At a Summer Villa
The eight-year itch.
You kind of have to feel sorry for Pavel Ivanitch Vyhodtsev, don't you? Okay, so he's a bit of a hypocrite. Who isn't?
His wife does play a dirty trick on him.
Yes, if he's truly happily married and receives a note asking for a rendezvous-- he shouldn't go, right? Except his wife very well knows he will go -- otherwise she would have tried another trick. How many men receiving such an inviting request while relaxing in a summer villa wouldn't at least be curious? You have to be curious. And if you're curious and it's only a short walk to the arbour -- why not go? It's human nature, isn't it?
Pavel Ivanitch is a very luck guy. He has a wife who has his number. She will take good care of him and guard him against his own worst instincts. Let's just hope he appreciates all her fine work.
Having just read A Pink Stocking about a wife who doesn't get the respect she deserves, it's nice to read here about a strong woman who knows how to maneuver the game in her favor.
Chekhov brilliantly adds to the story a confrontation between Pavel Ivanitch and his brother-in-law, Mitya, at the arbour. A perfect conflict and extremely hilarious.
You know -- he could be a great playwright!
The Goal: Read. Reflect. Respond. Over two hundred Chekhov stories. Constance Garnett translations.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
A PINK STOCKING
A Pink Stocking
Hey, Mr. Pavel Petrovitch Somov spell this: Misogynist.
If I were his wife, I'd stick that pink stocking up his you know where.
That will give him plenty to talk about.
Hey, Mr. Pavel Petrovitch Somov spell this: Misogynist.
If I were his wife, I'd stick that pink stocking up his you know where.
That will give him plenty to talk about.
THE DEATH OF A GOVERNMENT CLERK
The Death of a Government Clerk
You wouldn't think a story that ends with a man dying would be very funny -- but it is.
Well, it's quite possible Ivan Dmitritch Tcheryakov has been dead for a long time. One who worries so much about asking forgiveness for an accidental sneeze is not exactly beaming with life. Maybe the whole system which ranks people by importance is the culprit -- whatever it is -- it does seem very pathetic.
Except when one thinks about it -- a system like this exists today in many shapes and forms. Take Japan for instance, if you are a salary man in a big company -- you don't go home before your boss does -- even if that means reading a paper until your boss decides it's time to call it a day.
Malcolm Gladwell's book Outliers relates the story of the Power Distance Index of different societies and connects it to several major plane accidents.
None of that is of course funny -- however Chekhov in this story reduces the dignity of the government clerk to such an absurd level that we can either cry or laugh.
Laughing is a lot easier.
You wouldn't think a story that ends with a man dying would be very funny -- but it is.
Well, it's quite possible Ivan Dmitritch Tcheryakov has been dead for a long time. One who worries so much about asking forgiveness for an accidental sneeze is not exactly beaming with life. Maybe the whole system which ranks people by importance is the culprit -- whatever it is -- it does seem very pathetic.
Except when one thinks about it -- a system like this exists today in many shapes and forms. Take Japan for instance, if you are a salary man in a big company -- you don't go home before your boss does -- even if that means reading a paper until your boss decides it's time to call it a day.
Malcolm Gladwell's book Outliers relates the story of the Power Distance Index of different societies and connects it to several major plane accidents.
None of that is of course funny -- however Chekhov in this story reduces the dignity of the government clerk to such an absurd level that we can either cry or laugh.
Laughing is a lot easier.
FAT AND THIN
Fat and Thin
The story is very short but there's a lot to chew on. (He-he-he!)
The fat and thin man know each other from their school days.
They meet accidentally. Not having seen each other since they were boys, they begin trying to catch up.
The thin man loves to talk -- mostly about himself. He tells the fat man all about his family and work. And then the bomb drops. The thin man is a head clerk in the civil service but the fat man is now a privy councilor, a high official.
The news is too much to digest for the thin man. All he can do is compliment the fat man and as the young generation today would say "gas him up".
The thin man now feels like a failure. He is comparing his accomplishments with the fat man and there's not much meat on the bone. What we get with the thin man is a lot of superficiality. He is not very deep. His whole life it seems is mainly show and the inner happiness and satisfaction is not well-developed. His body is thin and so is his soul.
The fat man is proud to be a privy councilor but he doesn't stand on his rank. He prefers for his old friend to treat him as an equal. You get the sense that he is a decent man and well-rounded. In fact, the fat man never brags about his accomplishments and only tells the thin man he is a privy councilor when asked.
The fat man is more content. He has achieved more in the civil service. Maybe his personality helped him move forward or possibly his success has given him comfort. Either way, he is now in the position of being charitable to those less fortunate.
The thin man might've wanted to get ahead too much and like a lover who is overeager turned people off with his runaway desire. Not attaining his goals has left him bitter and jealous of those who have.
The fat man could've helped the thin man if the thin man was honest. All that obsequiousness was too heavy a load for the fat man to deal with -- so instead he walks away leaving the thin man with the stress of failure for the rest of his life.
Meanwhile, the thin man undervalues his greatest possession, his ace in the hole, which is right in front of him and something which the fat man may be missing.
A family.
The fat man wins by default.
The story is very short but there's a lot to chew on. (He-he-he!)
The fat and thin man know each other from their school days.
They meet accidentally. Not having seen each other since they were boys, they begin trying to catch up.
The thin man loves to talk -- mostly about himself. He tells the fat man all about his family and work. And then the bomb drops. The thin man is a head clerk in the civil service but the fat man is now a privy councilor, a high official.
The news is too much to digest for the thin man. All he can do is compliment the fat man and as the young generation today would say "gas him up".
The thin man now feels like a failure. He is comparing his accomplishments with the fat man and there's not much meat on the bone. What we get with the thin man is a lot of superficiality. He is not very deep. His whole life it seems is mainly show and the inner happiness and satisfaction is not well-developed. His body is thin and so is his soul.
The fat man is proud to be a privy councilor but he doesn't stand on his rank. He prefers for his old friend to treat him as an equal. You get the sense that he is a decent man and well-rounded. In fact, the fat man never brags about his accomplishments and only tells the thin man he is a privy councilor when asked.
The fat man is more content. He has achieved more in the civil service. Maybe his personality helped him move forward or possibly his success has given him comfort. Either way, he is now in the position of being charitable to those less fortunate.
The thin man might've wanted to get ahead too much and like a lover who is overeager turned people off with his runaway desire. Not attaining his goals has left him bitter and jealous of those who have.
The fat man could've helped the thin man if the thin man was honest. All that obsequiousness was too heavy a load for the fat man to deal with -- so instead he walks away leaving the thin man with the stress of failure for the rest of his life.
Meanwhile, the thin man undervalues his greatest possession, his ace in the hole, which is right in front of him and something which the fat man may be missing.
A family.
The fat man wins by default.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
A BLUNDER
A Blunder
Strike while the iron is hot.
This is a twisted story. Usually the parents are out to protect their daughter from the horny teacher -- not ready to trap him.
"The fat little hand that smelt of egg soap" is Chekhov's way of delivering the news. The daughter's prospects might not be so great and the parents must do what they can when the teacher, Shchupkin, who writes like a spider, enters their web.
But then the ikon get crossed up with a portrait of an author and the victim is allowed to make his escape.
Haste makes waste or writer's block?
Strike while the iron is hot.
This is a twisted story. Usually the parents are out to protect their daughter from the horny teacher -- not ready to trap him.
"The fat little hand that smelt of egg soap" is Chekhov's way of delivering the news. The daughter's prospects might not be so great and the parents must do what they can when the teacher, Shchupkin, who writes like a spider, enters their web.
But then the ikon get crossed up with a portrait of an author and the victim is allowed to make his escape.
Haste makes waste or writer's block?
Monday, September 17, 2012
A COUNTRY COTTAGE
A Country Cottage
"Hell is other people" as Sartre once wrote and Sasha and Varya would most certainly agree. Especially if the other people are a flock of intrusive relatives.
Didn't really understand the virginity comment -- well, if it has anything to do with setting the right mood -- it seems like Sasha and Varya will have to wait another three or four days to get it on -- and if we know anything about unwanted guests -- probably a lot longer
My uncle had sure-fire way of doing away with lingering visitors -- he would start undressing in front of them-- they always managed to get the point.
"Hell is other people" as Sartre once wrote and Sasha and Varya would most certainly agree. Especially if the other people are a flock of intrusive relatives.
Didn't really understand the virginity comment -- well, if it has anything to do with setting the right mood -- it seems like Sasha and Varya will have to wait another three or four days to get it on -- and if we know anything about unwanted guests -- probably a lot longer
My uncle had sure-fire way of doing away with lingering visitors -- he would start undressing in front of them-- they always managed to get the point.
A JOKE
A Joke
And the punchline is he's miserable.
Big hero with the sled convinces young woman to go down the hill. Nadenka is terrified. Not our fearless narrator. He's not scared of some nasty ice hill. He's scared of life, and most importantly, love.
So he makes his innermost feelings into a joke. He doesn't have the guts to tell Nadenka straight to her face how he loves her.
Nadenka is petrified to go down the hill on the sled but she does it -- she takes the plunge. And then she becomes entranced with hearing those sweet words which our hero whispers to her while rushing down the hill. She even ventures down the hill on her own to verify where those lovely words originate from.
They come from our narrator who is a bona fide coward. He never tells her how he feels but instead runs away. (Macho, isn't he?)
The result is Nadenka gets on with her life and gets married and has three children and a touching memory that lingers with her and our dashing hero seems to only have regrets and a sick joke to lie with.
That's pretty funny.
And the punchline is he's miserable.
Big hero with the sled convinces young woman to go down the hill. Nadenka is terrified. Not our fearless narrator. He's not scared of some nasty ice hill. He's scared of life, and most importantly, love.
So he makes his innermost feelings into a joke. He doesn't have the guts to tell Nadenka straight to her face how he loves her.
Nadenka is petrified to go down the hill on the sled but she does it -- she takes the plunge. And then she becomes entranced with hearing those sweet words which our hero whispers to her while rushing down the hill. She even ventures down the hill on her own to verify where those lovely words originate from.
They come from our narrator who is a bona fide coward. He never tells her how he feels but instead runs away. (Macho, isn't he?)
The result is Nadenka gets on with her life and gets married and has three children and a touching memory that lingers with her and our dashing hero seems to only have regrets and a sick joke to lie with.
That's pretty funny.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
A WORK OF ART
A Work of Art
Art is in the eye of the beholder -- yes, beauty too.
They all seem to love the candelabra -- too much. (Liberace, anyone?)
Female nudes kept in an office or the home -- might not be apropos back then.
Surely, that has changed.
We are beyond all that type of prudishness.
Right?
Taking my six- year old son to the Metropolitan Museum of Art the other day -- walking by the ancient Greek statues he had three words to describe all those amazing sculptures the guide was brilliantly describing to a group of sophisticated tourists: Pee pee, butt, and boobs.
How childish. Not one of those sophisticated tourists was thinking the same thing. They were transfixed in the subtlety of the stone and the impressive use of angles and realism and making comparisons to the different uses of styles to represent the fusion between . . .
Chekhov is of course poking fun at us and cleverly uses our mores to fashion a witty story which reminds me a bit of O.Henry's story: The Gift of the Magi.
(Don't ask me why. The stories have absolutely nothing in common.)
There is an interesting article in the New York Times today about whether or not art can still shock.
It can.
If it's truly art.
Chekhov, as usual, is ahead of his time.
Art is in the eye of the beholder -- yes, beauty too.
They all seem to love the candelabra -- too much. (Liberace, anyone?)
Female nudes kept in an office or the home -- might not be apropos back then.
Surely, that has changed.
We are beyond all that type of prudishness.
Right?
Taking my six- year old son to the Metropolitan Museum of Art the other day -- walking by the ancient Greek statues he had three words to describe all those amazing sculptures the guide was brilliantly describing to a group of sophisticated tourists: Pee pee, butt, and boobs.
How childish. Not one of those sophisticated tourists was thinking the same thing. They were transfixed in the subtlety of the stone and the impressive use of angles and realism and making comparisons to the different uses of styles to represent the fusion between . . .
Chekhov is of course poking fun at us and cleverly uses our mores to fashion a witty story which reminds me a bit of O.Henry's story: The Gift of the Magi.
(Don't ask me why. The stories have absolutely nothing in common.)
There is an interesting article in the New York Times today about whether or not art can still shock.
It can.
If it's truly art.
Chekhov, as usual, is ahead of his time.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
NERVES
Nerves
He sees dead people.
She sees a horny man.
Vaxin, the architect, has just come back from a séance and the ghosts have followed him home.
Rosalia Karlovna, the German governess, knows what men want. Her.
And the wife is out all night praying.
Vaxin can't sleep.
Boo.
Rosalie Karlovna is snoring.
Vaxin is sweating.
Now you have all the ingredients.
Mix them up.
Stir for about five minutes.
Pour and enjoy.
Unless, of course, you're Vaxin's wife.
Boo!
He sees dead people.
She sees a horny man.
Vaxin, the architect, has just come back from a séance and the ghosts have followed him home.
Rosalia Karlovna, the German governess, knows what men want. Her.
And the wife is out all night praying.
Vaxin can't sleep.
Boo.
Rosalie Karlovna is snoring.
Vaxin is sweating.
Now you have all the ingredients.
Mix them up.
Stir for about five minutes.
Pour and enjoy.
Unless, of course, you're Vaxin's wife.
Boo!
Sunday, September 9, 2012
CHORISTERS
Choristers
The Count is coming!
