Nathan's Notebook
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NBierma.com > Notebook
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
This week in my B&C blog: Soccer and globalization: why the world is like one big spinning soccer ball. Plus: carnivorous bullfrogs in South Africa, Jane Austen and theology, Charlie Brown and philosophy, life in the "forest canopy"--the final frontier, and more ... LINK/ARCHIVE This morning I interviewed Cindy Chupack by phone for a Tribune piece on the legacy of Sex and the City. She's one of the show's writers and executive producers; she wrote the "Attack of the 5'10 Woman" and "Plus One Is The Loneliest Number" episodes, among others. I'm quoting her in my story about the adult language in the show, but here are some of her other comments: It was fun to figure out what would still shock the other characters. There were things Miranda was still nervous to say out loud, like in the dirty talk episode. ... It was fun to see the embarrassment of what they're talking about. Charlotte in the up-the-butt episode--at the table reading, she couldn't believe she had to say this. I think it was one of the funniest episodes because of this. ... I also asked Chupack about the final episode. Yes, the ending has been selected from the various ones they filmed, and no, she's not saying what it is. So I asked her about trying to tie up all the show's loose ends in a mere 45 minutes. Michael Patrick King wrote the last two episodes. He's notorious for having trouble contain episodes to within 30 minutes. There's a lot we're trying to do--we have four girls and four full stories. We're amazed how much we pack into 30 minutes. But there's a little bit from the prior episode that we moved to the last episode. • Number of the Day: 2 Factor by which the number of miles Americans drive annually has increased since 1963. -B. Globe -Previous Number • Thought of the Day: 'The hours' and the universe Is the world dramatic? Does a lot happen in it? Of course it is, and yes it does. The cosmos swirls and roars with activity, from the orbits of galaxies and the fission of stars to the activities of billions of people on Earth and the molecular reactions that drive all of life. It's busy, all the time. But what strikes me, in sporadic moments of silence, is just how quiet it can all seem. Not necessarily peaceful or restful--sometimes just quiet and empty. I live in downtown Chicago, and yet, at times during the mid morning or early afternoon or evening, I look out my window at the stoic skyscrapers, and, unless I peer down to the sidewalks below, I see no evidence that anything or anyone is moving. It's creepy. This sense of isolation no doubt contributed to some apparent depression last year, my first full year of working from home. I do not always find it relaxing. I usually find it maddening. I thought of this while riding home from an interview with a source in Evanston yesterday. On the way back, I thought how much different my morning would have been had I not left the apartment, gotten on the train as it rattled its way north, seen the buildings scanned by the window, and met with what turned out to be a vivacious person for a fascinating conversation. On the way home, I read the paper, with its unending stories of houses burning, people dying, and leaders resigning--monotonous melodrama that suggests that human existence is loud, dizzying and chaotic. As I look out from my apartment, that narrative seems remote and contrived. Only a fraction of the globe is inhabited by life that can be seen without a microscope or magnifying glass, as far as I know. That means that each day there are vast stretches of created space where nothing humanly visible transpires. This inspires the industrialist to conquer the wilderness and impose human activity upon it. It confuses the theologian, who wonders whether God created a surfeit of space for his own amusement or our breathing room. It baffles me. I am astounded by the contrast between the hum of the city when I walk through it and the blankness of the quiet moments I experience and quiet places I imagine elsewhere. And I am worried that I do not usually sense the presence of God potentially transcendent moments. Perhaps my senses are shot thanks to our noisy culture. Perhaps God just is not burning to say very much to me right now (that he hasn't already said in Scripture and through other people). Perhaps, even, the terror of the emptiness of the universe is a form of awe of it. As I was writing this, it was eerily quiet around me, and then my wife called me on my cell phone. Sometimes such an intrusive alarm--particularly when it corresponds to her--is inexplicably uplifting. • Previous Thought: Depression in pre-modern times  I can't get over the self-defeating impulses of various parties involved in the "Passion" controversy. First, the baffling centuries of persecution of Jews by Christians for "deicide," even though the Bible clearly places the responsibility for the necessity of Christ's death on all people--and besides, had the Romans refrained from killing Jesus, it would have disrupted God's redemptive plan. Meanwhile, those who stirred up the controversy about Mel Gibson's movie and alleged it was anti-Semitic served only to amplify attention to the movie, ensuring that it would be a blockbuster instead of a blip on the national radar.
The Newsweek cover story wasn't bad, especially in showing how Gibson not only exaggerated the role of Jewish leaders in Christ's execution, but also fails to see that they didn't have the political capacity to play such a role. But the Newsweek story scoffs at the veracity of the supposedly tendentious Gospel writers while accepting the historian Josephus as gospel truth. As Eugene Peterson said in his lecture on Josephus last fall here in Chicago, Josephus was a manipulative opportunist who abandoned all his principles to schmooze his way into a comfortable post in the Roman Empire. Whether or not his dubious personal integrity casts doubt on his accuracy is another matter, but it should be noted that the Gospels are so unflattering to both Christ and the disciples that they make unlikely propaganda. John Kerry's sudden emergence after the Iowa caucus shows how screwy the media's momentum game is, but I hope it will be just as screwy after John Edwards' strong second place showing yesterday in Wisconsin. After voting for Nader in 2000, I feel obliged to be more pragmatic this time around to prevent Bush's re-election. But after yesterday I'm tempted to vote my heart and go with John Edwards in the Illinois primary (which will come after Super Tuesday, likely taking any real pressure off my conscience). He's the most positive, energetic, authentic candidate in either party, and more importantly, he has done better among independents than Kerry has. The only disadvantage he has in comparison with Kerry is the "gravitas" factor. The visual of Kerry towering over Bush on the debate stage is better than the visual of Edwards' boyishness next to a sitting president (well, I guess he'd be standing). Still, this election could be won in two states: Tennessee and Florida, and if Edwards can convince people he has a better chance than Kerry in those states, he deserves the nomination. • Etymology Today from M-W: susurrous \soo-SUR-us ("oo" as in "good")\ : full of whispering sounds "Susurrous" derives from the Latin noun "susurrus," meaning "a hum" or "a whisper," and may be a distant relative of "swarm" (think of the collective hum of a beehive). "Susurrus" also occurs as an English noun, with the meaning "a whispering or rustling sound." Of the two English words, the noun is the oldest (it debuted in 1826); "susurrous" came onto the scene about thirty years later. Both of these were preceded by the noun "susurration," which appeared in the 14th century and means "a whispering sound, murmur." Today "susurrous" is used to describe any kind of sound that resembles a whisper: a light breeze through a tree, perhaps, or the murmurs of intrigued theatergoers. • Previous E.T.
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