Jeeves' Diary

Amazing performance. Michael Manring is one of most talented bassists. Looking at his solo, hard to beleive what the bass guitar is capable of…

"Ноmo homini lupus est" tells us Latin proverb that means "man is a wolf to man".
-Is it right, Jeeves? - could say Bertie while sipping a cup of tea.
-Presumably, yes, sir – could reply Jeeves. - But not necessary it might be correct between man and wolf, sir. Rather opposite, after this documentary.

«Shaun Ellis gave up comfort, a family and the civilization that surrounded him, to live with wolves. He is the founder of a wolf sanctuary at the Combe Martin Wildlife Park on England's southwest coast.
"I was always drawn towards the animals more than I was a human society," Ellis said.
At 42 years old, Ellis is 6 feet tall and powerfully built, with a weather-beaten face, piercing blue eyes and shoulder-length brown hair that he lets fall, loose and shaggy, when he is with the wolves. A thin scar from a wolf bite extends beneath his right eye and along his cheekbone. For someone whose life has been devoted to wolves, he looks the part.
In 2004, when the lives of three pups at the sanctuary were at risk because their mother had stopped nursing them, Ellis decided to use years of knowledge he had accumulated to raise the captive pups himself by teaching them how to behave like wolves. He moved in with the young pack and assumed the role of tutor and leader – the alpha wolf.
The experiment was documented by a British television producer, Bernard Walton, whose footage will be broadcast next week on the National Geographic Channel. "What was extraordinary was the relationships that developed between the different wolves and Shaun," Walton said. "He had refined everything down to a fine art – to be a wolf.»
http://abcnews.go.com/2020/story?id=3015683&page=1

I could have told a lie, if I said I was not impressed by this story. It is not fictional like Mowgli, it is for real. If I had a time machine + supercomputer to simulate the situation of how biologically and psychologically a single human being might be adapted + acting in totally alien zoological system of living and communication, I think I would have scarcely picked out a proper model. In Kipling's book Mowgli was taught by beasts, inferior stage of evolution , yet he ( a protagonist) succeed in speaking both to humans and animals, and had high level of abstract thinking. Actually, if all of it were real, Mowgli virtually would have been not more than a retarded lad with an obvious deficiency in mental capacities like ever-3-year old baby even if he were more than 20. No matter how hard could have been attempts to invoke his verbal and communicative skills, it would be done in vain as his brain had got irreparably stiff to receive such a kind of interactive education..
The funny yet most amazing thing in Shaun's story is that he DOES teach wolves to behave like wolves whereas himself a human being. In this context, he is Stanislavsky of his own Wolf Theater. Isn't it paradoxic? He is able to fully communicate and understand their language + artistically behave as a 100% alpha male wolf despite the fact he is looking physically like a human.

Actually, it is doubly paradoxic as wolves seem to have no slightest doubt if he is not one of them– not the same thing in the cases with zookeepers or naturalists like Gerald Durrel, - in this case whatever warm beast-human relationship are, there is always an invisible identity code that appears ; animals know it and securely keeping their facet toward humans - if human transgress it, he or she would be alienated or attacked…That's why it is a great story.

Here is another example of sociopathic behavior taken on mobile cam in Moscow subway. The aged (and probably little drunk) woman got instantly furious then started cursing first girl she cast a glance just for her style to dress herself – everyday, ordinary and absolutely not provoking such a level of aggression on the matter of immodesty the woman spouting off. What really was the catalyst of such a psychosis – hard to say whether color of the coat or shape of the face, etc. - any thing might trigger the dame's fury due to earlier unpleasant memories…or ,also, a certain sad event with a young man the woman liked and some girl looking alike might be connected with him somehow in negative context, as the woman spoken twice “ your lads` are buried while you bitches are alive and dressed like that! ”?
It would be any thing but surely not the dressing style. And the girl's patience should be complimented.

This is my favorite video by The Residents as one of most surrealistic interpretations on nature of our subconsciousness. Primitive technically (yet full of assosiations) it looks like a black-and-white night dream. How many such little-man-in-crazy-world skinny johnnies are living amongst us? Think, a lot of.

