Nine years ago, in the full flower of my youth, I was a third year student at the local university and spent my time much more liberally than today. Instead of wasting my time doing something reasonable, utilitarian or pragmatic like earning money or reading a book on how to influence other people or how to be successful, I enjoyed my days in the delightful and pleasant company of alcoholic drinks, games and women. Libraries, books and wisdom- these all were negligible trifles and trivial nothings. Oh, those were the days! So innocent and pure. So wild and free. So careless and sweet. Full of love and laughter. Cliché and passé. My golden years. Continue reading
Tag Archives: Humour
Once in a far away country by the Atlantic ocean where the sunshine is brighter and the stars seem closer to the eye than the moon, a curious oddity fell upon my gentle psyche – for a brief moment in time I was possessed by the devil. Even a year ago I wouldn’t have ever believed myself or any other fellow creature of good-humored constitution and rationally sound nature that such a dark and gloomy predicament was accessible for human exploration and was open to an unbiased interpretation and unprejudiced judgement – indeed, in my scholarly naivete, I thought that the production of wildest chimeras and fantastic fancies is the sole prerogative of those poor and deficient souls who are deprived of the creative element and who lack the supreme faculty of imagination, i’m referring, of course, to the religious and artistic types – but now as I recall to my shame the strange sequence of events that took place on that fateful night, I cannot but restate the bold and simple truth of the obvious facts – the great Lightbearer was leading me down the path of ruin. After having thoroughly examined the matter myself retrospectively under the careful scrutiny of reason and the microscope of logic and with the guidance of the scientific method, this was the only credible account and reasonable explanation that I could come up with. All things considered and all angles approached, in the nonsense of life only devil makes sense. Continue reading
I have one Japanese friend, who is a sort of an enlightened far away brother to me. Our conversations frequently run like Zen mondos or like a never ending exchange of pleasantries. And, it must be said, I enjoy these kind of talks immensely. When we meet, he usually inquires into my current situation and I try my best to respond with a candid confession by stating the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. After hearing my rantings he – as a rule – bursts into a wild laughter and then immediately adds a verbal component to his performance: “Magnus, you need a woman”, he says with a giggly smile on his face. Over the course of our many conversations, he was never weary of repeating this line over and over again: “Magnus, you need a women.” Frankly, I found it quite amusing and I took it more as a joke than a friendly advice. But being familiar with Zen logic, I knew there was much more than what meets the eye or, as in this case, what meets the ear, to be exact. His tricks, his laughters and his out-of-place comments can fool any random sucker on the street but they won’t fool me. So, each time he said that I need a woman, deep down inside I knew that my Japanese friend played the classical Zen game on me. Of course, he denied it – this was expected – and when I expressed my suspicions that his comment had a certain stink of Zen, he denounced my knowledge of Zen and said that I know nothing about it. But, having never solved a koan in my life and having never meditated for more than an hour, I knew better. My friend’s reaction fitted perfectly into the repertoire of savvy Zen duels and Zen verbal attacks. His behavior matched the pattern of the old Zen masters way too good for it to be a coincidence. Only those people who deny it, have it. – an old Zen saying goes. In my mind I had no doubt about it, it was as clear as the sun on a cloudless day. And his denial only intensified my initial belief that he was pulling my leg in the prima-facie Zen style.
My secret prayers have been answered. Again. A while ago I was contacted via phone by my Mormon acquaintances from the other day. They had my phone-number from our first meeting, which, if you still remember, happened more than two months ago (see one of my first posts). So we started talking. The polite brother invited me to visit his sect. “Hell, yeah. No need to ask me twice.”, I thought to myself. “Free of charge Entertainment with religious fanatics. Could there be anything better than that? No way, No How! That was exactly what I wanted.” So we made a date. As you know (and if you don’t, you should), I am quite open-minded towards religious and other weird folks. In fact, in a strange, bizarre and somewhat perverse way I find them very entertaining , even funny to an extent (unfortunately they rarely realize it for themselves). The very thought of speaking with someone who knows the Truth with a capital T behind the curtains – like how the world really works, what is the real purpose in life, or how to live, to be merry and happy etc.- increases my oxytocin levels way beyond normal. So, I had high hopes and I was looking forward to the great circus ahead. And, if I may run a little ahead of the story, I was not disappointed. Far from that. I had a great time and I enjoyed a truly magnificent show, in which I played the pivotal role. First class entertainment. What’s even better, it didn’t cost me a penny. The show was free for grabs. I seized and relished the moment. But let’s not get carried away. Back to the nitty gritties. Continue reading
I’ve been reading Steven Pinker’s “How the Mind Works”. On the page 53 I found this quote that strung a note in my system. I would like to share this gem with you all:
Well into my procreating years I am, so far, voluntarily childless, having squandered my biological resources reading and writing, doing research, helping out friends and students, and jogging in circles, ignoring the solemn imperative to spread my genes. By Darwininan standards I am a horrible mistake, a pathetic loser, not one iota less than if I were a card-carrying member of Queer Nation. But I am happy to be that way, and if my genes don’t like it, they can go jump in the lake.
So, there it is. The long awaited formula of success. If you want to follow the example of Prof. Pinker and join his weird tribe of pathetic losers, brush up your reading habits and write a bulky book or two of at least 500 plus pages (the more, the better!). Here are a few tips for the possible book titles you should consider (inspired by Prof. Pinker’s dazzling hairstyle) – “The Worst Demons of Our Color: Why Harmony Prevails”, “Ether of quirks: An Insight into the Clouds”, “The Silent Anarchy: The Ingredients of an Intelectual Soup”, “The Instinct of Balderdash: How Yellow Bananas Secretly Laugh Behind Our Backs”, “Ignorance and substance: The destruction of a fellow academic”, “The Invisible Hallucination: How the Ghost of Noam Chomsky Speaks in Grammatically Correct and Complete Sentences”, “The Naked Charisma: Mirorr Training 101”.
Once you have written a couple of those bestsellers and have earned a fair share of global attention and received a majuscule bounty for your efforts at practicing loserdom, you are encouraged to further rely on Prof. Pinker’s witty advice. Having deep pockets stuffed with intellectual brilliance and rocking a mountain of hair which has actually become an extension of your brain, may not be enough to secure the low Darwinian rating you so strive for. Therefore, remember to run amok once in a while and jog in circles as these kinetic activities perhaps contain the missing link and the last peace of the puzzle you have been searching for. Finally, to fortify your success, you may want to join the Queer Nation and wear a t-shirt with a frontal inscription carved in golden letters: “We’re here. We’re queer. Get used to it.”
If, for some odd reason, this expert advice falls on thorny ground, there always remains a refreshing and, might I add, tempting option of jumping in the lake or a bubble bath, if this makes any difference. The path of escape from the dryness runs through water. Who would have thought!
P.S. I hope I am not offending anyone with this post and especially not the magnificent bush on Steven Pinker’s scalp.