A Good Fall

Done with reading Ha Jin. As I kept reading I couldnt help drawing similarities between Chinese immigrants and Mongolians who struggle to settle in the U.S. The author demonstrates amazing knowledge of details and peculiarities of everyday life that the immigrants face in the new land. Also, because it's a collection of short stories each featuring diverse lives of different couples, individuals, and families, the book is easily read and very entertaining. There are all types of immigrants' lives; a graduate student who is struggling with his survival in New York, lonely composer who has to sustain his living through paid tutoring, a caregiver without any perspective for pension because of lack of English, a professor of English who is worried that his ethnic background might affect his tenure, a visiting scholar who turns illegal because his salary back home cannot sustain his wife's health cost and etc.

Creative writing. test one two, one two. test one two one two

Yesterday experimented for the first time in my life with creative writing style. There is this website where you can get inspired as they give you hints to start writing. The site either provides starting sentence, topic or a situation. Feel free to experiment.

Here's what I wrote on prompt 303 which provided starting sentence:

Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela, brushed her skirt, took a deep breath and walked towards where he was sitting. As her mind feverishly checked against smallest details of the operation she tried to settle her pace and assume natural stride in her walk.
Angela: “Mr. McGovern! What a pleasant surprise! I’m not sure whether you remember me but we had an opportunity to discuss fundraising options several years from now at the annual donor’s initiatives meeting in Washington DC.”
McGovern rests his coffee mug and looks up to the young woman. After resting his eyes on her for split of second he nods yet he appears hesitant.
“Eee. Miss?....”
Angela: “Jess. It’s Turbin. I was among support staff who handled the channeling of the funds raised in DC and although I was not directly accountable to you, I was in your team. Anyways, it is nice to see you again. How are things back at the organization? I remember when I decided to move on into different organization our team was involved in one of the major projects involving the development restructuring in Haiti following the catastrophe.”
McGovern still indecisive and while scanning inventory of all the individuals he reckons it would not hurt to just find out who is Jess Turbin. After all she appears to have formidable knowledge of his organization’s activity that might only insiders know like the one in Haiti.
McGovern: “Yes, I remember the project. It never really fully took off. It resulted in almost default state due to local agencies’ bureaucracy and redundant credit line the bank failed to oversee.”
Angela: “What a bummer. I remember how much energy and time we input into launching of that project. All those sleepless night at the office in Port-au-Prince trying to put down together restructuring costs, coordinating between respective governments. Is David Burns still with the organization or he’s not anymore?”
The last sentence echoed in McGovern’s mind and drew myriad of thoughts right away. Tired of speculating about the woman who now settled across the table with her cup of coffee he finally decided to bid away and looked at his wrist watch, old Zenith. The minute head and second timer showed noon but he cared less about the time now that he was retired. It was just a token to Angela that he had some other business to tend to somewhere than discussing mysterious disappearance of some architect of secondary value to the organization. His throat assumed slight itch and he noticed that it occurred ever since the day in his elementary school when he stood in front of a teacher and recited poem.
McGovern: “I believe Mr. Burns is not with the organization anymore. The Haiti project was a peak of his career I think and when it failed he resigned. Though I am not sure if it was full resignation or he was asked to leave. The organization has now much more young and energetic engineering crew. Well, Miss Turbin it was pleasure chatting with you. I have to be somewhere by one” He looks into his watch. Keep in touch. Drop by the office and feel free to roam and meet your old colleagues.”
Angela quickly aligns herself to McGovern as he rises up. She quickly draws her business card from her leather purse and hands it professionally to him.
Angela: “Pleasure is mine Mr. McGovern. I always cherish the days I used to work with the organization. I can almost say the memories are of sentimental value since it was my first ever job since I graduated from college. I now work for the non-performing credit department at Banka Commerziale’s New York headquarter. Really, Mr. McGovern if you need extra helping hand with balancing and credit line I would be more than happy to freelance. Here’s my business card and I will definitely stop by the office before I leave for New York.”
McGovern: “I will see you then Ms. Turbin. Good bye.”
McGovern quickly swipes his fedora hat from the table and leaves the café with paced steps. For a man of sixty he was incredibly nimble in his walk. Angela quickly zips her purse and walks out of the darkened coffee shop into an afternoon bright sun. Her body was soaking up the sun hoarding off the chill caused by an overly air conditioned coffee shop. However, she was not sure the chill down her spine will be leaving her anytime soon. The cold unassuming McGovern was both intimidating but the lack of any form of remorse felt when she asked about Burns, inspired instantaneous repugnant feeling. After the conversation she felt confident more than ever about the involvement of the organization in the disappearance of several civil engineers in Haiti. That man across the table just does not give a damn about human life. Next week as planned she decided to stop by the office and roam around. Perhaps something will yield.

