The Pale Kings

David Foster Wallace’s posthumous novel is brilliant; there’s no other way to describe it, focusing on the Internal Revenue service in a time where taxes are hotly debated in this election season, focusing on the comical clerks and accountants who populate the organization, plus riffs on the various political views and actors who influence tax policy, all in an amusing and highly entertaining tone without degrading the high theme, right smack into the debate on the role of government. Great writers are those who detect the pulse of their society, Wallace’s book though unfinished when he died, is a tome that displays his talent in focusing on the major concern long before it reached the news worthy proportions of today, accurately predicting that it’s a commendable subject for his talents. His voice reminds me of Thomas Pynchon, especially his book ‘Inherent Vice’, both comical but subtly displaying the absurdity of reality, a better story than those in books by his friend Jonathan Franken, who prefers to focus on social drama, like it were a television show, high end writing about essentially silly stuff.

I am also reading Jennifer Egan’s ‘A Visit from the Goon Squad’, herself a recent celebrated writer who just won the latest literary award (that escapes me at the moment), a wonderful book of social drama, with stories about an aging rock and roll executive and his pretty assistant, lacking perhaps the underlying seriousness of another author James O’Neill with his recent book ‘Netherland’, a book that focused on the sub culture of cricket playing immigrants in New York after 9/11, a book that I enjoyed very much especially its take on Bush and the neo-conservatives. Excepting Pynchon, Wallace is the superior writer when compared with the other writers discussed above, although I have not read his other novels and considering ‘The Pale Kings’ was unfinished and heavily edited by an editor, he still has a vibrant voice that slightly reminds one of George Orwell especially the book ‘Down and Out in Paris and London’. Orwell is the standard when talking about important writers who focus on the important themes of society, his novels ‘Animal Farm’ and ‘1984’ are the gold standard in comic absurdity without losing the high theme of political organization or centralized government or totalitarianism.

The late writer Christopher Hitchens’ book ‘Why Orwell Matters’ is an excellent essay on Orwell’s influence, coming from a writer with decidedly right wing tendencies, who was disgustingly critical of Jacqueline Kennedy in a Vanity Fair article, not realizing that she should be elevated to sainthood by the sheer fact of witnessing her husband’s brutal assassination, in turn losing her eldest son later in life though after her own death; a tragic family in any way imaginable; nevertheless Hitchens is superb in some of his arguments despite the occasional lapses in English snobbery. There does not seem to be any great English writers today in the same level as Orwell, the mantle passed to writers like Wallace or Pynchon or James O’Neill, authors who can write about the absurdities of life while focusing on great subjects, not succumbing to the Hollywood predilection for silly social drama, even the well written one. Perhaps it is like the comparison between Bill Clinton and Barack Obama, great men who have done great things (the pale kings?) but the later one focusing on the difficult tasks while the former kicking the can of (health care) down the road to the next administration though balancing the budget and having a surplus (with the help of Newt Gingrich). One is chasing women and squandering his potential (silly social drama) and the other a decent family man unafraid to make difficult but unpopular decisions.

Roll out Postponed

The Canada trip has been delayed, a bug found at the last minute; a crucial piece of information is not passed to a partner, therefore bank payments are not made. Money talks so any disruption in the supply is not tolerated. How could one miss this bug? After testing for many months, the alibi is that testing was done against the specification. It turns out the specs were wrong. So back to the developers at their European headquarters, pushing for results, pointing to the delay caused by the designer herself, a smart young lady working hard, who misunderstood one small piece of the puzzle. The overlord manager shows flashes of anger but quickly relaxing and cracking jokes when told about the problem; the team trying to push forward but stopped with an irrevocable ‘No’, so back to the drawing board, scrambling to get the fix as soon as possible. The momentum has stopped, as the monthly roll-out moving along for three straight months since November, the team also slowed down by a management decision on the team, one member not allowed to go, jinxing the whole effort with the bug found in the last minute, thereby canceling the trip altogether.

