Log24

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

For the Children in the Apple Tree (continued)

Filed under: General — Tags: , — m759 @ 6:00 AM

(See previous posts now tagged Apple Tree Children.)

See as well the comic book in "Midnight Special" —

(Image previously posted in "Common Core vs. Central Structure")

Sunday, July 3, 2016

For the Children in the Apple Tree

Filed under: General — Tags: — m759 @ 7:20 PM

The title is a reference to Four Quartets .

See a search for Apple Tree in this journal.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Google’s Apple Tree

Filed under: General — m759 @ 11:30 AM

http://www.log24.com/log/pix10/100104-Apple.jpg

Google has illuminated its search page today with a falling apple in honor of what it is pleased to call the birthday of Newton. (When Newton was born, the calendar showed it was Christmas Day, 1642; Google prefers to associate Sir Isaac with a later version of the calendar.)

Some related observations–

Adapted from a Log24 entry
of Monday, March 24, 2008–
 

 

"Hanging from the highest limb
of the apple tree are
     the three God's Eyes…"

    — Ken Kesey

"But what's beautiful can't be bad. You're not bad, North Wind?"

"No; I'm not bad. But sometimes beautiful things grow bad by doing bad, and it takes some time for their badness to spoil their beauty. So little boys may be mistaken if they go after things because they are beautiful."

"Well, I will go with you because you are beautiful and good, too."

"Ah, but there's another thing, Diamond:– What if I should look ugly without being bad– look ugly myself because I am making ugly things beautiful?– What then?"

"I don't quite understand you, North Wind. You tell me what then."

"Well, I will tell you. If you see me with my face all black, don't be frightened. If you see me flapping wings like a bat's, as big as the whole sky, don't be frightened. If you hear me raging ten times worse than Mrs. Bill, the blacksmith's wife– even if you see me looking in at people's windows like Mrs. Eve Dropper, the gardener's wife– you must believe that I am doing my work. Nay, Diamond, if I change into a serpent or a tiger, you must not let go your hold of me, for my hand will never change in yours if you keep a good hold. If you keep a hold, you will know who I am all the time, even when you look at me and can't see me the least like the North Wind. I may look something very awful. Do you understand?"

"Quite well," said little Diamond.

"Come along, then," said North Wind, and disappeared behind the mountain of hay.

Diamond crept out of bed and followed her.

    — George MacDonald,
      At the Back of the North Wind

   

From Log24 on Sunday, March 23, 2008–

 
A sequel to
The Crimson Passion

Easter Egg

Jill St. John with diamond

Click on image
 for further details.


Duality:


A pair of book covers in honor
  of the dies natalis of T. S. Eliot–

http://www.log24.com/log10/saved/100103-TheAristocrat_files/100104-Duality.jpg

From Virginia Woolf,  "Modern Fiction" (Ch. 13 in The Common Reader, First Series)

Woolf on what she calls "materialist" fiction–

Life escapes; and perhaps without life nothing else is worth while. It is a confession of vagueness to have to make use of such a figure as this, but we scarcely better the matter by speaking, as critics are prone to do, of reality. Admitting the vagueness which afflicts all criticism of novels, let us hazard the opinion that for us at this moment the form of fiction most in vogue more often misses than secures the thing we seek. Whether we call it life or spirit, truth or reality, this, the essential thing, has moved off, or on, and refuses to be contained any longer in such ill-fitting vestments as we provide. Nevertheless, we go on perseveringly, conscientiously, constructing our two and thirty chapters after a design which more and more ceases to resemble the vision in our minds. So much of the enormous labour of proving the solidity, the likeness to life, of the story is not merely labour thrown away but labour misplaced to the extent of obscuring and blotting out the light of the conception. The writer seems constrained, not by his own free will but by some powerful and unscrupulous tyrant who has him in thrall, to provide a plot, to provide comedy, tragedy, love interest, and an air of probability embalming the whole so impeccable that if all his figures were to come to life they would find themselves dressed down to the last button of their coats in the fashion of the hour. The tyrant is obeyed; the novel is done to a turn. But sometimes, more and more often as time goes by, we suspect a momentary doubt, a spasm of rebellion, as the pages fill themselves in the customary way. Is life like this? Must novels be like this?

