A Jenny Lo song worth talking about. We all hate Ja Rule and whoever the fuck that guy was who ran Murder, Inc. and had half a season of a reality show on MTV, but with eight years of critical distance, we come to find: their output was all about some dulcet soprano with a flouncy disco beat. It was Fern Kinney--those dudes were erroneous. This one is just lazy enough. A slope. It was part of a bundle of pop songs receiving radio play through an awkward/sexy/near-tragic field trip from my prep school to one of those commercial sledding slopes that's sort of like a water park but far far less. We were let loose in this trashy, foreign place. And such a soundtrack.

jewel eye

Ten years ago this June, Jennifer Lopez (who is 40 today!) released On the 6. It was the summer before we (our generationally uniform A&P staff) started high school. And it was the last of some wine, at once blissful and terribly depressing/ive. I was becoming aware of finite-ness (the finite-ness of any mini-epoch, any happy afternoon, any--oy--childhood?). I went to Venice with my grandmother. I went to a house in New Mexico with my parents and sister. I listened to On the 6 throughout. Pillow and I had a mutual love for the record, forged while staying up all night listening to it in her cedar closet, getting high on pure conjecture: video images, foggy notions of adulthood, choreographed dances, stretchy and flared denims, inside jokes about the less attractive members of boy bands.

There's not so much to say about the music. I loved it then because I was 14. I love it now because I'm sentimental. But the album cover. As far as I'm concerned, gold hot pants, beige chasmere sweater, and ponytail really add up. J. Lo is most iconic as a beauty, a dresser, as a glam caricature (and a Nueva Yorker), as the demander of culticle oils and fresh-cut flowers. Her musical and filmic successes, whatever they've been, are directly linked to her personal excesses (and thank G-d!). The two favorites from Summer '99:

Happy Birthday Jennifer Lopez. Happy Belated Birthday Monica Lewinsky.

READING Hall & Oates

She`ll only come out at night, the lean and hungry type
Nothing is new I`ve seen her here before…watching and waiting
Ooh, she`s sitting with you but her eyes are on the door
So many have paid to see what you think you`re getting for free
The woman is wild, a she-cat tamed by the purr of a jaguar
Money`s the matter, if you`re in it for love, you ain`t gonna get too far

(Oh oh, here she comes) watch out boy, she`ll chew you up
(Oh oh, here she comes) she`s a maneater
(Oh oh, here she comes) watch out boy, she`ll chew you up
(Oh oh, here she comes) she`s a maneater

I wouldn`t if I were you, I know what she can do
She`s deadly, man, she could really rip your world apart
Mind over matter, ooh, the beauty is there, but a beast is in the heart

(Oh oh, here she comes) watch out boy, she`ll chew you up
(Oh oh, here she comes) she`s a maneater
(Oh oh, here she comes) watch out boy, she`ll chew you up
(Oh oh, here she comes) she`s a maneater

Ooooooooooh ooh (Oh oh, here she comes) here she comes
Watch out boy, she`ll chew you up
(Oh oh, here she comes, watch out) she`s a maneater
(Oh oh, here she comes, she`s a maneater) Ooh, she`ll chew you up
(Oh oh, here she comes) Here she comes, she`s a maneater
(Oh oh, here she comes, watch out) She`ll only come out at night, oo
(Oh oh, here she comes) Here she comes, she`s a maneater
(Oh oh, here she comes, she`s a maneater) the woman is wild
(Oh oh, here she comes) here she comes
Watch out, boy, watch out, boy (Oh oh, here she comes)
Oh watch out, watch out, watch out, watch out
(Oh oh, here she comes) Yeah yeah, she`s a maneater
(Oh oh, here she comes, she’s a maneater) She’s watching and waiting
(Oh oh, here she comes) Oh, she’s a maneater

I saw the most wonderful clothing rack on Brighton 3rd.

PANTS!

Not usually a favorite...I think she's great at what she does; it's just a little too plainly performative for me. However, THESE PANTS!

The Hits

Let's revisit this, likely the best essay yet published here.

BLESS

Fiorello LaGuardia spoke Yiddish!

Best Thing Going (For Tuesday)

Pillow and I have been discussing acrylic and gel wraps, generally upping the seriousness of our nails. Perhaps we should purchase an issue of Below Zero.

Doris Salcedo Sculptures

Paining

Ayer, half-napping, directly after an episode of Tiny and Toya (which, I've now realized is about the mother of Tip's bebes--jealousy, anguish and admiration), I watched Waiting to Exhale. I'd never seen it, though I was familiar with a few key scenes from...I Love the 90's? Angela Basset setting her scoundrel (white-lady-loving) husband's suits on fire inside of a BMW sedan. (The incomparable) Loretta Devine offering up a plate of cookedfood to Gregory Hines.

