Math Abuse

For it seems to be precisely that science known by the barbarous name Algebra, if we could only extricate it from that vast array of numbers and inexplicable figures by which it is overwhelmed, so that it might display the clearness and simplicity which, we imagine, ought to exist in genuine mathematics. - Rene Descartes

A mathematician who is not also a poet will never be a complete mathematician. - Karl Weierstrass

I have lost count of the number of times asked, a variant of "why care about math?"  It seems few presentations provide good answers.

Most I have seen artless collections of exercises, possibly adequately prepared, sometimes with interjections or side boxes about the application or history of the material under discussion.  It's math neutered and overcomplexified by dense, obsessive prose

Consequently, those interested in it tend to favor gym class for the mind, unless maybe they got lucky enough to have a good teacher, are innately talented enough to see beyond the presentation, or are future scientists learning tools of their trade.

And masochists, who will almost invariably become sadists (perhaps after securing a teaching position.)

That leaves out a whole lot of people -- a bad idea when math is compulsory.  But what if math was presented widely, as a complex endeavor with thousands of years of history, diverse application, and open future?  Would it frighten children to learn that math models reality?  Would it pervert them to learn that math is the study of abstract relationships, a growing edifice built by the application of intuition to a standard of proof?

Maybe this is the first you have heard, and you don't believe me.  Try this, or this.  Both books are literary presentations of mathematics, recognizing that math is art, philosophy, and evolving.  The only thing missing are exercises, but getting through either book provides ample exercise.

Consider Calculus, a word which seems to summon the same uncomfortable awe as "jazz" or "murderer."  It is the art of things arbitrarily small, invoking infinity as a tool, and the mathematics this constructed/discovered  them vast, consistent, and pretty.  As a  means to model change, Calculus has been a cornerstone of physics for centuries, providing scripts for theories of motion, electricity, magnetism, light and heat. 

It was primarily invented, strangely, independently by two people in different countries at the same time.  One was Isaac Newton, who was creating solutions to physics problems.  The other was Gottfried Leibniz, who came at it more philosophically.  Neither was deliberately creating headaches for hapless youngsters.

Yet Calculus students will  take hundreds limits, derivatives, and/or integrals in a typical semester.  Wouldn't it be better to spend more time considering what the objects and operations actually are?   And how their existence depends on a dialogue between deduction, inspiration, and efforts to solve specific physical problems?

I knew a professor who taught Calc 1 with minimal exercises, assigning mostly proofs for homework.  He spent most of each lecture explaining the objects under consideration, and lucidly proving results.  Homework was entwined tightly with class material.  His students understood the subject on a level so far beyond the usual.

It was much more than mechanics, so students got a greater return on their investment.

Current standards create, at best, people who use math but don't understand it, and therefore don't necessarily use it well.  At worst, entire classes of students are alienated.  A solution to this problem is to mix exercises, intelligently, between proof and good writing. 

For example, consider Why Math?, an elective for anyone who has mastered current societally-necessary arithmetic.  This class presents the history of mathematics, it's development and use. Students walk away with some understanding of proof, major fields, looming concepts and problems, and how math hooks up with the natural world and psyche.

The core text is this, and Pi is recommended viewing.  Exercises are chosen to reinforce understanding of material from all presentations, not as abstract practice with no context.

New technology is not necessary for this course, and may be counterproductive.  The point being:  if you continue to spend time on nothing but the surface, you will still create drones.

PS.  Consider 2. That's the symbol for the number "two."  But where is the number?  What is the number?


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ConteXt

1.  There seems to be some confusion -- Monkey Shrines is not a random assemblage, unless you believe everything is random.

1a.  I am hoping to not further flood the Internet with noise. If I fail, comments are welcome, preferably with an awareness of the blog's qualities versus yours.

