Conquest by Bread

In light of what’s happening in Egypt, the best photo from Tunisia (thanks to Adriana for pointing me to it)

Made me think of this book.

New York, Calcutta, Budapest – Of “world cities” and the whole

“The other point about globalization is precisely that all cities do not become completely similar to one another; some of their elements do converge but others diverge, sometimes wildly, which is why urbanism exhibits more diversity than ever, creating intricately linked, very complex systems. Analyses of “global” or “world cities” cannot aim to represent the
whole. The metaphor of the dual city certainly captures the selective transnationalization of cultures. The “third-worlding” experience of New York is, however, still quite different from life in Calcutta, and the “Brazilianization” of British cities cannot be assumed to be the master pattern for Rio or for the “Balkanization” of Budapest.”

Judit Bodnar, Fin de millénaire Budapest :metamorphoses of urban life (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2001), 5

The difference between socialism and capitalism

“Under socialism a belief in reality still existed; that is why Ceauşescu had to actually tear down the city. Under capitalism, however, one does not need to destroy an existing reality in order to achieve a desired goal; builders of new shopping malls have no need to demolish the old village’s sops, since these businesses will sooner or later close down on their own. Capitalism can thus build new fantasy places and the virtual reality of the capital will cause all the destruction necessary to increase profits.”

Renata Salecl. “The state as a work of art – the trauma of Ceausescu’s Disneland” in Neil Leach, ed., Architecture and revolution: contemporary perspectives on Central and Eastern Europe (London: Routledge, 1999), 108

Borat na Terazijama

 

29/12/2010, originally uploaded by mrjovanovic.

Of Warsaw shop windows in the 80s (or on the colonial gaze of Old to New Europe)

Rusting and moulding, their open structures and abstract mosaics revealed the system’s inability to rejuvenate itself. If the neon signs, escalators and refrigerators worked, they emitted a fatal buzzing like a Geiger counter…

David Crowley, Warsaw (London: Reaktion Books, 2004), 135

If, while resting on a summer afternoon, you follow with your eyes a mountain range on the horizon or a branch which casts its shadow over you, you experience the aura of those mountains, of that branch. This image makes it easy to comprehend the social bases of the contemporary decay of the aura….To pry an object from its shell, to destroy its aura, is the mark of a perception whose “sense of the universal equality of things” has increased to such a degree that it extracts it even from a unique object by means of reproduction.

Walter Benjamin, Illuminations. trans. Harry Zohn (New York: Schocken Books, 2007) 222-3

Bluz ratnog veterana

by Grof Đuraz

Sjedim pokraj kontejnera
Čekam premijera
Da ga pitam gdje mi je večera
I što mu više ne trebam?

Novine pišu da je u ratu
Prodavao cigare i naftu
On i njegovi drugari laktaši
Sada su pravi bogataši

Ref:

Dok sam krvario na ratištu
Prodali su moju firmu
Noge su mi ostale na Ozrenu
Kako sam bio glup
Kako sam bio glup..
Nisam se plašio bombi
Snajpera ni mudžahedina
Al mi dušu kida
Sin mi je diler heroina.

Ref:

Ćerka kao eskort radi
Kaže: „Stari, dok je moje mace
nema gladi”,

Završili fakultet oboje
Ne mogu da se zaposle

Televizor kaže život na visokoj nozi
A ja kažem: „Bože pomozi, nikog ne znam, ništa nemam”.

Šta da radim živjeti se mora
Za Republiku dao sam noge
Sada imam, samo imam
Sada samo imam probleme mnoge

Ref:

Volim svoju Republiku Srpsku
Malo manje Bosnu i Hercegovinu
Na duši sam pokidao lanac
Gdje god da dođem zovu me „bosanac”

Lanac – bosanac – vize – devize !

Jututunska narodna himna

by Jovan Jovanović Zmaj

Bože sveti, podrži nam Kralja,
zdrava, krepka, ohola i slavna,
jer na zemlji nit je katkad bilo,
niti će mu ikad biti ravna.

Ovaj narod vrlo dobro znade
da je stvoren samo Kralja radi,
da Mu daje poreze i hvale,
da Ga dvori i ponizno kadi.

Bože silni s visoka žilišta,
saslušaj nam nasu želju staru,
Bože silni, ne daj nikom ništa,
da što više ostane Vladaru.

Radi Njega sva stvorenja žive,
radi Njega sunce greje s neba,
a taj narod, a tu zemlju našu,
podrži je-ako Kralju treba.

Oduzmi nam i želje i glasa,
oduzmi nam mudrovanja kleta,
da Njegovu nameru ne preči,
da Njegovoj mudrosti ne smeta.

Daj Mu s neba najsvetlije dare,
policije špicle i žandare,
ako neće da dušmana svali,
bar na svome nek srce iskali.

Nek narodi našu slavu znadu,
a nas puste čmavati u hladu,
al’ i onda nek je straža jaka,
jera ima sana svakojaka.

Who says words with my mouth?

 

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I’ll be completely sober.  Meanwhile,
I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.

