched; it suggested for a moment that contrary to what I sometimes think, there has been something of worth to have come out of the last few years of writing. Does that make my silence confusing? Nonsensical, perhaps? I have little doubt that it is, but things were once complicated, if you cast your mind far back enough. I think my mind is still stranded in that bog, and every once in a while I think it is with good reason! So I suppose this is my apology, but also my defense, no matter how weak. Do not make the mistake of thinking that you are nothing, because you are, you are; or at least, you were. But I am being told by experience that to admit as much would be foolish, and only tempt history to revert to those times that are best left untouched.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Roughly two years on, it's warming to look back at VU's self-titled third album, The Velvet Underground, not only for the music, but as a reminder of the vagaries of my winsome taste and opinion. I think I rated it 16.5/20 the first time*, but it's no surprise that I now think that to be a bit much. Not by a whole lot, mind you, but it is true that I was overly taken by the album at the time. Since I can't help but analyse such things, I must say that it's actually something I still possess, this desire to find a great album and to wrap myself around it, proclaiming to all the world what a marvellous find I've unearthed. Time was when the best thing about finding a great album was putting it on my list of "Greatest albums", but things are a little different now (thankfully!).
* Incidentally, I'm probably done writing reviews here, at least for the forseeable future. I think my pithy RateYourMusic musings are far more trenchant.
* Incidentally, I'm probably done writing reviews here, at least for the forseeable future. I think my pithy RateYourMusic musings are far more trenchant.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Mm, it's true what they say - theoretical CS isn't all that bad, but you wouldn't choose it over thinking about John Cale's solo-work. That is merely my elliptic way of saying that this Welsh gentleman's work has captured my interest ever since a chance encounter on a charming televison program, Songwriters' Circle. It featured none other than (my hero*) Nick Cave, and Chrissie Hynde, and the three of them played songs in succession, Cale and Hynde offering some background on the pieces, while Cave came across as shy and reserved - which I wouldn't have expected.
I think it's fair to say that many people who have heard any of the VU's first couple of albums would assume that John Cale's solo-work would be this barrage of dissonant noise and drones. The third VU album is a lot softer and is pretty close to being normal, so I figured that it was Cale who was behind "White Light/White Heat" and (shudder) "Sister Ray"**. So that was the frame of mind I was in when I saw him on TV, and I was ready to run scared if he were to unleash another "European Son". But...um, "Ship Of Fools"? That almost sounds like a song...hey, it is just a song! This happened four times in a row, and by the end of it I realized that while Cale may indeed have had an interest in the avant-garde movement, there was surely a fair bit of his work that was somewhere between classical ("Dying On The Vine", which made me really sit up and take attention, and his reading of "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night", which is mesmerising) and the casually accepted definiton of rock (the aforementioned "Ship Of Fools"). There was certainly nothing to suggest that this man was from the VU***! Well, maybe the weird ending to "Fear Is A Man's Best Friend" - from whatever I can remember of the song, it played mostly normal (although I wasn't paying attention to the lyrics - don't know what was going on in that department), until the very end where he starts screaming seemingly out of the blue. Ah, that Cale.
Incidentally, Cale went to New York in the early '60s to seek out La-Monte Young and work under him. Gosh darn it, I almost feel like doing the same - let my lack of musical talent be no barrier!
* Few can spot such references, but those who can are worthy of some accolade. Let me hint by saying that it very much from a John Cale work.
** Apologies if you like these songs - I don't hate them or anything. I think they're probably very much works of art, and I appreciate their importance - but I can't bring myself to sit down to them!
*** Much like you wouldn't believe Lou Reed wrote "Candy Says" two-or-so years after "I'm Waiting For My Man" - everytime the thought strikes me, the more I realize how I've under-appreciated Lou as a songwriter.
I think it's fair to say that many people who have heard any of the VU's first couple of albums would assume that John Cale's solo-work would be this barrage of dissonant noise and drones. The third VU album is a lot softer and is pretty close to being normal, so I figured that it was Cale who was behind "White Light/White Heat" and (shudder) "Sister Ray"**. So that was the frame of mind I was in when I saw him on TV, and I was ready to run scared if he were to unleash another "European Son". But...um, "Ship Of Fools"? That almost sounds like a song...hey, it is just a song! This happened four times in a row, and by the end of it I realized that while Cale may indeed have had an interest in the avant-garde movement, there was surely a fair bit of his work that was somewhere between classical ("Dying On The Vine", which made me really sit up and take attention, and his reading of "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night", which is mesmerising) and the casually accepted definiton of rock (the aforementioned "Ship Of Fools"). There was certainly nothing to suggest that this man was from the VU***! Well, maybe the weird ending to "Fear Is A Man's Best Friend" - from whatever I can remember of the song, it played mostly normal (although I wasn't paying attention to the lyrics - don't know what was going on in that department), until the very end where he starts screaming seemingly out of the blue. Ah, that Cale.