3.  I found out about feeds a bit too late, and though I hope I am presenting something that works both within and without the blog, I really have no idea. What I am going for is: every blog element subject to influence is given attention -- fonts, colors, general layout, the flow of one post into another, what's in the sidebar vs. what's in a post . . . it's not just about the words, but how each element can potentially interact with any other.  Something like:

NJ Buffet Masala

Never does an Indian restaurant seem to have a buffet that touches it's a la carte.  But if you want to get a notion of a lot of things at once, or just want a shameful amount of interesting and possibly nutritious food for a low price, here is a guide for Morris County and a bit of the perimeter.


Chand Palace, Parsippany

"Moon Palace" offers vegetarian food every day except Tuesday, when they are closed for lunch and offer a non-veg buffet dinner at their catering hall next door.  What you may find lacking in meatness is largely made up for by thick sauces and dairy, and an array of strong legumes.  Like every buffet I've ever met, the spicing is not overly complex, but the food is always peppery -- if there is any signature here, it is dry heat, this despite cream sauces and oily concoctions.

Every meal features rice, naan (including stuffed), and a station of accompaniments:  relishes, yogurt, and raw vegetables.  Sambhar is also a daily offering, for your dosa (potato crepe) or utthapam (vegetable pancake).  Appetizers tend to be deep fried, and well. 

Entrees are usually the "hits" from the menu, and always include something creamy and something like a dal (stewed lentils).  Most entrees do not feature exotic ingredients, with lotus root and lychee being about as extreme as it gets.  It is, of course, the sauces and seasoning that take this food somewhere else.

It may be my imagination, but there is a medicinal feel to the food at Chand, and I mean that in a good way. It's not surprising, given the care that is put into this restaurant.  Despite fatty and fried aplenty, it is very possible to concoct a healthy and aesthetic meal, with food always warm and fresh.


Saffron, East Hanover

Despite food that is way too oily (and not even with traditional oils), this place can still be pretty amazing.  The chef is a wizard with certain dishes, like anything spinach, and despite having lamb and chicken every day, the vegetable count is higher here than at Chand.  A trio of broccoli, beets, and string beans with garlic and pepper are usually out, next to a handful of vegetarian entrees.

Desserts can be really good, and Saffron's spice tea is the best I've ever had, though one of the army of waitstaff tells me the tea is still lame by Indian standards.   If Chand is (or can be) an elegant and healthful indulgence, Saffron is a bit sloppier and more decadent.  The atmosphere reflects this too, with multiple tiers, Indian relics, and a ceiling painted like the sky. 


Bombay Spice, Bridgewater

Sort of Saffron lite, a homey kitchen in contrast to the more rarified Saffron, whose strength is similarly not (necessarily) entrees.  Bombay excels in fried appetizers, desserts, and madras coffee.  Entrees may be quite good, but can be watery and bland.  Is that a punishable offence in India? 

To their credit, the food is always warm, as most often is the service.


Spice Grill, Parsippany and East Hanover

Same owner, different concepts.  The EH location is closer to fine dining, while Parsippany is more of a casual kitchen.  Both tend to be too oily, but very tasty.   Service is spotty, which is not a problem in Parsippany, but is somewhat off-putting in the full service restaurant.

I stopped going to Parsippany after EH opened, as have pretty much settled on Chand or Saffron when in  Morris County, so things may not be as I write at the Spice Grills.  Definately get a dosa at the EH location if they have it (weekends?), and watch out for the fruit -- it never looks washed.


Begum Palace, Madison

Nice place, if bland.  Sort of Indian for the very pale (Marge Simpson:  "the secret ingredient is salt." )  A good place to go if (for some reason) you want really mild Indian food.


Cloves, Budd Lake

I haven't been here in about a year, and stopped going because nonedible objects too regularly showed up in the dishes.  But despite this (and possibly a few other unsavory practices), the food was good, and  refreshingly different too, relying less on oil and seasoning than featured ingredients.   The atmosphere is dizzying, with spirals everywhere.