Ностальгия or Fellings of nostalgia

I remember a conversation that my father recited few weeks ago after he'd encountered a man of Russian descent,who was born on American soil. After getting acquainted the man remarked to my father that he was Russian. To which my dad responded with inquisitve reproach "Are you really Russian?" The man replied "I am." My dad asked then "If you are Russian, do you know what Ностальгия (rough translation for Nostalgia) is?" The man replied "No, I don't know and I've never experienced that feeling." My father quickly concluded "Then, you are not Russian."
A friend of mine who left his home 13 years ago and lived in the U.S. for the majority of his adulthood does not consider his cozy life in west coast as being an authentic home. When asked about his experience he seems to question his pragmatic choice of life on most occassions and still holds strong belief that his home is somewhere far away. Is this the famous Heideggerian eternal feeling of homelessness?
On the next instance I must admit from my personal experience that I never felt more Mongolian in my life than now, after moving abroad. The feeling is so overwhelming that it lead me to conclude whether special status of being on self-exhile, having diasporic existence, naturally makes me a staunch nationalist; that is existence of identity threatened by surrounding alien idenitity. And to think about Mongolia's national pride and fetish with any national element presupposes me to think that such feelings are at its zenith when we are most open to our neighbours and when we are at most exposed and transparent to the world.
What is exactly nostalgia? Does it have any worth or value to be even mentioned on global level, particularly today in our current state where just yesterday everybody was rejoicing in opening of the borders?

However, I see myself as being unable to argue for the majority of Mongolians out there. The hybrid education that almost simultaneously oscillates between artificially acquired, Russian education, and naturally absorbed nationalism towards motherland endlessly require to level my identity. Where does this thought lead? I said Russian education that I received encourages unnatural sense of belonging, in a sense that I've never stepped into a Russian soil after my birth and into my 1st year and afterwards. So, naturally the Russian culture should be as foreign as any artificially acquired knowledge such as English? Does having been raised in certain geographical location entail certain role in the formation of identity and furthermore nationalistic views? Or, how does certain memory affect one's identity?

On the other hand I must admit that my Russian education was dissimilar to any language acqusition process here in the States. Since early age of 6 I was forced to memorize Russian poems and songs by grandmother. Of course to my family knowledge of Russian language carried guaranteed future entry into prestigious schools and universities in Russia. This process of acquisition in its order re-inforced me to imagine my identity as outside of pool of other children attending regular Mongolian institutions.
My experience might be regarded as intimate with Russian language but the feeling that I have is still dichotomous; although I am sensitive towards Russian culture and the particular elements that are supposed to invoke sense of belonging to Russia such as popular songs I used to sing in school or cartoons I grew up with, on the contrary, almost instantly interpreted into feeling of nostalgia for Mongolia. The memories are mostly constructed around my extended family, evenings spent in front of TV watching Russian chanels, school years and etc.