The spirit of the team is down, despite the victory of the New York Giants in the Super bowl on Sunday, the favorite team of the business leader; feels like one is not in control, issues raining down from all sides, caught unawares that one begins to doubt one’s confidence, proposing changes one had felt was good but rejected by the architect after a spirited discussion. There is too much talk, noise in the air, but actually one is glad that the trip is postponed, a respite from the maddening rush to deploy, like a suicide dash against a brick wall, but the attempt still needed to be made, to flush out any chinks in the armor which was what exactly happened. Now one is back to the tedious testing, looking at details in xml formats and using esoteric tools, peering into arcane code, trying to spot the flaw in the myriad symbols flashing across the computer screen. I feel guilty about the delay, missing the signals and not being thorough in checking, but I am not the expert of the system that provides the information; my responsibility only the ending piece of the supply chain before sending back another message to complete the loop.

Amidst this debacle, a dispute in payment in the local club erupts; requiring me to write appealing emails and making phone calls, fearful of losing a key officer in the club; a kindly grandmother who makes the agenda and keeps the club moving. Happily the dispute is resolved, so one attends a leadership seminar in the weekend and the weekly meeting this noon, all in the midst of a terrible cold, taking antibiotic medicine for a sinus infection, missing regular gym workouts, though slowly coming back, swimming in the weekend after the seminar, watching movies and getting things done at home. Slowly the spirits begin to lift, despite the winter weather where the cold dampens one’s disposition, continuing to test the system, making reports and writing emails, basically focusing on work so one could rise above the funk. Work is the only solution for bad moods and depression, a fix for fear and doubt, to just work and take out all the churning thoughts; focusing on a task is the antidote for mental confusion. One does feel better, working hard, writing blogs entries, attending meetings and having discussion. Later I will go to the library and then to the gym.

Down the Wire

The plan is to leave for Canada next week, to roll out the program in the Hamilton warehouse, with testing completed for most of the components except for the major piece, awaiting word from the supplier that all has been installed, but unfortunately in the dark about the situation. It’s like a game of ‘chicken’, who will blink first and swerve away from the collision, a test of bravery, all the chips in the partner and the only recourse is to wait. I visited the doctor this morning, initially an appointment for blood tests but postponed since I did not meet a prior condition, to stop taking medication and see if any change in my blood pressure, instead asking a prescription for colds and cough, unable to shake the virus for nearly a week, trying to beat the illness by inhaling steam but the sickness beating me instead. It’s down the wire again with 4 days left before departure, feeling sick and pressured, but willing to go along, confident that things are all right, having faith in one another’s competence is the key to less stress.

I just completed a noon meeting with the officers of our local club, the meeting seemed to go on well, but afterwards an email sent to all officeholders about a nasty situation involving money and donations, a sad thing to see, airing out dirty laundry to the public; one does not need this trivial problem. It’s the way of the West perhaps, to talk and air out grievances; it’s the democratic way unlike in the East where people tend to follow authority, unwilling to challenge conventions and follow the trend; but it’s really all talk, too much noise in the air. Last night despite my tired condition, I went and attended a lecture about the Southern writer Ben Robinson, the seminar room filled with old people, listening to a young and pretty lecturer reading her notes at the podium, showing slides in the wall about the young writer who died in a plane crash near Lisbon in the height of World War II. It was an interesting talk, learning about Southern culture, the Piedmont Upstate and the Low Countries, the rivalries and the prejudices, the old folks reminiscing of an earlier age long gone, still think about the civil war or the War Between the States.

Nowadays, one cannot wait to go home and watch ‘The West Wing’, a well-made drama modeled after the Clinton Presidency, a television series on its way to greatness but disgustingly made irrelevant due to the travails of its real life hero, caught in a sex scandal and nearly impeached, the image of Camelot forever lost, giving way to the arrogance of the next administration and recently to the election of a charismatic but inexperienced leader.  It could have been a good and rare time, but man’s flaws always there to bring him down, perhaps the present one is hubris while the older one was sexual addiction, masked awkwardly by some psychological disease, one must not challenge the gods or will be struck down. Again one has borrowed too much materials in the library, one is really not a writer just a dilettante, trying to keep up with the latest fad, unable to focus, always absorbed in books. Perhaps that is the best temperament for one, to be a teacher or scholar, away from the turmoil of life. Next week will be interesting if all the pieces come together.    