Look within and life, it seems, is very far from being “like this”. Examine for a moment an ordinary mind on an ordinary day. The mind receives a myriad impressions—trivial, fantastic, evanescent, or engraved with the sharpness of steel. From all sides they come, an incessant shower of innumerable atoms; and as they fall, as they shape themselves into the life of Monday or Tuesday, the accent falls differently from of old; the moment of importance came not here but there; so that, if a writer were a free man and not a slave, if he could write what he chose, not what he must, if he could base his work upon his own feeling and not upon convention, there would be no plot, no comedy, no tragedy, no love interest or catastrophe in the accepted style, and perhaps not a single button sewn on as the Bond Street tailors would have it. Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end. Is it not the task of the novelist to convey this varying, this unknown and uncircumscribed spirit, whatever aberration or complexity it may display, with as little mixture of the alien and external as possible? We are not pleading merely for courage and sincerity; we are suggesting that the proper stuff of fiction is a little other than custom would have us believe it.

It is, at any rate, in some such fashion as this that we seek to define the quality which distinguishes the work of several young writers, among whom Mr. James Joyce is the most notable….

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

Plan 9 from Stephen King

Filed under: General — Tags: — m759 @ 11:07 AM

Midrash by T. S. Eliot —

See Apple Tree Children.

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Meanwhile…

Filed under: General — m759 @ 8:30 PM

Related material —

Raiders of the Lost Birthday,  Apple Tree Children, and  Interior/Exterior

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Core

Filed under: General — Tags: — m759 @ 6:06 PM

More recently

Click the above image for some backstory.

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Midnight Special

Filed under: General,Geometry — Tags: — m759 @ 12:00 AM

(Continued)

"Poincaré said that science is no more a collection of facts than a house is a collection of bricks. The facts have to be ordered or structured, they have to fit a theory, a construct (often mathematical) in the human mind.

… Mathematics may be art, but to the general public it is a black art, more akin to magic and mystery. This presents a constant challenge to the mathematical community: to explain how art fits into our subject and what we mean by beauty.

In attempting to bridge this divide I have always found that architecture is the best of the arts to compare with mathematics. The analogy between the two subjects is not hard to describe and enables abstract ideas to be exemplified by bricks and mortar, in the spirit of the Poincaré quotation I used earlier."

— Sir Michael Atiyah, "The Art of Mathematics"
     in the AMS Notices , January 2010

A post  from this  journal later in 2010 —

The above post's date — May 20, 2010 — was
the date of death for mathematician Walter Rudin.

The above post from that date has a link to the
Heinlein story "And He Built a Crooked House."
A not-so-crooked house —

Monday, July 4, 2016

The Hebrew Connection

Filed under: General — Tags: , — m759 @ 9:00 AM

For the Church of  Synchronology

From the literary journal ELH , Winter 1973

See as well

"The explosion panicked parkgoers and could be heard nearby
at the Orthodox Fifth Avenue Synagogue, where the funeral for
Nobel laureate and Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel was underway.
Police said they do not think the blast was targeting the funeral."

Justin Jouvenal in The Washington Post , 7:01 PM ET
     on July 3, 2016

Also, from Mark Helprin's In Sunlight and in Shadow ,
a passage linked to here on August 30, 2013

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Another 48 Hours

Filed under: General — Tags: — m759 @ 12:00 PM

The Onion  on Friday, July 1, 2016 —

Investigators: First 48 Hours Most Critical
In Locating Missing Children Who Entered
Portal To Fantastical World

From Friday afternoon —

Saturday, July 2, 2016

But Seriously …

Filed under: General — Tags: , — m759 @ 12:26 PM

British film director Robin Hardy reportedly
died yesterday.  In his memory —

Hardy's film "The Wicker Tree" reportedly opened in the USA on
January 27, 2012. See also narratives in this journal on that date.