Books to read for Mongoloveds

I am trying to work on my article and my never ending research stumbled upon Eric Voegelin's Published Essays. Written by German-Jewish elite professor of Law in Germany who fled his country to escape Nazis, aptly examines the origin of fascism in Europe along with detailed examinations of Mongol diplomatic correspondence during Chinggis Khaan's invasion with Pope, hitherto preserved unknown in the archives of Vatican. His studies of Mongol political structure reveals previously unknown to Western civilization, sophisticated system of state order and most importantly discovery of divinity in its legas structure and divine origin of statehood in building the Mongol empire. Very compelling and I must thank my professor from my grad years, Peter Paik, who pointed me towards this stimulating text.

enquiry to my own thoughts

I am writing this message and it is almost midnight. I started reading a book that I ordered not long ago, supposedly the latest and good source for anyone who is interested in theories on human rights. Halfway reading the introductory point I was perturbed by overwhelming feeling of one's impotence. I looked at the book I was reading and the unfamiliar words that kept occuring in the writing put inadvertently my English in doubt. I started wondering if I was ever suitable to make a decision to go for studies in humanities where there are more utilitarian options available for my humble intellect. Having Overcome with the envy and hubris from certain realization of impotence compared to the non-native American author, I started fantasizing about his possible elite upbringing in English speaking country (note that he's Chinese), perhaps in Singapore or Hong Kong.

Now, after half hour later I sit here and I think about absurdity of my action. Does it point to the competitive nature of scholar in training or in general positive ability of human mind to question and overcome existing dogmas? Anyways, since such content does not accurately befits the intention of this group I shall abandon it right here. Comments are as always welcome.

Tarkovsky and classical art

And here Tarkovsky features the theme in his film

Mad Men mad about books

The show is very addictive and yet does not bore guilty feeling as it is with cheap soap dramas. The hit tv series follows an advertising agency men their women all shot against backdrop of early 60's event. The show is incredibly comfortable with chauvinism, sexism, racism and tons of unhealthy habits such as cigarette and aloohol. Watching this show (in one day I finished half of the season's episodes)I felt like I was time travelling backwards into the origins of every convenience in America; playtex bras, clearasil ads, diapers, airline business. Here's a curious observation from nymag about ideas in the show http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2008/07/don_drapers_mad_men_bookshelf.html

Learn, learn, and learn

Growing up in ex-com country I remember this phrase posted, painted, plastered in almost every school corner. Of course the meaning was evident and much obvious as it was supposed to convey simple message to school children "Do your homework and be conscientious in your study". Today, while I was re-reading Spivak' essay "Can the Subaltern Speak" I came upon a rather curious passage from Marx that was double quoted by Walter Benjamin and in subsequent order by Spivak which in turn spurred some curious thoughts about revolution and aftermath:

Marx continues in his description of the conspirateurs de profession as follows: "...They have no othet aim but the immediate one of overthrowing the existing government, and they profoundly despise the more rhetorical enlightnment of the workers as to their class interests. Thus their anger-not proletarian but plebian-at the habits noirs (black coats), the more or less educated people who represent that side of the movement and of whom they can never become entirely independent, as they cannot of the official representatives of the party." Baudelaire's political insights do not go fundamentally beyond the insights of these professional conspirators...He could perhaps have made Flaubert's statement, "Of all of the politics I understand only one thing: revolt", of his own.

Here Walter Benjamin quotes Marx to critique the valorization of any desire that has only one aim, to destruct and ovethrow any exisitng power. In its order Spivak uses Walter Benjamin's analysis to point the problematic of rhetorics of western Maoists, structuralists and post-structuralists. However,my concern here is not critique of western subjectivity but rather a pedagogical focus the passage has. In lieu of the thought that no revolution is won over a night I wanted to re-focus on the historical aspect of revolution itself and that certainly revolution is always followed by question "What is next?" Marx's point lies precisely in the warning that the political struggle is not an immature rebellion against power but rather full realization of the movement. In Mongolia the overthrow of communist state apparatus in 1990 was often celebrated as a democratic revolution. What followed afterwards can hardly be described as democratic rather the society slip was detrimental to the society as hardcore liberal capitalist values emerged. For this we could assume that when we manifest to make changes in the state power how often are we prepared to deal with the consequences? Do we do our homework proper to the learning experience?