Caffe India, Morristown

Caffe milquetoast, with temperature problems to boot.  It's a shame, really, because I have a feeling the chef is an artist. 

  
Pooja, Warren

The only thing I remember is rice served on plastic wrap, which I suppose is two strikes against the place?


Baadshah, Parsippany

Another place I am sorry to have cut off, but why take chances with the implications of a pesticide notice, when Chand is right down the street?  But Baadshah had good food, Pakistani home-style, and pleasant staff.  I hope they have sorted out their troubles.


Cinnamon, Morris Plains

An extensive buffet, and tasty if a bit junky.  The food is somewhat like the Parsippany Spice Grill's.


The Clay Oven, Ledgewood 

The interior is kind of neat, Ganesh in rustic American comfort.  And metal bristles in my naan.


Udipi Cafe and Ahaar, Parsippany

RIP.  I saw the former go downhill, which is a shame.  Not only was it the only south Indian place for many miles, but the owners were most generous.

And Ahaar spoiled me even more. An astonishing array of dishes were put out for every buffet, and always one if not a handful were exceptional.  The food was spicy and hot, and savory without cream or excessive oil.  Eating here was a treat and an education, and only organic ingredients could up the Ahaar standard.

Eye Candy 1

Chiho Aoshima, City Glow

Dear Beatlehead

The Beatles suck.

So said a good friend of mine, but not because he hated the legendary foursome.  No, it was more of a mind jar, a forced shift in perspective.  And it carries weight because The Beatles do, now perhaps more than ever.  Witness "Love", the newly remastered catalog, and Beatles Rockband (does anyone else think this is is weird?)

The remastered catalog has made me reconsider a few things.  Not because it sounds horrible -- which I can't judge because I've heard it in stores -- but because some things have sunk in.  The last time I heard some of these tunes, I hadn't yet heard the earlier stuff described as "excercise."  Now I think I agree. 

But what re-strikes me the most is the Lennon vs. McCartney debate.  Usually the question is framed in terms of music and lyrics, but now I suspect McCartney is the better musician, but Lennon was the more interesting artist.

Yes, the A-word.  Bane of fags everywhere.  But all I'm saying is that McCartney's skills are more strictly musical -- writing, singing, bass playing, arranging -- while Lennon's recordings interact more interestingly with the rest of the world, including the listener.  Sir Paul sees a bigger musical bubble, but John saw the picture extramusically. 

The lyrics work similarly -- McCartney's are more musical, but almost always exist in a social space.  Lennon's have wider reach.

Think "I am the Walrus" vs. "Eleanor Rigby," or "Paperback Writer" vs. "Tomorrow Never Knows", or even respective contributions to the Abbey Road medly.  "Revolution 9" might call the difference to attention most extremely, if only because Sir Paul never released anything so removed from a well-trodden form.

Yours,

JHB

Blue Monday

Seems like the holiday season starts a little earlier every year.  Even the Thanksgiving boundary didn't hold this year, with carols ringing out in public places days before.  Is this holiday creep?

I'm not necessarily against extending a time of good cheer and generosity -- and I certainly am a sucker for blinkie lights -- but I don't think I like six weeks of Holiday Season.  The songs really aren't good enough, and Thanksgiving gets short shrift.

And many have personal reasons for blustering through the holidays -- something is pushing all those suicides (will the rate reflect the extended season?)

So I'm for putting off the decorations, musical and otherwise, until mid December.  Let the autumn play out, give Thanksgiving it's due, and make the weeks surrounding the New Year more like Christmas. 

Blob Scholar

A long time ago, I observed that some of Hans Arp's concretions were strikingly similar to painted biomorphic forms in the work of Yves Tanguy:

I approached the professor who prompted my observation, in order that I might learn about a connection, perhaps even impress the old man. He said he didn't know of any connections, but that I could "perhaps make a small contribution" to the field by researching the subject.  In some way that italics cannot really capture, the emphasis was on the word small.