How many men wanting to seem machos, without being it physically or mentally, taking such funny steps to overpower their complex of inferiority? Freud rules in most cases it, seems, perfectly works.

Изображение с http://img.nnow.ru/data/myupload/0/0//sublimation.jpg

Salsa was originated in Cuba. I think it is the hottest dance as for impression of sexuality by rhythmic motion of body in the world. As opposed to tango ( what some one of great people characterized as a "fighting between woman and man") salsa is rather " sophisticated unleashed love ritual".

Most perfect salsa dancers are, of course, colombians. Inside the country are two salsa schools – from Cali and Bogota. The first is an obvious ruler. Here is one of the best salsa performers I have ever seen. Incredible synchronism at every drum bit, amazing plastic of bodies …and, yes, lots of passion.

Изображение с http://img.nnow.ru/data/myupload/0/0//angry-woman.jpg

Another example may be adduced on this topic. My co-worker Irina told me a curious story that happened with her about two months ago in Nizhny Novgorod. Irina is mild, well educated , 34 y.o. divorced woman, bringing up her son. We talked while having our lunches . She said: "Before, a week back, I had been zonked. Next Sunday morning I woke up because of a long doorbell ring in 8.20 a.m. It was persistent and unbearable, as if someone wanted me to see or happened something extra… Whatever, I got up, ran, then opened the door. I saw my neighbour, aged woman speaking in her singular high pitched voice that I always, you know, hate to hear. Her squeaky voice always reminded me one-to-one that of my classroom teacher – long ago it was a case, that I was accused for a things I had did not, so I felt humiliated. Later on, a real thief was found. But that black day was embedded in my memory - so deep that after many years I remember it lively as if happened just yesterday. Many times it was reccurent in my dreams in which I kept listening to the false accusation told me in a vexed voice…
Well, I asked what the big reason to disturb me so early. She gestured me to come out. I did. "Look at this, - she said reproachfully – Don't you see?" -
"What on earth should I ?" - "Web! I even noticed a spider creeping a couple of times. Look, it IS right now in the corner of your door… Shame. How possibly one can be so slobby? I had noticed it is here about one month before, and you don't seem to care. I hardly believe you could not see the web, just didn't pay your attention, to remove it. Very sad! No doors, among people I know, having webs spread in corners, anyway."

Изображение с http://img.nnow.ru/data/myupload/0/0//angry-woman-300x276.jpg

Irina told me that right after this speech she lost her patience. She said she could not manage herself any more. She had known the fact that this woman was nervy and with lot of oddities, and there had been many previous cases that Irina had patiently bore in a most correct manner. But now, despite she felt vexed of these arrogant reproaches, - not mention waking up for a trifle, - she told she mainly was angry of being unable to bear the voice. It was а boiling point next to the explosion . Irina told she never had used before rough, taboo language, so much she was surprised at herself as she started speaking : "Shut the f*** up, I can't tolerate your f**** squeak any more! Do shut up or I hit you! Promise you won't accuse me any more and get away with it !" The old lady grew speechless, then got away quickly… Irina said: "I instantly got brazen. To my neighbour believed me for a long time a mild and well bred girl, such a turn proved to be a real shock. So funny. I am 34, it seems to be a first time when I was violent and vulgar like that. I was surprised at myself. If someone had told me, that I might behave like that, I never would have believed it. You know, my friend, I really wanted to hit her, so it is a miracle that I managed to withheld myself… Later, I analyzed what was happened. And I felt deeply ashamed for my behavior. I eventually discovered I never felt that I had it in me.. I feel sad and depreciated. Confused, additionally…Now I know I am not the same as I thought."

Ira means "anger" in Latin. No, Irina. Take it easy. Trust me. This occasional mark of your childhood “ you won't accuse me ANY MORE” is too tiny to be anxious as for revision of your I…
My words left unsaid. Suppose she got me right by my smile.

