In London, i went to the Dali exhibit. At the entrance, they had hundreds of “wacky” quotes by Dali about sex, his philosophy (and his belief that philosophy doesn’t exist), art and everything you could imagine. I came across one that made me immediately think of a few of the copyright crusaders that i know, so i thought i’d share:

Ideas are made to be copied. I have enough ideas to sell them on. I prefer that they are stolen so that i don’t have to actually use them myself.

It’s from an interview where he’s being asked about his art, copies and the public.

Apparently, i was in the SF Chronicle last week. Sadly, i missed this fact, being offline and all. (Does anyone have a copy??)

I think that there’s something very karmic about how i attend conferences, meet interesting people and end up saying silly things in the press right before finals every semester… when i’m unable to respond to any of the email.

Anyhow, what a silly looking picture of me. What on earth is happening to my lips? Ah, fuzz…

Ah, it’s so good to be home. There’s internet and a kitty cat and loving roommates. I will say that there’s nothing like traveling abroad to make me appreciate all of the goodness in my life. I even found myself singing Grand Canyon on the way home.

i love my country
by which i mean
i am indebted joyfully
to all the people throughout its history
who have fought the government to make right

Running away for a bit makes me turn back and see all of the myopia and screwups of this country from a different perspective. I get to remember that i love the land, that i love (many of) the people… i could do without the government and without a certain self-centered element. But, by and large, going away lets me remember the good parts. I’ve been on the road for a month – three different countries, many different cities.

Oh, and CHI was … interesting. So many good people and that it was definitely worth the adventure. It just took me a day without Internet to remember that nothing mattered but the people. And i got to see a few museums and go shopping in London. This kind of reprieve always does feel good even if the guilt of work hangs over my head. I did make up for it all by meeting with another blogging researcher in London and then managing to attend a “dinner” (where dinner==pub) of all bloggers – that was a hoot.

Anyhow, i’m back to the internet. Just in time for finals and extended chaos. Must make it to summer… must make it to summer…

Attending computer conferences with no working WiFi is painful (more precisely: limited DHCP). Staying at hotels without Internet (and no working Earthlink accounts) is painful. The combination means that i’m offline this week. Expect no response. Fucking CHI.

Mouse embryo made without father

This research is going to be absolutely politically problematic. I love it. (The hypothesis that i’ve heard wrt to human research is that it’s probably possible to create embryos with two mothers.) Note how often the researchers try to talk about all of the reasons why people shouldn’t be worried about human research in this vain. This only further convinces me that there are political problems because people can’t handle this possibility.

Apparently, the SUV contacted my insurance. As we had left it, i was going to contact theirs to file a complaint, if i wanted to. Exhausted and not wanting to deal, i had decided not to. Well, they contacted my insurance for me. This meant that i had to talk to State Farm all day to clear up what had happened, repeat my story like 15 times, etc. Of course, such conversations always make me flustered, frustrated and utterly upset.

I had to deal with State Farm once before. My car was nearly totalled after getting crushed between an SUV and a cab due to an out of control SUV in the rain only 10 days after getting new insurance. State Farm consisted of angels, angels and more angels. This time, it was less clear as to whose fault it was. But once again, the nice people at State Farm came to my rescue being beyond helpful and clearing up my confusion and calming my frustration. The nice agent even told me not to worry about it – go to Europe, enjoy it, forget about the car and deal when i get back. “Europe is more important than your car.” If i wasn’t on the phone with the guy, i would’ve hugged him. He was so reassuring, so calming, so helpful.

Of course, i was thinking about it… an insurance agent should be a good therapist. They should want to keep you calm, relaxed, unanxious. I’m a better driver when i’m not a ball of nerves. This is probably a good approach for them. State Farm should teach this to Blue Cross. I swear my medical insurance gives me additional ulcers and anxiety-related disorders every time i have to deal with them. This can’t be good business for them. They don’t want me to be ill; that costs them money. But they do a damn good job of creating stress-related disorders in me a few times a year.

Example: today i got a bill from August 2003 from a doctor telling me that my insurance decided not to recoup all of the money (apparently, that’s been in battle for the last n months). Of course, not only is this super annoying on my insurance’s part, but it’s after i filed taxes where i list how much i pay each year in medical. ::shaking head:: Sometimes, i think that they do this just to break me down. I mean, i’d rather pay the extra money then deal with my insurance company because i do believe that there’s a decrease in health whenever i have to deal with them. Insurance is simple… they screw up and they charge you either in time or money – you choose.

This is why i love State Farm. I pay them once a year; they take care of me and they give me free calming words whenever i call.

Ever since i came back from Japan, the first question out of everyone’s mouth is: “Is it like Lost in Translation!?!?” I always respond “Well….”

It’s hard to parse what i’m being asked. Perhaps i’m being asked if i was just as lost and overwhelmed in Tokyo as Murray and Johansson are. Or perhaps i’m being asked if the caricatures of the Japanese are true. I tend to assume the former, but perhaps that’s hopeful…

Japan was a totally overwhelming experience for me. Not only was it (New York + London)^2 in terms of intensity, but the subtle differences were so fascinating that i spent my entire trip watching for details. Even in my own glazed-over viewpoint, there is no doubt that the Japanese characters in the film were caricatures.