So I never got around to researching the question, and in the years since have decided I don't care.  But maybe somebody else does, so take up thy mantle, Scholar of blobs.

Though the particulars of dates and influence don't much interest me anymore, I am still wondering (as perhaps you are) why anyone wants to use blobs as subject matter, and what they represent.

The generic answer is depiction of the unconscious.  But if you accept that all art, even everything a human does represents the unconscious, what is the difference between blob art and Mona Lisa?  

Does the specifed intent to create an unconscious landscape matter?

And if you accept that your perceptions are shaped by unconscious forces, does that make everything a representation?  Is there a difference between blob art and reality?

So, a blob scholar I remain.

Oscar Wilde

Great tune, by a band that can really play.

Frottage

Attirement of the Bride, Max Ernst, 1940.  Oil on canvas.

See also.

Oh Poor Baby

This is the second in a series of posts, drawn from emails I wrote during the last few months, in the wake of what may have been a tornado.  


Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Holy Fucking Shit. The last week has been a parade of sorting, moving, and low-budget cruise missiles . . .

I was "supposed to" have my living room cleared by Tuesday, but was unable to complete that even with the Labor Day Weekend, which I completely burned on apartment stuff. I left a note on my door asking for two more days and was rebuffed by a living room floor made of a giant tarp covered in my cieling. My stuff was moved to the sides, disorganizing it enough to cost me at least a day's effort.

And for effect, some of the food I left for myself in the apartment had been consumed.  A wrapper was tossed on the floor in plain view, I assume, so I would see it.

Plus I now get to work in an environment of exposed fiberglass insulation. I've got one of those masks like people wore during the SARS breakouts.

Unfortunately I didn't have the means to take a photo on the day, but take this one from a week later and fill that tarp, triple it's size, then add my stuff jumbled up against three walls.

But yet it gets better, because today (Wed 9/9) the three who collectively make up my landlord were on the premises, and all three managed to insult me. In summary:

The lady who is half owner told me I and all the other tenants were acting like we were blaming the ownership for the "tornado," and refused to even listen to the basic reality:  I was up in the air for over a month, which means I wasn't packing much, so how much can you expect me to do in a week? "I packed a house in a week", she snidely replied. Really? Did you have anything else to do during that time, and did you have to stop at 7:00 pm because it gets too dark with no power?  Did you do it without a running toilet because the water is turned off?

Then the male who is the other half owner gave me a similarly hard time, again bringing up that their "forgiveness" of my late fees (I made late rent payments about three times in four years) was lisence to hurry me out. Never mind that most of their late fee structure is illegal. Never mind that I am owed four days rent from when I couldn't live in the building at the end of July, which is about the same as any legal late fees they might have decided to put in the lease.

Their ignorance of the law is titanic, not to mention their total inability to connect with what has been happening to the tenant's lives in the past six weeks. They accused me of having a storage space for free, which technically I do because THE APARTMENT IS MINE BY LAW UNTIL THE END OF SEPTEMBER. They have no clue that the lease is still in force minus the requirement to pay rent.

And Mr. says to me, contemptuously, "you're so smart, aren't you? You know all the ins and outs?"

WHAT?

I know what a lawyer told me, and that you are a self-centered pig. I also know that part of the reason I consulted a lawyer is because you had no answers, and that I found out about your late fee structure because you tried to use it to force me out.

But the coup de grace is this: The son of Mr. and Mrs, who is caretaker pretty much only in name, comes by on his riding mower and blasts my car with grass, then later proceeds to yell as he drives by "Oh, poor baby."


Now, in fairness, I realize some crazy people still actually want to move back in, and so work is supposed to proceed quickly, and if I can beleive what I've been told (a bad idea, I've been finding) the work on my place had to be done before work on the roof could proceed.

But with all the lies, half-truths, constantly changing stories, and just plain talking when not a clue is had about that which is being spoken -- for all I know work on my place could have waited until fucking Thanksgiving.