Name Esperanza means hope. And she really inspiring is. Two years ago I heard about her first. Then I have got all the discography of this slim 70th styled lady. She is great not only as a perfect jazz composer + singer, but mostly a perfect contrabass player, what is rare amongst female jazz performers. She really knows how to threat this strictly big male music instrument. Sometimes it looks a bit sexy.) Generally, I think she is singular. Esperanza have reached an amazing heights in it. No matter how much her skill may be evaluated on exactly the art of jazz improvisation, - very possible it is not as perfect as Ron Carter's or Dave Holland's. The fact is she has her own inimitable style. And it is really amazing.

If I could have the right to give awards for ever made best shot on "what true love is", I would have given it to one below. So sweet, nice and touching…

Изображение с http://img.nnow.ru/data/myupload/0/0//true-love.jpg

This nice song by Sade came to my mind after watching "Gangsters From Eighteen" , a real-life documentary about 18st – one of most notorious gangs, based in LA and sprouted all over Central America…
I felt impressed by the story of Duke, a gang member, guy with attitude, sentenced to many years of imprisonment. His wife, nice woman that a bit reminds me Pamela Grier, loved him very much. She was very sincere when she was interviewed about waiting for him, missing him, and she confessed no one man she needs more than her trouble-making husband.
One day she gets good news that his charge might be dropped. She start worrying, inspired with a hope as what she waited so long might happen soon. But there was something other to her cry. She had a guess that Duke would not come back to his family.

I started playing kind of RPG in my mind, imaging how would do I if I were Duke. If I got in prison. If had had a wife - so loving, pretty, faithful and compassionate. If I had children that missed me. And I decided if were Duke, I did my ages as quietly as I could - so hopeful to know you loved and waited for, outside this hell-like place… Subconsciously, I would daily meditate upon "I not actually deserve to be loved so much for a grieve I brought to my loving ones…"
I got awakened as I heard Duke's words:
"I won't come back. I am goner, and I don't deserve her love. She needs not me, but a good man with whom she will be happy. Yes, I do love her so much. And I love my children… That'd why I want she to find other man, not a goner like me…I'll be happy after I know she is happy".

Feeling happy AFTER KNOWING your loving one is happy with other, not with you. Yet getting aware that you are loved … Insanely paradoxic. Or masochistic. Or totally arrogant: you want to play Gandalf without being wise as he is.

But what if not. What if it is TRUE and firm assurance of sacrifice to be done for other's sake due to your better life experience + you have kind of intuition about future – you unable to put these both logically to other? You have confidence, you need only trust…

I generally thought about nature of these sacrifices. And what the name of an altar they are to be dedicated. And why so many times they interpreted as a hit of a knife in the heart of love, made by proud, ungrateful and cold blood persons, arrogantly acclaiming them selves the "proud priests of our happiness" without asking us about it.
But sometimes it is just an illusion. They are not. And it is not always it sounds like "pride". Sometimes it is strоnger than pride…

The milk for feeding future sociopaths may be traced in these ideosyncratic examples.
In this case 2 guys, generally friendly and respectful to each other, got intetionally involved in a quarrel for a symbolic reason - to prove who's tougher as a club supporter.
Brilliant actors, striking irony - as they are parents, who keep calling names each other above their kids peacefully playing right before their eyes).
What cranky guys! Wish I were as metaphorical as one of them):
"When you're supposed to be right wing, scooby-doo is less confused than you, prick"
This movie about Chelsea firm.

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About a month ago, I suddenly found the theme on the Net, – it was located in one of US redneck sites, - to public (and most sarcastic) discussion of calling "bitching" a problem of everyday life. I thought then: is it kind of "leaves" of sociopathy, or strictly gender approach to call so one of oddities of female behavior, clear due to male point of view ? If the last, being a "bitch" is becoming so attractive to women, mostly for young and ambitious. Or may it, also, be a result of previous ill treatment of women unlucky in love experience?
Being a "bitch" means being unscrupulous, quarrelsome woman, that can be an actress, in order to masterly manipulate you out of her strictly selfish considerations. And this lifestyle, seems, popular…
http://www.becomeabitch.com

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That's why demotivational posters like one above grow more popular not only in redneck minds. What's more, not only in those of males! On that site, I was pretty surprised by the fact that a half of supporting of the motto comments had been done by women. These ones were like "well, it serves her right!" , "a really bitch should be treated like that…", "if you are whore, get it!" , "your husband working hard for a wife, not for a bitch".