Incidentally, Cale went to New York in the early '60s to seek out La-Monte Young and work under him. Gosh darn it, I almost feel like doing the same - let my lack of musical talent be no barrier!
* Few can spot such references, but those who can are worthy of some accolade. Let me hint by saying that it very much from a John Cale work.
** Apologies if you like these songs - I don't hate them or anything. I think they're probably very much works of art, and I appreciate their importance - but I can't bring myself to sit down to them!
*** Much like you wouldn't believe Lou Reed wrote "Candy Says" two-or-so years after "I'm Waiting For My Man" - everytime the thought strikes me, the more I realize how I've under-appreciated Lou as a songwriter.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Even though it has been a good two or three years since I've heard a Dylan album in a sitting, I've recently dispelled the notion that my tastes had somehow moved on past him. It would have been an unfathomable suggestion at one point, but there was a time not so long ago, when I re-played some of his tracks that weren't particularly familiar to me, that I began to wonder whether he was no longer doing it for me. It turns out, however, that perhaps those tracks were not so familiar for a reason*!
I've chanced upon snippets of the Genuine Basement Tapes, which are proving to be most interesting. I always loved a few tracks from the officially issued Basement Tapes, but on the whole I thought of it as something of loads of historical, rather than musical interest. I never did understand what so many critics were raving about, but only now have I realized that they were raving about a 5 CD set, not the official 2 CD one! There are a couple of songs in particular that have made me think that I've cracked it, and figured out the difference between greatness and genius. Since I'm sometimes quite cynical, I think it also to be the difference between Dylan and his many followers, whose talents range from genuine to merely perfunctory. I listened to "Frankie Lee And Judas Priest", and "Jokerman", and after marvelling that the same person wrote both songs, I realized what good friends they (the songs) were, and how I don't think I've heard anyone else who has managed to approach Dylan in terms of songwriting. Moments of genius I've heard plenty, but I suppose Dylan was there first, and will probably never be bested - at least, not to my ears.
* No naming names, but it's clear that not everything he did was genius, or even very good. As with pretty much every artist, I suppose.
I've chanced upon snippets of the Genuine Basement Tapes, which are proving to be most interesting. I always loved a few tracks from the officially issued Basement Tapes, but on the whole I thought of it as something of loads of historical, rather than musical interest. I never did understand what so many critics were raving about, but only now have I realized that they were raving about a 5 CD set, not the official 2 CD one! There are a couple of songs in particular that have made me think that I've cracked it, and figured out the difference between greatness and genius. Since I'm sometimes quite cynical, I think it also to be the difference between Dylan and his many followers, whose talents range from genuine to merely perfunctory. I listened to "Frankie Lee And Judas Priest", and "Jokerman", and after marvelling that the same person wrote both songs, I realized what good friends they (the songs) were, and how I don't think I've heard anyone else who has managed to approach Dylan in terms of songwriting. Moments of genius I've heard plenty, but I suppose Dylan was there first, and will probably never be bested - at least, not to my ears.
* No naming names, but it's clear that not everything he did was genius, or even very good. As with pretty much every artist, I suppose.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Maybe it's true
Maybe it's true
Maybe the years didn't really pass by
And I never aged, never outgrew
Your perennial presence, telling us
The trivial,
The magical.
I can think of worse fates
Than having to wake up again,
Put on that comforting shade of green,
Sit with complete attention,
And not wonder where time goes.
Maybe the years didn't really pass by
And I never aged, never outgrew
Your perennial presence, telling us
The trivial,
The magical.
I can think of worse fates
Than having to wake up again,
Put on that comforting shade of green,
Sit with complete attention,
And not wonder where time goes.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
I know I'm quite late to point out that Roger Ebert doesn't think video games are art, but I only just came across it by chance. It is a very interesting subject (and it is equally interesting to read some of gaming community's responses).
