Gods Of Tango - Integral Post-Metaphysical Spirituality2024-03-28T18:04:46Zhttp://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/forum/topics/gods-of-tango?commentId=5301756%3AComment%3A66060&x=1&feed=yes&xn_auth=noI remember the actual post an…tag:integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com,2016-07-01:5301756:Comment:660602016-07-01T17:36:58.778ZAmbo Sunohttp://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/profile/AmboSuno
I remember the actual post and a bit of the study. My "remember that article ..." was a rhetorical pointer to the topic. But thanks E for trying to steer us.<br></br>
<br></br>
The post was in a "latest activity" status post - below. The link within that was to the science daily article, below that.<br></br>
<br></br>
Below the links is a particular section of the Gods Of Tango quote that seems to me to be especially free and pleasing in flow and rhythm of sentence-phrase length variability. As I wrote in my…
I remember the actual post and a bit of the study. My "remember that article ..." was a rhetorical pointer to the topic. But thanks E for trying to steer us.<br/>
<br/>
The post was in a "latest activity" status post - below. The link within that was to the science daily article, below that.<br/>
<br/>
Below the links is a particular section of the Gods Of Tango quote that seems to me to be especially free and pleasing in flow and rhythm of sentence-phrase length variability. As I wrote in my prior post, I am not sure exactly what they mean in the study by "multi fractal" in the context of this parameter of measuring something like sentence lengths.<br/>
<br/>
Though I liked and like the idea of there being multi fractal resonances within works of great literature, and though I can sort of see and intuit that sentence length variability could be a strong indicator of great literature, I have trouble understanding meaningful fractality, multi fractality of great consequence in great literature being attributed to sentence length. It seems like such a mechanistic and limited factor amidst the hugeness of contributions to great literature and maybe related fractals that I have trouble being so impressed. I mostly am taking the researchers word for it, and I am digging the idea that multifractality could be a common linking factor in great literature. Thinking that makes the world and mind of man and his aesthetics seem more ordered.<br/>
<br/>
If there were included in the study, and it would be a difficult and enormously complex study, about content sorted and evaluated somehow by ideas, themes, images, and some manner of stylistic zooming in and out, emphasis and indifference - stuff like that - I'd be more impressed.<br/>
<br/>
However, I may be missing something important and so am not weighing the research as stated with proper respect. I feel ambivalent.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<a href="http://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/profiles/status/show?id=5301756%3AStatus%3A63274&commentId=5301756%3AComment%3A63411" target="_blank">http://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/profiles/status/show?id=530...</a><br/>
<br/>
<a rel="nofollow" href="https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/01/160121110913.htm" target="_blank">https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/01/160121110913.htm</a><br/>
<br/>
"Hidden but not silent. Now she practiced out loud, in her little room. Nobody seemed to mind or even notice in the din of La Rete's days. A wild freedom to let her hands sing tangos, to refine her sound, which grew a little clearer and brighter each day as she practiced in that cramped rectangle where sunlight shone only through the slit beneath the door, that humble stinking space that she could love because it was her own, and when music possessed her, her first lover, perhaps forever, since even if by some miracle she managed to keep living on this knife's edge, undiscovered, surviving, besting death at its own game, she obviously could never have a man. She didn't mind the sacrifice. It seemed enough for a life, to give yourself to music the way nuns give themselves to God. To vow. To surrender. Only music, after all, made life bearable. Only with music did she feel--what was it? Free? Happy?<br/>
<br/>
No, it was something else.<br/>
<br/>
Awake.<br/>
<br/>
Music, arrow to pierce all barriers. Music, the great equalizer. Music, invader of centuries. Nectar of demons, whiskey flask of God."<br/>
<br/>
[All errors are mine in transcription.]<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<cite>Edwyrd theurj Burj said:</cite><blockquote cite="http://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/forum/topics/gods-of-tango?commentId=5301756%3AComment%3A65766&xg_source=activity#5301756Comment65766"><div><div class="xg_user_generated"><p>"Remember that article referencing a study of fractality in past great literary works?"</p>