The Count is coming!
To Yefremovo.
Which he owns.
Get ready the music.
Sacristan, is the choir ready?
Yes, sir.
Yes, sir.
Answers, Alexey Alexeitch the conductor and sacristan.
Practice makes perfect.
And practice they do.
Day and night.
Day after day.
Impressive thinks the little priest with the lilac cassock.
But not the deacon.
The deacon thinks the sacristan is wasting his time.
The count is an atheist.
He doesn't care for church music.
The sacristan hates the deacon.
The deacon thinks the sacristan is a fool.
The count is here!
The count is here!
Father Kuzma, the little priest with the lilac cassock, is knocking on the door of the sacristan.
What's going on?
No choir.
No Choir?
No choir.
The deacon is right.
The sacristan will never hear the end of it.
And then . . .
The deacon is also rejected.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
The Count is coming!
The Count is coming!
To Yefremovo.
Which he owns.
Get ready the music.
Sacristan, is the choir ready?
Yes, sir.
Yes, sir.
Answers, Alexey Alexeitch the conductor and sacristan.
Practice makes perfect.
And practice they do.
Day and night.
Day after day.
Impressive thinks the little priest with the lilac cassock.
But not the deacon.
The deacon thinks the sacristan is wasting his time.
The count is an atheist.
He doesn't care for church music.
The sacristan hates the deacon.
The deacon thinks the sacristan is a fool.
The count is here!
The count is here!
Father Kuzma, the little priest with the lilac cassock, is knocking on the door of the sacristan.
What's going on?
No choir.
No Choir?
No choir.
The deacon is right.
The sacristan will never hear the end of it.
And then . . .
The deacon is also rejected.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
A DAUGHTER OF ALBION
A Daughter of Albion
Gryabov, the landowner, seems to have it in for the Englishwoman, Wilka Charlesnova Fyce. He keeps insulting her while he fishes with her. Then he strips naked in front of her. A bit kinky, I'd say.
As much as Gryabov says he despises the daughter of Albion, you wonder why he is alone with her fishing. He also professes to hate fishing and he sits all day at the beach fishing.
What's going on?
This is a strange story. What exactly is the relationship between Gryabov and Fyce? You have to think that although he insults her, he is also drawn to her. But what about the daughter of Albion? What is she all about? That's what makes this story so strange. She sits there like some statue not understanding a word of Russian -- although she's been there for years. Does she not want to learn Russian or is she pretending not to understand? If she doesn't speak Russian -- then what is she doing in Gryabov's home? Can she take care of children without being able to communicate? There is a mystery surrounding these events.
Otsov, the Marshal of Nobility, seems to represent the common wisdom. He tells Gryabov to quit fishing and come home and start drinking some vodka -- but Gryabov is addicted. To fishing and to the Englishwoman. Despite of himself. He's been hooked and is stuck under a stone and there's no one that could lift him up and set him free except himself. However, right now his inclination is to stay hooked.
The crooked nose of the Englishwoman has got him by the balls.
Gryabov, the landowner, seems to have it in for the Englishwoman, Wilka Charlesnova Fyce. He keeps insulting her while he fishes with her. Then he strips naked in front of her. A bit kinky, I'd say.
As much as Gryabov says he despises the daughter of Albion, you wonder why he is alone with her fishing. He also professes to hate fishing and he sits all day at the beach fishing.
What's going on?
This is a strange story. What exactly is the relationship between Gryabov and Fyce? You have to think that although he insults her, he is also drawn to her. But what about the daughter of Albion? What is she all about? That's what makes this story so strange. She sits there like some statue not understanding a word of Russian -- although she's been there for years. Does she not want to learn Russian or is she pretending not to understand? If she doesn't speak Russian -- then what is she doing in Gryabov's home? Can she take care of children without being able to communicate? There is a mystery surrounding these events.
Otsov, the Marshal of Nobility, seems to represent the common wisdom. He tells Gryabov to quit fishing and come home and start drinking some vodka -- but Gryabov is addicted. To fishing and to the Englishwoman. Despite of himself. He's been hooked and is stuck under a stone and there's no one that could lift him up and set him free except himself. However, right now his inclination is to stay hooked.
The crooked nose of the Englishwoman has got him by the balls.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
THE LION AND THE SUN
The Lion and the Sun
Kutsyn, the mayor, loves medals.
He lives for them.
Persian, Serbian.
But no matter how many he receives he'll always want more.
Recipe for unhappiness.
Kutsyn might want to look up The Second Noble Truth.
Again, when I read Chekhov I notice how many of his stories align themselves with the teachings of Buddhism.
Coincidence?
Kutsyn, the mayor, loves medals.
He lives for them.
Persian, Serbian.
But no matter how many he receives he'll always want more.
Recipe for unhappiness.
Kutsyn might want to look up The Second Noble Truth.
Again, when I read Chekhov I notice how many of his stories align themselves with the teachings of Buddhism.
Coincidence?
Monday, September 3, 2012
MARTYRS
Martyrs
So you're sick and need to feel better -- what do you ask for? Jew jokes. And the husband obliges.
I have to say after reading most of Chekhov stories, I am still amazed about the way the society of the time looks at Jews. If I had the time or inclination -- I would write a thesis about Jewish life in Russia during the 19th century using only Chekhov stories.
This story is about a very spoiled wife who needs a lot of attention and the schmuck husband that attends to her and who feels the more he gives the better man he is.
She will keep taking and he will keep giving.
Oy vey!
So you're sick and need to feel better -- what do you ask for? Jew jokes. And the husband obliges.
I have to say after reading most of Chekhov stories, I am still amazed about the way the society of the time looks at Jews. If I had the time or inclination -- I would write a thesis about Jewish life in Russia during the 19th century using only Chekhov stories.
This story is about a very spoiled wife who needs a lot of attention and the schmuck husband that attends to her and who feels the more he gives the better man he is.
She will keep taking and he will keep giving.
Oy vey!
Sunday, September 2, 2012
AN INQUIRY
An Inquiry
Money talks.
Bullshit walks.
Some things never change.
A harsh look at a government office.
Everything is dirty.
The fly feels right at home.
Voldyrev, a country gentleman (who is there because of some lawsuit -- so he may not be so clean either), feels invisible.
Takes three roubles to be noticed.
I'd call it a bargain.
Have you ever had to negotiate with a five year old?
Money talks.
Bullshit walks.
Some things never change.
A harsh look at a government office.
Everything is dirty.
The fly feels right at home.
Voldyrev, a country gentleman (who is there because of some lawsuit -- so he may not be so clean either), feels invisible.
Takes three roubles to be noticed.
I'd call it a bargain.
Have you ever had to negotiate with a five year old?
Saturday, September 1, 2012
ABORIGINES
Aborigines
Some people have only hate to keep them going. Unfortunately, haters are not that rare. And once you start hating -- it only gets worse. It's a downward spiral. Unlike, lovers, who bring joy to the world, haters only bring more hate to the world.
You see, I told you it was addictive. So I'm going to stop hating the haters. Obviously they are sad and lonely people and desperately need a dose of good old fashioned love.
In case Lyashkevsky wants to party -- he could hang out with Clint Eastwood's character in Gran Torino. Just bring a chair.
Some people have only hate to keep them going. Unfortunately, haters are not that rare. And once you start hating -- it only gets worse. It's a downward spiral. Unlike, lovers, who bring joy to the world, haters only bring more hate to the world.
You see, I told you it was addictive. So I'm going to stop hating the haters. Obviously they are sad and lonely people and desperately need a dose of good old fashioned love.
In case Lyashkevsky wants to party -- he could hang out with Clint Eastwood's character in Gran Torino. Just bring a chair.
Friday, August 31, 2012
THE COSSACK
The Cossack
And everything was going so well.
But if you're a compassionate, caring person -- you can't accept selfishness. It's a duty -- a calling -- to look out for others. To be a true Christian -- you have to be charitable -- otherwise, it's all empty ritual.
Okay, so the farmer might have failed the test when he meets the sick Cossack on the road and wants to share some cake but lets his wife convince him to give him nothing. The farmer, however, realizes he messed up and sends someone to help the Cossack. Most importantly, he begins to understand that his wife might not be the person he imagines her to be.
Here is where the farmer, Tortchakov, plays the wrong hand. Fix the problem. You're not happy with your wife-- then talk to her or end the marriage. And if you're not happy with your own state of mind -- work it out. Start behaving more charitably. Spend your time helping your neighbors. Good deeds.
Naturally, this advice is hard to swallow when you're depressed. The incident shocked Tortchakov, who is a decent man, and could very well have gotten him so down that he lets his life unravel.
Beware of the sick Cossack that could appear anywhere or any other person which tests you and illuminates the true nature of your life.
Or you could simply stop caring.
And everything was going so well.
But if you're a compassionate, caring person -- you can't accept selfishness. It's a duty -- a calling -- to look out for others. To be a true Christian -- you have to be charitable -- otherwise, it's all empty ritual.
Okay, so the farmer might have failed the test when he meets the sick Cossack on the road and wants to share some cake but lets his wife convince him to give him nothing. The farmer, however, realizes he messed up and sends someone to help the Cossack. Most importantly, he begins to understand that his wife might not be the person he imagines her to be.
Here is where the farmer, Tortchakov, plays the wrong hand. Fix the problem. You're not happy with your wife-- then talk to her or end the marriage. And if you're not happy with your own state of mind -- work it out. Start behaving more charitably. Spend your time helping your neighbors. Good deeds.
Naturally, this advice is hard to swallow when you're depressed. The incident shocked Tortchakov, who is a decent man, and could very well have gotten him so down that he lets his life unravel.
Beware of the sick Cossack that could appear anywhere or any other person which tests you and illuminates the true nature of your life.
Or you could simply stop caring.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
TOO EARLY
Too Early
A slice of peasant life.
The sun is setting -- the snipe may be flying over -- there is one major propblem for these hunters.
They have no gun.
Pawned for vodka.
They beg for the gun from the restaurant owner, Semyon, and he refuses to budge. One rouble and they can get it back. They are broke.
Off to the forest they go and see if the snipe has arrived or not. The forest is dark and scary but they are patient and they wait. Nothing.
Home go Slyunka and Ryabov silently.
They have time yet to get their guns back -- however that doesn't seem likely. But miracles do happen -- Easter is approaching and one of them may find a way to reclaim his gun.
If you are a snipe -- you hope not.
What stands out is the poverty of the people and the amplitude of nature.
A slice of peasant life.
The sun is setting -- the snipe may be flying over -- there is one major propblem for these hunters.
They have no gun.
Pawned for vodka.
They beg for the gun from the restaurant owner, Semyon, and he refuses to budge. One rouble and they can get it back. They are broke.
Off to the forest they go and see if the snipe has arrived or not. The forest is dark and scary but they are patient and they wait. Nothing.
Home go Slyunka and Ryabov silently.
They have time yet to get their guns back -- however that doesn't seem likely. But miracles do happen -- Easter is approaching and one of them may find a way to reclaim his gun.
If you are a snipe -- you hope not.
What stands out is the poverty of the people and the amplitude of nature.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
THE DOCTOR
The Doctor
So let me get this straight -- the child has a brain tumor and is dying -- the mother is understandably heartbroken -- but the good doctor is only worried about whether he's the father of the sick child.
No wonder he has trouble talking to weeping women and children.
In answer to your last question, doctor:
Listen Dr. Tsvyetkov, Olga is going through a very hard time. She doesn't need you bothering her right now about whether or not you're the father of the child. Or whether she is a liar. There are more important things going on. Is that very hard to understand? What exactly do you want from her? You call yourself a doctor. Who gave you that license? Seriously, man, you just might be a sociopath as you show no sympathy for the suffering of others. But hey, there's always hope. So why don't you go and give her a little bit of consoling and start acting like a human being. Maybe, just maybe, one day you may get your wish. And she will see who you are. (Not so sure that's a good thing.) Now take two aspirins and call me in the morning.
At least I tried.
So let me get this straight -- the child has a brain tumor and is dying -- the mother is understandably heartbroken -- but the good doctor is only worried about whether he's the father of the sick child.
No wonder he has trouble talking to weeping women and children.
In answer to your last question, doctor:
Listen Dr. Tsvyetkov, Olga is going through a very hard time. She doesn't need you bothering her right now about whether or not you're the father of the child. Or whether she is a liar. There are more important things going on. Is that very hard to understand? What exactly do you want from her? You call yourself a doctor. Who gave you that license? Seriously, man, you just might be a sociopath as you show no sympathy for the suffering of others. But hey, there's always hope. So why don't you go and give her a little bit of consoling and start acting like a human being. Maybe, just maybe, one day you may get your wish. And she will see who you are. (Not so sure that's a good thing.) Now take two aspirins and call me in the morning.
At least I tried.
A LIVING CHATTEL
A Living Chattel
What goes around comes around.
Twists and turns of fate.
The story is too manipulated for my taste. The point is the moral: we can't escape our fate.
The characters were not very interesting -- and too one-dimensional -- I realize that's the point -- especially when it comes to Groholsky. He is a slave to love. Or just a slave.
I found the story interesting at the very beginning when Groholsky and Bugrov are squaring off. But once the money deal was transacted -- the rest just kept repeating itself.
What I best enjoy in Chekhov's stories is when the characters surprise me -- inspire me -- when they are so real I feel I know them and understand them -- or I want to meet them and spend a few minutes chewing the fat with them.