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Common Core versus Central Structure

Filed under: General,Geometry — Tags: , — m759 @ 2:56 PM

Rubik's Cube Core Assembly — Swarthmore Cube Project, 2008 —

"Children of the Common Core" —

There is also a central structure within Solomon's  Cube

'Children of the Central Structure,' adapted from 'Children of the Damned'

For a more elaborate entertainment along these lines, see the recent film

"Midnight Special" —

Monday, September 26, 2011

Inner and Outer

Filed under: General,Geometry — m759 @ 1:00 PM

For T.S. Eliot's Birthday

Last night's post "Transformation" was suggested in part
by the title of a Sunday New York Times  article on
George Harrison, "Within Him, Without Him," and by
the song title "Within You Without You" in the post
Death and the Apple Tree.

Related material— "Hamlet's Transformation"—

Hamlet, 2.2:

Something have you heard
Of Hamlet’s transformation; so call it,
Sith nor the exterior nor the inward man
Resembles that it was….”

A transformation:

The image “http://www.log24.com/theory/images/DTinscapes4-Trans.gif” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.

Click on picture for details.

See also, from this year's Feast of the Transfiguration,
Correspondences and Happy Web Day.

For those who prefer the paganism of Yeats to
the Christianity of Eliot, there is the sequel to
"Death and the Apple Tree," "Dancers and the Dance."

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Transformation

Filed under: General — m759 @ 11:01 PM

Random thoughts from A Story (September 13th)—

797

April 24, 2003
A Terrible Beauty

451

August 26, 2002
Round Lights

1734

April 24, 2005
Today's Sermon

3276

March 24, 2008
Death and the Apple Tree

A September 24th story from The Washington Post

"James R. Adams was author or co-author of seven books,
beginning in 1971 with 'The Sting of Death.'"

Adams, an Episcopal priest, died on September 13th.

The September 13th Log24 post from which the above numbered links were
taken was in memory of film producer John Calley, who also died on that day.

A quote from Adams on the resurrected body of Christ:

"This new body had peculiar powers."

A quote from Calley:

"Let me put you in this unit."

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

A Story

Filed under: General — m759 @ 10:00 PM

For film producer and studio head John Calley, who died today at 81—

"When Death tells a story, you really have to listen." —The Book Thief  (cover)

http://www.log24.com/log/pix11B/110913-NYlottery.jpg

New York Lottery on Tuesday, September 13th, 2011

This suggests the following random thoughts—

797

April 24, 2003
A Terrible Beauty

451

August 26, 2002
Round Lights

1734

April 24, 2005
Today's Sermon

3276

March 24, 2008
Death and the Apple Tree

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Annals of Literature

Filed under: General — m759 @ 11:32 AM

Death and the Apple Tree
continued from January 4

"One evening I went into the back drawing-room in which the priest had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound in the house. Through one of the broken panes I heard the rain impinge upon the earth, the fine incessant needles of water playing in the sodden beds. Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed below me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: 'O love! O love!' many times.

At last she spoke to me. When she addressed the first words to me I was so confused that I did not know what to answer. She asked me was I going to Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It would be a splendid bazaar; she said she would love to go.

'And why can't you?' I asked.

While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat that week in her convent. Her brother and two other boys were fighting for their caps, and I was alone at the railings. She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease.

'It's well for you,' she said.

'If I go,' I said, 'I will bring you something.'"

— "Araby," by James Joyce.
 Joyce died on this date in 1941.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Sunday May 25, 2008

Filed under: General,Geometry — m759 @ 6:30 PM
Hall of Mirrors

Epigraph to
Deploying the Glass Bead Game, Part II,”
by Robert de Marrais:

“For a complete logical argument,”
Arthur began
with admirable solemnity,
“we need two prim Misses –”
“Of course!” she interrupted.
“I remember that word now.
And they produce — ?”
“A Delusion,” said Arthur.

— Lewis Carroll,
Sylvie and Bruno

Prim Miss 1:

Erin O’Connor’s weblog
“Critical Mass” on May 24:

Roger Rosenblatt’s Beet [Ecco hardcover, Jan. 29, 2008] is the latest addition to the noble sub-genre of campus fiction….

