ქალაქი, სადაც ენრიკე ჩავიდა

Since 1453…

Why we read fantasy?

The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real… for a moment at least… that long magic moment before we wake. Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smoke-stacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?
We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the song the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever, somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.
They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to Middle Earth.

G. R. R. Martin

Why we read fiction?

Why else do we read fiction anyway? Not to be impressed by somebody’s dazzling language I hope…  I think that most of us read these stories what we know are not “true” because we are hungry for another kind of truth: The mythic truth about human nature in general, the particular truth about  those life-communities that define our own identity, and the most specific truth of all: our own self-story. Fiction, because it is not about somebody who actually lived in the real world, always has the possibility of being about ourselves.

Orson Scott Card, introduction to “Ender’s Game”

Yet another Amazon Kindle 3 Review

ქინდლ 3-ის გამოსვლამ  ელექტრონული წიგნების ბაზარზე სიტუაცია შეცვალა. ის ბევრად იაფია ვიდრე ფუნქციებით დახუნძლული სენსორულ ეკრანიანი  Sony Reader ანდა სულაც ფერადეკრანიანი პლანშეტური კომპიუტერი Barnes and Noble Nook. საქართვეოშიც ბევრი ფიქრობს, იყიდოს თუ არა. ჩემი აზრით საქმე ძალზე მარტივადაა: თუ წიგნების კითხვა გვიყვარს და ბოლო პრემიიდან ცოტა ფული შემოგვრჩა, ცალსახად ვყიდულობთ (პოსტი ეხება ბოლო თაობის ქინდლს – Kindle 3)

რა არის ქინდლი

ქინდლი არის ელექტრონული წიგნი, უფრო სწორად “ელექტრონული წიგნების წამკითხავი” (ebook reader). მას აქვს ელექტრონული მელნის ტიპის შავ-თეთრი ეკრანი, რომელიც თვალებს საერთოდ არ ღლის და ე.წ. “გამოსხივება” არ აქვს. ასევე 3 გბ შიდა მეხსიერება, და იმის საშუალება, რომ ნებისმიერ კომპიუტერს მივუერთებთ USB კაბელით და წავიკითხოთ, როგორც ჩვეულებრივი “ფლეშკა”.

რა არ არის ქინდლი

• ქინდლი არ არის iPad-ის შემცვლელი
• ქინდლი არ არის პლანშეტური კომპიუტერი (განსხვავებით Barnes & Noble Nook ბოლო მოდელისაგან)
• ქინდლს არ აქვს სენსორული  ეკრანი : (
• ქინდლი არ არის მპ3 პლეიერი (თუმცა აქვს დინამიკები და შეუძლია მპ3-ს დაკვრა)

Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst. Henri Cartier-Bresson

ზუსტად 6,329 გადაღებული კადრის შემდეგ ისეთივე ცუდი “ფოტოგრაფი” ვარ, როგორც ყოველთვის, თუმცა 3,671-ღა დარჩა და შეიძლება რამე მეშველოს. მაგრამ ამ კონკრეტულ შემთხვევაში “ეს არ არის რელევანტური” (c) ვ. ელერდაშვილი.

I believe…

შეუძლია ამ კაცს წერა.

I can believe things that are true and I can believe things that aren’t true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they’re true or not.

I can believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and Marilyn Monroe and the Beatles and Elvis and Mister Ed.

Listen-I believe that people are perfectible, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkledy lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women.

I believe that the future sucks and I believe that the future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone’s ass.

I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating and that the decline in good sex in America is coincident with the decline in drive-in movie theaters from state to state.

I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe that they are better than the alternative.

I believe that California is going to sink into the sea when the big one comes, while Florida is going to dissolve into madness and alligators and toxic waste.

I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we’ll all be wiped out by the common cold like the Martians in War of the Worlds.

I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm, and that thousands of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman.

I believe that mankind’s destiny lies in the stars.

I believe that candy really did taste better when I was a kid, that it’s aerodynamically impossible for a bumblebee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there’s a cat in a box somewhere who’s alive and dead at the same time (although if they don’t ever open the box to feed it it’ll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself.

I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn’t even know that I’m alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of causal chaos, background noise, and sheer blind luck.

I believe that anyone who says that sex is overrated just hasn’t done it properly.

I believe that anyone who claims to know what’s going on will lie about the little things too.

I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies.

I believe in a woman’s right to choose, a baby’s right to live, that while all human life is sacred there’s nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and that no one but a moron would ever trust the legal system.

I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you’re alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it.

Who the hell is Johnny anyway?

ერთი და იგივე ირლანდიური მელოდია, 2 სხვა და სხვა ტექსტი. პირველი ტექსტი პაციფისტურია. 19ს-ის დასაწყისში ბრიტანელები ცეილონში იბრძოდნენ. ბუნებრივია მატ არმიაში ირლანდიელებიც იყვნენ. სიმღერის ტექსტი  ჯარისკაცზე მოგვითხრობს, რომელიც თავის ოჯახს საშინლად დასახიჩრებული უბრუნდება.

While goin’ the road to sweet Athy, hurroo, hurroo

While goin’ the road to sweet Athy, hurroo, hurroo

While goin’ the road to sweet Athy

A stick in me hand and a tear in me eye

A doleful damsel I heard cry,

Johnny I hardly knew ye.

With your drums and guns and guns and drums, hurroo, hurroo

With your drums and guns and guns and drums, hurroo, hurroo

With your drums and guns and guns and drums

The enemy nearly slew ye

Oh my darling dear, Ye look so queer

Johnny I hardly knew ye.

Where are the eyes that looked so mild, hurroo, hurroo

Where are the eyes that looked so mild, hurroo, hurroo

Where are the eyes that looked so mild

When my heart you so beguiled

Why did ye scadaddle from me and the child

Oh Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

Where are your legs that used to run, hurroo, hurroo

Where are your legs that used to run, hurroo, hurroo

Where are your legs that used to run

When you went to carry a gun

Indeed your dancing days are done

Oh Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

I’m happy for to see ye home, hurroo, hurroo

I’m happy for to see ye home, hurroo, hurroo

I’m happy for to see ye home

All from the island of Sulloon

So low in the flesh, so high in the bone

Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye.

Ye haven’t an arm, ye haven’t a leg, hurroo, hurroo

Ye haven’t an arm, ye haven’t a leg, hurroo, hurroo

Ye haven’t an arm, ye haven’t a leg

Ye’re an armless, boneless, chickenless egg

Ye’ll have to put with a bowl out to beg

Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye.

They’re rolling out the guns again, hurroo, hurroo

They’re rolling out the guns again, hurroo, hurroo

They’re rolling out the guns again

But they’ll never will take my sons again

No they’ll never will take my sons again

Johnny I’m swearing to ye.

მეორე ტექსტი კლასიკური სამხედრო მარშია, რომელიც წარმოშობით ირლანდიელმა კომპოზიტორმა დაწერა. აშშ-ს სამოქლაქო ომის პერიოდში მას ორივე მხარე მღეროდა.

When Johnny comes marching home again

Hurrah! Hurrah!

We’ll give him a hearty welcome then

Hurrah! Hurrah!

The men will cheer and the boys will shout

The ladies they will all turn out

And we’ll all feel gay

When Johnny comes marching home.

The old church bell will peal with joy  

Hurrah! Hurrah!

To welcome home our darling boy,  

Hurrah! Hurrah!

The village lads and lassies say

With roses they will strew the way,  

And we’ll all feel gay

When Johnny comes marching home.

Get ready for the Jubilee,  

Hurrah! Hurrah!

We’ll give the hero three times three,  

Hurrah! Hurrah!

The laurel wreath is ready now

To place upon his loyal brow  

And we’ll all feel gay

When Johnny comes marching home.

Let love and friendship on that day,  

Hurrah, hurrah!

Their choicest pleasures then display,  

Hurrah, hurrah!

And let each one perform some part,

To fill with joy the warrior’s heart,  

And we’ll all feel gay

When Johnny comes marching home.

 

არავინ იცის რომელი სიმღერა შეიქმნა პირველი. ტექსტით თუ ვიმსჯელებთ ჯერ ირლანდიური პაციფისტური უნდა შექმნილიყო. მაგრამ დოკუმენტური მტკიცებულება არ არსებობს. უფრო სავარაუდოა, რომ პირიქით მოხდა: ირლანდიელებმა ამერიკულ მარშს დასცინეს.

 

So, seriously, who the hell is that Johnny anyway? 🙂

 

სიმღერის ყველაზე ძლიერი ვერსია კი იმხო ესაა:

It Might look a Bit Messy Now But Just Come Bakc in Five Hundred Years

Many great landscape gardeners have gone down in history and been remembered in a very solid way by the magnificent parks and gardens that they designed with almost god-like power and foresight, making lakes and shifting hlls and planting woodlands to enable future generations to appreciate the sublime beauty of wild nature tranformed by Man. There have been Capability Brown, Sagacity Smith, Intuition De Vere, Slade Gore….

In Ankh-Morpork, there was Bloody Stupid Johnson.

ღამე. წვიმა. პირველი ცდა.