Just like you, I think a lot about Nate Silver’s succinct outlook on noise and signal and apply his views to many things. So much noise! Always! So little signal.
How’s a person to think? Organize? Plan ahead? Think back?
It seems most likely that each one of us, depending on the privileges, tries to carve out a space where no one can enter without permission. That’s what most of the men I meet who, recently incarcerated, say: I just want to be myself. What’s gained by that perspective? That’s right: Quiet. Beckett, living through the war in France, wrote with respect for the dead.
Of course, not everyone feels that way. We’re not all the same, now are we? Some among us have access to deep reservoirs of rage and drink cups all day long.
But enough about that.
Having finished reading “69,” a fascinating and funny novel-memoir by Ryu Murakami, I’m onto, “Claire of the Sea Light,” and it’s good. Flaws appear in Danticat’s unrepressed desire to educate her readers about poverty, gender, and loss; I mean, honestly, isn’t it more memorable to put a plate of food in front of a person rather than force them to eat?
Speaking of food, we’re talking grilled chicken and apple sausages last night, courtesy of Bruce Aidell, and tonight it’s spinach and eggplant parmigiano.
Signal or noise?