A. Cos I'm slow and dense and a bit thick and frequently need years to overtake the obvious on the wrong side of the road: Highway 61 Revitalized (Rock Tours, Inc.), Highway 61 Renormalized (Relativistic Rhythms & Quantum Blues - "The best cure for the blues is a good red shift"), Highway 61 Reweaponized ("The cold war is over but all the old nukes are still armed/ The bad guys think God's on their side and their asses are charmed/ Can you tell me, Señor, why I shouldn't be highly alarmed?") ... and so on.

This is the real Bob tackling chess directly (but with subtexts - masculinity? The weirdness of competitiveness? The Fischer psycho-type, even?) ...

"i could make you crawl
if i was payin' attention"
he said munchin' a sandwich
in between chess moves
"what d' you wanna make
me crawl for?"
"i mean i just could"
"could make me crawl"
"yeah, make you crawl!"
"humm, funny guy you are"
"no, i just play t' win,
that's all"
"well if you can't win me,
then you're the worst player
i ever played"
"what d' you mean?"
"i mean i lose all the time"
his jaw tightened an' he took
a deep breath
"hummm, now i gotta beat you"

Also I couldn't think of anyone who waited for anyone else in all of human history. There are loyal and faithful lover types of both sexes, I suppose, but I couldn't recall a good one (this senility thing really plays havoc with the braincell - Stout Cortex, as I call him, on account of he's overweight and overworked).

There are literal waiters, I suppose. And dumb waiters. And dumb animals with their imprinting machinery set to 'human'. And chess players like Petrosian who "knew how to wait".

There's I'm Waiting For The Man -- but the Man doesn't have a name and inflation has vaporised the 26 dollars in the punter's clammy little fist.

There's a 1952 Hollywood movie directed by Henry King with the rather alarming title <Wait Until the Sun Shines, Nellie>.

Pah. Pfui. Harumph. Great loss of face, must terminate worthless existence without delay? Naaah ... I think not, somehow.

Strange beings, humans with their <cheat detectors> and <fairness regulators>. Subject to some cultural variation, of course, but still remarkably consistent -- there are very few 'universals' in human language quite as widespread as the old cheating detector.

The evidence now is for something hardwired in, metaphorically - no actual wires are used. Something that evolved - tens, maybe hundreds, of thousands of years ago, probably in conjunction with proto-language and proto-society. *Why* was it so important to detect and enforce honesty? Why did the simians to whom it mattered most prosper genetically at the expense of those who were maybe a little more laid-back?

Yep, it seems that the first time around hippies (identified by some scholars with Neanderthals, due to their face-painting and air-guitar ceremonies, as seen in cave paintings) were driven to extinction by Homo Sapiens. That was *really* very sapiens of you, homo, wasn't it?

The Neander-hippie-thal theory also explains other mysteries in anthropology and paleoethnobotany.

This, among other things, is about seeds and vegetable food plants cultivated by anthropoids, ancestral and otherwise. It looks like some of them were just getting stoned - probably for 'spiritual' reasons of course.

"They owned the world before us" ... but ownership is, like, crass, man.

Now that I think of it, my free-associating mind borrowed these ideas from such sources as: John Allegro, The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross; John Woo, Face Off; Brian Aldiss, Barefoot in the Head; Julian Jaynes, The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind; R.A. Wilson, Ishtar Rising; W.S. Burroughs & A. Ginsberg, The Yage Letters; Deutscher, The Unfolding of Language; Dennett, Darwin's Dangerous Idea; Marek Kohn, Narcomania; Jeff Nuttall, Bomb Culture; Alex Trocchi, Sigma - The Invisible Insurrection of a Million Minds...

And approximately 49,003 others, some irrelevant, some indecent, some profound, others trite or malicious. All brilliant, though, when slurshed together, stirred, whooshed, and let run wild ... Gonzo Anthropology at its fiercest, wildest, funniest and most depraved. If you want that kind of thing.

Can it tell us anything about chess? Well, yes - although I'm not saying what. I'll keep those ideas for the book or the movie ... or maybe the [insert name of new storytelling medium soon to sweep the world].

I think I assumed that her <Pen Ell O'Pee> pronunciation was some kind of aberrant upper-class English thing, like Featherstonehaugh morphing into 'Fanshaw'. And that my antelope version was more 'normal'.

<Gonzo Anthropology at its fiercest, wildest, funniest and most depraved. If you want that kind of thing.> Yes - so then let's move on to the sweeping. We don't wanna run the risk of anything cluttering up "the process."

OK - I understand... We'd both have to write our books separately then...

BUT I'M NOT A WRITER!!

Me too, now, in a sense. I was very attached to Trout Mask Replica once ... but it's become one of those culture icons that I officially admire but would never play for pleasure.

