[Vung Tau, 10/29/22] At Cóc Cóc Coffee, I usually claim a corner table at the back, where I’m left alone to write. Sometimes an older Chinese would come in. Sitting directly in front of me, he would watch the news or TikTok skits with the volume turned up. Bathed in Mandarin, he can forget he’s in Vietnam. Mindful of legal consequences, I haven’t whacked this gentleman on the head with an ashtray. Inspired by Hideo Nomo, I have perfected a downward motion for maximum velocity. All 6,000 of his characters will be spilled on the floor. Life is a series of negotiations, if not contests, for physical and mental spaces.
Has anyone else noticed we have become a culture of infantilized images? When at one time we were a culture of the written word. Instead of restrooms with the words "Men" and "Women" we now have the stick figure of a female with a skirt or a male with pants or trousers to indicate the appropriate venue.
The late, great Canadian sociologist Dr. Marshal McLuhan wrote that literacy in the West was a temporary aberration that arose from the Italian Renaissance c. 1500 and Western culture would eventually return to a sort of "collage" thinking of arbitrary images and impressions jumbled together instead of the linear, rational thinking of the Renaissance and Enlightenment. I am reminded of this every day in the appearance of the thumbnail ads to the right of my email. Virtually every ad, no matter what they are hawking (and it is often some Big Pharma drug) is accompanied by a smiling, or simpering, or mawkish, or just plain stupid idiot's face, with an appropriate "catch" phrase admonishing me to buy some wonder drug de jure. Is there ever a rational, tightly reasoned synopsis as to why I should buy this product? No. That would be too much to ask for from a population of robotic drones.
Howdy, Linh. Again, excellent prose - much to ponder. Mr Herzog is correct in his his observation. Yesterday, I attended a funeral and was dismayed to see how many fellow attendees were slovenly - almost childlike - in their attire and behavior. Heaven knows normally I wear jeans and work boots when working on the farm; but, my late friend Bill deserved to be shown respect, and so I wore a somber suit and tie. Even the funeral was chock full of modern, revisionist drivel - the minister droned on about our collective guilt over slavery while a nearby train rumbled by, blowing its mournful cry. Ah well, since it is 4/20, I'll head over to the nearest cowboy bar later to share the latest crop of homegrown with my fellow rednecks, roughnecks, bikers, welders, ex-cons, cattle ranchers, and general f*ckups, while we feed the jukebox, drink, and mourn the memory of the America of our youth. It was far from perfect, but there was honor, decency, and mutual respect. Most of all, there was a sense of hope for the future.
I don't have any language learning to share but I've been told twice by different psychics that I was Chinese in a previous life and drowned in the ocean when I was 9! I am reluctant to swim in the ocean but I hope you get a nice beach day today Linh. Always so pleased to see you in my inbox! Hope you are feeling strong and healthy today. Happy 420! We're having a big backyard rock and roll party tonight!
"Bathed in Mandarin, he can forget he's in Vietnam."
When I was taking classes and working at Sacramento City College a number of years ago I made the dumb mistake of attempting an Introductory Mandarin class. I recall waiting in the hall outside the classroom before the first day of class. While we waited for the preceding class to finish and exit the room the professor (I think I recall his name was Steve Hsu) looked at me quizzically as if he didn't quite know why I was there.
It turned out most of the students in the class were of Vietnamese heritage who spoke at least some Mandarin at home. I was left in the dirt unable to pick up more than a few words. I felt like a complete idiot. Overwhelmed, after several classes I just stopped showing up. Professor Hsu was kind enough to drop me officially from the roll to avoid the black mark of a "W" on my transcript but by that point such things didn't matter. By then old age was the big "W" on the failed transcript of my life.
I think I recall that to be considered fluent in Mandarin a child needs to learn at least 30,000 Chinese characters. We were fortunate in the West that the Phonicians c. 600 B.C. managed to condense most sounds within the human vocal range down to about 26 characters(the alphabet) which they passed on to the neighboring Greeks. Who then transcribed Homer's "Iliad" and "Odyssey." Although Socrates believed the new method of writing would ruin the memory of young Athenians. But I'm not sure about that in that my memory is failing me now. The good thing about losing one's memory is you don't remember doing so. Where did I put those car keys...?