As of this posting it is almost Thanksgiving, and last I drove by a week ago the roof was still not finished.  Should I believe that there was any hurry at all to work inside my place?

Ran (So Far Away)

Next in this apparent series of Tips from Brooding Filmmakers, from Akira Kurosawa's Ran:

"We are born crying. And when we stop crying, we die."

I'm not sure the Flock would agree.

Otherwise . . .

Or, why you should move a boat over a hill in the jungle.

Burden of Herzog

Nature is called a lot of things:  brash, bold, Mother, blind, amoral, unconcerned, and magnificent, for example.  I'm not sure if anyone has used "stupid", so I'll throw that one in. 

Consider, for example, Werner Herzog in the Amazon:

Of course we are challenging Nature itself, and it hits back. It just hits back that's all, and that's grandiose about it, and we have to accept that it is much stronger than we are.

[Klaus] Kinski always says it's full of erotic elements. I don't see it so much erotic, I see it more full of obscenity . . . Nature here is vile and base. I wouldn't see anything erotical [sic] here. I would see fornication, and asphyxiation, and choking and fighting for survival, and growing and just rotting away.

Of course there's a lot of misery. But it is the same misery that is all around us. The trees here are in misery, and the birds are in misery. I don't think they sing, they just screech in pain.

Of course, you might be testy too if you were trying to haul a steamship over a jungle hill.  (See the documentary, up there with "Hearts of Darkness" for sheer what-the-hell-were-these-people-thinking?)

Back to Herr Direktor in the jungle:

It's an unfinished country, it's still prehistorical [sic]. The only thing that is lacking is the dinosaurs, here . . . It's like a curse weighing on an entire landscape, and whoever goes too deep into this has his share of that curse. So we are cursed with what we are doing here.

It's a land that God, if he exists, has created in anger. It's the only land where creation is unfinished yet.

Taking a close look at what's around us, there is some sort of a harmony -- it is the harmony of overwhelming and collective murder . . . And we in comparison to the articulate vileness and baseness and obscenity of all this jungle, we in comparison to that enormous articulation, we only sound and look like badly pronounced and half-finished sentences out of a stupid suburban novel, a cheap novel. And we have to become humble in front of this overwhelming misery and overwhelming fornication, overwhelming growth and overwhelming lack of order. Even the stars up here in the sky look like a mess. There is no harmony in the universe. We have to get acquainted to this idea that there is no real harmony as we have conceived it.

But when I say this, I say this all full of admiration for the jungle. It is not that I hate it -- I love it. I love it very much, but I love it against my better judgment.

Ja.  For full effect, watch the video.

The Octopus Has No Head, Part 1

This "Octopus" series of posts was drawn from emails I wrote during the last two months, in the wake of what may have been a tornado.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Hi Everybody!

So, last Tuesday night I come home around 10:00 pm, and see yellow tape over the outer doors of my apartment building. I'm thinking, what the FUCK?! So I go over to my landlord, who lives two blocks away, and he tells me a tornado ripped the roof off the building. Turns out, it wasn't officially classified, but some kind of "freak storm" (as the local paper called it) did rip the roof off the building, including the ceiling of two apartments -- my apartment missed similar damage by feet.

Pics are here: http://njherald.mycapture.com/mycapture/folder.asp?event=806089&CategoryID=4460&ListSubAlbums=0

My building has been classified as uninhabitable, and water and power are off. Estimates range from days to weeks until I can get back in. And I may not want to, because in the interim there has been some water damage to the cieling of my kitchen, which may mean work will need to be done inside my apartment.

Thanks for listening, and if anybody wants to get drunk with me, please get in touch.

Friday, August 28, 2009

All,

I have been barred from my apartment for over a month now, except for moving stuff out. In this time there has been water damage to my kitchen ceiling, and there is a big hole where the ceiling of my bathroom closet used to be. Some estimates put it at two weeks until the building is declared habitable again, but I'm not going back.

