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All Hulled Out

Psychopathy can be differentiated from other personality disorders on the basis of its characteristic pattern of interpersonal, affective and behavioral symptoms. Interpersonally, psychopaths are grandiose, egocentric, manipulative, dominant, forceful, and cold-hearted. Affectively, they display shallow and labile emotions, are unable to form long-lasting bonds to people, principles, or goals, and are lacking in empathy, anxiety, and genuine guilt and remorse. Behaviorally, psychopaths are impulsive and sensation-seeking, and they readily violate social norms. The most obvious expressions of these predispositions involve criminality, substance abuse, and a failure to fulfill social obligations and responsibilities.

There is this part in my study that I have always dreaded. Drive observation in violent offenders. I have an iron lined stomach for almost anything and everything under the stars but to sit through actuarial data and clinical observation trials on psychopaths with a cultivated taste for abusing children is something you can never entirely be prepared for. This is where you commence with serious doubts about whether this really is the career you want. Because you are promised that it will get progressively vile.

I had first played some of his easiest piano pieces when I was nine; at that time, Sibelius, the so-called Nordic Beethoven, was still alive; Stravinsky, the most celebrated Beetho­venian (insofar as he was a revolutionary) of my grandparents’ generation, composed the Canticum Sacrum that year; Pierre Boulez, one of several important musical revolutionaries of the generation that was then coming into its own, turned 30, and the ink was hardly dry on the score of Le Marteau sans maître, his most influential work. I hadn’t heard of Boulez then, but through my record player I wanted to get to know all of the musicians I had heard of, from Bach and Mozart to Bartók and Stravinsky. I loved Tchai­kovsky’s 1812 Overture, Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheher­azade, and Leonard Bernstein’s jazzy Fancy Free ballet, which began with four gunshot-like drumbeats, but Beethoven seemed to speak to me more clearly, more directly, than anyone else, and I often thought about him, about his existence.

In 1958, the Colossus speaks to an 11-year-old boy.

A Pun travels through your brain.

Have to get back to Hull and excitatory potentials which, surprisingly, do not excite in the least.

UPDATE!

Because he is like so pasty and so Lock Stock and Two Smokey Barrel-y at the same time.

a connoisseur of disgust

Trying to procure a copy of The Goncourt Journals. It’s a real pain in the harris, apparently. It’s the only non-academic read I aimed for last month and while I am almost half done self flagellating with ICD 10, I am yet to so much as spot a copy of this book anywhere.

By contrast, Beckett’s poems, early and late, do everything possible to undermine any possible universalization, and instead keep their own discourse mired in an individuality that is always trivial: thus, the Descartes ventriloquized in “Whoroscope” is concerned not with pure thought but with the egg he intends to eat, for as Beckett’s note informs us, he “liked his omelette made of eggs hatched”—he presumably means “laid”—“from eight to ten days; shorter or longer under the hen and the result, he says, is disgusting.”

Answers the question gnawing at every Philo student’s lateral regions – What ’bout Descartes’ eggs?
(Trivia – Pablo Escobar also liked his eggs “laid”. Hannibal Lecter, of course, omitted any breakfast originating from ovipores entirely.)

Kaisan Ba?

How large is your bedsheet?

February 4, 2010 Leave a comment

In the elevator this morning.

Sprightly Young Girl – Hey!! what happened on your call yaar? Did the customer agree to pay the late fee?

Fauxhawked Young Boy – Of course! Americans never want to pay late fees, no? I told her – Sorry you should have thought about all this before spending money like cats and dogs.

Sprightly Young Girl – Then?

Fauxhawked Young Boy – Bas phir kya… she started crying so I said – Madame, you should spread your leg only as much as the bed sheet.

I pretended to faint at this point so I don’t quite know what happened further in this conversation.

UPDATE!
Think I’ll go cool off in Ladakh for a bit. Do they have terrorists there? Should I carry a bullet-proof vest or are regular vests fine?
Suggestions are welcome at nihilistwaffles [at] gmail [dot] com

Wisdom as such

January 25, 2010 Leave a comment

Curses like rookses flies homes to nest in bosomses and barnses.

May you never forget that, said I to a friend who turned 30 today. Tragedy strikes at the most inopportune times. Though, to be fair, what really accounts for an opportune time anyway? Sometimes I’ll think its the perfect day to invade the small appliances section of the nearby supermarket with my hawk like ability to spot the cheapest and most useless deals. I’ll make my way to the said store only to realize that its closed. An entire day’s motivation fed to dust by the thoughtlessness of the store owner. However, this is not about my exciting life. It’s about my friend’slack of one. So, there she was, this poor wren, happily 29 and then *boom* she is suddenly 30. Miserable as a celibate hog. It seemed like only yesterday when we were teasing her about being a 29 year old spinister cat woman* and now this .

What is the appropriate way to offer consolation to a 30 year old for having turned 30? There is no easy way, I’d imagine. I hope she recuperates well.

*Think fur balls and a cackle of unsightly beasts named “Toffee” and “Pudding” not whips and leather body suits.

Das Leben Der Udderen (The Udders Of Others)

January 22, 2010 Leave a comment

At first I thought of trampling the bespectacled vontz, but I felt that to do the job properly I’d need about two hundred more head to really stomp him good. There were no rocky cliffs where I could brush against the wretch with a little hip action and send him plummeting. Then it hit me. A nature walk had been mentioned, and all were anxious to participate. All, that is, except for a certain cringing homunculus, who carried on like Duse over the prospect of being in the woods among Lyme ticks and poison oak. He chose to remain in his room and make phone calls to check on the grosses of his new movie, which Variety had said would have limited appeal and suggested should open in Atlantis.

The Lives of Udders by way of Dr Woody Allen. (Due apologies to Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck.)

When a femur or tibia fracture comes in, we check to see if it is open and has penetrated the skin or is closed. The open ones go to the [operating room], they are usually infected, and usually lead to amputations. That means [people] who would have just broken their legs and be back on track in a few months, are losing their legs. The closed fractures, no matter how bad don’t have priority for the OR and can’t be x-rayed, so I put them into place as best as I can estimate, make a splint and give them Tylenol and send them home. I know home doesn’t exist so i feel bad..

Trying to stay hopeful in Haiti.

Spaceporn via io9. Watch and weep. And smack James Cameron for spending the collective GDP of all of SOuth America on something that’s naturally and freely available.

Questions that may baffle the lesser mongoose amongst you

December 1, 2009 Leave a comment