We Are Losing Our Words

Jeannette Cooperman at The Common Reader:

To keep my vocabulary from shrinking, I signed up for one of those word-a-day messages. Today’s is “limn.” Etymology? Taken from the practice of illuminating a manuscript, from the French luminer and Latin luminare. Those monks’ illuminations glowed with ruby, sapphire, and emerald ink, black shadow, goldleaf embellishments. Today, one of the definitions of “limn” is “suffuse or highlight with a bright color or light.” Example: “The sunset limned her profile in a golden glow.”

A beautiful word. One I have never once heard spoken. Does it matter? Yes. Because the words we keep ready in the back of our throat reshape our neural pathways every time we use them, creating new connections. They influence what we are capable of perceiving; if you do not know “crimson,” “mulberry,” “vermilion,” and “cerise,” you will only see red. Words make subtle distinctions, tease out nuance, reach for common understanding. The more words we comprehend, the more ideas we can grasp, and the faster we can absorb them.

More here.

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A new Microsoft chip could lead to more stable quantum computers

Rachel Courtland at the MIT Technology Review:

Researchers and companies have been working for years to build quantum computers, which could unlock dramatic new abilities to simulate complex materials and discover new ones, among many other possible applications.

To achieve that potential, though, we must build big enough systems that are stable enough to perform computations. Many of the technologies being explored today, such as the superconducting qubits pursued by Google and IBM, are so delicate that the resulting systems need to have many extra qubits to correct errors.

Microsoft has long been working on an alternative that could cut down on the overhead by using components that are far more stable. These components, called Majorana quasiparticles, are not real particles. Instead, they are special patterns of behavior that may arise inside certain physical systems and under certain conditions.

More here.

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Ken Roth: Even Trump can be cajoled into doing the right thing

Ken Roth in The Guardian:

The common wisdom is that Donald Trump’s foreign policy will be a disaster for human rights. Certainly his penchant for embracing autocrats and breaching norms bodes poorly, such as his outrageous proposal to force two million Palestinians out of Gaza – which would be a blatant war crime – or his suggestion that Ukraine is to blame for Russia’s invasion. But Trump also likes to cut a deal, as shown by his paradoxically positive role in securing the current (precarious) Gaza ceasefire. If Trump the dealmaker can be nudged in the right direction, he might, against all odds, be brought to play a productive role for human rights.

As executive director of Human Rights Watch, I spent more than three decades devising strategies to pressure or cajole leaders to better respect rights. I have dealt with brutal dictators, self-serving autocrats and misguided democrats. My experience shows that there is always an angle – something the leader cares about – that can be used to steer them in a more rights-respecting direction.

Trump is no exception. In his case, the key is his self-image as a master dealmaker. The challenge is to make his reputation depend on securing deals that strengthen human rights.

More here.

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‘Those Passions’ by TJ Clark

Stephen Smith at The Guardian:

Politics runs through the history of art like a protester in a museum with a tin of soup. From emperors’ heads on coins to Picasso’s anti-war masterpiece, Guernica, and Banksy’s street art, power and visual culture have been closely and sometimes combustibly associated. This relationship is explored in essays by the distinguished art historian TJ Clark, professor emeritus at the University of California, Berkeley. Many of them first appeared in the London Review of Books, where the academic is given room to dilate in its rather airless pages. He brings a wide scholarship and unflagging scrutiny to his task. That said, his introduction includes the discouraging spoiler: “art-and-politics [is] hell to do”. From time to time, the reader finds themselves recalling this damning admission.

Clark writes from a “political position on the left”. He reflects on epoch-making events such as the Russian revolution, which spawned socialist realist art. He says the Dresden-born artist Gerhard Richter, 93, maker of abstract and photorealist works, is “haunted by his past” in the former East Germany.

more here.

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How Teatime and Cartoons Changed the World

Marjoleine Kars at the NY Times:

“Over the course of the 1700s,” Lynn Hunt writes in the opening of “The Revolutionary Self,” her study of the rise of modern individualism, “people in Europe and British North America came to have a happier view of human prospects.” The rosier perspective came from the perception that human beings, to varying degrees, could shape their own lives. Meanwhile, major political and social upheavals led to an understanding of society as a distinct entity with its own logic.

The simultaneous discoveries of the individual and society created, Hunt argues, a paradox. At the very moment that growing secularization was overtaking the idea of original sin, people also began to see themselves as molded, however subtly, by social forces like race, class and sexuality, “all the markers,” she writes, “given value by modern bureaucracies.” What helped people ditch a community based in divine order for one where free will and social determinism locked horns? The French Revolution. Hunt, a distinguished professor of European history and an expert in the French Revolution, is clear that the concepts she wants to explore are not easily captured.

more here.