I'm giving 30 days notice for the end of September, and will be using the time to move out and get the place in order. I may need someone to help me with a bed and a dresser, possibly just to move the items to the curb, possibly to move the items somewhere else (in which case a truck will be necessary). If you might be able help, please get in touch.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Hello.

Days after my last email, I entered my apartment to find three bad areas of water damage on the cieling -- two big sagging ones in the living room, and one in the bedroom. Two of these had cracked, dripping water onto the floor, ruining some papers in the living room.

I'm dealing with real geniuses here.

I gave 30 days notice on 8/31, and the very next day there was suddenly a hurry for me to evacuate. No one wants to be responsible for damage to my stuff, you see, so apparently 30 days notice only applies for the landlord's convenience.

Whatever. I'm shooting for the move-out to take a week . . .

Never, ever rent from a guy who answers the phone "Yeah?"

2012 is Not a Rush Album

Some substantial claims in the 2012 circus:

The Mayans appear to have predicted a shift from one “World Age” to the next at this time. The end of the Mayan “Long Count” of thirteen baktuns, over 5,000 years, is December 21, 2012, which also concludes several larger cycles and seems linked to the Precession of the Equinoxes, from the Age of Pisces to the Age of Aquarius, and specifically the Winter Solstice Sun rising in the dark rift at the center of the Milky Way on the last day of the cycle.

The quote comes from a mind-jarring (and much recommended) book, which encompasses not only 2012, but ties together a kaleidescope of stuff "Metaphysical" and "New Age." Plus it's a memoir -- don't you want to read about a personal relationship with Quetzalcoatl?

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, try a search on "2012" and enter vast waters filled with stuff that's really, in the words of the blindered, "out there." Or try this, which is scarier than other 2012 doomsday books because it outlines what appear to be scientifically plausible mega-catastrophes.

So, a bit less poetically than Mr. Pinchbeck, the classical Mayans predicted the eclipse, which forms the cusps of some their calendar cycles, possibly including their longest one. The Fifth World is over (or, if you're a Hopi, it's just starting). And other celestial phenomena appear to be cycling as well, including the severity of solar storms.

But, as the Mayan prediction bandwagon has been jumped, opining on what they knew, wrote, meant, or "really meant" is up for grabs. There is fervent anticipation of destruction and/or renewal, and the return of the aliens who seeded us.

My favorite prediction involves chips coded 666, which the New World Order is going to offer to you for implantation. In case you don't know, anything coded 666 is EVIL. In this case it's the old Antichrist, trying to scrape up the world for The Second Coming.   You'll be his slave if you take the chip, which will be a real bummer for you.

If the universe is anything like Star Trek V (The Fifth World?), and I'm sure it is, there is something really important at the center of our galaxy. So why not ask what happens when the sun interposes?  If we're really lucky (or unlucky), the words will boom from the sky:  "Attention all planets of the Solar Federation, we have assumed control."

Librarius Interruptus

So I'm at a library, trying to place the video in the previous post, and was told I can't download . . .

Sorry, I was interrupted by a guy playing online chess, who can't sense I care more about this post than his game.

Anyway, I couldn't download the video because "these computers are not like your home computers."  The implication was not that the computers were of a different species, but that library computers should not have the functionality of computers in the home.  I stopped asking.

I find this . . .

Sorry, I was interrupted again, this time by a young woman tutoring, on the computer formerly occupied by the chess aficianado.

So I was saying, what are we to make of an . . .

Oh, sorry again, this time a guy is having a fight with his computer.  He appears to be losing, loudly and profanely.

So, what are we paying for?

Welcome/Your Brethren

I knew they were smart, but not like this.

See also here, where we learn that " the Arnhem political saga [was put] on the recommended reading list for freshmen Congressmen, in 1994."

And remember this, if you can.