In this morality tale -- I never felt the characters were interesting -- more like puppets driving home the point: if you do harm -- don't think you are scott free -- somehow it comes back to bite you.
I'll be good.
What goes around comes around.
Twists and turns of fate.
The story is too manipulated for my taste. The point is the moral: we can't escape our fate.
The characters were not very interesting -- and too one-dimensional -- I realize that's the point -- especially when it comes to Groholsky. He is a slave to love. Or just a slave.
I found the story interesting at the very beginning when Groholsky and Bugrov are squaring off. But once the money deal was transacted -- the rest just kept repeating itself.
What I best enjoy in Chekhov's stories is when the characters surprise me -- inspire me -- when they are so real I feel I know them and understand them -- or I want to meet them and spend a few minutes chewing the fat with them.
In this morality tale -- I never felt the characters were interesting -- more like puppets driving home the point: if you do harm -- don't think you are scott free -- somehow it comes back to bite you.
I'll be good.
MARI D'ELLE
Mari d'Elle
Hanger on.
A sad tale of a man who never made it on his own. He lives off his wife who is a famous singer. He dreams big and pretends to maintain some pride -- but it's apparent his dreams are illusions, as well as his pride.
His whole life is now dependent on his wife who despises him.
Sounds like the making of a good opera.
Hanger on.
A sad tale of a man who never made it on his own. He lives off his wife who is a famous singer. He dreams big and pretends to maintain some pride -- but it's apparent his dreams are illusions, as well as his pride.
His whole life is now dependent on his wife who despises him.
Sounds like the making of a good opera.
Friday, August 24, 2012
A STORY WITHOUT AN END
A Story Without An End
The human soul is a mystery.
If you think you can understand why people try to commit suicide, think again.
Tony Scott, the director of Top Gun recently jumped to his death from a bridge -- everyone is trying to find a motive -- but as this story points out:
"Man will never understand the psychological subleties of suicide!"
And not just suicide -- but all of our actions can't be entirely explained. Like Vassilyev -- we are all posers --- revealing a bit here and there -- but ultimately what goes on inside like the vastness all around us -- remains a mystery even to ourselves.
Just like time and our thoughts -- all is transitory -- why we do something this minute will be different from the way we react two minutes from now -- maybe you are drinking coffee and reading this and it's making sense or maybe your coffee is a little bitter and nothing you are reading here makes any sense -- is it the coffee? -- the writing? -- or the mosquito buzzing around you? -- or the heat? or the cold? or the noise coming from the radio blasting from upstairs?
Ultimately everything is an adventure -- we don't know what tomorrow holds in the world out there or inside our minds. Our life is a story without an end -- until it ends.
The human soul is a mystery.
If you think you can understand why people try to commit suicide, think again.
Tony Scott, the director of Top Gun recently jumped to his death from a bridge -- everyone is trying to find a motive -- but as this story points out:
"Man will never understand the psychological subleties of suicide!"
And not just suicide -- but all of our actions can't be entirely explained. Like Vassilyev -- we are all posers --- revealing a bit here and there -- but ultimately what goes on inside like the vastness all around us -- remains a mystery even to ourselves.
Just like time and our thoughts -- all is transitory -- why we do something this minute will be different from the way we react two minutes from now -- maybe you are drinking coffee and reading this and it's making sense or maybe your coffee is a little bitter and nothing you are reading here makes any sense -- is it the coffee? -- the writing? -- or the mosquito buzzing around you? -- or the heat? or the cold? or the noise coming from the radio blasting from upstairs?
Ultimately everything is an adventure -- we don't know what tomorrow holds in the world out there or inside our minds. Our life is a story without an end -- until it ends.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
LIGHTS
Lights
What's it all about, Alfie?
Engineers at work on railroads and the meaning of life. We drift from the far away lights to a beach town romance to waking up to the concerns of daily life. The big questions of life are discussed, analyzed, and finally we end up where we started. Personally, I love this type of Chekhov story. It raises questions and discusses ideas you think you are the only one thinking about -- but then you realize they have been thought about for a long time and artists have tried to depict in their works for ages.
Kept thinking at the end that Ananyev had gone back and saved his Kisotchka. But Romanticim was displaced by Existentialism or Nihilism or Whatever some time ago and in the end we still deal with the fundamental questions of life the best way we can.
ALAN
Then it’s a mystery. Mystery is good. The problem with our world is we want answers for everything. But some things are mysterious and they should be left at that. That’s what makes great art. Like the Mona Lisa smile. If we knew why she’s smiling then it wouldn’t be such a great painting.
KEITH
What’s the Mona Lisa got to do with anything? Somebody put the jacket in here.
ALAN
All I’m saying is there are things that can’t be explained. Like take the sun for instance. Try to explain it to people: Yeah, there’s this giant burning thing a hundred times bigger than the Earth and if you stare at it for too long you’ll go blind --
KEITH
Don’t have to explain it. Sun’s there. All you got to do is look up.
ALAN
But what I’m saying is what if someone didn’t know the sun existed and you had to explain its existence --
ALAN
ALAN
KEITH
ALAN
KEITH
Shakespeare Macbeth
Matthew Arnold Dover Beach
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
"Yes, there's no understanding anything in this world!"
The sun began to rise. . . .
Samuel Beckett Waiting For Godot
Popeye: [singing]
What's it all about, Alfie?
Engineers at work on railroads and the meaning of life. We drift from the far away lights to a beach town romance to waking up to the concerns of daily life. The big questions of life are discussed, analyzed, and finally we end up where we started. Personally, I love this type of Chekhov story. It raises questions and discusses ideas you think you are the only one thinking about -- but then you realize they have been thought about for a long time and artists have tried to depict in their works for ages.
Kept thinking at the end that Ananyev had gone back and saved his Kisotchka. But Romanticim was displaced by Existentialism or Nihilism or Whatever some time ago and in the end we still deal with the fundamental questions of life the best way we can.
ALAN
Then it’s a mystery. Mystery is good. The problem with our world is we want answers for everything. But some things are mysterious and they should be left at that. That’s what makes great art. Like the Mona Lisa smile. If we knew why she’s smiling then it wouldn’t be such a great painting.
KEITH
What’s the Mona Lisa got to do with anything? Somebody put the jacket in here.
ALAN
All I’m saying is there are things that can’t be explained. Like take the sun for instance. Try to explain it to people: Yeah, there’s this giant burning thing a hundred times bigger than the Earth and if you stare at it for too long you’ll go blind --
KEITH
Don’t have to explain it. Sun’s there. All you got to do is look up.
ALAN
But what I’m saying is what if someone didn’t know the sun existed and you had to explain its existence --
KEITH
But it does exist so I don’t have to explain shit.
ALAN
It’s
not just the sun. It’s the whole universe. Like it doesn’t have a beginning. I
mean you can’t go somewhere and buy a ticket to enter the universe, can you?
And where does it end? Is there a billboard announcing two million miles more
till the end better buy gas now? No! It doesn’t have an end, either. It just
goes on forever and ever.
KEITH
KEITH
Sort
of like you --
ALAN
And
why does anything actually exist at all? Why? You know if there was nothing --
that I could understand. It’s just nothing. Plain and simple. But from that
nothing an urge to be something was born. Where did that come from? Nothing
wasn’t happy being nothing so it decided to be something? How did nothing know
something was possible? How did it go about creating
something? Nothing had nothing to help it create something yet it not only
created something -- it created the whole universe. And if nothing created
something then was it ever really nothing? But what’s the alternative? That
something has always existed -- that doesn’t make much more sense either -- how
does something always exist? We’re surrounded by a totally unexplainable mystery
so why should anything that happens anywhere anytime not also be a totally
unexplainable mystery?
KEITH
KEITH
You see this knife.
(KEITH grabs knife.)
It’s sharp. Press it against
your skin. Cuts your skin. You bleed. Don’t stop bleeding. You die.
ALAN
ALAN
What’s that knife made of? I
mean really made of. Millions . . . billions of atoms. What
exactly is an atom? And what makes them come together to make that knife?
KEITH
Know what a knife does know what
it don’t do. This knife starts flying around -- singing and dancing then we got
something to talk about.
ALAN
But the atoms that make up your
knife are going around doing their own version of singing and dancing. And if
they stopped your knife would disappear and so would everything else.
KEITH
Even you?
ALAN
ALAN
Even me.
KEITH
KEITH
Then I’d call that a fair trade.
Shakespeare Macbeth
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Matthew Arnold Dover Beach
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
Anton Chekhov Lights
"Yes, there's no understanding anything in this world!"
The sun began to rise. . . .
Samuel Beckett Waiting For Godot
ESTRAGON:
Well? Shall we go?
VLADIMIR:
Pull on your
trousers.
ESTRAGON:
What?
VLADIMIR:
Pull on your
trousers.
ESTRAGON:
You want me to
pull off my trousers?
VLADIMIR:
Pull ON your
trousers.
ESTRAGON:
(realising his
trousers are down). True.
He pulls up his trousers.
VLADIMIR:
Well? Shall we go
?
ESTRAGON:
Yes, let's go.
They do not move.
Popeye: [singing]
I yam what I yam and I yam what I
yam that I yam / And I got a lotta muscle and I only gots one eye / And I'll
never hurt nobodys and I'll never tell a lie / Top to me bottom and me bottom
to me top / That's the way it is 'til the day that I drop, what am I? / I yam
what I yam."
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
LOVE
Love
He loves her.
He loves her not.
If you stare at something long enough you will notice all the imperfections.
Some things are better off not being analyzed.
Holistic.
Once you start to deconstruct -- you may wind up with little pieces that just like Humpty Dumpty can't be put together again.
Prediction: Next stop for this fellow -- divorce court.
He loves her.
He loves her not.
If you stare at something long enough you will notice all the imperfections.
Some things are better off not being analyzed.
Holistic.
Once you start to deconstruct -- you may wind up with little pieces that just like Humpty Dumpty can't be put together again.
Prediction: Next stop for this fellow -- divorce court.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
THE SWEDISH MATCH
The Swedish Match
Joe Friday on the old television show, Dragnet, used to say: "Just the facts ma'am."
Some good advice.
A vivid imagination in a police investigation can land innocent people in jail.
Tchubikov, the examining magistrate and his assistant Dyukovsky both jump to conclusions not warranted by any facts. Their idea of an investigation is putting a credible story (in their mind) together and going from there.
A little consultation with John Adams would have helped: "Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passion, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence. "
The Swedish match is where some solid investigation is done and it helps lead to the solution -- although not the one fitting the concocted story of Tchubikov and Dyukovsky.
If you have a vivid imagination -- try writing novels.
If you're going to do police work -- stick to the facts.
That said, Malcolm Gladwell's book, Blink, gives us an interesting take on Tchubikov and Dyukovsky.
Gladwell writes: "You could also say that it's a book about intuition, except that I don't like that word. In fact it never appears in "Blink." Intuition strikes me as a concept we use to describe emotional reactions, gut feelings--thoughts and impressions that don't seem entirely rational. But I think that what goes on in that first two seconds is perfectly rational."
As Maxwell Smart used to say:
"Would you believe . . ."
Joe Friday on the old television show, Dragnet, used to say: "Just the facts ma'am."
Some good advice.
A vivid imagination in a police investigation can land innocent people in jail.
Tchubikov, the examining magistrate and his assistant Dyukovsky both jump to conclusions not warranted by any facts. Their idea of an investigation is putting a credible story (in their mind) together and going from there.
A little consultation with John Adams would have helped: "Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passion, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence. "
The Swedish match is where some solid investigation is done and it helps lead to the solution -- although not the one fitting the concocted story of Tchubikov and Dyukovsky.
If you have a vivid imagination -- try writing novels.
If you're going to do police work -- stick to the facts.
That said, Malcolm Gladwell's book, Blink, gives us an interesting take on Tchubikov and Dyukovsky.
Gladwell writes: "You could also say that it's a book about intuition, except that I don't like that word. In fact it never appears in "Blink." Intuition strikes me as a concept we use to describe emotional reactions, gut feelings--thoughts and impressions that don't seem entirely rational. But I think that what goes on in that first two seconds is perfectly rational."
As Maxwell Smart used to say:
"Would you believe . . ."
Saturday, August 18, 2012
ART
Art
Seryozhka is abusive, lazy, and drunk.
But he has a gift.
Once a year he become a medium for God -- he becomes a creator.
His creations are a wonder to everyone.
There have been many talented artists with serious character flaws, and despite this, the world kneels in front of them.
Pays them homage.
Art transforms the ordinary -- it brings us closer to the universal -- to the divine -- and those who have been infused with the gift elevates everyone -- and they in kind get to live above the norm.
Seems like a fair bargain.
Seryozhka is abusive, lazy, and drunk.
But he has a gift.
Once a year he become a medium for God -- he becomes a creator.
His creations are a wonder to everyone.
There have been many talented artists with serious character flaws, and despite this, the world kneels in front of them.
Pays them homage.
Art transforms the ordinary -- it brings us closer to the universal -- to the divine -- and those who have been infused with the gift elevates everyone -- and they in kind get to live above the norm.
Seems like a fair bargain.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Monday, August 13, 2012
AN ADVENTURE
An Adventure
Take the Money and Run.
Karma is a Bitch.
Father is a good man but he likes to imbibe.
Then he brags.
And the adventure begins.
Definitely keeps you involved.
Nice twists and turns.
However, I was struck by the line: "And Anyutka lay there, poor child, hearing every word and shaking like a Jew in a frying pan."