Surviving the Cold

The weekend was terrible, I could not stop sniffing and coughing, victim of a cold, inhaling steam and camphor but to no avail, likely resulting in a worse shape. Initially I thought it was fatigue, a general tiredness, no fever, just tiredness which I had tried to resolve by drinking Red Bull; experiencing a surge of energy but lost the next day with the same general malaise. The plan is to be in Canada next week, increasing the pressure to get well, maybe the condition is stress related, with many demands on my time by multiple projects, but one soldiers along, testing the software and writing emails. Sunday was spent in bed, sleeping in the morning and afternoon, regaining a brief respite but still the runny noise the terrible cough, inhaling more steam and camphor but to no avail, rushing to complete the book ‘Game Change, that one gets to bed at midnight, again the sleep deficit, likely handicapping my recovery.  One thinks that it started in Maryland, with the bad air in the room, perhaps catching a virus that came to fruit a week later, the stress and pressure aiding in the breakdown.

Foolishly I still planned to swim last weekend, thinking that exercise will help, always the optimist, like some idiot who thinks more exercise will fix any disease, aided of course by Red Bull like a commercial drug sold to keep the rat race churning forever in its own mirage. Last week I had rushed through the first season of ‘West Wing’, enjoying the ensemble acting, relevant in the Republican primary season where the candidates are bashing themselves, reading the book ‘Game Change’ at the same time, unable to stop like a true political junkie, causing the heart to palpitate, further straining the mind. Sunday was a welcome break, sleeping in bed, unable to go to church, reading the book, sleeping, eating, reading and watching a movie. There is a mess of mail and paper in the hall way, unable to clear the stack, preferring to read each correspondence like some fool, afraid that one would lose some important information, keeping the stacks of paper until one can find time in some future task free weekend.

The political season has got one excited, it’s election year after all, possibly the greatest election on earth, feeding the frenzy by watching political shows and reading political books, looking at websites like Economist, Financial Times, NPR and New York Times for the latest fix, to find out if one has missed some interesting bit, some information that would affect the economy, the stock market and all the rest of the financial world where one has invested in 401 Ks or IRA and all sorts of sophisticated instruments. Being updated with all the news is like a race to the bottom, like trying to catch a whirlwind, so one tries to change his mind, to play more Play station games, where one is engaged in some interactive activity, to start teaching kids as part of social outreach, to play tennis - basically to change one’s usual rut into a more creative mind set, being in the flow, a search for some sort of game changer that will make this possible. Perhaps that is the reason for one’s tiredness, not some physical ailment but a psychic weariness, an existential realization that one’s life needs to change, not driven by some urge to succeed in society as seen in Hollywood movies but some internal fix that’s more spiritual in nature.

Mental Whirlwind

A couple of projects are waiting for takeoff, almost simultaneously in the runway, looking for the resources who will kick start the mission forward, oftentimes the same pilot driving many planes at the same time. For example, preparation for deployment in Canada, with a new system that needs to interface with my program, a different set of challenges, especially in testing; a significant milestone where all eyes is looking. At the same time, another project involving the biggest retailer in the world, another sensitive assignment with all judges focused on the team, raising blood pressure and stress levels. Unfortunately, I find myself at the center of the game, moving forward to prevent stasis, pushing issues to other parties to resolve, always in motion, feeling like a juggler with too many balls in the air, walking a tightrope like a fool, willing to risk a mistake without a safety net, strangely hoping that management will step in and save you from your recklessness.  The weather is not cooperating too, winter cold and rain making the mood dreary, feeling sick but still one pushes forward perhaps waiting for a collapse to end it all.