Curricular questions and the behavior of committees are at once dry as dust subjects and areas ripe for sarcastic send-up– not least because, as dull as they are, they are really both quite vital to the credibility and viability of higher education.

Here’s an excerpt from the first meeting, in which committee members propose their personal plans for a new, improved curriculum:

“… Once the students really got into playing with toy soldiers, they would understand history with hands-on excitement.”

To demonstrate his idea, he’d brought along a shoe box full of toy doughboys and grenadiers, and was about to reenact the Battle of Verdun on the committee table when Heilbrun stayed his hand. “We get it,” he said.

“That’s quite interesting, Molton,” said Booth [a chemist]. “But is it rigorous enough?”

At the mention of the word, everyone, save Peace, sat up straight.

“Rigor is so important,” said Kettlegorf.

“We must have rigor,” said Booth.

“You may be sure,” said the offended Kramer. “I never would propose anything lacking rigor.”

Smythe inhaled and looked at the ceiling. “I think I may have something of interest,” he said, as if he were at a poker game and was about to disclose a royal flush. “My proposal is called ‘Icons of Taste.’ It would consist of a galaxy of courses affixed to several departments consisting of lectures on examples of music, art, architecture, literature, and other cultural areas a student needed to indicate that he or she was sophisticated.”

“Why would a student want to do that?” asked Booth.

“Perhaps sophistication is not a problem for chemists,” said Smythe. Lipman tittered.

“What’s the subject matter?” asked Heilbrun. “Would it have rigor?”

“Of course it would have rigor. Yet it would also attract those additional students Bollovate is talking about.” Smythe inhaled again. “The material would be carefully selected,” he said. “One would need to pick out cultural icons the students were likely to bring up in conversation for the rest of their lives, so that when they spoke, others would recognize their taste as being exquisite yet eclectic and unpredictable.”

“You mean Rembrandt?” said Kramer.

Smythe smiled with weary contempt. “No, I do not mean Rembrandt. I don’t mean Beethoven or Shakespeare, either, unless something iconic has emerged about them to justify their more general appeal.”

“You mean, if they appeared on posters,” said Lipman.

“That’s it, precisely.”

Lipman blushed with pride.

“The subject matter would be fairly easy to amass,” Smythe said. “We could all make up a list off the top of our heads. Einstein–who does have a poster.” He nodded to the ecstatic Lipman. “Auden, for the same reason. Students would need to be able to quote ‘September 1939[ or at least the last lines. And it would be good to teach ‘Musee des Beaux Arts’ as well, which is off the beaten path, but not garishly. Mahler certainly. But Cole Porter too. And Sondheim, I think. Goya. Warhol, it goes without saying, Stephen Hawking, Kurosawa, Bergman, Bette Davis. They’d have to come up with some lines from Dark Victory, or better still, Jezebel. La Dolce Vita. Casablanca. King of Hearts. And Orson, naturally. Citizen Kane, I suppose, though personally I prefer F for Fake.”

“Judy!” cried Heilbrun.

“Yes, Judy too. But not ‘Over the Rainbow.’ It would be more impressive for them to do ‘The Trolley Song,’ don’t you think?” Kettlegorf hummed the intro.

Guernica,” said Kramer. “Robert Capa.” Eight-limbed asterisk

“Edward R. Murrow,” said Lipman.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous!” said Smythe, ending Lipman’s brief foray into the world of respectable thought.

“Marilyn Monroe!” said Kettlegorf.

“Absolutely!” said Smythe, clapping to indicate his approval.

“And the Brooklyn Bridge,” said Booth, catching on. “And the Chrysler Building.”

“Maybe,” said Smythe. “But I wonder if the Chrysler Building isn’t becoming something of a cliche.”

Peace had had enough. “And you want students to nail this stuff so they’ll do well at cocktail parties?”

Smythe sniffed criticism, always a tetchy moment for him. “You make it sound so superficial,” he said.

Prim Miss 2:

Siri Hustvedt speaks at Adelaide Writers’ Week– a story dated March 24, 2008

“I have come to think of my books as echo chambers or halls of mirrors in which themes, ideas, associations continually reflect and reverberate inside a text. There is always point and counterpoint, to use a musical illustration. There is always repetition with difference.”

A Delusion:

Exercise — Identify in the following article the sentence that one might (by unfairly taking it out of context) argue is a delusion.

(Hint: See Reflection Groups in Finite Geometry.)

A. V. Borovik, 'Maroids and Coxeter Groups'

Why Borovik’s Figure 4
is included above:

Euclid, Peirce, L’Engle:
No Royal Roads.

For more on Prim Miss 2
and deploying
the Glass Bead Game,
see the previous entry.

The image “http://www.log24.com/log/images/asterisk8.gif” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors. And now, perhaps, his brother Cornell Capa, who died Friday.

 Related material: Log24 on March 24– Death and the Apple Tree— with an excerpt from
George MacDonald, and an essay by David L. Neuhouser mentioning the influence of MacDonald on Lewis Carroll– Lewis Carroll: Author, Mathematician, and Christian (pdf).

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Thursday March 27, 2008

Filed under: General,Geometry — Tags: — m759 @ 3:29 PM

Back to the Garden

Film star Richard Widmark
died on Monday, March 24.

From Log24 on that date:

"Hanging from the highest limb
of the apple tree are
     the three God's Eyes…"

    — Ken Kesey  

Related material:

The Beauty Test, 5/23/07–
 
H.S.M. Coxeter's classic
Introduction to Geometry (2nd ed.):

The image “http://www.log24.com/log/pix07/070523-Coxeter62.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.

Note the resemblance of
the central part to
a magical counterpart–
the Ojo de Dios
of Mexico's Sierra Madre.

From a Richard Widmark film festival:

GARDEN OF EVIL
Henry Hathaway, 1954

"A severely underrated Scope western, shot in breathtaking mountain locations near Cuernavaca. Widmark, Gary Cooper and Cameron Mitchell are a trio of fortune hunters stranded in Mexico, when they are approached by Susan Hayward to rescue her husband (Hugh Marlowe) from a caved-in gold mine in Indian country. When they arrive at the 'Garden of Evil,' they must first battle with one another before they have to stave off their bloodthirsty Indian attackers. Widmark gives a tough, moving performance as Fiske, the one who sacrifices himself to save his friends. 'Every day it goes, and somebody goes with it,' he says as he watches the setting sun. 'Today it's me.' This was one of the best of Hollywood veteran Henry Hathaway's later films. With a brilliant score by Bernard Herrmann."

See also
the apple-tree
entries from Monday
(the date of Widmark's death)
and Tuesday, as well as
today's previous entry and
previous Log24
entries on Cuernavaca
.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Tuesday March 25, 2008

Filed under: General — Tags: — m759 @ 9:00 AM
Dancers and
the Dance

The previous entry was inspired (see the "In the Details" link) by the philosophical musings of Julie Taymor… specifically, her recollection of Balinese dancers–

"… they were performing for God. Now God can mean whatever you want it to mean. But for me, I understood it so totally. The detail….

They did it from the inside to the outside. And from the outside to the in. And that profoundly moved me then. It was… it was the most important thing that I ever experienced."

— Julie Taymor,
"Skewed Mirrors" interview

Here is some further commentary on the words of that entry–

On the phrase "Within You Without You"– the title of a song by George Harrison:

"Bernard’s understanding of reality connects to this idea of 'flow': he sees reality as a product of consciousness. He rejects the idea of an 'outer' world of unchanging objects and an 'inner' world of the mind and ideas. Rather, our minds are part of the world, and vice versa."

