Tag: perceptions

  • Signals, Trade-offs, Outcomes, Perceptions

    In S2E6 of The Good Fight, which was our first go-to drama during the Corona lockdown, the focus is on Adrian Boseman (played superbly by Delroy Lindo ). Thanks to his appearance on a cable news show as a legal pundit, he becomes a viral sensation. They invite him back for a couple of shows and increasingly try to channel (pun unintended) his angst into a stereotype. In his third and final appearance on the show, Adrian rebels and lets it fly, causing the channel to let him go. The episode’s last scene has him looking in the mirror, without the greasepaint. I really liked this story arc. It’s almost as though, after he experiences viral fame, he sees it for what it is, and how he can’t play along, and gives the system the finger.

    Or maybe I am projecting. Not that I ever became a viral sensation, but my favourite phrase in this context has been “Popularity is the slutty little cousin of prestige.” (Edward Norton, Birdman) Now that’s a very arguable point of view. In my defence, I don’t think of it in the scathing, condescending manner of the original quote. It’s a tempered, mellower, “I can’t bring myself to do this sh*t” perspective. (more…)

  • False Memories

    I read this interesting post titled ‘Time traveler‘, thanks to a Reader share. (Mo?) Its about memories not being the same for two people, even if they’re part of the same events in life. So, who’s to say which memory/recollection is real and which is not? “The past is just a reconstruction of our minds, then.”

    I came across a similar thought in ‘Lunatic in My Head’, where a twenty-something guy plays slides from two decades back. Though he’s present in the slides, he has no memories of them, and he felt that it was unfair that his parents should possess those memories, but he doesn’t, even though he was present in the slides. He is forced to rely on his parents’ recollections, but sometimes rebels by creating stories and arguing with them.

    Maybe these reconstructions of the mind are based on an identity we have created for ourselves at that particular point in time – in the present. So all events, people, concepts, understandings are seen through that prism? And as time moves on, the prisms change too, like some sort of kaleidoscope, where every memory gets rearranged in context, based on our changing perceptions, notions and views.

    And not all the photos and posts and tweets and videos can ever be free of a prism, some prism. Maybe we change our own memories too.

    until next time, prism break.

  • Storied

    The best thing about buying second hand books is that they might contain stories. No, I haven’t completely lost it, I meant additional stories. Messages, notes on the side, bookmarks from previous owners – they’re all stories. Stories that give you a tiny glimpse of the person who wrote it, or the person it was meant for. The last one I saw – in Pico Iyer’s ‘Abandon’, was very interesting. It said

    Dearest A****,

    Though this seems, and is the last day at C-72, I promise that its the first day and a nev be start to the best days of our life together.

    Yours

    S*******

    30/Aug/03

    I thought there was an amazing sense of romance in that little note. A story from almost seven years back. I wonder why A sold the book. Did they break up? Maybe she didn’t like this genre? Maybe they shifted, and there was no way to carry this. It was an empty page, A could’ve torn it off, she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t have time, maybe she didn’t care.  Maybe she didn’t remember. Maybe, God forbid, something happened, and S didn’t want any memories? Maybe  she returned it to S after they split, and he sold it. Maybe S never gave it to A, and instead sold it because some memory was too painful? Now you see the possibilities? But, to quote from the book itself “We are no greater than the height of our perceptions”.

    I’d only started on the book, but it had already given me a thought. “The death of the author is a way of talking about the death of God. The world itself becomes a poem whose author disappeared long ago.” So the poet dies, the poem remains, the artist dies, the art remains, the author dies, the book remains, God dies, his creation remains, to be interpreted and shaped by us, the ones who see and experience it, limited by the ‘height of their perception’. Maybe the creation was never completed? Like the stories that remain in the head, never to be told. Like the pages that fill the waste baskets. Like the blog’s draft folder? 🙂

    Meanwhile, on the next page of the book, there is a signature now, dated 10/04/10. He thinks he won’t sell any of his books.. ever. But then, stories have a way of twisting themselves in time. 🙂

    until next time, home pages 🙂