<p>Yes, see it <a href="http://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/forum/topics/real-and-false-reason?commentId=5301756%3AComment%3A63420" target="_self">here</a>.</p>
</div>
</div>
</blockquote> "Remember that article refere…tag:integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com,2016-06-30:5301756:Comment:657662016-06-30T17:21:34.658ZEdward theurj Bergehttp://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/profile/theurj
<p>"Remember that article referencing a study of fractality in past great literary works?"</p>
<p>Yes, see it <a href="http://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/forum/topics/real-and-false-reason?commentId=5301756%3AComment%3A63420" target="_self">here</a>.</p>
<p>"Remember that article referencing a study of fractality in past great literary works?"</p>
<p>Yes, see it <a href="http://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/forum/topics/real-and-false-reason?commentId=5301756%3AComment%3A63420" target="_self">here</a>.</p> Remember that article referen…tag:integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com,2016-06-29:5301756:Comment:658422016-06-29T01:43:15.963ZAmbo Sunohttp://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/profile/AmboSuno
Remember that article referencing a study of fractality in past great literary works? I don't remember well, but I think it looked only at the simple parameters of sentence length in their variabilities.<br />
<br />
Though the details of method of that research are not known to me, one gets a feel for something like that while reading and while feeling a sort of rhythm in the variability. At least I think I do, and whether that is exactly tapping the fractality that was being studied or not, it is an…
Remember that article referencing a study of fractality in past great literary works? I don't remember well, but I think it looked only at the simple parameters of sentence length in their variabilities.<br />
<br />
Though the details of method of that research are not known to me, one gets a feel for something like that while reading and while feeling a sort of rhythm in the variability. At least I think I do, and whether that is exactly tapping the fractality that was being studied or not, it is an attractive sense in me.<br />
<br />
Do you feel some sense of that in the above quotes as I do?<br />
<br />
<br/>
<br/>
<cite>Ambo Suno said:</cite><blockquote cite="http://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/forum/topics/gods-of-tango?xg_source=activity#5301756Comment66052"><div>On pp. 148-151, learning to cope with her recently-established identity on the poor, mean streets of immigrant-worker Buena Aires:<br/> <br/>
"This new life brought many freedoms. She could smoke, she could walk the streets at night, she could curse and spit in the gutters. She could hold down a job that paid twice as much as anything a woman could do with her clothes on. But there were new demands. She had to be extremely careful with her posture (head up, shoulders squared) and her gait (long sure strides, no swaying hips). She had to exude confidence, if not outright bravado, at all times. She had to keep her voice carefully calibrated...<br/>
She could never drop her guard, not even for a moment, because it turned out, men sized up other men, not just sometimes, but constantly. She'd never realized the full extent of these of these invisible transactions until she was involved in them. Sometimes they were blatant, sometimes subtle, delivered with pursed lips or darting glances, sometimes behind a smile or coupled with a kiss on the cheek, all the while calculating your odds in case it came down to a fight. Because being a man meant facing possible violence at any turn. If you were helpless, it did not serve, as it could for a woman, to make you seem more innocent, more pure...<br/>
And she lacked the muscle of men around her; not only did she know this but the men around her knew as well. There was no way to conceal the narrowness of her shoulders, her lanky build. To make up for this, her persona had to be even tougher. She bought a dagger in a pawn shop...<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Sometimes, deep in the night, she unbound her aching breasts and sat alone in front of a cracked mirror, staring at herself in the light of a single candle, amazed at what she saw. A not-man. Not-woman. A fallen-woman-risen-man. She couldn't tell what was stranger: that a man existed inside her, or that the world accepted his existence. She wondered why no one saw through her disguise. Perhaps people could see only what they expected, what fit inside their vision, as if human vision came in precut shapes more narrow than the world itself [sound philosophically familiar? :)], and this allowed her to hide in plain sight.<br/>
<br/>