Yesterday, on a train, I fired up Fritz, put in my earphones, and treated myself to Beethoven and Karpov. I know it shouldn't quite work: Ludwig being more passionate, thunderous, Romantic and suitable for Morphy or Kasparov, while Karpov is usually more formal and muted - Bach, maybe. Or Shostakovich for the man who once listed his hobbies as 'Marxism and stamp collecting'.

And perhaps irony as well, given his current reputed wealth.

While Kasparov's political engagement remains true to the Beethoven mode. One of Pynchon's books - Gravity's Rainbow - has an argument between two characters about the greatest composers. One extols Rossini -- for his dedication to wine, women and song, his creation of good-time music, and the fact that he 'retired' from music aged 37 (which was Pynchon's age at the time of writing ... and it was 17 years before his next book came out).

By contrast, the argument runs, listening to Beethoven doesn't actually make you feel good in the Rossini sense ... it makes you want to go out and invade Poland.

As for Tolya: his continued play is totally admirable. There are those, like Fischer and Kasparov, arguably more addicted to winning than to chess, who become unstuck in some way after beating everyone and conquering the world - like Alexander weeping because there were no more worlds to conquer. Others, like Smyslov, Tal, Korchnoi and Karpov really do love the game itself, and are psychologically able to keep playing even when their decline is apparent.

Naturally I empathise more with this 2nd group. I suspect many people do.

It's got various Eno lyrics, along with footnotes, vaguely Joycean pun/readings, and even Mondegreens ('subtlety a homely fishpool hums with little eels' vs 'settled in a homely fishpool, hundred little eels' -- which defeat the Mondegreen point that one or both of the readings should make sense).

Along with discussions of whether or not "Punishing Paul for Peter" refers to, ah, masturbation. Via the original phrase "robbing Peter to pay Paul", and the idea of <breaking the heart of the celibate apostle for your own peter's benefit> ...

It is my taste, even more so if you disagree with me.

Beethoven's many faces, just like us... As light as Mozart, but not as playful?

Grischuk as the cure was spot on - we all know the transition the Cure went through in the late 80s ---- Grischuk may well be heading for the same.

<Philidor and Philidor (or Rameau or even Vivaldi); Nimzowitsch & Satie; Vaganian & Scott Walker> I need to give that some of my time.

heh

(hopefully avoiding making a fuel of myself.)

Some of them get kinda complicated. With (Nimzowitsch & Satie) I was trying to evoke a certain (neo-romantic, quirky?) strain of modernism - Duchamp belongs in there too, perhaps as arbiter. But it also links to the (Zappa & Zappa) 'joke': Frank Zappa said he was influenced by Satie ... and Zappa (Comp) is surely influenced by Nimzo, because who isn't?

Things get a lot more straightforward with (Vaganian & Scott Walker) - I felt I enjoyed their games/songs in the same kind of way. A purely subjective feeling; something rich, complex, aromatic (!?) ... the sort of words used to describe a good blend of coffee or a fine wine.

Both have had good days and bad days. Both have ranged across styles, popular to avant-garde, but are quite unique and instantly recognizable at their best. And both 'play Black' - whatever that might mean for a singer/composer like Walker.

Some of the things that Pynchon (or Pynchon characters) have said about analysis, science, reductionism (plagiarized from my own 1982 unpublished thesis on the subject):

< ... I wonder if you people aren't a bit too--- well, strong, on the virtues of analysis. I mean, once you've taken it all apart, fine, I'll be first to applaud your industry. But other than a lot of bits and pieces lying about, what have you said?> - Roger Mexico in Gravity's Rainbow

< ... yes and now what if we--- all right, say we *are* supposed to be the Kabbalists out here, say that's our real Destiny, to be the scholar-magicians of the Zone, with somewhere in it a Text, to be picked to pieces, annotated, explicated, and masturbated till it's all squeezed limp of its last drop ...> - Gravity's Rainbow

[Strange - I missed the chess subtext in "annotated, explicated, and squeezed ...". Hmmm ... maybe I can still make something out of this ...]

[Back in the day, my 1982 scholar-self responded to this magnificent rant with the modest suggestion that it "indicates the fate of any text once it has come to be perceived as such" (Sigh: the innocence of it.) ... and "There is, in Pynchon, some considerable hostility to the critical enterprise".

Pynchon says, somewhere, that a younger self is a fool, but you wouldn't actually turn him out on the street ...

<"Paranoia is the precondition of existence: its opposite, or its absence, 'antiparanoia', is a state 'where nothing is connected to anything, a condition not many of us can bear for long'.">

That's me again, citing TP. Sometimes, even though it's over 25 years old, I literally need a fix of this stuff to restore certain capacities and potencies that journalism tends to burn out of me.