Where does that come from? Why is the Jew being vilified here? If these idioms were part of the vernacular, then does it indicate how much the prejudice against them was ingrained in the society? Why does Chekhov include this loathsome line in a story where Jews play no part? Was it to add flavor to the narrator -- to add authenticity? I don't know. But after what Jews endured in the 20th century -- one gets a sense of the almost casual venom directed against them most likely for centuries and one also finds the language particularly disturbing.
Take the Money and Run.
Karma is a Bitch.
Father is a good man but he likes to imbibe.
Then he brags.
And the adventure begins.
Definitely keeps you involved.
Nice twists and turns.
However, I was struck by the line: "And Anyutka lay there, poor child, hearing every word and shaking like a Jew in a frying pan."
Where does that come from? Why is the Jew being vilified here? If these idioms were part of the vernacular, then does it indicate how much the prejudice against them was ingrained in the society? Why does Chekhov include this loathsome line in a story where Jews play no part? Was it to add flavor to the narrator -- to add authenticity? I don't know. But after what Jews endured in the 20th century -- one gets a sense of the almost casual venom directed against them most likely for centuries and one also finds the language particularly disturbing.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
THE BIRD MARKET
The Bird Market
A day in the life of a Moscow bird market with all its vibrancy and despair.
Some go there to amuse themselves -- others to make a living -- all comes at a price -- a very heavy price if you are a hare or a frog or any other creature being put up for sale.
Chekhov points out how every one plays a role -- how some are respected and honored at the market and others are ignored -- and like similar markets in the world -- there are winners and losers. Aggressors and victims.
Chekhov's artistry and his ability to make us empathize with the victims -- is best on display when he decribes the blackbird:
"A faded old blackbird, with most of its feathers plucked out of its tail, sits on a dirty perch. He is dignified, grave, and motionless as a retired general. He has waved his claw in resignation to his captivity long ago, and looks at the blue sky with indifference, he is considered a sagacious bird."
One cannot help but feel sad for the bird and all other dignified beings who have had their freedom taken away from them, in one way, or another.
At some point in our lives we will be more like that blackbird than we ever wish to imagine.
A day in the life of a Moscow bird market with all its vibrancy and despair.
Some go there to amuse themselves -- others to make a living -- all comes at a price -- a very heavy price if you are a hare or a frog or any other creature being put up for sale.
Chekhov points out how every one plays a role -- how some are respected and honored at the market and others are ignored -- and like similar markets in the world -- there are winners and losers. Aggressors and victims.
Chekhov's artistry and his ability to make us empathize with the victims -- is best on display when he decribes the blackbird:
"A faded old blackbird, with most of its feathers plucked out of its tail, sits on a dirty perch. He is dignified, grave, and motionless as a retired general. He has waved his claw in resignation to his captivity long ago, and looks at the blue sky with indifference, he is considered a sagacious bird."
One cannot help but feel sad for the bird and all other dignified beings who have had their freedom taken away from them, in one way, or another.
At some point in our lives we will be more like that blackbird than we ever wish to imagine.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
WHO WAS TO BLAME?
Who Was to Blame?
Beware of the uncle.
We always talk about how a good teacher can inspire their students, but as this story very well points out, bad teaching can also have a lasting impact.
How many amazing contributions were never realized due to severely misguided pedagogy?
Teach the children well.
Beware of the uncle.
We always talk about how a good teacher can inspire their students, but as this story very well points out, bad teaching can also have a lasting impact.
How many amazing contributions were never realized due to severely misguided pedagogy?
Teach the children well.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
THE DEPENDENTS
The Dependents
If it wasn't for programs like Social Security and Medicare -- the life of Zotov would be the lot for many of our elderly.
As for the old dog and the old horse -- is there anything sadder than when Zotov is walking towards the farm and turns around and discovers the animals trailing behind him? Loyalty rarely pays.
There was recently an interesting article about how dogs are treated in India. Many are left out in the streets to fend for themselves and are rabid but there is a law against putting them to sleep.
The bottom line is we are all dependent on each other.
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
If it wasn't for programs like Social Security and Medicare -- the life of Zotov would be the lot for many of our elderly.
As for the old dog and the old horse -- is there anything sadder than when Zotov is walking towards the farm and turns around and discovers the animals trailing behind him? Loyalty rarely pays.
There was recently an interesting article about how dogs are treated in India. Many are left out in the streets to fend for themselves and are rabid but there is a law against putting them to sleep.
The bottom line is we are all dependent on each other.
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
John Donne
Saturday, August 4, 2012
A CHAMELEON
A Chameleon
Great story poking fun at the way people kiss up to those in power.
Very true and very funny.
Sometimes when one observes the world and the way it works -- one thinks -- I can't believe people get away with what they get away with. But the fact is -- the established order of the world probably hasn't changed much for thousands of years. In other words, you can go back to ancient Rome and you'd see the power structures and the way people react to the power structure similar to a modern day corporation.
In the elevator -- the upper echelon manager ignores the person delivering the office mail -- but becomes very chatty when the vice-president enters -- or the Roman Senator dismisses the person cleaning the floors but beams when the Emperor visits.
Or the executives at a corporate meeting all laugh heartily at the lame joke by the CEO and the funny career file clerk doesn't get much recognition from anyone except maybe his mama.
No wonder everyone wants to become a celebrity.
Great story poking fun at the way people kiss up to those in power.
Very true and very funny.
Sometimes when one observes the world and the way it works -- one thinks -- I can't believe people get away with what they get away with. But the fact is -- the established order of the world probably hasn't changed much for thousands of years. In other words, you can go back to ancient Rome and you'd see the power structures and the way people react to the power structure similar to a modern day corporation.
In the elevator -- the upper echelon manager ignores the person delivering the office mail -- but becomes very chatty when the vice-president enters -- or the Roman Senator dismisses the person cleaning the floors but beams when the Emperor visits.
Or the executives at a corporate meeting all laugh heartily at the lame joke by the CEO and the funny career file clerk doesn't get much recognition from anyone except maybe his mama.
No wonder everyone wants to become a celebrity.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
KASHTANKA
Kashtanka
Dog has a rough life.
So it seems.
Gets lost.
Finds a new owner who loves her.
Still the dog misses her old home.
Why?
Smells.
Varnish, glue.
Places.
Under a bench.
The little boy.
Family and home
Good or bad one gets used to them.
And even when the new place seems better one still misses the old ways.
Dog is found.
Going home again.
Everything else was just a bad dream.
Unappreciative?
Maybe.
That's life.
Dog has a rough life.
So it seems.
Gets lost.
Finds a new owner who loves her.
Still the dog misses her old home.
Why?
Smells.
Varnish, glue.
Places.
Under a bench.
The little boy.
Family and home
Good or bad one gets used to them.
And even when the new place seems better one still misses the old ways.
Dog is found.
Going home again.
Everything else was just a bad dream.
Unappreciative?
Maybe.
That's life.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Monday, July 23, 2012
IN PASSION WEEK
In Passion Week
Brainwashing or comforting?
I've been watching Bill Moyer's series Faith and Reason and this story has many connections to the show.
We see how religion and faith can be very meaningful to people and actually helps many get through life. A promise of eternal salvation and forgiveness of sin is not a bad deal.
But of course it comes at a cost.
Rationality and reason has to take a backseat.
Through the boy's eyes we see the mystery and lure of the church and its rituals and we also witness the absurdity and repression.
The quest for something greater than ourselves -- a place in the cosmos -- an understanding of what it's all for -- is part of our DNA -- unfortunately so is the pettiness and the fear.
Brainwashing or comforting?
I've been watching Bill Moyer's series Faith and Reason and this story has many connections to the show.
We see how religion and faith can be very meaningful to people and actually helps many get through life. A promise of eternal salvation and forgiveness of sin is not a bad deal.
But of course it comes at a cost.
Rationality and reason has to take a backseat.
Through the boy's eyes we see the mystery and lure of the church and its rituals and we also witness the absurdity and repression.
The quest for something greater than ourselves -- a place in the cosmos -- an understanding of what it's all for -- is part of our DNA -- unfortunately so is the pettiness and the fear.
Friday, July 20, 2012
THE OLD HOUSE
The Old House
Jinxed, shall we say?
Someone ought to call an exorcist.
Or maybe people living on the edge don't need much help to tip them over.
And they keep rolling downhill.
A bit pessimistic?
Don't look at me -- talk to Chekhov.
As far as the house, may I suggest an expert in Feng shui or, better yet, a bulldozer.
Jinxed, shall we say?
Someone ought to call an exorcist.
Or maybe people living on the edge don't need much help to tip them over.
And they keep rolling downhill.
A bit pessimistic?
Don't look at me -- talk to Chekhov.
As far as the house, may I suggest an expert in Feng shui or, better yet, a bulldozer.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
SHROVE TUESDAY
Shrove Tuesday
Forgive me if I'm yawning as I write this entry. This story does make you sleepy. Maybe that's the point.
The stomach is full. All is still except the mice. Ah, the mice behind the wallpaper. Kind of ruins the moment of tranquility for me -- but live and let live.
Lent is on the way and one must eat while the eating is good.
Some have more than they need. Get to lounge around and think of nothing important. Except fulfilling some duty whose significance has long been forgotten.
I'm being too judgmental. Please forgive me.
Should we envy our noble folks or pity them?
Yawn.
2/3 multiplied by 3/8 is . . .
While the cats sleep the mice play.
At least somebody is having some fun.
Tea time. Supper time.
What's the difference?
Someone ought pump up the music in this household.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz . . .
Forgive me if I'm yawning as I write this entry. This story does make you sleepy. Maybe that's the point.
The stomach is full. All is still except the mice. Ah, the mice behind the wallpaper. Kind of ruins the moment of tranquility for me -- but live and let live.
Lent is on the way and one must eat while the eating is good.
Some have more than they need. Get to lounge around and think of nothing important. Except fulfilling some duty whose significance has long been forgotten.
I'm being too judgmental. Please forgive me.
Should we envy our noble folks or pity them?
Yawn.
2/3 multiplied by 3/8 is . . .
While the cats sleep the mice play.
At least somebody is having some fun.
Tea time. Supper time.
What's the difference?
Someone ought pump up the music in this household.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz . . .
Friday, July 13, 2012
BOYS
Boys
Coming to America.
Boys will be boys.
Cowboys and Indians.
Heroes and Villains.
Any more cliches?
Oh, yeah . . . California, Here I come.
Teens dreaming of real adventure -- not some video game fantasy. (The Times They Are A-Changin')
Leaving home and walking for thousands of miles alone in Siberia -- not roughing it in the sands of the Bahamas.
Pretending to be an Indian Chief of the Wild West -- not King James of Miami.
Big dreams -- big ideas -- big hopes -- maybe they led us right into the Great War -- but big ideas and dreams also got us planes, trains, and automobiles!
Now, where is my remote? Man vs.Wild is on Discovery Channel.
Coming to America.
Boys will be boys.
Cowboys and Indians.
Heroes and Villains.
Any more cliches?
Oh, yeah . . . California, Here I come.
Teens dreaming of real adventure -- not some video game fantasy. (The Times They Are A-Changin')
Leaving home and walking for thousands of miles alone in Siberia -- not roughing it in the sands of the Bahamas.
Pretending to be an Indian Chief of the Wild West -- not King James of Miami.
Big dreams -- big ideas -- big hopes -- maybe they led us right into the Great War -- but big ideas and dreams also got us planes, trains, and automobiles!
Now, where is my remote? Man vs.Wild is on Discovery Channel.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
A DAY IN THE COUNTRY
A Day in the Country
Mother Nature working her magic.
We can relish in her pyrotechnics and also realize we are a part of the show.
Only a part.
Respect!
Reminds me of the Robert Frost poem:
Design
Mother Nature working her magic.
We can relish in her pyrotechnics and also realize we are a part of the show.
Only a part.
Respect!
Reminds me of the Robert Frost poem:
Design
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth --
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth --
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.
|
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
VANKA
Vanka
Poor Vanka.
He has it rough.
He deserves better.
He might as well be writing to Santa Claus.
The pleading letter that may save him will never get to the grandfather.
The only letter the grandfather may get about Vanka is one informing him his grandson has perished.
Well, the grandfather may not really care about Vanka as he send him off to Moscow. Maybe the grandfather thought he was doing Vanka a favor. Or maybe he got some money from the transaction.
I guess this would make the story even more tragic if the grandfather received the letter and did nothing.
Since this story is so sad I'll assume if the grandfather ever got the letter he would come and rescue his grandson. Call me sentimental.
How ironic is it that Vanka works for the shoemaker but doesn't have any shoes himself?
But I guess this isn't so unusual as workers from around the world are laboring day and night to provide us with goods which they themselves will never have.
Poor Vanka.
He has it rough.
He deserves better.
He might as well be writing to Santa Claus.
The pleading letter that may save him will never get to the grandfather.
The only letter the grandfather may get about Vanka is one informing him his grandson has perished.
Well, the grandfather may not really care about Vanka as he send him off to Moscow. Maybe the grandfather thought he was doing Vanka a favor. Or maybe he got some money from the transaction.
I guess this would make the story even more tragic if the grandfather received the letter and did nothing.
Since this story is so sad I'll assume if the grandfather ever got the letter he would come and rescue his grandson. Call me sentimental.
How ironic is it that Vanka works for the shoemaker but doesn't have any shoes himself?
But I guess this isn't so unusual as workers from around the world are laboring day and night to provide us with goods which they themselves will never have.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
A CLASSICAL STUDENT
A Classical Student
Here is some reading for the mother.