Hidden but not silent. Now she practiced out loud, in her little room. Nobody seemed to mind or even notice in the din of La Rete's days. A wild freedom to let her hands sing tangos, to refine her sound, which grew a little clearer and brighter each day as she practiced in that cramped rectangle where sunlight shone only through the slit beneath the door, that humble stinking space that she could love because it was her own, and when music possessed her, her first lover, perhaps forever, since even if by some miracle she managed to keep living on this knife's edge, undiscovered, surviving, besting death at its own game, she obviously could never have a man. She didn't mind the sacrifice. It seemed enough for a life, to give yourself to music the way nuns give themselves to God. To vow. To surrender. Only music, after all, made life bearable. Only with music did she feel--what was it? Free? Happy?<br/>
<br/>
No, it was something else.<br/>
<br/>
Awake.<br/>
<br/>
Music, arrow to pierce all barriers. Music, the great equalizer. Music, invader of centuries. Nectar of demons, whiskey flask of God."<br/>
<br/>
[All errors are mine in transcription.]</div>
</blockquote> On pp. 148-151, learning to c…tag:integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com,2016-06-29:5301756:Comment:660522016-06-29T01:18:03.195ZAmbo Sunohttp://integralpostmetaphysics.ning.com/profile/AmboSuno
On pp. 148-151, learning to cope with her recently-established identity on the poor, mean streets of immigrant-worker Buena Aires:<br></br>
<br></br>
"This new life brought many freedoms. She could smoke, she could walk the streets at night, she could curse and spit in the gutters. She could hold down a job that paid twice as much as anything a woman could do with her clothes on. But there were new demands. She had to be extremely careful with her posture (head up, shoulders squared) and her gait (long…
On pp. 148-151, learning to cope with her recently-established identity on the poor, mean streets of immigrant-worker Buena Aires:<br/>
<br/>
"This new life brought many freedoms. She could smoke, she could walk the streets at night, she could curse and spit in the gutters. She could hold down a job that paid twice as much as anything a woman could do with her clothes on. But there were new demands. She had to be extremely careful with her posture (head up, shoulders squared) and her gait (long sure strides, no swaying hips). She had to exude confidence, if not outright bravado, at all times. She had to keep her voice carefully calibrated...<br/>
She could never drop her guard, not even for a moment, because it turned out, men sized up other men, not just sometimes, but constantly. She'd never realized the full extent of these of these invisible transactions until she was involved in them. Sometimes they were blatant, sometimes subtle, delivered with pursed lips or darting glances, sometimes behind a smile or coupled with a kiss on the cheek, all the while calculating your odds in case it came down to a fight. Because being a man meant facing possible violence at any turn. If you were helpless, it did not serve, as it could for a woman, to make you seem more innocent, more pure...<br/>
And she lacked the muscle of men around her; not only did she know this but the men around her knew as well. There was no way to conceal the narrowness of her shoulders, her lanky build. To make up for this, her persona had to be even tougher. She bought a dagger in a pawn shop...<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Sometimes, deep in the night, she unbound her aching breasts and sat alone in front of a cracked mirror, staring at herself in the light of a single candle, amazed at what she saw. A not-man. Not-woman. A fallen-woman-risen-man. She couldn't tell what was stranger: that a man existed inside her, or that the world accepted his existence. She wondered why no one saw through her disguise. Perhaps people could see only what they expected, what fit inside their vision, as if human vision came in precut shapes more narrow than the world itself [sound philosophically familiar? :)], and this allowed her to hide in plain sight.<br/>
<br/>
Hidden but not silent. Now she practiced out loud, in her little room. Nobody seemed to mind or even notice in the din of La Rete's days. A wild freedom to let her hands sing tangos, to refine her sound, which grew a little clearer and brighter each day as she practiced in that cramped rectangle where sunlight shone only through the slit beneath the door, that humble stinking space that she could love because it was her own, and when music possessed her, her first lover, perhaps forever, since even if by some miracle she managed to keep living on this knife's edge, undiscovered, surviving, besting death at its own game, she obviously could never have a man. She didn't mind the sacrifice. It seemed enough for a life, to give yourself to music the way nuns give themselves to God. To vow. To surrender. Only music, after all, made life bearable. Only with music did she feel--what was it? Free? Happy?<br/>
<br/>
No, it was something else.<br/>
<br/>
Awake.<br/>
<br/>
Music, arrow to pierce all barriers. Music, the great equalizer. Music, invader of centuries. Nectar of demons, whiskey flask of God."<br/>
<br/>
[All errors are mine in transcription.]