Michael Jackson as a thing. Death long before one dies

Justin: Hey, do you know if Michael Jackson's funeral is tomorrow? Supposed to be like a big thing

Me: Don't know. I thought it was yesterday with that big ceremony, wasn't it "it"? Why people wouldn't just leave him rest in peace, yet still try to drag on with these pompous ceremony?

As we kept on our small conversation I thought about people's fascination with MJ's remains and all these ceremonies the media keeps publicizing. The man is long gone, he does not exist anymore physically and yet there's such public fascination and buzz around his name. Zizek wrote once about immortality that Mao and Stalin gained even when they were alive and that their alter-selves kept on living while they kept their own private stupid lives. Isn't it a similar case? Does it mean that Michael Jackson actually ceased to exist long before his physical death occured this month? That ultimately his physical death was just an empty ritual; another sort of dramatic stage dance that he might have staged? Isn't it why everyone could not believe that the death has occured again, twice actually? I mean who dies twice, right?

A Week of Kindness

A book that I am reading has a curious cover design featuring excerpt from Max Ernst's Une Semaine de Bonté. Decided to look up the title and I found out that it is a graphic novel made of collage. The book published around the time of Hitler's rise to power deals mainly with repressed middle class sexuality, anti-clerical and authoritarian themes.



If you pay close attention to this scene, the woman's bed is located behind bars. There's a man peering down at the figure of a woman while the room is being flooded.

Here's another scene from the book



To wrap up, here's lovely video from 90's by Madonna. This song came out when I was tormented myself with teenage rebellion. My room used to be plastered with posters of Madonna in various provocative poses. I must admit I succeeded shocking my mother with my pop music taste; everytime she walked into my room she used to shake her head. Mom no offense, I still love you.

Madonna - Deeper and Deeper
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Chugyeogja muses with Kafka

A while ago Korean friend gave me a dvd that probably sat dusting on my nightstand for almost a month. Besides his remarks that the movie was "good" and that it was selected for Cannes festival I remained pretty ignorant until I decided to watch it last night. The film's theme might perhaps fool you into thinking that it's cliche story about serial killer preying on prostitutes and self-conflicted cop hunting him down. We are led to believe that we know that kind of drama all too well from both real life, Jack the Ripper, and from fantasy world,"Seven". The presentation of the classical theme is built around suspense and race against time; the chaser who is trying to find the serial killer's residence, where last victim Mi Joon might still be alive, before Young-Min (the killer) is released from police station. The style that the director engages builds Hitchcockian suspense that if you have ever experienced it, leaves you numb in limbs and in cold sweat.

However, I want to discuss here the incredible parallel theme that the director adopted to show about inefficiency of bureaucracy and indidividual's helplessness and inability to challenge the system. At the beginning of the film when the chaser is about to deliver his own justice against the murderer, he's caught in the most comic and absurd scene interecepted by a street cop. The scene is played in the middle of traffic girdlock that the two have caused; both stand as if the two system anomalies were cutting the normal flow of the system's traffic. Of course such obstacle has to be dealt with and removed asap and here, the two are dragged into police station where Young-Min confessess in most ridiculous and non-dramatic way of murders that he committed. The confession is received as complete farce among the staff of police station and the murderer remains out of focus. Instead the attention ridiculously remains on the chaser who is accused of beating Young-Min. The chaser in turn tries to fight the authority and convince them of his innocence while the real murderer is ignored.

Perhaps this scene is reminiscent of Purloined Letter and Lacan's seminar on this famous Poe' piece. The murderer is precisely able to escape persecution because he laid out cards open on the table where everybody is stubbornly digging somewhere. Might be a good theme to look into...

I found one of the final scenes reminiscent of Kafka's Castle where K struggles to gain access to the mysterious authorities of the castle. Kafka did not was not able to finish the Castle but the scene in the movie where the chaser is trying to enter the domain of murder and where he's held against with more than 2 pair of hands amazingly parallels with the atmosphere of surreality and invisble forces present in Kafka.

Trailer - The Chaser
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Алтангэрлийн толь бичиг минь баяртай!