Today, for example, I was told that using the phrase "analyses and meta-analyses" was, quote, patronising and insulting to the reader, unquote. Worser argument followed. Even in a piece largely about scientific literacy -- and the fact that perfectly normal scientific terms are seen as obscure, arrogant, weird, recondite, usw, while artistic or literary ideas of equivalent difficulty are acceptable.

Depends of course on by whom you're surrounded; people who have a direct or indirect influence on your being and functioning. Sometimes by force.

For example: I would dearly like to talk with you in real time, being the curious "scholar" that I've always been... Yet I'm limited to this, for me, clumsy medium, in order to get into an inspiring, challenging dialogue on the many "sub"-jects you touch upon. And, believe me, as much as I've been sometimes complimented on my English, I feel severely handicapped when it comes to expressing myself in detail and to the point, not wasting words and time, and maintaining authenticity.

I actually see "restoring certain capacities and potencies" as a recurring theme, and it's challenging as much as it is frightening. Luckily I don't frighten easily.

Hmmm - reading back I realise I went in a rather different (than initially intended) direction.

I'll try and be more specific, next time.

My feet have swelled up. They look like little white sausages now.

<Niels> This <Danny Elman> can sure play chess, not to mention <Viagra>.

I love your early a5-Na6-c6 idea to pieces.

My brain is so fried I had great difficulty following your analysis though. However, I love the activity and "in your face" style of your approach.

c6 is a sneaky move here making a great square for the Knight among other advantages.

<3.g3>?

Heh.

<Dom> Wotcha.

<Dom and Niels> boy you guys sure know about a lot of stuff.

I had great difficulty following your conversation. However, the sesation of reading it was grand.

The folly of <Ratner's Star> is that <DeLillo> explains what it actually is.

Much better, is this:

"Lot 49... lot 49..."

Some things are best left unsaid, unanalyzed, unplayed, and undone.

"I stood unwound beneath the sky
And clouds unbound by law
The crying rain like an organ sang
and asked for nooooooo applause"

Better put your feet up first and forget about the analysis (which is indeed meant to be followed with the actual game in a second browser - And experiment a bit alongside the stem-games, with your Shreddy).

<I had great difficulty following your conversation. However, the sensation of reading it was grand.> heh - well, it's <Dom> proudly leading the way, and picture me, about a yard behind him, launching my left and right arm alternately, scrambling to grab a hold of his coat as it flares up from the head wind.

Wow. I'd *kill* to be able to produce visual images like that. You are a superb painter with words, you know -- while I dabble in abstractions and construct patterns, you nail the reader to the spot with a perfect visual...

Is it cos you're the video generation? Or is it just common or garden genius? Whatever it is, shoot it and mount its head on the wall ... we need trophies.

<"I'd kill to"...> -- well, actually, I don't think I would. Killing is a tad extreme, and I'm squeamish (squeam and squeam again!).

But I'd, um, twist somebody's arm. Or sell my soul, if potential buyers offering appropriate payments appeared. No luck so far on Ebay.

Was it intentional? On an unrelated note, my little sister once won some kind of honor in a poetry contest. Her free form haikuesque effort started out:

<Bugs. Worthless. They're naught to me.>

<James Thurber>
From <My Life and Hard Times>

The raught has set in. We gaught to get outta this place. Before I reach <Rock Bought em>. Great Scaughtt!

- Is it a plaught?
- Everything is some kind of plaught.

Jess's sausagesque digits are still resonaughting ... now I'm reminded of Neil Diamond & Cracklin' Rosie (always wondered why she crackled ... it's clearly the pork crackling forbidden during his kosher upbringing and thus a symbol of revolution. Like Traughtsky.)

"Cracklin' Rose
You're a Store-bot woman
You make me feel like a guitar hummin'"

A storebot? Some kind of android store detective? Like <Blade Runner> meets <Breakfast at Tiffany's>?

"Golightly on the ledge, babe,
Golightly on the ground ..."

... was how Bob reviewed the latter film. Could even Battsimeg improve on that?

There was an Irish film, Disco Pigs, a few years ago. I headed my review with the line "Telling Porkies".

So am I. Now get yourself together and start behaving like a true idiot.

TP is much to easy for you.

Truism as it was never seen before.

It's also a kind of course in narratology:

<If the author has lost all authority like you said about the omniscient narrator how can he build up a sense of trust?

A good point, and the subject of our present analysis. But you're putting it a little too simply perhaps. The author has lost authority many times in the history of narrative, when one type has consumed itself, the element of manipulation becoming too visible thus destroying the fictive illusion and no-one has yet come along to renew it, usually, as here, reconstructing it by perpetual deconstruction.>

YOU ARE HERE
------>.