— Adrien Ardoin, SparkNote on
    Virginia Woolf's The Waves

On "Death and the Apple Tree"– the title of the previous entry— in The Waves:

"The apple tree Neville is looking at as he overhears the servants at the school discussing a local murder becomes inextricably linked to his knowledge of death. Neville finds himself unable to pass the tree, seeing it as glimmering and lovely, yet sinister and 'implacable.' When he learns that Percival is dead, he feels he is face to face once again with 'the tree which I cannot pass.' Eventually, Neville turns away from the natural world to art, which exists outside of time and can therefore transcend death. The fruit of the tree appears only in Neville’s room on his embroidered curtain, a symbol itself of nature turned into artifice. The apple tree image also echoes the apple tree from the Book of Genesis in the Bible, the fruit of which led Adam and Eve to knowledge and, therefore, expulsion from Eden."

— Adrien Ardoin, op. cit.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Monday March 24, 2008

Filed under: General — m759 @ 3:00 PM

Death and
the Apple Tree

Today's New York Times on the late "fifth Beatle" Neil Aspinall, who died Easter night in Manhattan:

"… he played tambura (an Indian drone instrument) on 'Within You Without You'."

Related material:

In the Details

Valentine to a Dark Lady

"Hanging from the highest limb
of the apple tree are
     the three God's Eyes…"

    — Ken Kesey  

"But what's beautiful can't be bad. You're not bad, North Wind?"

"No; I'm not bad. But sometimes beautiful things grow bad by doing bad, and it takes some time for their badness to spoil their beauty. So little boys may be mistaken if they go after things because they are beautiful."

"Well, I will go with you because you are beautiful and good, too."

"Ah, but there's another thing, Diamond:– What if I should look ugly without being bad– look ugly myself because I am making ugly things beautiful?– What then?"

"I don't quite understand you, North Wind. You tell me what then."

"Well, I will tell you. If you see me with my face all black, don't be frightened. If you see me flapping wings like a bat's, as big as the whole sky, don't be frightened. If you hear me raging ten times worse than Mrs. Bill, the blacksmith's wife– even if you see me looking in at people's windows like Mrs. Eve Dropper, the gardener's wife– you must believe that I am doing my work. Nay, Diamond, if I change into a serpent or a tiger, you must not let go your hold of me, for my hand will never change in yours if you keep a good hold. If you keep a hold, you will know who I am all the time, even when you look at me and can't see me the least like the North Wind. I may look something very awful. Do you understand?"

"Quite well," said little Diamond.

"Come along, then," said North Wind, and disappeared behind the mountain of hay.

Diamond crept out of bed and followed her.

    — George MacDonald,
      At the Back of the North Wind

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Thursday February 14, 2008

Filed under: General — m759 @ 11:20 AM
The Fab Four
Meet Ken Kesey

“Hanging from the highest limb of the apple tree are the three God’s Eyes Quiston and Caleb made out of yarn at Camp Nebo. The eyes aren’t moving a wink in the thick hot air, but they likely see the world spinning around as well as any Fool‘s.”

Ken Kesey,
  “Last Time the Angels Came Up,”
   in Demon Box

Monday, October 18, 2004

Monday October 18, 2004

Filed under: General — m759 @ 3:33 PM

Counting Crows
on the Feast of St. Luke

"In the fullness of time,
educated people will believe
there is no soul
independent of the body,
and hence no life after death."

Francis Crick, who was awarded
a Nobel Prize on this date in 1962

"She went to the men on the ground and looked at them and then she found Inman apart from them. She sat and held him in her lap. He tried to talk, but she hushed him. He drifted in and out and dreamed a bright dream of a home. It had a coldwater spring rising out of a rock, black dirt fields, old trees. In his dream, the year seemed to be happening all at one time, all the seasons blending together.  Apple trees hanging heavy with fruit but yet unaccountably blossoming, ice rimming the spring, okra plants blooming yellow and maroon, maple leaves red as October, corn crops tasseling, a stuffed chair pulled up to the glowing parlor hearth, pumpkins shining in the fields, laurels blooming on the hillsides, ditch banks full of orange jewelweed, white blossoms on dogwood, purple on redbud.  Everything coming around at once.  And there were white oaks, and a great number of crows, or at least the spirits of crows, dancing and singing in the upper limbs.  There was something he wanted to say."

— Charles Frazier, Cold Mountain

"FullnessMultitude."
 

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