As a junior worker in my company I have to do all sorts of crap, including translating and interpeting random papers of no intellectual value. I struggled with the process perhaps because of my lack of enthusiasm and partly because of heavy terminology involved. Needless to mention that I haven't done any substantial translation lately from target language into source one. Forget about the "Task of the Translator" and Walter Benjamin, I dusted out my old English-Mongolian dictionary and sat for a while contemplating words such as "academic" and "academic bridge". As I slowly progessed through the text, I noticed that my Altangerel was not helping me much. I remembered my freshman college years when I sat evenings with this dictionary and how it used to be great aid to my homeworks. Unfortunately, the blue cover text was not anymore my faithful mate. As my English grew I forgot to update my library with appropriate vocab boosters.
On the other hand I noticed that when you do translation from source into target, you almost do not have to rely on S to T dictionary. When I was translating a friend's travel journal I used my reference and thesaurus dictionaries. Does it mean that the target register has become more accessible to me than my source?

Том 8

March 8th in Mongolia is a nationally recognized holiday that provides a fine excuse for girls to get flowers, various gifts from their loved ones, male co-workers and wrap the evening with out of control outings that can perhaps match American bachelorette parties. They celebrate their womanhood, independence, and recognition (or so we believe). The affirmation of womanhood by male population is largely displayed through the gifts, flowers, and etcetera. As I was sitting in my class few days ago, one male student from Poland expressed his disproval of the holiday condemning it as old Communist propaganda holiday. His remark could have been accurate if he acknowledged the link between feminism and Marxism, but he didn't. Innocent but superficial comment neglected the fact that this celerbation did not start with commies in Russia, but actually in America by suffragettes and since then regarded as International Women's Day. However, here I do not wish to repeat the old and beaten up female argument, that women are powerful and independent or that we are equally capable as any man and therefore this holiday is important to raise awarenesss internationally and then go on accusing young Polish student of being ignorant and not socially progressive. You see I cannot present this argument precisely because I, as an educated, middle class woman would always fail to assess accurately the reality. I would fall into all too familiar trap of liberal syndrome of pity for "developing" country's poor and oppressed. March 8th with acquiescent compliance from women carries silent endorsement of male affirmative stand. It is affirmative and it is quite similar to America's racial affirmative action. Precisely the quiet submission by women to this holiday and lack of critique of it, the holiday still stands as a reminder of perceived gender disequillibrum. Sadly said men can abolish March 8th anytime should they regard that gender issue is not an issue anymore.

Blast from the Past

So, bought the Watchmen tix. Can't believe that it's coming into silver screen. Did some researching on Smashing Pumpkins soundtrack for the trailer. Apparently the original version was released as Batman soundtrack. Thus the end, that is finale of all comic heroes in Watchment is in the beginning of Batman? I liked the original version than the soft final one featured on Watchment, but I guess it is supposed to be slow and melancholic compared to its young/upbeat/fresh original one.

Goyo Duu buyu There's nothing wrong with liking Zohioliin Duu

I remember one day I was chatting with my old classmate from University of Mongolia and when I asked how is UB he remarked "Oh well, last time I visited it (he studied in Japan that time)it was quite depressing. UB is not UB anymore. It's flooded with country people and dismal mood is fostered by fleeting former city people abroad. You hear everywhere Zohioliin Duu and nothing else."

His statement expressed his melancholy and lost nostalgia for old urban lifestyle that UB represented. It is sort of we hear today, London is not London anymore it's flooded my immigrants. Here, the nostalgia is not my main concern here. I wanted to discuss here what is Zohioliin Duu. To try to render it loosely, Duu means song and Zohioliin would be somewhere close to amateur writing. The connotation of this phrase has altered dramatically in last 10-15 years. As far as I remember when I grew up zohioliin duu always meant songs made up and composed by amateur artists who would just combine together well sounding rhymes and attach tune to it by guitar or basic musical instruments. In general it was not composed by well-established composers and never had any classical note recording. These songs were popular in camps, countrysides where people played a lot of guitar.
Nowadays, the connotation has changed abruptly to acquire almost new meaning of Zohioliin Duu. It meant clearly, songs that are popular in rural areas and among country bumpkins who recently moved to UB. These songs are often played in supermarkets where labor is usually driven from rural areas, black markets, in taxi cabs, and lately a lot on popular FM stations. Now, the last one is a matter of a concern to my friend who studied in Japan. Of course, all his teenage and early student years were filled with Western Pop in anticipation of the fall of Communism, which made its splash in its aftermath in 90's and early decade of 2000. For him zohioliin duu would always sound cowboyish. I must admit that probably he doesn't have distate to it. He has his favorite zohioliin duu and favorite zohioliin singer perhaps, but nevertheless what is this resentment to zohioliin duu entering the mainstream?