The film is strange. It's set in Arizona (whaaaa?). And, typically, while the four principles, Devine, Basset, Ms. Whitney Houston, and Ms. Mike Tyson, are meant to be a unit of gal'friends, the actual links drawn between them are flimsy, the editing scatter-brained, the writing puerile. The thing is this: its view of women's love lives is dark. Crackheads, underminers, and, almost universally, other people's husbands. Truly, in the course of the movie, 3 out of the 4 heroines are involved with one or more married men. This is all well and good for spring chickens like us, but for women-of-a-certain-age, who really want to settle down and make babies and run errands, it's pure tragedy, the pits. But is it accurate? Are married boyfriends standard for thirty-something singles? Or is Waiting to Exhale simply a relic of 1995, a testament to how uncomfortable Hollywood was with non-traditional trajectories (like late marriage) for women? Whatever the case, I did feel there was a distinct sexism dotting the story, a sexism distinct from the present brand, one that felt more "Eisenhower" than "Girls Gone Wild." It's quite something how much cultural ground has been covered even within our wee quarter century of experience. This guy totes does it justice:

Simon Rex, will you still be a slag when we're married?

Happy (35th) Birthday baby!

Verses

The second letter of Paul Valéry's "Crisis of the Mind," (1919)--

I was saying the other day that peace is the kind of war that allows acts of love and creation in its course; it is, then, a more complex and obscure process than war properly so-called, as life is more obscure and more profound than death.

But the origin and early stages of peace are more obscure than peace itself, as the fecundation and beginnings of life are more mysterious than the functioning of a body once it is made and adapted.

Everyone today feels the presence of this mystery as an actual sensation; a few men must doubtless feel that their own inner being is positively a part of the mystery; and perhaps there is someone with a sensibility so clear, subtle, and rich that he senses in himself certain aspects of our destiny more advanced than our destiny itself.

I have not that ambition. The things of the world interest me only as they relate to the intellect; for me, everything relates to the intellect. Bacon would say that this notion of the intellect is an idol. I agree, but I have not found a better idol.

I am thinking then of the establishment of peace insofar as it involves the intellect and things of the intellect. This point of view is false, since it separates the mind from all other activities; but such abstract operations and falsifications are inevitable: every point of view is false.

A first thought dawns. The idea of culture, of intelligence, of great works, has for us a very ancient connection with the idea of Europe -- so ancient that we rarely go back so far.

Other parts of the world have had admirable civilizations, poets of the first order, builders, and even scientists. But no part of the world has possessed this singular physical property: the most intense power of radiation combined with an equally intense power of assimilation.

Everything came to Europe, and everything came from it. Or almost everything.

Now, the present day brings with it this important question: can Europe hold its pre-eminence in all fields?

Will Europe become what it is in reality -- that is, a little promontory on the continent of Asia?

Or will it remain what it seems -- that is, the elect portion of the terrestrial globe, the pearl of the sphere, the brain of a vast body?

In order to make clear the strict necessity of this alternative, let me develop here a kind of basic theorem.

Consider a map of the world. On this planisphere are all the habitable lands. The whole is divided into regions, and in each of these regions there is a certain density of population, a certain quality of men. In each of these regions, also, there are corresponding natural resources -- a more or less fertile soil, a more or less rich substratum, a more or less watered terrain, which may be more or less easily developed for transport, etc.

All these characteristics make it possible, at any period, to classify the regions we are speaking of, so that at any given time the situation on the earth may be defined by a formula showing the inequalities between the inhabited regions of its surface.

At each moment, the history of the next moment will depend on this given inequality.

Let us now examine, not our theoretical classification, but the one that actually prevailed in the world until recently. We notice a striking fact, which we take too much for granted:

Small though it be, Europe has for centuries figured at the head of the list. In spite of her limited extent -- and although the richness of her soil is not out of the ordinary -- she dominates the picture. By what miracle? Certainly the miracle must lie in the high quality of her population. That quality must compensate for the smaller number of men, of square miles, of tons or ore, found in Europe. In one scale put the empire of India and in the other the United Kingdom: the scale with the smaller weight tilts down!

That is an extraordinary upset in equilibrium. But its consequences are still more so: they will shortly allow us to foresee a gradual change in the opposite direction.

We suggested just now that the quality of her men must be the determining factor in Europe's superiority. I cannot analyze this quality in detail; but from a summary examination I would say that a driving thirst, an ardent and disinterested curiosity, a happy mixture of imagination and rigorous logic, a certain unpessimistic skepticism, an unresigned mysticism...are the most specifically active characteristics of the European psyche.

A single example of that spirit, an example of the highest order and of the very first importance, is Greece -- since the whole Mediterranean littoral must be counted in Europe. Smyrna and Alexandria are as much a part of Europe as Athens and Marseilles. Greece founded geometry. It was a mad undertaking: we are still arguing about the possibility of such a folly.