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Rap/Hip-Hop

From Carnegie Hall:

Rap is original poetry recited in rhythm and rhyme over prerecorded instrumental tracks. Rap music (also referred to as rap or hip-hop music) evolved in conjunction with the cultural movement called hip-hop. Rap emerged as a minimalist street sound against the backdrop of the heavily orchestrated and formulaic music coming from the local house parties to dance clubs in the early 1970s. Its earliest performers comprise MCs (derived from master of ceremonies but referring to the actual rapper) and DJs (who use and often manipulate pre-recorded tracks as a backdrop to the rap), break dancers and graffiti writers.

From its humble beginnings in the Bronx, NY, rap music has moved into the mainstream, redefining the soundscape and character of American popular culture and contributing to the growth of a billion-dollar entertainment industry. Hip-hop music culture is a product of African American, Afro-Caribbean and Latino inner-city communities plagued by poverty, the proliferation of drugs, and gang violence in the 1960s and early 1970s.

More here. (Note: In honor of Black History Month, at least one post will be devoted to its 2025  theme of “African Americans and Labor” throughout the month of February)

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Friday Poem

Entities & Happenings

The evolution of science suggests that
the best grammar for thinking about
the world is that of change, not permanence,
not of being, but of becoming.

Think of the world as made up of things,
of substances, of entities, of
something that is

—or

think of it as events, of happenings,
of processes, of something that occurs.
Something that does not last, that undergoes
continual transformation, that is
not permanent in time. . .

This notion of the world is the realization
of the ubiquity of impermanence,
not of stasis in motionless time.

by Carlo Rovelli
from The Order of Time
Riverhead Books, NY, 2018

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Thursday, February 20, 2025

Iggy Fernandes, a Pakistani Jimi Hendrix?

Osman Samiuddin in Guernica:

Iggy with brothers

This was Captain Akeel’s home, a sprawling bungalow off Sunset Boulevard—the most ambitiously named road in all of Karachi, which, most evenings past midnight, smells like it is rotting because it is on the route through which fish is transported in the port city.

Some years earlier, after his family emigrated to Australia, Captain Akeel knocked down the walls of the entrance hall and adjoining living areas and had the space soundproofed. He wanted to turn his home into a Hard Rock Café, or at the very least a place where he could jam unhindered with his friends. Word got round about the sessions, and they gradually grew into slightly bigger invite-only evenings. He gave it a name: Club 777, after the Boeing 777s he flew.

What Club 777 really was, though, was a simulation of Karachi’s nightlife as it had been in the 60s and 70s. A period celebrated as a cultural heyday of sorts, its absence lamented in countless WhatsApp forwards and Facebook posts, and through occasional features and documentaries. You’re probably familiar with the tone accompanying these, of gentle incredulity and deep sighs: photos of (gasp) Karachiites drinking alcohol in bars, women in (OMG!) short skirts, hippies in hostels (wow) smoking weed; look, look at how we used to be, how we were so not what we are now.

More here.

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Sean Carroll’s Mindscape Podcast: Lilliana Mason on Polarization and Political Psychology

Sean Carroll at Preposterous Universe:

Political outcomes would be relatively simple to predict and understand if only people were well-informed, entirely rational, and perfectly self-interested. Alas, real human beings are messy, emotional, imperfect creatures, so a successful theory of politics has to account for these features. One phenomenon that has grown in recent years is an alignment of cultural differences with political ones, so that polarization becomes more entrenched and even violent. I talk with political scientist Lilliana Mason about how this has come to pass, and how democracy can deal with it.

More here.

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Augusto Monterroso’s Acrobatic Minimalism

Bailey Trela at The Baffler:

Monterroso has often been compared to Borges, and the comparisons are generally pretty apt. Both writers preoccupied themselves, formally, with short stories and essays that seem to merge into one another; both had a playful interest in scholarly arcana; both were obsessed with the question of style; and both were fascinated by parables and fables. But compared with the ironclad intertextuality of a writer like Borges, Monterroso’s own brand of self-referentiality isn’t exactly philosophically sound—a result, probably, of his antic disposition. It doesn’t approach, or even attempt to approach, the ideal of a closed system. Read a Borges story, and you often get a sense of the author going solemnly about his work like a monk. In a Monterroso story, the image called to mind is rather that of a clerk—one who is lazy, or bad at his job, or poorly trained, or some combination of the three. Things seem simply to have been misfiled.

The Rest Is Silence, for instance, contains a chapter that’s a review, by Torres, of Monterroso’s collection The Black Sheep and Other Fables. And in Monterroso’s collection Perpetual Motion there are already hints of Torres; several epigraphs are attributed to him, while in one story a character, in an attempt to amuse himself, “writes three pages of false exegesis of one of Góngora’s octaves.”

more here.

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The Reality of Settler Colonialism

Samuel Hayim Brody at the Boston Review:

Christopher Nolan’s film The Prestige presents a three-act structure said to apply to all great magic tricks. First is the pledge: the magician presents something ordinary, though the audience suspects that it isn’t. Next is the turn: the magician makes this ordinary object do something extraordinary, like disappear. Finally, there’s the prestige: the truly astounding moment, as when the object reappears in an unexpected way.

Poet and literary critic Adam Kirsch, author of the recent book On Settler Colonialism: Ideology, Violence, and Justice, doesn’t present himself as a magician. But there is no denying that he is a master rhetorician, putting his talents to work in repeated sleights of hand. The purpose of the book is to relieve its readers of the sense that there is anything respectable about the central topic of discussion. Judging by an unfortunate review from Michael Walzer that appeared in the Jewish Review of Books, which more or less thanks Kirsch for doing the reading so he doesn’t have to, On Settler Colonialism is already working its magic, and I am afraid that it will continue to provide this public disservice for years to come. Its ultimate goal: to make the idea of settler colonialism disappear.

More here.

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The Reluctant Genius of Rudy Burckhardt

John Yau at Hyperallergic:

Two decades have passed since the last exhibition devoted solely to the paintings of Rudy Burckhardt. Never one to toot his own horn, Burckhardt was a polymath whom the poet John Ashbery characterized as “unsung for so long that he is practically a subterranean monument.” The paintings are just one part of his diverse oeuvre, which also includes photographs, films, and the autobiography Mobile Homes (1979). Within each of these mediums, he explored multiple avenues. It is this multiplicity that makes him both memorable and elusive and why Rudy Burckhardt: A Painting Exhibition at Tibor de Nagy Gallery is a must-see event. Through his directness, modesty, and scrupulous attention to detail, the artist’s representation of the oddness of the ordinary is unrivaled.

The exhibition is comprised of 16 paintings — mostly Maine landscapes (1972–97) and New York cityscapes (1970–87), as well as a 1947 self-portrait and a 1968 still-life — accompanied by a group of paintings done on large dried, perennial mushrooms, arranged on a table. It’s works like these that have thrown people off when encountering Burckhardt’s art.

more here.

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On Gwendolyn Brooks and Disappearing Black Girls

Eve Dunbar in Literary Hub:

In Washington, DC, the city currently home to America’s least popular president ever, the mainstream media “broke” the story that a rash of black girls had gone missing. Social networking platforms circulated hashtags and headlines speculating the girls had been abducted and forced into sex work. Others worried the girls were dead. The police countered all theories by assuring local and national worriers that these missing black girls were merely runaways.

Snatched. Murdered. Runaway. The truth of the matter is all of these titles attempt to name the reality that black girls are, and have been, disappeared in this nation, every day in all sorts of ways that never make headlines. Gwendolyn Brooks knew that black girls are among the most undervalued, exploited, and unprotected members of American society in 1968 when she published her long poem “In the Mecca,” which centers on the search for a black girl gone missing from her family’s South Side Chicago apartment building while her mother, Mrs. Sallie, is at work. Brooks gives the missing girl a name as diminutive as her place in society, Pepita. It’s a name we come to many stanzas into the poem, the moment her work-weary mother realizes the girl is gone and asks, “Where Pepita Be?” It’s a question that haunts the text and the reader.

More here. (Note: In honor of Black History Month, at least one post will be devoted to its 2025  theme of “African Americans and Labor” throughout the month of February)

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Thursday Poem

My Son, an Intern, Shows Me an X-ray of a Patient’s Lungs

And I see air pockets stranded in pond-ice
after a hard freeze.

I see the lake breathing,
the algal bottom releasing
methane bubbles –

The bones of the thoracic spine
bend with what is carried.

The right lung is occluded –
the milky shade of slush.

There is still one deep pool
of black ice in the left lung
large enough to reflect a star.

There is still one well of hope.

I ask my hope to ferry me
down – down – a water lily
tuber rooting in the void.

I think of the hole
god made in Adam’s
side, that maelstrom
from which we are plucked –
toward which we go.

by Kathryn Weld
from
Ecotheo Review

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