What the hell is wrong with this family?
The mother has high expectations. But she has zero heart.
Okay, let's look at it from the perspective of the mother. She has invested a lot for her son to succeed. And he didn't. Clearly, it seems like he's trying. But that's not good enough for this Tiger Mom. Hey, lady, your son isn't a robot. Give him a break!
I realize that there's a lot at stake and she depends on the son succeeding so he will grow up and take care of her. But she's insane.
The aunt isn't much better.
And that lodger doing the dirty work. Disgusting.
One would think the lodger is educated and he'll deal with the boy fairly. Wrong!
Obviously, looking at this story -- you blame the mother for being totally obsessed with grades and completely missing what a classical education is meant for. She is a parasite -- trying to get ahead on the back of a young man who is doing his best to carry the load.
The scary thing is that this type of parent is not that uncommon.
Vanya, you deserve better.
Here is some reading for the mother.
What the hell is wrong with this family?
The mother has high expectations. But she has zero heart.
Okay, let's look at it from the perspective of the mother. She has invested a lot for her son to succeed. And he didn't. Clearly, it seems like he's trying. But that's not good enough for this Tiger Mom. Hey, lady, your son isn't a robot. Give him a break!
I realize that there's a lot at stake and she depends on the son succeeding so he will grow up and take care of her. But she's insane.
The aunt isn't much better.
And that lodger doing the dirty work. Disgusting.
One would think the lodger is educated and he'll deal with the boy fairly. Wrong!
Obviously, looking at this story -- you blame the mother for being totally obsessed with grades and completely missing what a classical education is meant for. She is a parasite -- trying to get ahead on the back of a young man who is doing his best to carry the load.
The scary thing is that this type of parent is not that uncommon.
Vanya, you deserve better.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
HOME
Home
Father and son.
Truth.
Logic.
Sometimes when I finish a story, I just sit there and wonder how he is able to put it all together.
This story works so well on so many levels.
First, it tenderly portrays the love of a father for his son and the love of a son for his father. When the boy is sitting and stroking the father's beard -- the father experiences pure love. There is no greater joy. If I had read this story and truly understood it -- I would have become a parent much earlier than I did and would have opted for many more children.
When Seryozha tells his dad to keep the yellow dog -- it is so touching and accurate -- Chekhov at his best!
( Show don't tell.)
We are also invited inside the mind of a child -- adults should enter this world with caution. Adult logic and reason have little input here. A man can be bigger than a house. So get over it. And hence the art of Miro -- Picasso . . . etc.
The problem in the story is serious. It deals with truth. Most people -- children and grown-ups can't handle the truth. Logic doesn't go too far. We need to garnish it with stuff to make it palpable. Chekhov laments this in the story but he also knows that's the way it is and will always be. The nature of man?
All you have to do is look at the current presidential election and you'll notice all kinds of ads persuading you one way or another -- but logic plays a small part -- people vote and do things based on a myriad of factors -- and the truth and nothing but the truth seems to play a small part in their decision. Sad?
What is interesting to me is how in 1887 in Russia and I'm assuming in many other places -- people were well aware of the harm and danger of smoking -- sometimes we tend to think we realized that smoking is bad with the advent of modern science -- but people have known smoking kills for a long time.
In Yevgeny Petrovitch Bykovsky, Chekhov has created a thoroughly modern man. His reflections are completely relevant -- his musings about how the more one thinks about things -- the more indecisive one becomes (Obama, anyone?) really gets to the heart of our modern age. (Study the effects on the environment -- forget about it -- drill, baby, drill! Global warming, give me a break and turn on the air conditioner. Subtlety, nuance -- what is this a college class? Bold action -- right or wrong! Hence, Romney will act on his first day against anything Obama was for. A true man of action!)
The story is written in 1887 -- the Nazis have not yet appeared. Or Stalin. The intellectual will lose out to brutality. To this day we are still in the midst of what works best -- reason or brute strength. (Arab Spring?)
In order to make Home work so effectively -- Chekhov had to capture the ambience of the home -- the pacing upstairs -- the piano playing -- the study -- it all meshes and puts you into the place. The one key ingredient which makes the story even more powerful is the missing mother. You sense Bykovsky is still grieving the death of his wife and he also realizes how much Seryozha will never have. He could give him anything but he can't give him a mother's love.
Seryoza, might or might not give up smoking -- but he will grow up to be a good man because he has a great role model in his father.
Father and son.
Truth.
Logic.
Sometimes when I finish a story, I just sit there and wonder how he is able to put it all together.
This story works so well on so many levels.
First, it tenderly portrays the love of a father for his son and the love of a son for his father. When the boy is sitting and stroking the father's beard -- the father experiences pure love. There is no greater joy. If I had read this story and truly understood it -- I would have become a parent much earlier than I did and would have opted for many more children.
When Seryozha tells his dad to keep the yellow dog -- it is so touching and accurate -- Chekhov at his best!
( Show don't tell.)
We are also invited inside the mind of a child -- adults should enter this world with caution. Adult logic and reason have little input here. A man can be bigger than a house. So get over it. And hence the art of Miro -- Picasso . . . etc.
The problem in the story is serious. It deals with truth. Most people -- children and grown-ups can't handle the truth. Logic doesn't go too far. We need to garnish it with stuff to make it palpable. Chekhov laments this in the story but he also knows that's the way it is and will always be. The nature of man?
All you have to do is look at the current presidential election and you'll notice all kinds of ads persuading you one way or another -- but logic plays a small part -- people vote and do things based on a myriad of factors -- and the truth and nothing but the truth seems to play a small part in their decision. Sad?
What is interesting to me is how in 1887 in Russia and I'm assuming in many other places -- people were well aware of the harm and danger of smoking -- sometimes we tend to think we realized that smoking is bad with the advent of modern science -- but people have known smoking kills for a long time.
In Yevgeny Petrovitch Bykovsky, Chekhov has created a thoroughly modern man. His reflections are completely relevant -- his musings about how the more one thinks about things -- the more indecisive one becomes (Obama, anyone?) really gets to the heart of our modern age. (Study the effects on the environment -- forget about it -- drill, baby, drill! Global warming, give me a break and turn on the air conditioner. Subtlety, nuance -- what is this a college class? Bold action -- right or wrong! Hence, Romney will act on his first day against anything Obama was for. A true man of action!)
The story is written in 1887 -- the Nazis have not yet appeared. Or Stalin. The intellectual will lose out to brutality. To this day we are still in the midst of what works best -- reason or brute strength. (Arab Spring?)
In order to make Home work so effectively -- Chekhov had to capture the ambience of the home -- the pacing upstairs -- the piano playing -- the study -- it all meshes and puts you into the place. The one key ingredient which makes the story even more powerful is the missing mother. You sense Bykovsky is still grieving the death of his wife and he also realizes how much Seryozha will never have. He could give him anything but he can't give him a mother's love.
Seryoza, might or might not give up smoking -- but he will grow up to be a good man because he has a great role model in his father.
Monday, May 28, 2012
OYSTERS
Oysters
First let me get this out of the way:
This story is pure genius, a classic, timeless, a masterpiece!
Thanks, that feels better.
Okay, let's begin.
Down and out
Father and son
Roaming the streets of Moscow
Alms
Begging
Words get stuck
Hunger
Always hunger
Dead or dying
Ten roubles for oysters
Hallucinating
Desperation
Pacing up and down
Looking for way out
For an answer
Bite
Chew
There has to be something to eat
Anything
Here come the oysters
Whatever they are
Little frogs from the sea
Eat them live
Disgusting
Circus show
Watch the poor kid eat oysters
He even eats the shell
Hilarious (HaHaHa)
Give him another
Make you thirsty
Pace some more
The rich survive on oysters and other delicacies
But life gets boring sometimes
Thank God for the poor
You can always count on them for a laugh
And only for ten roubles
What a bargain
Save some money
For a little bread for a starving son
For a starving body
Don't be annoying
Amuse us
Eat some oysters boy
Keep pacing
Odds are against you
Serve the champagne.
First let me get this out of the way:
This story is pure genius, a classic, timeless, a masterpiece!
Thanks, that feels better.
Okay, let's begin.
Down and out
Father and son
Roaming the streets of Moscow
Alms
Begging
Words get stuck
Hunger
Always hunger
Dead or dying
Ten roubles for oysters
Hallucinating
Desperation
Pacing up and down
Looking for way out
For an answer
Bite
Chew
There has to be something to eat
Anything
Here come the oysters
Whatever they are
Little frogs from the sea
Eat them live
Disgusting
Circus show
Watch the poor kid eat oysters
He even eats the shell
Hilarious (HaHaHa)
Give him another
Make you thirsty
Pace some more
The rich survive on oysters and other delicacies
But life gets boring sometimes
Thank God for the poor
You can always count on them for a laugh
And only for ten roubles
What a bargain
Save some money
For a little bread for a starving son
For a starving body
Don't be annoying
Amuse us
Eat some oysters boy
Keep pacing
Odds are against you
Serve the champagne.
THE RUNAWAY
The Runaway
Promise Her Anything but Give Her Arpege -- the sort of ad the doctor would approve.
The busy doctor uses any means necessary to get his patients to do what he wants.
Fox, finches, fairs are all dangled in front of the boy's eyes to convince him to let his mother go home and stay at the hospital.
We are way out in the country -- and peasants are showing up after trekking for miles and miles. Most get insulted by Dr. Don Rickles when they get their chance.
Cruel to be kind? Or just frustration? The doctor is an old fashioned country doctor who is not politically correct but he genuinely cares about his patients and only wishes they'd listen to his advice.
Chekhov was a doctor and I imagine he used his experiences to fashion this tale. But what is this story about?
At first glance, it is a description of how medicine is practiced in the countryside -- where resources are limited and people like the doctor are doing amazing work with little credit.
The story is told through the eyes of a boy. This is an adventure for him. His elbow is in bad shape because his mother delayed in taking him to the hospital and he is now in danger of losing the arm. The operation is his last shot.
All seems dandy to the boy -- he gets good food and a nice bed -- but he keeps waiting for the doctor to fulfill his promise of finches, foxes and fairs -- and when he loses hope he goes out and takes a tour of the hospital before he gets whacked in the head.
So is this story telling us we are all fed false promises when we are young of how life is going to be before reality smacks us in the head and we realize the truth?
Maybe.
It may just be a story of a boy missing his mother.
Reading this story -- I am curious about how they quarantined the patients -- there are some in the hospital with small pox which is highly contagious -- what precautions were made?
Overall, it seems like the place is decent -- and considering all the circumstances -- the patients well taken care -- and the doctor ( Mr. Warmth) has dedicated his life to helping them.
Maybe Pashka can't at the moment -- but Chekhov -- could certainly appreciate that.
Promise Her Anything but Give Her Arpege -- the sort of ad the doctor would approve.
The busy doctor uses any means necessary to get his patients to do what he wants.
Fox, finches, fairs are all dangled in front of the boy's eyes to convince him to let his mother go home and stay at the hospital.
We are way out in the country -- and peasants are showing up after trekking for miles and miles. Most get insulted by Dr. Don Rickles when they get their chance.
Cruel to be kind? Or just frustration? The doctor is an old fashioned country doctor who is not politically correct but he genuinely cares about his patients and only wishes they'd listen to his advice.
Chekhov was a doctor and I imagine he used his experiences to fashion this tale. But what is this story about?
At first glance, it is a description of how medicine is practiced in the countryside -- where resources are limited and people like the doctor are doing amazing work with little credit.
The story is told through the eyes of a boy. This is an adventure for him. His elbow is in bad shape because his mother delayed in taking him to the hospital and he is now in danger of losing the arm. The operation is his last shot.
All seems dandy to the boy -- he gets good food and a nice bed -- but he keeps waiting for the doctor to fulfill his promise of finches, foxes and fairs -- and when he loses hope he goes out and takes a tour of the hospital before he gets whacked in the head.
So is this story telling us we are all fed false promises when we are young of how life is going to be before reality smacks us in the head and we realize the truth?
Maybe.
It may just be a story of a boy missing his mother.
Reading this story -- I am curious about how they quarantined the patients -- there are some in the hospital with small pox which is highly contagious -- what precautions were made?
Overall, it seems like the place is decent -- and considering all the circumstances -- the patients well taken care -- and the doctor ( Mr. Warmth) has dedicated his life to helping them.
Maybe Pashka can't at the moment -- but Chekhov -- could certainly appreciate that.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
CHILDREN
Children
Obviously this can't just be a story about children playing games.
It has to be about something deeper.
Class struggle -- yeah -- that must be it!
You have Andrey the cook's son competing with the rich children and running out of money-- he then borrows a kopeck but will soon be in debt and become a serf. Bingo.
Chekhov is merely fooling us with a simple tale of childhood -- his stories have angst and uncontrolled desires and digs deep into the human psyche -- he wouldn't dare waste our time following the antics of children. Who has time for that when the world has so many problems?
I got it! The lotto game symbolizes man's plight in the universe -- how the forces out of our control are busy shaping our destiny and we are all like children fooling ourselves that we have some say in how we shape our lives -- or possibly the children represent our animal cravings which are constantly battling with our reason and we think we can overcome them with maturity but we are all lost . . . okay I give up.
Could it be he just got tired of the hypocrisies of adults and wanted to go back to a time when we could entertain ourselves (whatever the motive) for a night -- bicker and do whatever else children do but in the end wind up all together sleeping in a nice warm bed?
Hey, it's nice to dream.
Obviously this can't just be a story about children playing games.
It has to be about something deeper.
Class struggle -- yeah -- that must be it!
You have Andrey the cook's son competing with the rich children and running out of money-- he then borrows a kopeck but will soon be in debt and become a serf. Bingo.
Chekhov is merely fooling us with a simple tale of childhood -- his stories have angst and uncontrolled desires and digs deep into the human psyche -- he wouldn't dare waste our time following the antics of children. Who has time for that when the world has so many problems?
I got it! The lotto game symbolizes man's plight in the universe -- how the forces out of our control are busy shaping our destiny and we are all like children fooling ourselves that we have some say in how we shape our lives -- or possibly the children represent our animal cravings which are constantly battling with our reason and we think we can overcome them with maturity but we are all lost . . . okay I give up.
Could it be he just got tired of the hypocrisies of adults and wanted to go back to a time when we could entertain ourselves (whatever the motive) for a night -- bicker and do whatever else children do but in the end wind up all together sleeping in a nice warm bed?
Hey, it's nice to dream.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
SLEEPY
Sleepy
Thirteen year old Varka is a killer.
A baby killer
So what should her penalty be?
A good lawyer would certainly describe the circumstances leading up to the crime.
She was not in her right mind.
Lack of sleep made her do it.
She was abused by her master.
Her father had recently died.
She was overworked.
Does it excuse Varka?
Of course not.
An innocent baby is dead.
So what should the penalty be?
This story makes you anything but sleepy.
It makes you angry at the injustice displayed in this world.
Varka is only thirteen. She has lost her childhood at some point and now is basically a slave. The oppression that dominates her existence is conveyed quite powerfully. You want to shout: Wait a minute! This is not right. When is this poor girl going to get a chance to rest? Have you people no compassion? What makes people so callous? So inhumane? How do you get to the point when a thirteen year old girl is being treated worse than animal?
And we know it's not just in this household -- there are thousands -- millions of other Varkas -- not just in the Russia of Chekhov's time -- but in all parts of the world this very hour -- and what should be done?
No one is paying any attention.
We are too busy watching the latest shenanigans of the beautiful people.
This story is titled Sleepy.
The real title is:
Wake up!
Okay. Okay. I'll calm down. Maybe Chekhov didn't intend to make a political sentiment. It's really a story about human nature which Chekhov brilliantly weaves using dreams and hallucinations -- and nothing more.
I don't know.
It's late.
I need to go to bed.
But I'm not sleepy.
Thirteen year old Varka is a killer.
A baby killer
So what should her penalty be?
A good lawyer would certainly describe the circumstances leading up to the crime.
She was not in her right mind.
Lack of sleep made her do it.
She was abused by her master.
Her father had recently died.
She was overworked.
Does it excuse Varka?
Of course not.
An innocent baby is dead.
So what should the penalty be?
This story makes you anything but sleepy.
It makes you angry at the injustice displayed in this world.
Varka is only thirteen. She has lost her childhood at some point and now is basically a slave. The oppression that dominates her existence is conveyed quite powerfully. You want to shout: Wait a minute! This is not right. When is this poor girl going to get a chance to rest? Have you people no compassion? What makes people so callous? So inhumane? How do you get to the point when a thirteen year old girl is being treated worse than animal?
And we know it's not just in this household -- there are thousands -- millions of other Varkas -- not just in the Russia of Chekhov's time -- but in all parts of the world this very hour -- and what should be done?
No one is paying any attention.
We are too busy watching the latest shenanigans of the beautiful people.
This story is titled Sleepy.
The real title is:
Wake up!
Okay. Okay. I'll calm down. Maybe Chekhov didn't intend to make a political sentiment. It's really a story about human nature which Chekhov brilliantly weaves using dreams and hallucinations -- and nothing more.
I don't know.
It's late.
I need to go to bed.
But I'm not sleepy.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
THE COOK'S WEDDING
The Cook's Wedding
Pelageya, my sweet Pelageya.
Life has not been kind to you.
Forced to marry some cabman you don't love.
You dream of better things.
But you will never live out those dreams.
Pelageya, it's not fair.
To this day so many like you toil and suffer in silence never having an opportunity to choose their own destiny.
And many, like young Grisha, still watch in horror and ask WHY?
Pelageya, my sweet Pelageya.
Life has not been kind to you.
Forced to marry some cabman you don't love.
You dream of better things.
But you will never live out those dreams.
Pelageya, it's not fair.
To this day so many like you toil and suffer in silence never having an opportunity to choose their own destiny.
And many, like young Grisha, still watch in horror and ask WHY?
Sunday, May 6, 2012
IN A STRANGE LAND
In A Strange Land
Kamyshev loves toys.
Especially French toys.
Named Champoun.
He teases him with no mercy.
Kamyshev loves to tease those beneath him.
Guess it makes him feel superior.
So if you are a Jew or Frenchman that depends on him for a living be ready.
This is a power game.
Most relationships are in some way or another.
It stinks if you are at the bottom and have to endure the teasing.
Actually it stinks if you are at the top and the only way you get your kicks is by belittling those beneath you.
Some advice for Kamyshev: Grow up.
Some advice for Champoun: Abandonner!
Kamyshev loves toys.
Especially French toys.
Named Champoun.
He teases him with no mercy.
Kamyshev loves to tease those beneath him.
Guess it makes him feel superior.
So if you are a Jew or Frenchman that depends on him for a living be ready.
This is a power game.
Most relationships are in some way or another.
It stinks if you are at the bottom and have to endure the teasing.
Actually it stinks if you are at the top and the only way you get your kicks is by belittling those beneath you.
Some advice for Kamyshev: Grow up.
Some advice for Champoun: Abandonner!
Sunday, April 29, 2012
IN AN HOTEL
In an Hotel
Don't let a single man go to waste.
Especially when he's got brains, looks and youth on his side.
So he drinks a little or a lot. Loses his temper now and then. Becomes loud and aggressive. No problem. Forget AA -- you've got Madame Nashatyrin on the case.
This wife of a colonel will domesticate the wayward young staff-captain and ready him for marriage with one of her precious daughters.
So have fun while you can Kikin. Enjoy your bawdy stories. Drink up. You may not know it yet but someone is coming for you and you're going to need all the strength you've got left to resist her.
My money is on Madame Nashatyrin.
Order the wedding invitations.
Don't let a single man go to waste.
Especially when he's got brains, looks and youth on his side.
So he drinks a little or a lot. Loses his temper now and then. Becomes loud and aggressive. No problem. Forget AA -- you've got Madame Nashatyrin on the case.
This wife of a colonel will domesticate the wayward young staff-captain and ready him for marriage with one of her precious daughters.
So have fun while you can Kikin. Enjoy your bawdy stories. Drink up. You may not know it yet but someone is coming for you and you're going to need all the strength you've got left to resist her.
My money is on Madame Nashatyrin.
Order the wedding invitations.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
HUSH!
Hush!
All the trappings.
None of the substance.
I can relate.
The trappings give you comfort.
Writing is lonely.
Even more so when you're a fourth-rate one. Ouch!
But then again nearly all writers feel like that at some time or another. Don't they? Or am I alone here?
Krasnyhin is certainly a drama queen.
It's easy for Chekhov with his enormous talent to poke fun at him.
I, for one, was cheering him on as I sharpened one of my twelve pencils while my neighbor turned on his lousy stereo -- can't a man get some peace and quiet! Now where was I (tap -- tap -- on the temple) ah, yes -- there was this . . .
All the trappings.
None of the substance.
I can relate.
The trappings give you comfort.
Writing is lonely.
Even more so when you're a fourth-rate one. Ouch!
But then again nearly all writers feel like that at some time or another. Don't they? Or am I alone here?
Krasnyhin is certainly a drama queen.
It's easy for Chekhov with his enormous talent to poke fun at him.
I, for one, was cheering him on as I sharpened one of my twelve pencils while my neighbor turned on his lousy stereo -- can't a man get some peace and quiet! Now where was I (tap -- tap -- on the temple) ah, yes -- there was this . . .
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
IN THE GRAVEYARD
In the Graveyard
For most actors this story is very relevant. Most actors don't live a Hollywood lifestyle. They struggle and make no money. They do it because they love it.
Two people are hanging around a cemetery ( if you're in the mood for a movie about two people hanging out in cemeteries look at Harold and Maude) and they ran into an actor looking for the grave of Mushkin who was once a well regarded actor but now you can barely find his grave.
As Kansas once sang: "All we are is Dust in the Wind."
We struggle for fame and recognition. Sacrifice for art. But in the end we wind up in a cemetery where if you're lucky they can find your grave.
As Shakespeare once wrote in MACBETH:
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
For most actors this story is very relevant. Most actors don't live a Hollywood lifestyle. They struggle and make no money. They do it because they love it.
Two people are hanging around a cemetery ( if you're in the mood for a movie about two people hanging out in cemeteries look at Harold and Maude) and they ran into an actor looking for the grave of Mushkin who was once a well regarded actor but now you can barely find his grave.
As Kansas once sang: "All we are is Dust in the Wind."
We struggle for fame and recognition. Sacrifice for art. But in the end we wind up in a cemetery where if you're lucky they can find your grave.
As Shakespeare once wrote in MACBETH:
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
MALINGERERS
Malingerers
Another Chekhov story about wealthy do-gooders and crafty peasants. (See The New Villa)
The question is who is really the malingerer?
Marfa Petrovna, the General's widow, dispenses some herbal pills to the peasants and she feels fulfilled. Especially when the peasants return and tell her how wonderful her cures are.The peasants give her life meaning and purpose. For such work naturally the peasants deserve some reward. The fact she gives them wood or a cow seems a small compensation for their affirmation of her calling.
After all, if let's say you were a chef and people lined up to taste your food and they told you how your cooking has entirely changed their life -- well, you'd be extremely satisfied. That's all you'd really want is for people to tell you much they love your food and that what you do matters -- and if those people got something back from you it would never equal what they've given you.
At the end of the story -- Marfa Petrovna finds she is being fooled by the peasants -- however, what is the value of that awareness? Her calling will be destroyed -- her faith in humanity shattered -- will this make her happier -- or just cynical?
In the end, will she keep the truth or swallow the medicine and go back to believing in the peasants and her cures?
Sometimes lies are more effective than the truth.
Placebo, anyone?
Another Chekhov story about wealthy do-gooders and crafty peasants. (See The New Villa)
The question is who is really the malingerer?
Marfa Petrovna, the General's widow, dispenses some herbal pills to the peasants and she feels fulfilled. Especially when the peasants return and tell her how wonderful her cures are.The peasants give her life meaning and purpose. For such work naturally the peasants deserve some reward. The fact she gives them wood or a cow seems a small compensation for their affirmation of her calling.
After all, if let's say you were a chef and people lined up to taste your food and they told you how your cooking has entirely changed their life -- well, you'd be extremely satisfied. That's all you'd really want is for people to tell you much they love your food and that what you do matters -- and if those people got something back from you it would never equal what they've given you.
At the end of the story -- Marfa Petrovna finds she is being fooled by the peasants -- however, what is the value of that awareness? Her calling will be destroyed -- her faith in humanity shattered -- will this make her happier -- or just cynical?
In the end, will she keep the truth or swallow the medicine and go back to believing in the peasants and her cures?
Sometimes lies are more effective than the truth.
Placebo, anyone?
Saturday, April 21, 2012
THE ORATOR
The Orator
Ooops! Would you believe . . .
Brings to mind Mark Twain's famous line after finding his obituary had been published in the New York Journal: "The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated."
Zapoikin gives a terrific speech -- he's just a little ahead of his time. At some point in the speech -- I'm sure he could relate to those funny Southwest Airlines commercials: Wanna get away?
There's another line from the movie, Cool Hand Luke, that is apropos: "What we've got here is failure to communicate."
Poplavsky means well. Gets the right man for the job -- but doesn't give him the full information. This type of error I'm sure is committed every day in countless situations. Just recently my mom broke her left hip and they did X-rays on her right hip -- the X-rays looked great!
Ooops! Would you believe . . .
Brings to mind Mark Twain's famous line after finding his obituary had been published in the New York Journal: "The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated."
Zapoikin gives a terrific speech -- he's just a little ahead of his time. At some point in the speech -- I'm sure he could relate to those funny Southwest Airlines commercials: Wanna get away?
There's another line from the movie, Cool Hand Luke, that is apropos: "What we've got here is failure to communicate."
Poplavsky means well. Gets the right man for the job -- but doesn't give him the full information. This type of error I'm sure is committed every day in countless situations. Just recently my mom broke her left hip and they did X-rays on her right hip -- the X-rays looked great!
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
OVERDOING IT
Overdoing It
Sometimes an Oscar winning performance can backfire as Smirnov regrettably learns.
Fear can turn anyone into Al Pacino but it can also turn your life into a tragedy.
Was this legitimate fear or paranoia? As in many Chekhov stories what is lacking in the characters is a little moderation -- which is what I suppose makes them interesting and flawed.
Smirnov had already made his point with the three revolver business -- leave well enough alone. But no -- he had to become a blabber mouth.
Most of our troubles are caused by excess -- controlling our passions is a tough nut to crack and this lack of control leads many down a path of no return -- here it just leaves Smirnov temporarily stranded in the middle of a forest.
Lucky for him the driver was able to maintain some semblance of composure and returns to bail Smirnov out of his self-induced nightmare.
Mr. DeMille, Smirnov is ready for his close-up.
Sometimes an Oscar winning performance can backfire as Smirnov regrettably learns.