It’s important to remember how caricatures operate. Ever watch a caricature artist? What they do is take the features that appear fundamentally different to their perceived norm and magnify them. Each caricature artist magnifies different features dependent on their own perspective (although, if you have a large nose, you’re going to have a tremendous nose in the eyes of every caricature artist).

Try as i might to see Tokyo on Tokyo’s level, i was brutally aware of my own caricaturization of the city. Fashion played a prominent role in my own processing. My memory has somehow secured the rush of men in business suits in Shibuya and the absurd commonality of 1980s retro fashion. I know that this doesn’t fit everyone, but it stood out because it was so different from what i normally see. My mind was holding on to magnificent differences only.

The problem with creating caricatures is that it’s only funny when you’ve chosen to expose yourself to that processing, when you want to see what stands out from another’s perspective. We choose to subject ourselves to the caricature artist. It’s not nearly as humorous when it is subjected on us. This is where i recognize the problem with Coppola’s movie. I suspect that she meant well… she wanted to portray a sappy set of characters in what she perceived as the American caricaturization of Tokyo. That said, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that this doesn’t read well in Japan. It’s far more insulting because the joke is not shared.

This goes to the root of humor. When humor operates by making fun of a population, it is only funny to that population if they were the joke tellers. For example, when my ex-girlfriend used to roll her eyes and call something gay, it was funny; when a stranger does the same, it’s homophobic. Context. Audience. Speaker. One of the key problems with LiT is that it is a caricaturization by gaijin.

[Thoughts stemming from the CSM article (thanks Joi) and Mimi’s old post]

[For more on humor, read Jokes and Their Relation to the Unsconscious. References on caricature can be found in “The City and the Body” from Judith Donath’s “Inhabiting the virtual city.”]

Update:

I had a great talk with Joi about differentiating portrayals situated in hatred and those situated in stereotypes. The latter are not nearly as visible and can hurt just as much. This is a really good point and i conflated the two in this entry. Humor based on stereotypes doesn’t feel as problematic because the intention is not based on hate. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.

I also realized that a really good way to consider LiT is to juxtaposition it alongside Kill Bill. Kill Bill (both parts of the full movie) is not nearly as problematic because it is caricaturing every action genre out there, from Chinese martial arts to Japanese sword fighting to Westerns to stupid Americans and their guns. When you laugh, the laughter is only partially at the characters; it is predominantly at Tarantino for incorporating yet-another genre in an off-the-wall way. Additionally, in the Japanese section of Kill Bill, Tarantino goes out of his way to caricature Japanese sword-fighting while simultaneously empowering female fighters to be the most prestigeous. Certainly, everyone in that film dies except two and all of the wrongful deaths are righted, but it’s important to remember that everyone proves their worth in fighting except the stupid dumbfuck American hick with his gun.

Update:

United Airlines is showing Lost in Translation for the month of May on two types of flights: to Tokyo/Narita, to Hong Kong / China / Korea. This gives me the distinct impression that people are linking the movie to certain cultures, not simply to the state of being lost in another country. Other movies during the month of May had no clear linkage between location and direction. LiT is not being shown to/from Europe, unlike almost every other movie.

From Caterina:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.

Just as we are afraid of ghosts and of the God of the panopticon insofar as they are imaginary non-entities – that is, because they do not exist – so, according to lacan, we love God precisely because he does not exist.

I had to fudge it. The first two books i picked up didn’t have 5 sentences on page 23. Leave it to Derrida and JL Austin to have rather long sentences that fill the page. Thus, i went with Bentham’s “The Panopticon Writings” (which were out due to a recent debate with my roommate).

Note: catching up on blog reading, but i thought that this exercise was fun!

For one of my classes, we’re discussing online dating. This is particularly timely since i’m about to head off to Vienna to discuss the same topic at CHI. Instead of taking it too seriously, i’m glad that my class decided to find the humor. So i thought i’d share.

First, tales of horror from the online dating world.

There are also various “how to translate personal ads” going around. Inside is one that i thought was funny.

Update: Jonas has some great data on online dating. (thanks Ado!)

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I interviewed a person i know a few days ago about hir blog/journal. S/he talked about writing as a form of cathartic processing. S/he got to write down hir thoughts and share them with hir friends who would know when to comment and when to just let hir process. At one point, s/he looked at me and said: remember when you used to blog for that?

Wow… i really did use to process unfinished thoughts, personal frustrations, frameworks i was trying to construct… all in my various web journals. I didn’t have to defend myself to strangers; my friends were totally constructive in their critiques. I didn’t need to remember to be formal; i was allowed to be half-baked.

Now blogging is this psycho addiction. I’m aware of having an audience of unknowns, but trying to put on blinders just to write. I want the cathartic processing, but i want to share some of my findings/ideas with the world. They don’t both fit into the same forum, even though i try. I write so that i don’t lose track of thoughts. Yet, i am only able to deal with comments and people on occasion. I struggle to find the appropriate voice. Another friend told me that my blog tended to have a lot of content, personalized. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Then again, i was told that my thesis looked like a stream of consciousness writing. It was.

As i interview people about their regrets, i start to wonder if i’ll have my own. Will i regret blogging? I try not to live in regrets, or rather, i try to forget that which i might regret. Yet, is forgetting possible?