So one mind maps the situation, hoping to get clarity from visual tools, releasing the mind from confusion via drawings that make sense to the turmoil of thoughts, achieving some sort of clearness, realizing that it’s all about appearances, of playing a role and hiding a frantic mind, thinking that all will turn out well in the long run. The projects are a step up for me, meeting a new set of people and challenges, like a bar has been raised, working at a different level with people with a higher skill level than one usually works with, like being in the big leagues. It is a test - one thinks, a test of endurance and skill, a test of preparedness, a test to see if one can work in the big leagues, and one rushes along like ‘Sea Biscuit’ the legendary horse who sprints right out the gate, spectators wondering if he has the legs for the long run, still rushing forward, muscles rippling and hearts nearly bursting, running like it was a sprint, but the race really a marathon. Can one survive the grueling pace, is this an intentional tryout, to learn the limits of one’s endurance, one’s breaking point?

Fortunately, one thinks he is smart, an experienced multi-tasker, willing to juggle tasks with the aid of mind mapping  and the relevant experience to handle the tension; grace under pressure, exercise, tai chi and meditation via journaling, perhaps the key to keeping one’s sanity. Rudyard Kipling’s poem - an inspiration, to keep one’s head when all others are losing theirs, going home tired, perhaps slightly fatigue, drinking Red Bull or other such energy drinks, watching ‘The West Wing’  to understand the working of the White House and a team of extremely talented and passionate people, similar but to a lesser degree like the project team. Is this enough to survive, to be successful at work with conflicting or even overwhelming challenges, it’s all in the mind, working with other people to get the work done. Yesterday, one finds out that the powers that be disapproved a project member’s travel to Canada, the feeling of indignation sweeping over one, wondering if cost savings is really the reason, the team being broken into two, wondering if a different model of deployment can be used, using an outsourced company, but one soldiers along, accepting the new rules of the game.

Maryland

I just got back from Elkton, a small town in northern Maryland, close to the border of Pennsylvania, arriving by plane via the Philadelphia international airport, driving for 45 minutes in a rental car along the Delaware River, glimpsing New Jersey across the water, passing by the University of Delaware and finally arriving in Maryland, crossing 2 states before arriving at the Comfort Inn in Elkton, an old motel with a quaint 70’s interior, beside a truck depot, a gas station and a Denny’s diner.  Across the street is a liquor shop where the motel’s main guests - truck drivers, can buy liquor for their night’s stay, at least for those who prefer to sleep in a room instead of their truck cab, before driving the long haul to their destination, traversing Interstate 95 which ran near the motel, the highway that stretches from Florida in the South to Maine in the North. It was a cold week with temperatures below freezing point but with no snow, enjoying the brisk cold air walking to the car or to the office, the only time one is outside, enjoying the clear sunshine unlike in the south which had its share of rain.

 
One notices the young charming ladies in Maryland; the waitress at Denny’s diner, where we had dinner after arriving at Elkton, where I ordered chicken soup; another charming and smart waitress in Amalfi - an Italian restaurant where I ordered Salmon salad and steamed clams and the young enthusiastic clerk in the warehouse. They seemed to possess a confident, open and engaging manner towards people, a quality one does not usually encounter in young people, who prefer the automatic and ‘fake’ courtesy of shop girls when working with older folks, lacking the genuine regard that sincere communication can bring, giving the team a sort of exhilarating feeling when doing their work. This is the 5th deployment the team has done, working with all sorts of people - the young ladies in Houston cheerful though lacking in enthusiasm, the middle aged workers in Monee; all wonderful people though the Maryland natives having a more attractive quality about them.  Perhaps the victory of the Baltimore football team on the Sunday when we arrived, gave the state’s inhabitants a certain verve; or maybe the closeness of the University of Delaware gave the place a youthful feel, nevertheless there was a certain feeling of freshness which one could only detect in places like California.