Fear can turn anyone into Al Pacino but it can also turn your life into a tragedy.
Was this legitimate fear or paranoia? As in many Chekhov stories what is lacking in the characters is a little moderation -- which is what I suppose makes them interesting and flawed.
Smirnov had already made his point with the three revolver business -- leave well enough alone. But no -- he had to become a blabber mouth.
Most of our troubles are caused by excess -- controlling our passions is a tough nut to crack and this lack of control leads many down a path of no return -- here it just leaves Smirnov temporarily stranded in the middle of a forest.
Lucky for him the driver was able to maintain some semblance of composure and returns to bail Smirnov out of his self-induced nightmare.
Mr. DeMille, Smirnov is ready for his close-up.
Monday, April 16, 2012
A TRIPPING TONGUE
A Tripping Tongue
So the wife apparently suffers from what seems to be foot in mouth disease.
What bothers me is she's very obvious -- makes me think about the hubby -- who is he? Does he harbor illusions that his wife is innocent and faithful and this story finally reveals her true nature? He was trusting enough to let her go to the Crimea with her girlfriend -- what was he expecting her to do there? For her to stay home and play rummy and drink some hot milk and be in bed by nine?
There is an imbalance in this story. The reader is ahead of the husband -- shortly into the story we seem to have the wife pegged -- but the husband is clueless -- maybe he's just a fool in love. Blinded by her youth and looks -- and style. She obviously has her way -- and the hubby follows. Is he weak -- gullible -- naive? If so, then he deserves what he gets. Doesn't he?
Am I being too harsh?
The problem for me in this story is the wife is no master at keeping secrets -- or even covering them up -- and therefore I'm thinking the husband must know this woman pretty well and yet he allows to go off to the Crimea -- is this possible?
Probably yes. We can all be completely blind when we are in love. I'm thinking this woman is younger and better looking than the hubby -- he's got the money and the position -- she's a trophy wife -- and he adores her and even now after hearing her story and knowing outright what she did in Yalta -- will it make any difference? Does the hubby really desire the truth? He'll most likely shrug it off and maintain faith in his wife's fidelity.
What choice does he have?
He could've married someone closer to his age -- less attractive -- but if that's what he had wanted then he'd have found a suitable mate.
And if he accepts the truth -- he'll also know -- she married him for his position and money and she doesn't really love him. Who needs the bitter medicine of truth?
Lies are so much sweeter and palatable.
He got what he wanted.
Oh, what a lucky man he is!
So the wife apparently suffers from what seems to be foot in mouth disease.
What bothers me is she's very obvious -- makes me think about the hubby -- who is he? Does he harbor illusions that his wife is innocent and faithful and this story finally reveals her true nature? He was trusting enough to let her go to the Crimea with her girlfriend -- what was he expecting her to do there? For her to stay home and play rummy and drink some hot milk and be in bed by nine?
There is an imbalance in this story. The reader is ahead of the husband -- shortly into the story we seem to have the wife pegged -- but the husband is clueless -- maybe he's just a fool in love. Blinded by her youth and looks -- and style. She obviously has her way -- and the hubby follows. Is he weak -- gullible -- naive? If so, then he deserves what he gets. Doesn't he?
Am I being too harsh?
The problem for me in this story is the wife is no master at keeping secrets -- or even covering them up -- and therefore I'm thinking the husband must know this woman pretty well and yet he allows to go off to the Crimea -- is this possible?
Probably yes. We can all be completely blind when we are in love. I'm thinking this woman is younger and better looking than the hubby -- he's got the money and the position -- she's a trophy wife -- and he adores her and even now after hearing her story and knowing outright what she did in Yalta -- will it make any difference? Does the hubby really desire the truth? He'll most likely shrug it off and maintain faith in his wife's fidelity.
What choice does he have?
He could've married someone closer to his age -- less attractive -- but if that's what he had wanted then he'd have found a suitable mate.
And if he accepts the truth -- he'll also know -- she married him for his position and money and she doesn't really love him. Who needs the bitter medicine of truth?
Lies are so much sweeter and palatable.
He got what he wanted.
Oh, what a lucky man he is!
Sunday, April 15, 2012
OH! THE PUBLIC
Oh! The Public
Less is more.
More or less.
Sometimes you want to do it by the book -- and it doesn't quite flow -- so you cut some corners and then it feels more natural and it works.
Like teaching. If you go into the classroom with a lesson plan covering every minute -- then you are bound -- trapped -- by that lesson plan and you don't allow for spontaneity -- for improvisation -- for creativity. But if you don't prepare at all then you risk chaos.
Moderation. The spirit of the law. Discretion.
Rules are black and white -- but we have to know when to apply them and when not to. Or some would say rules are made to be broken.
Now -- if a doctor is cutting some corners and not doing all the tests required because the doctor has a gut feeling about what is ailing the patient -- if the doctor is wrong then we sue. So the doctor orders all the tests just to protect himself from being sued and then the public complains the cost of health care is too high and the politicians want to do something about it and if they try to reduce the tests the doctors are required to do we bitch and moan about death panels.
This story really has great insight into how a bureaucracy works -- the rules are fixed but if every rule was actually enforced -- then we'd have an impossible situation.
A few months ago -- I went to the Salvation Army to drop off some clothes and books and a few other items. There was no parking -- and I double-parked -- knowing I would only be a minute or two -- my wife and child were in the car. When I got out of the center a minute later -- my wife was arguing with a parking official -- he had given us a ticket. Now, yes, I was double parked -- but he saw my wife was in the car -- he could've told her to move the car and she would've told him I was in the Salvation Army donating some items and that I would be right back -- and hearing this I would think the official could have just moved on -- because he would be honoring the spirit of the law -- rules have to include a human element.
If every cop gave a ticket for jaywalking -- and driving past the speed limit -- and every rule was followed by every official -- we'd really have a hard time functioning -- but Chekhov is right -- when something goes wrong we conveniently blame officials for not doing their duty.
A number of years ago -- New York City had a squeegee problem -- you stopped at a red light and all of a sudden your car window was being cleaned with a dirty squeegee and you were expected to give a tip for the poor and unwanted service. No one was enforcing this violation because it was deemed to be a minor disturbance -- not serious enough to warrant the attention of the police -- but in fact it was affecting the quality of life. I mean if it happens to you enough times and your clean window becomes dirty and then you are expected to pay a tip for this and if you don't then you might have not only a dirty window but a broken one as well -- then you want some action and the new Mayor at the time Giuliani tapped into people's frustrations and started to arrest the squeegee folks -- and crime did start going down as a whole -- but then people started to complain that the police were being too aggressive and the city was becoming a totalitarian state.
Oh! The public indeed.
A funny and very poignant story. Podtyagin is overcompensating. He is trying to make up for all the time he was neglecting his duty -- and this of course is a no-win situation. It becomes a vicious cycle -- the more he wants to do -- the less effective he becomes. He needs to find the right balance. But this is easier said than done. He goes back to drinking in the end and so he is going to feel bad at some point that he drinks too much and doesn't do his job -- so he'll repeat this story again and again.
But in one form or the other -- either as parents -- teachers -- citizens -- officials -- whatever -- we are like Podtyagin -- we all feel we should do a better job and get rid of our bad habits -- we do a New Year's resolution and become all Gung-ho about our task but usually we find ourselves going back to our old habits until we we start again on the path of reformation -- like I'm trying to make these blog entries more concise and to the point -- and then I make them too short and the public complains -- not really I'm just pretending -- in any case -- I think I need a drink.
Less is more.
More or less.
Sometimes you want to do it by the book -- and it doesn't quite flow -- so you cut some corners and then it feels more natural and it works.
Like teaching. If you go into the classroom with a lesson plan covering every minute -- then you are bound -- trapped -- by that lesson plan and you don't allow for spontaneity -- for improvisation -- for creativity. But if you don't prepare at all then you risk chaos.
Moderation. The spirit of the law. Discretion.
Rules are black and white -- but we have to know when to apply them and when not to. Or some would say rules are made to be broken.
Now -- if a doctor is cutting some corners and not doing all the tests required because the doctor has a gut feeling about what is ailing the patient -- if the doctor is wrong then we sue. So the doctor orders all the tests just to protect himself from being sued and then the public complains the cost of health care is too high and the politicians want to do something about it and if they try to reduce the tests the doctors are required to do we bitch and moan about death panels.
This story really has great insight into how a bureaucracy works -- the rules are fixed but if every rule was actually enforced -- then we'd have an impossible situation.
A few months ago -- I went to the Salvation Army to drop off some clothes and books and a few other items. There was no parking -- and I double-parked -- knowing I would only be a minute or two -- my wife and child were in the car. When I got out of the center a minute later -- my wife was arguing with a parking official -- he had given us a ticket. Now, yes, I was double parked -- but he saw my wife was in the car -- he could've told her to move the car and she would've told him I was in the Salvation Army donating some items and that I would be right back -- and hearing this I would think the official could have just moved on -- because he would be honoring the spirit of the law -- rules have to include a human element.
If every cop gave a ticket for jaywalking -- and driving past the speed limit -- and every rule was followed by every official -- we'd really have a hard time functioning -- but Chekhov is right -- when something goes wrong we conveniently blame officials for not doing their duty.
A number of years ago -- New York City had a squeegee problem -- you stopped at a red light and all of a sudden your car window was being cleaned with a dirty squeegee and you were expected to give a tip for the poor and unwanted service. No one was enforcing this violation because it was deemed to be a minor disturbance -- not serious enough to warrant the attention of the police -- but in fact it was affecting the quality of life. I mean if it happens to you enough times and your clean window becomes dirty and then you are expected to pay a tip for this and if you don't then you might have not only a dirty window but a broken one as well -- then you want some action and the new Mayor at the time Giuliani tapped into people's frustrations and started to arrest the squeegee folks -- and crime did start going down as a whole -- but then people started to complain that the police were being too aggressive and the city was becoming a totalitarian state.
Oh! The public indeed.
A funny and very poignant story. Podtyagin is overcompensating. He is trying to make up for all the time he was neglecting his duty -- and this of course is a no-win situation. It becomes a vicious cycle -- the more he wants to do -- the less effective he becomes. He needs to find the right balance. But this is easier said than done. He goes back to drinking in the end and so he is going to feel bad at some point that he drinks too much and doesn't do his job -- so he'll repeat this story again and again.
But in one form or the other -- either as parents -- teachers -- citizens -- officials -- whatever -- we are like Podtyagin -- we all feel we should do a better job and get rid of our bad habits -- we do a New Year's resolution and become all Gung-ho about our task but usually we find ourselves going back to our old habits until we we start again on the path of reformation -- like I'm trying to make these blog entries more concise and to the point -- and then I make them too short and the public complains -- not really I'm just pretending -- in any case -- I think I need a drink.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
THE ALBUM
The Album
Zhmyhov is a good guy.
In so many of Chekhov's stories -- we meet deeply flawed individuals -- it's nice to find someone who has it all together.
The lavish praise he receives from his workers seems to be well-deserved.
How do we know?
Chekhov the master storyteller waits until the very end to make us truly understand the character of Zhmyhov.
Forget all the speeches -- anybody can get speeches -- most of them are not really sincere or truthful.
When it comes to character it's not words but action that counts. And I think this is the point of Chekhov's story.
When his son shows what he has done to the touching gift that was given to him the night before -- a vain man would've been really upset but Zhmyov not only doesn't take offense but caresses the boy and encourages him to show off his talent to his mother.
This small act reveals all you need to know about Zhmyhov.
Zhmyhov is a good guy.
In so many of Chekhov's stories -- we meet deeply flawed individuals -- it's nice to find someone who has it all together.
The lavish praise he receives from his workers seems to be well-deserved.
How do we know?
Chekhov the master storyteller waits until the very end to make us truly understand the character of Zhmyhov.
Forget all the speeches -- anybody can get speeches -- most of them are not really sincere or truthful.
When it comes to character it's not words but action that counts. And I think this is the point of Chekhov's story.
When his son shows what he has done to the touching gift that was given to him the night before -- a vain man would've been really upset but Zhmyov not only doesn't take offense but caresses the boy and encourages him to show off his talent to his mother.
This small act reveals all you need to know about Zhmyhov.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
AN INADVERTENCE
An Inadvertence
Paraffin kills. That is good paraffin kills. Cheap paraffin just makes you deathly ill.
And if you happen to drink some cheap paraffin and you want to laugh your head off -- then this story is the antidote you're looking for.
Strizhin, the nephew of Madame Ivanov, usually does the right thing but he lets his hair down at a party and he pays the price. People who party all the time know how to party -- Strizhin is a novice and he inadvertently almost poisons himself.
And this is where the comedy begins.
Nothing can top a dying man begging for some help being lectured by an old maid with a fiery temperament and little compassion. But the fun is just getting started.
Off he goes to get some much needed first-aid but all he finds is more words of admonishment from a chemist who does a Rodney Dangerfield routine on him "I get no respect, I tell ya."
It's just not Strizhin's night. Or possibly his life.
The One-Party-Wonder goes to sleep thinking he won't be waking up again and then to his surprise he manages to make it through thanks to good old fashioned parsimony.
Cheapness saves Strizhin but the humor here is well-earned.
Paraffin kills. That is good paraffin kills. Cheap paraffin just makes you deathly ill.
And if you happen to drink some cheap paraffin and you want to laugh your head off -- then this story is the antidote you're looking for.
Strizhin, the nephew of Madame Ivanov, usually does the right thing but he lets his hair down at a party and he pays the price. People who party all the time know how to party -- Strizhin is a novice and he inadvertently almost poisons himself.
And this is where the comedy begins.
Nothing can top a dying man begging for some help being lectured by an old maid with a fiery temperament and little compassion. But the fun is just getting started.
Off he goes to get some much needed first-aid but all he finds is more words of admonishment from a chemist who does a Rodney Dangerfield routine on him "I get no respect, I tell ya."
It's just not Strizhin's night. Or possibly his life.
The One-Party-Wonder goes to sleep thinking he won't be waking up again and then to his surprise he manages to make it through thanks to good old fashioned parsimony.
Cheapness saves Strizhin but the humor here is well-earned.
Monday, April 9, 2012
AT THE BARBER'S
At the Barber's
Delusion.The mirror in the barber shop distorts appearance. The mirror in the mind distorts reality.
Makar Kuzmitch doesn't realize he's working in a down and out barber shop and he's filthy.
Ernst Ivanitch, the godfather of the stinky barber is no peach himself. He's been ill for over a month -- yet he walks a long distance for a free haircut. He takes and thinks nothing of it. He believes he's entitled to what he gets from the barber. After all, he's the godfather.
And then the truth shatters their comfy illusions. When Ernst Ivanitch tells Makarushka his daughter is engaged to be married -- the barber finally gets to see what his godfather thinks of him. He is no match for his dear daughter. And how could he even believe he was. "Come on boy cut my hair and smell the roses -- you're a loser. Deal with it. Look for someone who thinks greasy is sexy and lay off my lovely child."
The barber is a romantic. He is in love. He thinks he and the daughter had a pact to be married and he was well on his way to a future wedding. Now that may also be a delusion. For all we know the daughter thinks of the barber the same way the father does.
Makar's whole world is as distorted as the mirror he uses on his clients. The slap on the face by his godfather might finally wake him up. Most likely not. He will probably continue to live in a delusion in one fashion or another.
Rarely do any of us dare to see the world for what it is. It's too damn dangerous.
Well, one thing is certain and not an illusion -- Ernst Ivanitch is walking around with a bad hairstyle.
As one of my favorite ads once showed -- displaying a picture of Einstein -- the caption reads: A Bad Haircut Can Make Anybody Look Stupid.
Delusion.The mirror in the barber shop distorts appearance. The mirror in the mind distorts reality.
Makar Kuzmitch doesn't realize he's working in a down and out barber shop and he's filthy.
Ernst Ivanitch, the godfather of the stinky barber is no peach himself. He's been ill for over a month -- yet he walks a long distance for a free haircut. He takes and thinks nothing of it. He believes he's entitled to what he gets from the barber. After all, he's the godfather.
And then the truth shatters their comfy illusions. When Ernst Ivanitch tells Makarushka his daughter is engaged to be married -- the barber finally gets to see what his godfather thinks of him. He is no match for his dear daughter. And how could he even believe he was. "Come on boy cut my hair and smell the roses -- you're a loser. Deal with it. Look for someone who thinks greasy is sexy and lay off my lovely child."
The barber is a romantic. He is in love. He thinks he and the daughter had a pact to be married and he was well on his way to a future wedding. Now that may also be a delusion. For all we know the daughter thinks of the barber the same way the father does.
Makar's whole world is as distorted as the mirror he uses on his clients. The slap on the face by his godfather might finally wake him up. Most likely not. He will probably continue to live in a delusion in one fashion or another.
Rarely do any of us dare to see the world for what it is. It's too damn dangerous.
Well, one thing is certain and not an illusion -- Ernst Ivanitch is walking around with a bad hairstyle.
As one of my favorite ads once showed -- displaying a picture of Einstein -- the caption reads: A Bad Haircut Can Make Anybody Look Stupid.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
A PECULIAR MAN
A Peculiar Man
Prudence on steroids.
Kiryakov turns what should be a virtue into a vice.
But don't listen to me listen to Plato:
“Moderation, which consists in an indifference about little things, and in a prudent and well-proportioned zeal about things of importance, can proceed from nothing but true knowledge, which has its foundation in self-acquaintance.”
He needs to readjust the settings. Find the balance. The harmony. Get in touch with his spirit. ( Maybe I'm getting carried away -- but a little New Age never hurt anyone.)
If we go all out and don't know how to temper ourselves we can all become like Kiryakov. We might have the right message but it will become corrupted and we may do more harm than good.
So Kiryakov here's my recommendation for you if you don't mind -- a yoga class -- easy does it before you get too excited -- the local library is offering it: for free.
Breathe, dude, breathe.
Prudence on steroids.
Kiryakov turns what should be a virtue into a vice.
But don't listen to me listen to Plato:
“Moderation, which consists in an indifference about little things, and in a prudent and well-proportioned zeal about things of importance, can proceed from nothing but true knowledge, which has its foundation in self-acquaintance.”
Kiryakov can't distinguish between "little things" and "things of importance" and therefore he has become a peculiar man. A stranger to himself. And a pest to everyone else.
He needs to readjust the settings. Find the balance. The harmony. Get in touch with his spirit. ( Maybe I'm getting carried away -- but a little New Age never hurt anyone.)
If we go all out and don't know how to temper ourselves we can all become like Kiryakov. We might have the right message but it will become corrupted and we may do more harm than good.
So Kiryakov here's my recommendation for you if you don't mind -- a yoga class -- easy does it before you get too excited -- the local library is offering it: for free.
Breathe, dude, breathe.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
LADIES
Ladies
Vremensky is out.
Polzuhin is in.
Vremensky should get the job. Fyodor Petrovitch does the right thing by offering it to the 14 year veteran teacher who can no longer teach.
But life doesn't work like that.
Polzuhin has the ladies behind him and their influence is too strong to resist.
The old adage: It's not what you know -- it's who you know -- and Polzuhin seems to know everybody and Vremensky is out of luck.
Vremensky is out.
Polzuhin is in.
Vremensky should get the job. Fyodor Petrovitch does the right thing by offering it to the 14 year veteran teacher who can no longer teach.
But life doesn't work like that.
Polzuhin has the ladies behind him and their influence is too strong to resist.
The old adage: It's not what you know -- it's who you know -- and Polzuhin seems to know everybody and Vremensky is out of luck.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
JOY
Joy
Dear Reality TV,
Chekhov knew all about you before you were born.
Amazing how many stories Chekhov wrote about the desire -- the need -- the compulsion to be famous.
We tend to think this obsession with celebrity culture is a sign of our times.
But evidently it was a sign of Chekhov's time as well.
A human instinct?
To stand out.
Be recognized.
Be known.
Doesn't matter what for.
Get your name out there.
Outside the Garden of Eden rumor has it you could find graffiti:
Adam wuz here.
Dear Reality TV,
Chekhov knew all about you before you were born.
Amazing how many stories Chekhov wrote about the desire -- the need -- the compulsion to be famous.
We tend to think this obsession with celebrity culture is a sign of our times.
But evidently it was a sign of Chekhov's time as well.
A human instinct?
To stand out.
Be recognized.
Be known.
Doesn't matter what for.
Get your name out there.
Outside the Garden of Eden rumor has it you could find graffiti:
Adam wuz here.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
BOOTS
Boots
The piano tuner has lost his boots.
Poor fellow.
Doesn't seem like he has much luck.
Some people deserve their fate and Murkin might just be one of them.
Goes to the theater to retrieve his boots and almost gets himself killed.
Wrong man in the wrong place.
So what's the moral?
Clean your own boots.
Have an extra pair of boots.
Take the cotton-wool out of your ears.
Not quite sure but the image of Murkin, the piano-tuner, running barefoot while being chased by Bluebeard is an indelible image.
It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.
The piano tuner has lost his boots.
Poor fellow.
Doesn't seem like he has much luck.
Some people deserve their fate and Murkin might just be one of them.
Goes to the theater to retrieve his boots and almost gets himself killed.
Wrong man in the wrong place.
So what's the moral?
Clean your own boots.
Have an extra pair of boots.
Take the cotton-wool out of your ears.
Not quite sure but the image of Murkin, the piano-tuner, running barefoot while being chased by Bluebeard is an indelible image.
It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.
Monday, January 2, 2012
IN THE COURT
In The Court
After awhile the bureaucracy survives on routines. The structures are set up and people become automatons fulfilling their role in maintaining the system. People stop seeing. Stop feeling. Stop caring.
The whole purpose of the institution is corrupted. But what matters most is to keep the system moving along. Jargon develops and many insiders thrive in the institutional setting.
When the system is supposed to dispense justice fairly and humanely -- then what is lost is more pronounced.
In the trial of the peasant accused of murdering his wife -- we are introduced to how an individual case gets sucked up into the machine.
As Chekhov writes: "The peasant, reassured, did not understand that the men here were as accustomed to the dramas and tragedies of life and were blunted by the sight of them as hospital attendants are at the sight of death, and that the whole horror and hopelessness of his position lay just in this mechanical indifference."
Chekhov then creates a situation which warrants attention. Which should wake people up from the usual routine. However, the shock provides only a respite. In no time, it's back to business again.
What we are witnessing is bureaucracy. Necessary but poisonous. It happens in hospitals, in schools, and in many other governmental agencies. The soul gets lost in the maddening rush.
Serious reform is needed. Or is this just the reality?
The court has many cases to deal with -- if everyone got special attention -- if all the people involved actually put a hundred percent behind each case -- the system would grind to a halt.
When we choose to live packed together in towns and cities -- then we've chosen our lot. We sacrifice individuality for the group. We give up a certain amount of freedom for function.
We all share responsibility for maintaining the system.
In fact, we become the system.
After awhile the bureaucracy survives on routines. The structures are set up and people become automatons fulfilling their role in maintaining the system. People stop seeing. Stop feeling. Stop caring.
The whole purpose of the institution is corrupted. But what matters most is to keep the system moving along. Jargon develops and many insiders thrive in the institutional setting.
When the system is supposed to dispense justice fairly and humanely -- then what is lost is more pronounced.
In the trial of the peasant accused of murdering his wife -- we are introduced to how an individual case gets sucked up into the machine.
As Chekhov writes: "The peasant, reassured, did not understand that the men here were as accustomed to the dramas and tragedies of life and were blunted by the sight of them as hospital attendants are at the sight of death, and that the whole horror and hopelessness of his position lay just in this mechanical indifference."
Chekhov then creates a situation which warrants attention. Which should wake people up from the usual routine. However, the shock provides only a respite. In no time, it's back to business again.
What we are witnessing is bureaucracy. Necessary but poisonous. It happens in hospitals, in schools, and in many other governmental agencies. The soul gets lost in the maddening rush.
Serious reform is needed. Or is this just the reality?
The court has many cases to deal with -- if everyone got special attention -- if all the people involved actually put a hundred percent behind each case -- the system would grind to a halt.
When we choose to live packed together in towns and cities -- then we've chosen our lot. We sacrifice individuality for the group. We give up a certain amount of freedom for function.
We all share responsibility for maintaining the system.
In fact, we become the system.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
A BAD BUSINESS
A Bad Business
So you're a watchman in a graveyard. Most of the time -- probably all of the time nothing happens. What could happen? The gates are closed. But it's still a graveyard.
So when a stranger appears -- you don't know what to make of it.
When you work in a graveyard -- you must have entertained ideas of ghosts at some time. An occupational hazard?
And so when the stranger appears you must have your suspicions. How did the stranger enter? The gate is closed. There has to be something out of the norm.
And when the stranger reveals he is the living dead. You fall for it. Why not? Who would make something like that up?
We all harbor deep seated fears about death and the afterlife and that makes for good business.
Many out there capitalize on this fear -- from a crooked preacher promising you an eternal afterlife for a small donation or a drug company selling you a miracle pill. Not to mention writers and movie producers.
Don't know how much the thieves got -- but somehow it doesn't seem like there would be a whole bunch of treasure in a church inside a cemetery. But maybe there is -- after all they do have three watchmen for a reason. And it seems like an easy mark.
Speaking of easy marks -- just read a story of a thief breaking into a candy store in Coney Island in the middle of the winter.
I remember a friend telling me he was robbed on a freezing day in January while he worked in an ice cream store. My friend actually asked the robber -- do you realize this is an ice cream store and it's freezing outside?
A thief has his own logic.
So do ghosts.
So you're a watchman in a graveyard. Most of the time -- probably all of the time nothing happens. What could happen? The gates are closed. But it's still a graveyard.
So when a stranger appears -- you don't know what to make of it.
When you work in a graveyard -- you must have entertained ideas of ghosts at some time. An occupational hazard?
And so when the stranger appears you must have your suspicions. How did the stranger enter? The gate is closed. There has to be something out of the norm.
And when the stranger reveals he is the living dead. You fall for it. Why not? Who would make something like that up?
We all harbor deep seated fears about death and the afterlife and that makes for good business.
Many out there capitalize on this fear -- from a crooked preacher promising you an eternal afterlife for a small donation or a drug company selling you a miracle pill. Not to mention writers and movie producers.
Don't know how much the thieves got -- but somehow it doesn't seem like there would be a whole bunch of treasure in a church inside a cemetery. But maybe there is -- after all they do have three watchmen for a reason. And it seems like an easy mark.
Speaking of easy marks -- just read a story of a thief breaking into a candy store in Coney Island in the middle of the winter.
I remember a friend telling me he was robbed on a freezing day in January while he worked in an ice cream store. My friend actually asked the robber -- do you realize this is an ice cream store and it's freezing outside?
A thief has his own logic.
So do ghosts.
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