A common response to his comment is that 'art' is a hard thing to define. Indeed! I'm not entirely sure how one would go about calling games art - it is easy to try and see direct relationship with existing forms such as literature and films, which leads us to strong stories and cinematic gameplay. While there is no doubt that these can make up a great game with substance, I think the interactivity allows for things that you can't get otherwise. I think art can come in through the experiences we let the player have (and I think there may well be other ways too).
Ebert's complaint is that since games yield control to the player, you yield control of whatever artistic statement you are trying to make. I guess he means a couple of things. First, that there is a lack of flow - instead of walking through the door to have a deep conversation about whether the ends justify the means, the player might choose to spend a couple of hours on something largely inconsequential (upgrading armour? Although you tell me it's inconsequential when your party has fallen and that armor is all that remains between you and a Glabrezu!), disrupting the flow.
Second, that choice has the potential to make the experience rather silly, and consequently not profound - said deep conversation could be side-stepped by a mindless threat as one's first response, which would turn the supposed climax of the game into a free-for-all melee.
His reasoning that since they lack the structural control that you get with movies or books, they lose the ability to become art does not entirely convince me. I guess he is suggesting that with traditional art-forms the artist has direct control over what he is trying to impart, and how this is done, but I think that non-linearity and the control one has over the game world has the potential to create some form of art. It sounds like Ebert doesn't think such potential even exists, which I respectfully disagree with.
Now, having stated my claim - as for whether the potential has actually been realized at this moment in time, I would say thus far, probably not - at the moment there aren't any games that I will try to defend as being art. My current experience is that there aren't many artistic games that have been made (but it has been a while for me, no?), and those that are artistic I would not say contain enough for me to confidently proclaim them as being comparable to the best in other mediums. Still, to me, these games are at the very least more than just 'shallow' entertainment. I'm not sure any of them will be studied in classrooms just yet, but I do think they demonstrate that games can be intelligent, and have an interesting synthesis of story and gameplay. If one takes the average modern game to be like a Hollywood blockbuster (usually ephemeral, as it is designed to be purely escapist entertainment), then these kinds of games are from the alternative cinema - something with more depth and some amount of sophistication and artistic vision, even if not a masterpiece.
I'm afraid I'm not intelligent enough to be able to expound on why exactly I "feel" games can be art - I have to resort to vague terms like "gameplay structure" and "non-linearity", which I guess is just me dodging the question. All I can give is subjective testimony that I have played games that I have felt to be artistic, even if not quite high-art. So, with that confession made, I might as well muse a bit on my personal list of artistic games. They are a touch 'obvious' I suppose, which does make me want to try and find out more games with meaning. I don't know whether a common thread makes itself immediately obvious, but I guess what makes these games in particular come to mind is that they had some feature that somehow resonated, moreso than say just a button-masher.
Ultima VII, of course, for the sense of an active world (I was recently reminded that there are no generic NPCs - everyone, even the lowly peasant, has a name and role to play, and a unique opinion on the state of Britannia), and maybe nostalgia. There is a sense of a lot of effort put into the history of the land (all the books about the history of the place, much like how it was done for Ultima VIII), which for me left a lasting impression. It might have been made in '92, but it has not aged a bit for me (the graphics make it very playable, even today).
The sevens have it with FF7, which is supposed to be overrated but in my naivety I still consider it to be a true experience rather than just a game. The characters are strong, and I am one of those who find the story to be fascinating too - at times funny, serious, sad, and trimphant, it is to me, quite simply, an epic. It features a very famous scene that many gamers have said brings them to tears, and any game that does that has to be doing something right.
Even if I consider Baldur's Gate 2 to be a more satisfying game, Planescape is more in line with my intuitive feeling of what constitutes an artistic game. It might be the most "literary" RPG ever (it is the most literary one I've played), and like the others on the list it has strong characters and a very well-done story. When the plot unravels and you approach the end-game, you are posed with what I still think to be a deep philosophical question, which you perhaps would not expect in a game. Regardless of the constraints the game places on your potential answers to this question, reflecting on the question and the context it is asked makes me wonder whether a game has ever been this incisive.
Half-Life is probably the most cinematic game I've played*, even though I suppose the emotions it gets across are rather "obvious" for a video game (suspense, tension, and what have you). But it is simply done so well, and has many memorably tense moments that you have to get around, not to mention a few of those head-crabs that jump out of nowhere. I guess this is an example of an experience that seems like it is common to a lot of other games, but which happens to be done far better than most.