It seems, sociopathy is not always caused by aggression. But much of aggression consequently goes out of sociopathy. No matter that arguments to justfy such a behavior can be far-fetched. Far more important that roots of it are very deep, sometimes going into childhood. Something was marked like “unpleasant sign” in someone's memory, then it accompanied his or her psychical trauma over the time of life . These signs are just “hyperlinks” leading to “site of our unconsciousness” that shows what and how it was. Actually it was really bad, unpleasant or painful by then… Many years after, it is enough to see a tiny sign of this kind to him or her, to get instantly furious and insane. Reaction of such sociopath may be triggered by any thing – smell, color of you jacket, too loud or pitched laughter, etc.
Here is one of classical examples, Tony Soprano.

It was in Moscow. In the morning, one of my friends told me, suffering with hard hangover (cause his wife had run away) that started feeling a smth. strange inside, like: “ One day half way my home I saw a man pissing at the wall. He was pretty drunk. Normally, any time as I saw this crap, I could pass these people by with no more than “ complete schmucks” in my head. But right now I feel so angry as to attack him, hit him or even kill him… That man was a dwarf. Generally, I friendly and compassionate to wee men, as well to every one who's born with physical disorders. But now I DO feel exactly the anger on the fact that I see drunk and immodest wee man, and he was smirking and holding his dick, face to me. I felt disgust at him and was about to pick up the brick to hit this f***… Later, after coming home, I realized that I could do this. And I was afraid of losing my control. And now I am afraid it may happpen once again.”

My daughther asked me today "dad , is a fear of death is deadly or permissible sin in someone's personality… well, like me. I am young enough. Unlike you.” I got caught up in the confusion, then smirked: “ What the hell you think so…. or you think I look undad?"

Sometimes I think the stuff like : In no time all the people got irreparable net geeks and grew exibitionists badly demented on socialization" in the same proportion as 1 to 3, 2/3 of which are actually suffering lack of love and mercy+ feel intentional dishonesty in real lives. People had enough of everyday routine, would-be optimistic, any wouldbe sexually obsessed. Wasting time to the end of their job duties online, is a rule. Even in off-duty time.) So “ if you have nothing to say now, just go and write about it in your blog” attitude is nothing, but a classical neurosis by Freud.
Long before, I believed social networks to be a leech marketing – the more commercial guys with "need-to-be-higher-in-google ranking" motto + banner makers suggest you that you are highly welcome, the more you feel exhausted and vampirized, say, to prove the opposite

Ideally ( much networks give you not a really private spot to be private, in order to be at least wannabe introvert) you feel you need some self-encryption to be free of buzzing flood, spontaneous comments, spanky flamers and peeping toms and janes… Now I have far more understood the fact why other language than your mother one, is a tool to write like Marcus Aurelius, ad se ipsum. He did it in Greek. Medieval people did in Latin. Russian aristocracy did it in French…In short, it is exactly a surrogate self-encryption, imho. Turning you ideas in other semantic area is a way "crypto"…

I hardly believe if Jeeves lived now, he wrote his blog on the Net like some friggin' net exhibitionist would in Facebook or Twitter threads . Rather, he would have done on paper, way a notebook – elegant, skinny cover with golden fridges. Every day, with flunky accuracy. I think he would surely write it in evenings, at his table under green or yellow lamp above. No details, no embellishment, perfect spelling. No self-PR or self-frying. No loud sound, no look-at-me attitude.
………………………….
Jeeves' simulator , Stephen Fry, far gone blogging: he does it badly interactive to public evaluation. It may be a good sample as for differences between your net RPG , kinda indicator of your self-appraisal mirrored in readers' attitude, and who you are inside of your self, without it.

True diary is private. No matter how was it written , which way, what style or what language – you write it for yourself and only, not for others. I can be leaked into any stuff, from ragged paper to expensive notebook.

True diary is monoactive, not interactive.