The project went well, despite the usual glitches, though one felt tired instead of excitement, like one has done this work too often, perhaps boredom or burnout creeping in, or perhaps it was the winter climate or the stale air in the room, or perhaps the nearness of deployment between sites, sapping our energy; but one struggles on, rushing through airports, driving in rental cars, eating in nice restaurants, sleeping late at night, driving to the warehouses, doing your sales pitch, unboxing the equipment, setting up computers, plugging cables, testing the software, turning the switch and waiting for the labels to print.  If things don’t work out, writing emails, making phone calls, pleading for support, some tense filled minutes until the solution is found, the bug fixed, seeing the remedy in a chat window; a word or two giving salvation to the tired team. The tenseness of the affair is the reason one overeats, ordering steaks and beer (in Apple Bees or Bugaboo Creek Steak House in Delaware), one’s only chance to eat in these places, or fried oysters (in Blue Crab Grill) or clam chowder (in the Philadelphia airport) or ribs in a street corner hole in the wall, settling in your bed filled to the brim at night, waking up with acid re-flux, burning and choking in the throat, drinking water and trying to sleep.    

Next Level Writing

Last night after work I could not start a regular work method in creative writing, realizing in the early morning as I awoke from sleep, that my writing experience is not suited for creative endeavors; journal writing being a contemplation of actual life events. On the other hand,  creative endeavors is more like grasping stories from the air, working from scratch with inspiration from the ether; something that I actually don’t have experience  which makes me think that another method is required - a method more suited to creativity.  Diarist or blogger’s pen to paper experience is more like transcribing actual events, distilled with reflection and personal thoughts, unlike the creative craft of novelist or authors. Hence, journal writing is much easier to do; easier to create a daily technique because it’s simple to do; the mind working in a mode of recollection and contemplation; no aspect of divine inspiration or imagination which is direly needed by creative work. But what has been gained is a facility in general writing; more attuned to working as a scribe than an author where creativity and imagination is the prime ingredient.

This brings to mind a text book that I read long ago called ‘Writing the Natural Way’ by Gabriele Rico, where techniques like clustering and other visual tools helps one use both right and left brain in creative writing; a technique that I think would be helpful as my left brain maybe blocking my naturally creative impulse, i.e. right brain thinking. This visual ‘clustering’ technique, together with dictation, should allow me to construct a regular routine; using software like Dragon Digital Speaking to transcribe spoken words into computer text, thereby freeing me from the technical task of writing; therefore allowing one to focus on that illusive inspiration one needs in creating stories from the imagination, from the ether of divine inspiration, pouring forth words that will be corrected later when one has the time to fix the first draft. Constructing a work ethic is truly the first challenge of the novelist, something I realized in the weekend, listening to an NPR feature in the radio about a 29 year old author who is now a millionaire; who did not study in college nor took a creative writing course, but wrote draft after draft of novels until a consistent work ethic enabled her to self-publish until the inevitable success came almost like a certainty. Her books on the paranormal and vampire romances may have helped in her success too.

I guess I write to know what I am thinking about, to organize my thoughts and synthesize the day’s learning, not really a creative act but more a method to understand life; the diarist being a person of reflection and not an imaginative artist. But one hope to take advantage of the writing experience gained from contemplation and brings to another level - that of creative writing but the mental mode is different, thereby requiring a different set of cerebral gears; the equipment for creativity not really utilized in blogging. The key skill for a novelist is storytelling, not reflective reporting which is the prime skill of the diarist; more akin to essay writing with no thought on character, plot, theme, dialogue and so on which are important elements in storytelling. This is where tools like visual ‘clustering’ and dictation may be useful to jump-start the creative process; to ascribe to another level where verbal skills (honed in Toastmaster?) can help actualize the story telling skills; by placing the person in a different atmosphere, reserving the actual writing process in editing, revising and other tasks that is more ‘mechanical’; that don’t require imagination or creativity. Perhaps one day one can get rid of these ‘tricks’ or tools once one has gotten used to storytelling.