Has anyone else noticed we have become a culture of infantilized images? When at one time we were a culture of the written word. Instead of restrooms with the words "Men" and "Women" we now have the stick figure of a female with a skirt or a male with pants or trousers to indicate the appropriate venue.
The late, great Canadian sociologist Dr. Marshal McLuhan wrote that literacy in the West was a temporary aberration that arose from the Italian Renaissance c. 1500 and Western culture would eventually return to a sort of "collage" thinking of arbitrary images and impressions jumbled together instead of the linear, rational thinking of the Renaissance and Enlightenment. I am reminded of this every day in the appearance of the thumbnail ads to the right of my email. Virtually every ad, no matter what they are hawking (and it is often some Big Pharma drug) is accompanied by a smiling, or simpering, or mawkish, or just plain stupid idiot's face, with an appropriate "catch" phrase admonishing me to buy some wonder drug de jure. Is there ever a rational, tightly reasoned synopsis as to why I should buy this product? No. That would be too much to ask for from a population of robotic drones.
Howdy, Linh. Again, excellent prose - much to ponder. Mr Herzog is correct in his his observation. Yesterday, I attended a funeral and was dismayed to see how many fellow attendees were slovenly - almost childlike - in their attire and behavior. Heaven knows normally I wear jeans and work boots when working on the farm; but, my late friend Bill deserved to be shown respect, and so I wore a somber suit and tie. Even the funeral was chock full of modern, revisionist drivel - the minister droned on about our collective guilt over slavery while a nearby train rumbled by, blowing its mournful cry. Ah well, since it is 4/20, I'll head over to the nearest cowboy bar later to share the latest crop of homegrown with my fellow rednecks, roughnecks, bikers, welders, ex-cons, cattle ranchers, and general f*ckups, while we feed the jukebox, drink, and mourn the memory of the America of our youth. It was far from perfect, but there was honor, decency, and mutual respect. Most of all, there was a sense of hope for the future.
I don't have any language learning to share but I've been told twice by different psychics that I was Chinese in a previous life and drowned in the ocean when I was 9! I am reluctant to swim in the ocean but I hope you get a nice beach day today Linh. Always so pleased to see you in my inbox! Hope you are feeling strong and healthy today. Happy 420! We're having a big backyard rock and roll party tonight!
You sound good, Linh. By all means do take some dips in the healing salt water. It may make you feel better yet. Death not yet!
"Bathed in Mandarin, he can forget he's in Vietnam."
When I was taking classes and working at Sacramento City College a number of years ago I made the dumb mistake of attempting an Introductory Mandarin class. I recall waiting in the hall outside the classroom before the first day of class. While we waited for the preceding class to finish and exit the room the professor (I think I recall his name was Steve Hsu) looked at me quizzically as if he didn't quite know why I was there.
It turned out most of the students in the class were of Vietnamese heritage who spoke at least some Mandarin at home. I was left in the dirt unable to pick up more than a few words. I felt like a complete idiot. Overwhelmed, after several classes I just stopped showing up. Professor Hsu was kind enough to drop me officially from the roll to avoid the black mark of a "W" on my transcript but by that point such things didn't matter. By then old age was the big "W" on the failed transcript of my life.
I think I recall that to be considered fluent in Mandarin a child needs to learn at least 30,000 Chinese characters. We were fortunate in the West that the Phonicians c. 600 B.C. managed to condense most sounds within the human vocal range down to about 26 characters(the alphabet) which they passed on to the neighboring Greeks. Who then transcribed Homer's "Iliad" and "Odyssey." Although Socrates believed the new method of writing would ruin the memory of young Athenians. But I'm not sure about that in that my memory is failing me now. The good thing about losing one's memory is you don't remember doing so. Where did I put those car keys...?