This poetry, I never know what I’m going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

I often feel like this ….
This is a paraphrased translation of a poem by Mevlana (Rumi) done by Coleman Barks with John Moyne, A. J. Arberry and Reynold Nicholson. Barks is problematic by himself, because he does not speak Farsi, and relies on the translators mentioned above and his interpretation of Sufism to place Rumi in free verse. I’ve also really enjoyed the first book of the Masnawi translated (very properly) by Jawid Mojaddedi, which is in iambic pentameter. It’s strange to read these different translations – on the one hand, one strives for authenticity, finding Barks deplorable – on the other, Barks’ free verse is living, inspiring, moving, all in ways in which Rumi’s work was in the 13th century. Even if I were to speak Farsi, I could never comprehend the significance of these verses in their own context – in a real sense, they only exist in their meaning for us. Yet, their meaning which reverberates through the ages, their historical significance – is also just as real. Rumi was a real Sufi saint, and his work played a fundamental role in shaping the literary heritage of Persian-speaking cultures, including the elites of the Ottoman Empire. So what now? What does history (Homer, Shakespeare, Gilgamesh) mean for us today? What does it mean to translate? How much are we Coleman Barks, and can we understand each other outside of language? Is there thought outside of language? The purported impossibility of Qur’anic translation really resonates in this debate for me. I think there is thought outside of language – good art gets there, sometimes. And there is such a gradient between art and craftsmanship… So, I leave you with an image of the Masnawi, where art and craftsmanship intersect… and thoughts of gradients and fractals…

I will try not to be quiet with this blog, even if it’s not exactly poetry.

Braised Pork Ribs with Rosemary and Garlic Spinach

So after a long, long time, I’ve finally decided to put something up on this long-forsaken blog of mine. Guided by the motivation that I a) love food b) love sharing it with people c) eat alone in this grad school site of boredom, I figured I might want to share some of my creativeness. People who know how to cook might find some of my recipe stuff stupid, but considering that I had no idea how to cook, and I learned painfully after years of trial and error, I am firmly entrenched in my beliefs that procedures should be explained.

Skip that intro? Good, let’s begin… (you can just scan the bolded stuff for teh quickness)

Today’s recipe are braised pork ribs with rosemary, and garlic spinach as a side. This dish has no salad (but you could add one yourself).

We start off with a packet of pork ribs, the meaty kind. They can be with or without the bone (although I like to keep the bone on for flavor), but they should be a little meaty with a small bit of fat left on them. Don’t worry, fat is very good for you in small quantities, and if you happen to find ribs from the Serbian Mangulica pig, you’re in luck, since it has less cholesterol than chicken!…

But yes. So chop up some spring onions (scallions), about 4-5 medium-sized ones should cut it. Add to that one large carrot, sliced into little circular bundles of joy.

Take your braising pan, put a bit of olive oil on the bottom, and turn the heat on to medium-high. Drop those scallion bad boys and the carrotino, and sautee then for a few minutes. It’s good to wait for a small change in smell that happens when the scallions lose their slight bitterness, but if you don’t want to smell like a silly person (me) around your kitchen, you can just time it around 1.5-2 minutes. Then, add the pork ribs, reducing the heat to medium. Your olive oil should be quite hot by now, and quickly browning the meat. At that point, put a pinch of salt over the meat, some black pepper, paprika, and rosemary. It would be best and cheapest if you’d have a rosemary plant in your garden or outside, but some dried ones work fine as well. Rub the spices into the meat using your wooden spoon while it’s browning, and then turn it around and repeat the process. Finally, add half a cup of water (or just enough to cover a little less than half the meat in height, and reduce the heat to a simmer. After that, put a few hefty drops of olive oil on top of each rib, and rub it with the spice using that same spoon. Put the lid on, and forget about the whole thing for one hour.

For example, listen to some Stelios Kazantsidis – that always puts me a in a cooking mood. While you’re at it, wash and clean your spinach, and leave it aside.

Boil some water in a quart pot, and just blanch the spinach – drop it into boiling water for about 30 seconds, and then just take it out! It will get much smaller – a big bag will turn out to be a bit more than a handfull. If you’re using canned spinach just skip this part…

Chop up two large cloves of garlic, and heat up some olive oil in that same quart pot (just make sure its dry first! – hot oil and water don’t like each other very much). Then, drop the garlic into the hot olive oil, and right when you can smell the delicious garlickyness of it, drop the spinach in and stir, reducing the heat to a low setting. You might realize the water+oil thing in the beginning of this exercise, especially if your spinach is still damp. Finally, add some milk into the mix (quarter to half of a cup), salt and pepper, and stir again. The whole spinach process shouldn’t take more than 5 minutes.

By this time, your delicious pork ribs should be done, so just take both out, put them side by side, add a nice helping of plain yogurt and a parsley leaf on top of the spinach, and enjoy!

Polako

Sa svetle strane oluje pali smo na sve ulice
i svaki sekund stvarnosti nas okuje.
Sistem je ono najgore i protiv njega sam zauvek,
a ti ne zaboravi ko si i na kojoj si strani.
Ti, pokaži mi, zaboravi, opasnosti.
Kad me svetlo pogodi, polako, polako prilazim.

Dok oblećemo grad, kažem da se ne bojiš
jer Anđeli skupljaju vojsku.
I pusti da senke prođu i da nas greju krila do ujutru,
jer kad dođe novi dan postajem nemiran.
I radim šta znam i nikoga ne pitam.
Ti, pokaži mi, i zamisli, i ne brini.
Vreme naše svetlosti polako, polako dolazi.

Jer ja te volim i ja ti pričam da možeš sve.
U svakom gradu, u svakom životu ti šapućem.
I ja svuda polako prolazim i samo duhovi me čuju.
I ja te nosim tamo gde strahovi umiru.
Ti, pokaži mi, pokaži mi, pokaži mi,
kad se nebo otvori, polako, polako iznad svih.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZpDdcKwGfM