Temp File Excerpt and Nihilism (Boredom Post)


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July 6th 2006
Published: July 6th 2006
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GraduationGraduationGraduation

Lisa-san addresses us in our graduation semi-impromptu ceremony.
I have a few hours to kill, now, so I thought I’d do a post.

Before I left Stanford, a lovely and brilliant lady by the name of Killeen Hanson mentioned that I should occasionally post some of the content in my temp file. This file, as I have mentioned to some of you, acts more as a semi-permanent repository for clipboard data than anything else, but often records my life to some extent. I was browsing through it the other day, and rediscovered a half-finished poem I had written when I finally could throw out my HATEFUL old Gateway computer. If you know me, you've probably heard me rant about this computer or seen the demonic rituals I was forced to engage in to convince the Dark Spirits to allow a boot-up. Entitled "Extempore Effusion on the Passing of My Laptop," this poem, though not exactly extemporaneous, was quite effusive in its verbiage regarding the chucking of that computer. I had lots of half-finished lines as I tried to decide what format it should fall into. Regretfully, the beginning has more in common with a limerick than a eulogy:

Can malice live in concrete form?
Lying, latent, in
GraduationGraduationGraduation

The crowd relaxes casually. We earned it. Don't believe what you might hear - the SCTI program was HARD overseas, not the easy stroll I had heard it was.
the dorm?
Would you sense the grim foreboding?
Evil in metallic coating?
Indeed, say I: machine exists -
Though sad I am to tell you this.

In any case, the mediocre middle further echoed the inauspicious introduction:

-snip-
With what epithet do I think of thee?
Screaming torment, deep misery,
-snip-
Fury emblazoned in your shell
A not-yet-whispered, stifled yell.
-snip-
Gateway's swan song did now mutate,
To siren song when "Does not computate"
-snip-

The ending, though, still brings a grin - most likely because it was not, in fact, written by me, but taken from another poem and then altered within meter:

Yet mate, I hope to see you still -
Just beyond that window sill
Just where I can vaguely see
Your small mound beneath a tree,
Pierce-ed slowly, lately rooted
where, nearby, you never booted.

Teehee. The original, Thomas Hardy's "Last Words to a Dumb Friend" was really quite a heartfelt poem about the passing of a favorite pet. Check it out, it's pretty solid - it shows an interesting play between honesty and overstatement.

------------------------------------

I was biking home last night feeling guilty about some snazzy new purchases
Post-Graduation BBQPost-Graduation BBQPost-Graduation BBQ

It's the 4th of July over here! We relax and make hot dogs, drink beer, and chat. We gather up explosives to celebrate our country's founding.
I made. Whenever I indulge myself thusly (and it had been a while - remember I have been living on a pittance for the past month) the consumerist portion of my brain exhibits great delight; however, some portion coalesces into Tyler Durden and berates me "You are NOT your car; You are NOT what's in your wallet; You ARE NOT YOUR KHAKIS." So I decided to mull over nihilism for a while.

Nietzsche had an interesting perspective on it - he yakked for a while about it in "Beyond Good and Evil" I think. Basically, his point was that the cool thing about nihilism was that it's a win-win situation - you can always get there, and, basically, if you redefine happiness to be hardship, than you can always be happy. Kinda makes sense in a weird way. Anyway, this made a big impression on me when I read it, because it made so much more sense than Plato's tripartite soul or Descartes’ circular proof of God. Nietzsche says things that make sense, even though it's usually pretty depressing to hear.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is because I think a big part of
And the river...And the river...And the river...

Of course, we end up by the river. We wait for darkness, gather our large foreign crowd together, and enjoy the fireworks.
nihilism's appeal is not only the redefinition of happiness in something quite attainable, but also simple freedom. The idea that I won't be "tied-down" by belongings is immensely attractive. But when I buy things, I still enjoy it. So why?

I think, fundamentally, I can get freedom either way: by removing myself from my belongings, I am simply a man unto myself. Nothing relies on me, I depend on nothing. Freedom.
However, by having stuff, I gain a different kind of freedom. I think it might be the freedom of escape . I can leave all the stuff I don't enjoy behind, and (without altering my definition of happiness) can just enjoy myself.

So there. I don't have to feel guilty about buying stuff.

~Danny



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And the river...And the river...
And the river...

And now, of course, the po-po have to intervene. Our celebration was in excess of what the law can overlook (fireworks are not allowed to be launched there, even though it's done every day). Just too many of us lighting stuff on fire for too long. Alas.


8th July 2006

4th of July
Seriously! What is with these Japanese police clamping down on the 4th? A group of us gathered in Yoyogi Park on Tuesday night to blow up the 7500 yen worth of fireworks we'd bought until the police came by and shut down the operation. Much like the river in Kyoto, fireworks are fired off damn near every night in Yoyogi with no repercussions. Alas. Seeing as I only have four more weeks left, you really should find a free weekend soon to hit up Tokyo while you still have such an interesting guide at your disposal.
14th July 2006

Gateway Haiku
Hated beast of mine, such pleasure in your dying I don't feel guilty

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