“What I Talk About When I Talk About Running” yra labai neįprasta Murakami knyga. Tai nėra grožinė literatūra, o ese knyga, kurioje Murakami bando atskleisti motyvus, kurie jį skatina rašyti.

Tai labai neįprasta, kadangi rašytojas yra išgarsėjęs savo kuklumu, nenoru dalinti dažnus interviu ar aiškinti savo knygas. Tai gana dažnai pasitaikanti ir visiškai suprantama rašytojų pozicija, bet Murakami atveju situacija kiek kitokia. Mat japonų rašytojas savo knygose apskritai vengia ypatingo filosofavimo, kuris nebūtų labai tiesiogiai susijęs su knygos personažo situacija ir gyvenimu.

Juk tai taip murakamiška vis sakyti ir sakyti, po kiekvieno platesnio apibendrinimo - “Bent jau aš taip manau. Greičiausiai kiti mano kitaip, bet esu toks koks esu ir gyvenimas mane būtent to išmokė”. Toks viename sakinyje supinamas nenoras primesti savo pozicijos, bet ir kartu tvirtai jos laikytis savo asmenyje.

Ir štai paskutinėje savo knygoje rašytojas imasi aiškinti savo poziciją, kas neišvengiamai veda link to, kad pradedi nepagrįstai filosofuoti ir sakyti, kas gali būti ir visai ne tiesa, o tiesiog svaičiojimai. Be galo įdomu, kaip gi rašytojas sugeba susitvarkyti su tokia sudėtinga situacija ir svarbiausia - kam išvis reikia tokios knygos?

Sportinis bėgimas tampa šios knygos raktu. Ir ne kaip metafora, o greičiau kaip tam tikra gyvenimo praktika. Murakamio dažnai klausia, o ką tu galvoji, kai bėgi? Jis atsako, kad nieko. Kartais galva būna tiesiog tuščia, o kai joje pasirodo mintys, jos yra lyg debesys danguje, pasirodo ir nuplaukia.

Tai stebėtinai panašu į meditacijos praktiką, kurios tikslas ir yra iškristi iš įprasto minčių srauto, kuris mus supa kasdienybėje. Chaotiškas, sunkiai perprantamas ir mus greičiau pančiojantis nei padedantis, šis sąmonės srautas neleidžia atsitraukti nuo begalinio “reikalų spiečiaus”.

Kiek man pavyko suprasti Murakamio aiškinimą savo paskutinėje knygoje, rašymą šis autorius įsivaizduoja kaip atsitraukimą, kaip bandymą surasti kelią į kitokį realybės sluoksnį, kuris glūdi ne tiek mūsų kasdienėse mintyse, kiek daug labiau baziniuose dalykuose. Pavyzdžiui, mano kūno tylus funkcionavimas (bėgimu metu išryškėjantis), arba tai ką aš valgau, ką pasidarau pusryčiams.

Čia galima prisiminti vieną iš Murakamio paskaitų kažkuriame Amerikos universitete (Princton’e?), kur jis sakė, kad tiki pasakojimo gydančia galia, kad gera istorija savo įvykių seka, savo įtraukiančiu poveikiu yra kaip terapija.

Čia irgi Murakami kalba apie pabėgimą nuo kažkokio blogio esančio mumyse (ligos, nuodemės?), kuris neduoda ramybės ir neleidžia sustoti, vis verčia bėgti, galvoti, strateguoti. Iš čia ir Murakamio knygų blogieji herojai, beveidžiai glitūs biurokratai, kurie pasirodo iš niekur, nors visada juos nujautei esant šalia. Jie nieko negrąsina, atvirkščiai vilioja kažkokiomis gėrybėmis.

Kitaip tariant, sprendžiant iš paskutiniosios knygos, Murakamio literatūra yra lyg terapija, kuri stabdo, lėtina, atitraukia nuo “rūpesčių”. Iš čia Murakamio begaliniai puslapiai, kuriuose kažkas vyksta, bet nieko svarbaus. Žmonės susitinka ir išsiskiria, guli papludimiuose, darosi salotas, kalba telefonu, bet visa tai lyg šešėlių teatras, lyg tikras gyvenimas, gyvastis būtų kažkur už širmos.

Šis proveržis į tikrovę, kurio (neatsimenu) Murakamis matyt ne karto atvirai neaprašė ir matyt yra rašytojo tikslas, idee fixe. Galbūt tai panašu į rytietišką “nušvitimą”, kuris nėra “liftas į transcendenciją”, o greičiau žingsnis link gyvenimo, kaip to medžio už lango, kuris tiesiog yra ir tiek.

A stash of explicit pornography to which Franz Kafka subscribed has emerged for the first time after being studiously ignored by scholars anxious to preserve the iconic writer's saintly image

"These are not naughty postcards from the beach. They are undoubtedly porn, pure and simple. Some of it is quite dark, with animals committing fellatio and girl-on-girl action... It's quite unpleasant."

"Academics have pretended it did not exist," Dr Hawes said. “The Kafka industry doesn’t want to know such things about its idol."

read more at the times

Imagine a country where almost all women are monogamous, while all mendemand two female partners per year. Under those circumstances, a fewprostitutes end up servicing all the men. Before long, the prostitutesare infected; they pass the disease on to the men; the men bring ithome to their monogamous wives. But if each of those monogamous wiveswere willing to take on one extramarital partner, the market forprostitution would die out, and the virus, unable to spread fast enoughto maintain itself, might well die out along with it.

In The Wisdom of Whores (see also my earlier post) Elizabeth Pisani says that such a country exists, it's Thailand, and the results of more sex were safer sex - exactly as Landsburg argued. Here's Pisani's story:

Thailand used to fit the the classic 'virtuous girls, philandering boys' model.' At the start of the 1990s, 57 percent of twenty-one-year-old men in Northern Thailand trooped off to the brothel to do their philandering.' More than half the sex workers who soaked up their excess energy were HIV-infected....

Then...the Thai economy boomed.' Girls were getting better educations than ever before...Educated girls were waiting longer before getting married, but not before having sex.' By the end of the 1990s, 45 percent of girls aged 15-21 in northern Thailand admitted to having sex with boyfriends before marriage, compared to less than a tenth of that in a nationwide survey in 1993.

...So at the end of the decade, we have a lot more premarital sex and not all that much condom use with girlfriends.' But now that these young, cash-strapped guys can have sex without paying, they've stopped handing over cash for sex.' By the end of the 1990s, only 7 percent of young men were paying for sex, and HIV prevalence in sex workers had come down too.

....In short, more women having premarital sex equals less HIV.

Pisani cites neither Landsburg nor Kremer so I believe her account is independent.' Note that Pisani also credits Thailand's successful condom program.

(Via Marginal Revolution.)

The fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure....

I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.

Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality. So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life. ,...Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way....Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more to me than any qualification I ever earned....

(Via Boing Boing.)

– What are we waiting for, assembled in the Forum?

The barbarians are to arrive today.

– Why then such inactivity in the Senate?

Why do the Senators sit back and do not legislate?

Because the barbarians will arrive today.

What sort of laws now can Senators enact?

When the barbarians come, they’ll do the legislating.

– Why is our emperor up and about so early,

and seated at the grandest gate of our city, upon the throne,

in state, wearing the crown?

Because the barbarians will arrive today.

And the emperor expects to receive their leader.

Indeed, he has prepared to present him

with a parchment scroll. Thereon he has

invested him with many names and titles.

– Why have our two consuls and the praetors come out

today in their purple, embroidered togas;

why did they put on bracelets studded with amethysts,

and rings with resplendent, glittering emeralds;

why are they carrying today precious staves

carved exquisitely in gold and silver?

Because the barbarians will arrive today

and such things dazzle the barbarians.

– And why don’t our worthy orators, as always, come out

to deliver their speeches, to have their usual say?

Because the barbarians will arrive today;

and they get bored with eloquence and orations.

– Why has there suddenly begun all this commotion,

and this confusion? (How solemn people’s faces have become.)

Why are the streets and the squares emptying so swiftly,

and everyone is returning home in deep preoccupation?

Because night has fallen and the barbarians have not come.

And some people have arrived from the frontiers,

and said that there are no barbarians anymore.

—

And now, what will become of us without barbarians?

Those people were some sort of a solution.

book is essential to anyone looking for a) a love letter to Los Angeles, b) a chance to cultivate an obsession with Raymond Chandler

(via marginal revolution)

(via drawn!)

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

(via kottke.org)

the over logical fell for the witch

whose arguments converted him to stone

thieves rapidly absorbed the over-rich;

the over-popular went mad alone,

and kisses brutalised the over-male.

as agents their effectiveness soon ceased

yet, in proportion as they seemed to fail,

their instrumental value was increased

to those still able to obey their wish.

by standing stones the blind can feel their way,

wild dogs compel the cowardly to fight,

beggars assist the slow to travel light,

and even madmen manage to convey

unwelcome truths in lonely gibberish.

Auden, “The Useful”

Skiriama paslaptingam gerbėjui nupirkusiam Audeno knygą Kalėdoms.

He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be

One against whom there was no official complaint,

And all the reports on his conduct agree

That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a

saint,

For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.

Except for the War till the day he retired

He worked in a factory and never got fired,

But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.

Yet he wasn’t a scab or odd in his views,

For his Union reports that he paid his dues,

(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)

And our Social Psychology workers found

That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.

The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day

And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.

Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,

And his Health-card shows he was once in a hospital but left it cured.

Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare

He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Instalment Plan

And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,

A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.

Our researchers into Public Opinion are content

That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;

When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went.

He was married and added five children to the population,

Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his

generation.

And our teachers report that he never interfered with their

education.

Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:

Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

(iš čia)