What did it take to bring about that fantastic creation? Consider that neither the Egyptians nor the Chinese nor the Chaldeans nor the Hindus managed it. Consider what a fascinating adventure it was, a conquest a thousand times richer and actually far more poetic than that of the Golden Fleece. No sheepskin is worth the golden thigh of Pythagoras.

This was an enterprise requiring gifts that, when found together, are usually the most incompatible. It required argonauts of the mind, tough pilots who refused to be either lost in their thoughts or distracted by their impressions. Neither the frailty of the premises that supported them, nor the infinite number and subtlety of the inferences they explored could dismay them. They were as though equidistant from the inconsistent Negro and the indefinite fakir. They accomplished the extremely delicate and improbable feat of adapting common speech to precise reasoning; they analyzed the most complex combinations of motor and visual functions, and found that these corresponded to certain linguistic and grammatical properties; they trusted in words to lead them through space like far-seeing blind men. And space itself became, from century to century, a richer and more surprising creation, as thought gained possession of itself and had more confidence in the marvelous system of reason and in the original intuition which had endowed it with such incompatible instruments as definitions, axioms, lemmas, theorems, problems, porisms, etc.

I should need a whole book to treat the subject properly. I wanted merely to indicate in a few words one of the characteristic inventions of the European genius. This example brings me straight back to my thesis.

I have claimed that the imbalance maintained for so long in Europe's favor was, by its own reaction, bound to change by degrees into an imbalance in the opposite direction. That is what I called by the ambitious name of basic theorem.

How is this proposition to be proved? I take the same example, that of the geometry of the Greeks; and I ask the reader to consider the consequences of this discipline through the ages. We see it gradually, very slowly but very surely, assuming such authority that all research, all the ways of acquiring knowledge tend inevitably to borrow its rigorous procedure, its scrupulous economy of "matter," its automatic generalizations, its subtle methods, and that infinite discretion which authorizes the wildest audacity. Modern science was born of this education in the grand style.

But once born, once tested and proved by its practical applications, our science became a means of power, a means of physical domination, a creator of material wealth, an apparatus for exploiting the resources of the whole planet -- ceasing to be an "end in itself" and an artistic activity. Knowledge, which was a consumer value, became an exchange value. The utility of knowledge made knowledge a commodity, no longer desired by a few distinguished amateurs but by Everybody.

This commodity, then, was to be turned out in more and more manageable or consumable forms; it was to be distributed to a more and more numerous clientele; it was to become an article of commerce, an article, in short, that can be imitated and produced almost anywhere.

Result: the inequality that once existed between the regions of the world as regards the mechanical arts, the applied sciences, the scientific instruments of war or peace -- an inequality on which Europe's predominance was based -- is tending gradually to disappear.

So, the classification of the habitable regions of the world is becoming one in which gross material size, mere statistics and figures (e.g., population, area, raw materials) finally and alone determine the rating of the various sections of the globe.

And so the scales that used to tip in our favor, although we appeared the lighter, are beginning to lift us gently, as though we had stupidly shifted to the other side the mysterious excess that was ours. We have foolishly made force proportional to mass!

This coming phenomenon, moreover, may be connected with another to be found in every nation: I mean the diffusion of culture, and its acquisition by ever larger categories of individuals.

An attempt to predict the consequences of such diffusion, or to find whether it will or not inevitably bring on decadence, would be a delightfully complicated problem in intellectual physics.

The charm of the problem for the speculative mind proceeds, first, from its resemblance to the physical fact of diffusion and, next, from a sudden transformation into a profound difference when the thinker remembers that his primary object is men not molecules.

A drop of wine falling into water barely colors it, and tends to disappear after showing as a pink cloud. That is the physical fact. But suppose now that some time after it has vanished, gone back to limpidity, we should see, here and there in our glass -- which seemed once more to hold pure water -- drops of wine forming, dark and pure -- what a surprise!...

This phenomenon of Cana is not impossible in intellectual and social physics. We then speak of genius, and contrast it with diffusion.

Just now we are considering a curious balance that worked in inverse ratio to weight. Then we saw a liquid system pass as though spontaneously from homogeneous to heterogeneous, from intimate mingling to clear separation.... These paradoxical images give the simplest and most practical notion of the role played in the World by what -- for five or ten thousand years -- has been called Mind.

But can the European Mind -- or at least its most precious content -- be totally diffused? Must such phenomena as democracy, the exploitation of the globe, and the general spread of technology, all of which presage a deminutio capitis for Europe...must these be taken as absolute decisions of fate? Or have we some freedom against this threatening conspiracy of things?

Perhaps in seeking that freedom we may create it. But in order to seek it, we must for a time give up considering groups, and study the thinking individual in his struggle for a personal life against his life in society.

Love in this Club

NY1's Pat Kiernan, who applies his own make-up every morning (and keeps newspapers relevant). It's always nice to see an Irishman make something of himself.