Stacy Horn

Most of the time I’d prefer to know as little as possible about the artist behind a work of art, although that is the opposite of how our society operates currently. We seem to want to know everything.

It’s just too dangerous. I find out the person is a jerk and it spoils my complete enjoyment. One of my favorite books, A Winter’s Tale, was written by a very politically conservative writer named Mark Helprin. I’m not anti-conservative, so this doesn’t have to be a problem for me, but I’ve read various essays and posts of his over the years, and he comes off pretty hateful sometimes. While he will often say something thoughtful within the hateful posts, he can be a complete ass and I’ve had a enough of hate for one lifetime and I need to limit my exposure.

There’s a new Mark Helprin book out, and I want to read it, and I will probably read it, but I can’t help wishing I didn’t know how hateful he can be. (For the record, some hate is okay. I get that intense sometimes too.)

Here’s a piece of music where the composer took data from the Higgs Boson data and interpreted it musically. Along similar lines, aside from how fun that idea is, I was wondering whether or not it matters that I knew that. Does it give me a deeper understand of the music? I wonder if the music somehow provides a deeper or different understanding of the science?

The Village Cigar store, which I pass by practically every day.

Actually, I don’t eat a lot of sweets, but I had an urge. So I went down to the lower east side, to Economy Candy, and I bought a pack of Adams Sour Cherry gum, wax lips, and Bonomo Turkish Taffy. Which nostalgic candy holds up the best?

Bonomo Turkish Taffy. I thought it was going to be the most inedible of the bunch, but it holds up very well, it turns out. I wish I’d bought more. Except, now I want a pumpkin pie. Still, it’s amazing I only bought three small items out of all the offerings in this store, and this is only one small part of it.

My copy of the new novel Bounded Rationality, by Pamela McCorduck has arrived!

I wasn’t familiar with the term. From Wikipedia, about the concept of bounded rationality: “Bounded rationality is the idea that in decision-making, rationality of individuals is limited by the information they have, the cognitive limitations of their minds, and the finite amount of time they have to make a decision.”

The book features the Santa Fe Institute, which I’m very curious about now. Why don’t I know more about them?

Speaking of the “information they have”, I just read an essay titled, No, You’re Not Entitled to Your Opinion, where he says, among other things, that the attitude that you are entitled to your opinion, regardless of the facts or your ability to defend your opinion, “feeds, I suggest, into the false equivalence between experts and non-experts that is an increasingly pernicious feature of our public discourse.” I couldn’t freaking agree more.

Here is an interview with McCorduck about her new novel. Oh wait, this is the second in a trilogy. I need to go back and read the first one first.

A week or so ago I passed by this outdoor yoga class in the Meat Market. There always seems to be something going on in this spot.

Maybe, I should say. I’m attending a six hour class today and then I have to take and pass a test in order to get the job. These tests can be deceptively tricky, I’ve discovered. The Census had a practice test available online which you could try out before coming in to take the test. I tried it and flunked it. I went back over the questions and found all evil traps they set, so when I took the test in-person I got 100%. The Board of Elections doesn’t have one online.

But it should be fun to work at a polling center, I think. The last general election would have been the best. In NYC we had the longest lines I’d ever seen in my entire voting life. Here’s the video I made of the line in my neighborhood.

I want a pumpkin. No, I want a wall full of pumpkins. And pumpkin pie every day.

Well, that was horrible. What is the point of debates? For me they are agonizing, even when my guy is doing well. I hate them. I hate them like I hate watching pundits go at each other on news shows, or what passes for news shows these days. I would never make a decision based on them, and can’t imagine many people do. I liked when Obama said, “Governor Romney, when it comes to his own party during the course of this campaign, has not displayed that willingness to say no to some of the more extreme parts of his party.”

But for the most part, I didn’t listen. I couldn’t listen. I watched the reactions on Echo and Twitter and Talking Points Memo. I had to be once removed from it all in order to withstand the anxiety.

Can’t we just do away with debates?? If tradition is the only reason we have for doing them then we have no reason at all. Along those lines, can’t we do away with the process of collecting blurbs about your book for the back cover? Does anyone make a decision about buying books based on the blurbs on the back cover?

Just in case anyone is not aware, this is where those blurbs come from: the author, editor, and agent go around and beg friends, they beg friends of friends, and call in favors, they also write complete strangers, basically saying whatever they can to get people to write something nice about the book. It doesn’t mean the nice things people write are lies, the point is, it’s no fun to ask busy people to drop what they’re doing to read your book and write about it. Everyone I know always has a stack of books they want to read, a stack that they need to read, and I know what it’s like to have to read a book when have your own pressing reasons to get to a ton of other books first.

In new cat news, Bleeck continues to take over. Finney still doesn’t like him, but I adore him. He has tremendous personality and intelligence. Within seconds he filled up this entire apartment with who he is and his Bleeck-ish ways, I’ll bet he could fill up the planet.

But I have to make this right with Finney somehow, and I’m not sure what to do. Maybe once a day put Bleeck in the bedroom for a half an hour and spend that time loving on Finney, giving him catnips and treats?