Grim Fandango is beautifully produced, and is certainly one of the most stylish games I've played. The concept is in itself interesting, and I cannot fault the execution. A very good story, and again, very good characters combine with the excellent music and atmosphere to make this one of the most unique and enjoyable games I've ever played.
Another game that I think was most probably important, but not necessarily enjoyable, is Facade. It is great to see that there are people interested in making games like these, even if they don't necessarily work out. It most certainly has an artistic bent, but, as many pointed out, the execution wasn't quite there. But that's ok, because it shows that such things can be tried, and will hopefully inspire more games in a similar vein.
Of course, I can't say that any of these can be compared to some of the great films or novels of this century, but as many have pointed out, the field is young. True, it is dominated by creating something for mass consumption, but that does not mean that something good cannot come out of it. We just need a Sgt. Pepper! Or, maybe better yet, a VU & Nico...! I guess software itself is fairly young, so perhaps in the future it will be easier than it is today to try and embark on the task of creating artistic games. I guess if you want really artistic games, with no care for commercial success (now we're talking early Lou Reed, pre Loaded anyway), you need more independent publishers, or companies that believe there is some artistic potential for the medium.
But look, there is also the important question - does it matter if they don't strive to be art? Not to me - I am not a purist (not anymore, anyway), and believe there is a place for entertainment that doesn't necessarily look to have long-lasting worth, or reveal to us something crucial about the human condition. You won't see me throw away my copy of Quake anytime soon! But I think there is the potential for games as a different sort of art form, and this should at least be explored and done justice. How far can we go with them? I am not sure!
Then again, maybe I'm wrong (although, like I said, I strongly suspect not), but that just means games are no more (or not all that much more) than entertainment - it doesn't discount the fact** that they are at least intelligent entertainment (like a good episode of The Simpsons, I suppose?), and that is no shame at all. Even if something isn't "art", it doesn't mean there is no value to it!
The nice thing about this topic is that sifting through online discussions on the matter has brought up many examples from other gamers of games they consider to be artistic. It seems as though there is an avenue for me to explore yet!
* Sigh, that was a fair while ago. Yep, it's true, I am not a gamer anymore!
** Fact? Arguable as always, but I think it is hard to argue otherwise...so yes, a "fact in my opinion" :)
A common response to his comment is that 'art' is a hard thing to define. Indeed! I'm not entirely sure how one would go about calling games art - it is easy to try and see direct relationship with existing forms such as literature and films, which leads us to strong stories and cinematic gameplay. While there is no doubt that these can make up a great game with substance, I think the interactivity allows for things that you can't get otherwise. I think art can come in through the experiences we let the player have (and I think there may well be other ways too).
Ebert's complaint is that since games yield control to the player, you yield control of whatever artistic statement you are trying to make. I guess he means a couple of things. First, that there is a lack of flow - instead of walking through the door to have a deep conversation about whether the ends justify the means, the player might choose to spend a couple of hours on something largely inconsequential (upgrading armour? Although you tell me it's inconsequential when your party has fallen and that armor is all that remains between you and a Glabrezu!), disrupting the flow.
Second, that choice has the potential to make the experience rather silly, and consequently not profound - said deep conversation could be side-stepped by a mindless threat as one's first response, which would turn the supposed climax of the game into a free-for-all melee.
His reasoning that since they lack the structural control that you get with movies or books, they lose the ability to become art does not entirely convince me. I guess he is suggesting that with traditional art-forms the artist has direct control over what he is trying to impart, and how this is done, but I think that non-linearity and the control one has over the game world has the potential to create some form of art. It sounds like Ebert doesn't think such potential even exists, which I respectfully disagree with.
Now, having stated my claim - as for whether the potential has actually been realized at this moment in time, I would say thus far, probably not - at the moment there aren't any games that I will try to defend as being art. My current experience is that there aren't many artistic games that have been made (but it has been a while for me, no?), and those that are artistic I would not say contain enough for me to confidently proclaim them as being comparable to the best in other mediums. Still, to me, these games are at the very least more than just 'shallow' entertainment. I'm not sure any of them will be studied in classrooms just yet, but I do think they demonstrate that games can be intelligent, and have an interesting synthesis of story and gameplay. If one takes the average modern game to be like a Hollywood blockbuster (usually ephemeral, as it is designed to be purely escapist entertainment), then these kinds of games are from the alternative cinema - something with more depth and some amount of sophistication and artistic vision, even if not a masterpiece.
