RUDIMENTS, pt. 278
Making Cars
I had an interest for a while in
a system I'd made up myself,
called 'Binary Tutelage.' It was
my own title for a grand school
of thought I wanted to found. As
usual, difficult to explain, but
bearing a pressing need on the
incidents and activities of my
everyday life and reason. I'll
give an explanation a stab here,
in ways I can best create. Three
words, around which I often
pivoted, trying to make sense
of this 'Life' and its workings:
Satisfaction; Completion; and
Continuation. If you look at them,
in English anyway, they are nice
words, each the same sort of
'long,' each complete and, as
it were, 'rounded.' Good solid
words that 'sound' out nicely and
are comfortable to say. Unlike
'Binary Tutelage,' which leaves
a real lot to be desired. It's both
awkward and tense, together.
A bad phrase, aggressively
in fact harsh.
-
In all the times of my short life,
up until, anyway, the periods of
which I speak - maybe 28-30
years - there was a pretty
narrow range through which I
ran. Like a Pamplona Bull, I
was set loose but it was only
along very narrow and crowded
streets, where-through my
movements were limited, and
kept in check. I could gore,
yes, I could veer - swipe
someone else off their feet,
trammel them, maim and kill.
I could, myself, crash a fence,
or break through an impediment,
through sheer rage and force.
The same rage and force seen
in the wild eyes of any one of
those bulls running. But I
was constrained. I had a
friend in Chinatown, a Taiwanese
girl. That little distinction may
not seem like much, but the
differentiation between mainland
and Taiwan Chinese was great,
and fierce, and ideological. So,
then, needless to say, she was not
Mainland Chinese. In Chinatown
itself, both factions ran, and, yes,
there were occasional problems
over this. Stolen mail, mis-use
of funds. Small-scale stuff for
1976; nothing like the identity
theft or Internet pilferage and
such of today. God only knows,
and I don't, what goes on these
days in spheres like this. However -
and this is my point - she (her name
was Mary Tse) she was a perfect
example of the idea of 'Binary
Tutelage' - and in the most simple
matter. Her actual thought process,
as high or as low as it may have
been, ran only between two
divergent opposites which
controlled all her thinking.
('Binary' two / and 'Tutelege'
sponsorship - to my then farily
thin thinking). It was all outrageously
wrong, but I never told her. In her
realm you were only viewed in
one way - wherever you stood on
the binary divide of the two Chinas.
And it was all symbolic, yes, but
held to a great importance. In the
same way as, in Chinatown then,
an outsider, a white guy, either
used chopsticks or a fork. You
could judge Chinese restaurants
there, in deep Chinatown, by that
factor. I had become a chopsticks
guy, but it made little sense to me.
In a way they were annoying. And,
at the same time, 1974ish, there
were, in turn, two deep schools
of thought going on about the
damned chopsticks themselves.
Binary Tutelage again : the
chopsticks in use, were they the
authentic wood chopsticks of
tradition (yes, mine) or those
newfangled, plastic ones just
then getting around. That too
was as decisive as 'which side
are you on' was for the two-China
question. People died over this
stuff if you weren't careful. I
often thought, like, 'How do
you say in Chinese, 'I don't
care about your damned
ideology, I just want to eat!''
-
There was - it was said -
some real satisfaction in
bringing things to completion
by a constant continuation
of effort. Maybe that was so,
and maybe that allowed all
three of my words to be put
to a harmonious use, but it
made little sense to me. I
only knew a few Chinese
people, she being the foremost,
but boy did I find them annoying.
One time she brought me up to
a second level Buddhist temple
she knew of, by Chatham Square,
right off the heart of Chinatown.
A second-floor place with
cool, old windows looking down
at all that bustle - large swing-out
windows probably from 1900.
The people within were the real
monk-like people of Buddhist lore,
robes, shaved heads, etc. (There
was a Buddhist place of this type,
with these sorts of people anyway,
in Ithaca NY we used to frequent
as well, earlier in the 70's. But
they were more hippie-ish). These
were serious people. There were
incense sticks burning, with
offering plates of oranges, and
coins - anything that people
would bring in and just leave,
as offerings. It could be a dime,
or it some fruit or vegetable
from the green-grocer stand
down below. Anything one
wished. And there were little
pieces off paper, with those
wishes on them, tied to prayer
wheels that someone kept
turning while they prayed,
with all these little pieces of
paper attached. Others chanted.
It was an almost eerie atmosphere,
in the middle of a NY Chinatown,
and it wasn't alone - there were
lots of other of these small,
temple-like places. I didn't
really know what was up,
but I stayed in place - even
though it was apparent that
no one really knew who I was,
except Mary, and they immediately
then questioned my who and
why of being there. It felt weird
to be that far an outsider.
Eventually they walked
Mary away, to another room,
and I could hear the voices
rising and sense anxiety.
Which was all, again, quite
weird, because this place
was all supposed to be
about peace and Being,
and about distancing and
detachment - certainly the
last place to get messed up
with Binary-Tutelage. But
there it all was, throwing itself
right up into my face. I was
pretty shocked that it had all
come back to show itself
again to me. And there!
This was an absolute
manifestation of all that
was wrong. Everything had
gotten misplaced somehow -
my intentions, her intentions,
whatever these people were
doing and whatever their
intentions were. Eventually
Mary came back out and said,
simply, that we had to leave.
She didn't mince words or
beat around the bush - she
just said that no one knew me
here, they questioned my
presence, were unhappy
she'd brought me up, and
were, in turn, now unhappy
with her as well. So, she
said, we had to leave.
-
That really got my gourd. My
calm and Buddhist-detached
gourd anyway. These people
never, it seemed, found pleasure;
everything was duty and connection.
Slaving hours over praying, or
cutting the heads off ducks, or
roasting pork for roast pork lo mein,
or connecting prayer spinners, or
chanting, or prayer wheels. All that
time there was to be had such a
grand enjoyment of inner life and
mirth just by standing by those
great old windows and looking out,
watching. But not for them, no, no,
not for them. For them everything
had to have a side, one or other,
and every issue was counterbalanced
by the position YOU took towards
in as regards its very opposite, that
'other' binary. It never made any
sense to me. Binary-Tutelage and
to Hell with all that.
.
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