This is my favorite one where this couple resembles Romeo and Juliet. The song is very simple consists of basic repetitive rhyming. But, the song altogether is awfully retro. I love it.

Kink in the movie:The Pervert's Guide to the Cinema

Zizek on Violence

In his book Violence Zizek takes radical step in approaching faith, Christianity and relation to God by questioning then from the atheist point of view.Yes, precisely offering atheist judgement. He argues that in today's supposedly post-political and post-ideological society the world is resorting into antinomies of two fronts, liberal western, predominantly Judeo-Christian and fundamentalists,fanatics,and ultra-conservatives. The latter in this case is seen as sort of what communists were to west during cold war. He sees that to such antinomy only one institution can provide pure critique and that is detached moral judgement provided by Atheists. By only ignoring the existence of God, Zizek argues, and not being invested into the symbol of hell and heaven, in this case symbolized in our society by reward and punishment one can act from pure good which in its turn, is God himself.
Instead of tolerance and respect for the Other, Zizek proposes Lacanian approach to the conflict in Middle East between Palestine and Israel, and further between Arab world and West, that is to relieve the subject from its pathologically invested object a, Jerusalem.
There's a lot to think about this book. In overall my impression was that he is lost for now or at least searching for way out of void. Way out might be for now precisely Leninist stanza, "Learn, Learn, and Learn . . ." And here is song of the day, Glukoza. I'm sure monsieur Zizek appreciates good moderato in music. Personally I like the video because the artist tries to defy gravity and climb to the window. The song is about butterflies, does it mean love lifts us out of ditch, is that what the video is proposing?

Discussions with Nigel

I am sitting in my office and ready to weep as spasmodic tears are blurring my vision. Four years ago in year of 2004 my colleague and friend, whom I failed to understand due to my childish preoccupations with empty life, died mysteriously in Republic of Georgia. If you can understand the lifestyle that I once led in UB and kind of people I associated myself with, it is rather not complicated to understand my late realization of sorrow and loss of such dear friend. That time it was hard to believe it had occured, but nevertheless I recovered pretty easy as young girls in early twenties can. His name is Nigel Ockenden (I refuse to acknowledge him in past tense) and he died relatively young while teaching English in Georgia. I met him when I taught as well and became friends through sort of peculiar bond as can only perhaps be formed between a person of superior knowledge and intellect and the one who possesses absolute idiotic ignorance, therefore forming certain dialectic of two opposites. I must say until now I did not fully realize what was he up to. . . I know that he left me bunch of tapes with french lessons which I failed to recover, at the restaurant we were supposed to meet, before his departure to England. Today I accidentally discovered that he was a major contributor to amazon books' philosophical, political and literature section. AND I always wondered what he was doing all the time spending all day in library and in front of pc with mug of espresso. Reviews for Althusser, Deleuze, Diderot, Foucault, Agamben, Adorno, . . . the list is long. If only I asked, I would have discovered Agamben back in 2003! I am angry at myself and really are my tears are of a man who just realized that he won million dollar lottery and all along he didn't know about it. As I said I did not ask that time and I had lost interest in books, considering my teen years reading was enough and pretty dresses and shoes were far important.

In memoriam of my dear friend whom unfortunately my infantile mind failed to understand on timely manner, I shall write a discussion that might have taken place if only I realized on time what a great friend I had in handy and what a great mentor he could have become throughout my stumbling with ideas and books.