I'm afraid I'm not intelligent enough to be able to expound on why exactly I "feel" games can be art - I have to resort to vague terms like "gameplay structure" and "non-linearity", which I guess is just me dodging the question. All I can give is subjective testimony that I have played games that I have felt to be artistic, even if not quite high-art. So, with that confession made, I might as well muse a bit on my personal list of artistic games. They are a touch 'obvious' I suppose, which does make me want to try and find out more games with meaning. I don't know whether a common thread makes itself immediately obvious, but I guess what makes these games in particular come to mind is that they had some feature that somehow resonated, moreso than say just a button-masher.
Ultima VII, of course, for the sense of an active world (I was recently reminded that there are no generic NPCs - everyone, even the lowly peasant, has a name and role to play, and a unique opinion on the state of Britannia), and maybe nostalgia. There is a sense of a lot of effort put into the history of the land (all the books about the history of the place, much like how it was done for Ultima VIII), which for me left a lasting impression. It might have been made in '92, but it has not aged a bit for me (the graphics make it very playable, even today).
The sevens have it with FF7, which is supposed to be overrated but in my naivety I still consider it to be a true experience rather than just a game. The characters are strong, and I am one of those who find the story to be fascinating too - at times funny, serious, sad, and trimphant, it is to me, quite simply, an epic. It features a very famous scene that many gamers have said brings them to tears, and any game that does that has to be doing something right.
Even if I consider Baldur's Gate 2 to be a more satisfying game, Planescape is more in line with my intuitive feeling of what constitutes an artistic game. It might be the most "literary" RPG ever (it is the most literary one I've played), and like the others on the list it has strong characters and a very well-done story. When the plot unravels and you approach the end-game, you are posed with what I still think to be a deep philosophical question, which you perhaps would not expect in a game. Regardless of the constraints the game places on your potential answers to this question, reflecting on the question and the context it is asked makes me wonder whether a game has ever been this incisive.
Half-Life is probably the most cinematic game I've played*, even though I suppose the emotions it gets across are rather "obvious" for a video game (suspense, tension, and what have you). But it is simply done so well, and has many memorably tense moments that you have to get around, not to mention a few of those head-crabs that jump out of nowhere. I guess this is an example of an experience that seems like it is common to a lot of other games, but which happens to be done far better than most.
Grim Fandango is beautifully produced, and is certainly one of the most stylish games I've played. The concept is in itself interesting, and I cannot fault the execution. A very good story, and again, very good characters combine with the excellent music and atmosphere to make this one of the most unique and enjoyable games I've ever played.
Another game that I think was most probably important, but not necessarily enjoyable, is Facade. It is great to see that there are people interested in making games like these, even if they don't necessarily work out. It most certainly has an artistic bent, but, as many pointed out, the execution wasn't quite there. But that's ok, because it shows that such things can be tried, and will hopefully inspire more games in a similar vein.
Of course, I can't say that any of these can be compared to some of the great films or novels of this century, but as many have pointed out, the field is young. True, it is dominated by creating something for mass consumption, but that does not mean that something good cannot come out of it. We just need a Sgt. Pepper! Or, maybe better yet, a VU & Nico...! I guess software itself is fairly young, so perhaps in the future it will be easier than it is today to try and embark on the task of creating artistic games. I guess if you want really artistic games, with no care for commercial success (now we're talking early Lou Reed, pre Loaded anyway), you need more independent publishers, or companies that believe there is some artistic potential for the medium.
But look, there is also the important question - does it matter if they don't strive to be art? Not to me - I am not a purist (not anymore, anyway), and believe there is a place for entertainment that doesn't necessarily look to have long-lasting worth, or reveal to us something crucial about the human condition. You won't see me throw away my copy of Quake anytime soon! But I think there is the potential for games as a different sort of art form, and this should at least be explored and done justice. How far can we go with them? I am not sure!
Then again, maybe I'm wrong (although, like I said, I strongly suspect not), but that just means games are no more (or not all that much more) than entertainment - it doesn't discount the fact** that they are at least intelligent entertainment (like a good episode of The Simpsons, I suppose?), and that is no shame at all. Even if something isn't "art", it doesn't mean there is no value to it!
The nice thing about this topic is that sifting through online discussions on the matter has brought up many examples from other gamers of games they consider to be artistic. It seems as though there is an avenue for me to explore yet!
* Sigh, that was a fair while ago. Yep, it's true, I am not a gamer anymore!
** Fact? Arguable as always, but I think it is hard to argue otherwise...so yes, a "fact in my opinion" :)
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
For you blue
It is for you, even if you never read it
It is funny we should be strangers after so long
Seeing your photo suggests time means nothing
Eight years ago in a hot classroom are as alive as you or I.
I suppose someone else would have done better
Would not judge you for who you became
Not for being what I was not, nor could be.
So I hope you realize who I am
Not quite the one from those days
Mocking that which was dear to you
(Never mind that you might do the same now!)
I am sorry for you both
It seems you made at least one choice wrong.
It is funny we should be strangers after so long
Seeing your photo suggests time means nothing
Eight years ago in a hot classroom are as alive as you or I.
I suppose someone else would have done better
Would not judge you for who you became
Not for being what I was not, nor could be.
So I hope you realize who I am
Not quite the one from those days
Mocking that which was dear to you
(Never mind that you might do the same now!)
I am sorry for you both
It seems you made at least one choice wrong.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Deja-bleedin'-vu, as a compatriot might say, as I walked out of the room and heard people talking about how relieved they were that it was over, with no suggestions of any difficulty whatsoever. I shared their relief, but I was much more concerned with the very real worry that I had bleedin' bombed (my compatriot is in a particularly foul mood, eh?). "I'd be worried if there wasn't an ex in the front", I heard someone say, and so worried I was.
When I was thinking about this, the first analogy that came to mind was that of a king who is surveying his land in ruins. It isn't especially good, because it's easy to connect the dots and think that I'm implying things I'm not; for instance, I don't think of myself as royalty, mathematically or otherwise. But I do feel as though my powers are waning, and it is quite a sad sight to behold. I remember how I used to be able to finish high-school exams an hour before the scheduled end, and also how I took this ability for granted.
I am now forced to hope that it is the last maths exam I will do, because otherwise I would be hoping that I...well, you know, fail this one. It's sad when you are content with whatever, as long as it is a pass, but I suppose I am at least partly to blame. I'm lazier than I used to be, and certainly nowhere near as fluent as I could have been. I suppose a life as a mindless hacker is all that lies ahead.
Am asked, quite seriously, "But didn't you say it comes more naturally to you?". I just laughed and said "Yes, which shows what a sorry state I'm in!"
Update: It turns out that scaling, my old friend, bailed me out, but as he did, he said "This is the last time, buddy - next time, you're on your own".
When I was thinking about this, the first analogy that came to mind was that of a king who is surveying his land in ruins. It isn't especially good, because it's easy to connect the dots and think that I'm implying things I'm not; for instance, I don't think of myself as royalty, mathematically or otherwise. But I do feel as though my powers are waning, and it is quite a sad sight to behold. I remember how I used to be able to finish high-school exams an hour before the scheduled end, and also how I took this ability for granted.
I am now forced to hope that it is the last maths exam I will do, because otherwise I would be hoping that I...well, you know, fail this one. It's sad when you are content with whatever, as long as it is a pass, but I suppose I am at least partly to blame. I'm lazier than I used to be, and certainly nowhere near as fluent as I could have been. I suppose a life as a mindless hacker is all that lies ahead.
Am asked, quite seriously, "But didn't you say it comes more naturally to you?". I just laughed and said "Yes, which shows what a sorry state I'm in!"
Update: It turns out that scaling, my old friend, bailed me out, but as he did, he said "This is the last time, buddy - next time, you're on your own".
Monday, June 12, 2006
Most probably throwaway, but I'm having the darndest time trying to finish it. I liked the idea a while ago, but this isn't quite what I had in mind.
"...You know what I mean?"
He asked affably
It was a cruel moment of indifference
When I did not feign sympathy
It might have been the coffee
I was missing so dearly
For I replied simply
"No, I do not;
Further, I never have
For I think you quite mad".
"...You know what I mean?"
He asked affably
It was a cruel moment of indifference
When I did not feign sympathy
It might have been the coffee
I was missing so dearly
For I replied simply
"No, I do not;
Further, I never have
For I think you quite mad".
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Ah, that Wildberger. Perhaps you know of the author of rational trigonometry? Well, he has an interesting article that suggests that set theory is flawed. It is more cogent than you might expect; after all, he is an associate professor, although I suspect I need a few more reads to try and fully understand his argument. Ah, were that I able to muse meaningfully on the foundations of mathematics! Instead, I have no choice but to dream.
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