The Punisher for Congress (in Ecuador)

We should have candidates like this in the U.S. I'd like to vote for Robin Hood and a masked crime fighter.

Shimura-Taniyama-Weil Conjecture

There's an excellent article by Henri Darmon which was published in 1999 in the Notices of the American Mathematical Society. The article reports the announcement of the proof of the full Shimura-Taniyama-Weil conjecture, but I post it here because it is an excellent overview of the sort of mathematics I am studying. ("Diamond" in the article is my supervisor, Fred Diamond.) I think it's quite readable, though that may just be because I have been studying these things for years.

My work concerns Serre's conjecture, which isn't mentioned explicitly in the article, but is what he's referring to when he talks about establishing connections between automorphic forms and Galois representations (in the Langlands Program section). Basically, the idea is that the Galois representations also have a sequence of numbers associated to them, and you want to be able to determine precisely for which Galois representations there exists a modular form such that the sequence of numbers Darmon describes for the modular form matches the sequence associated to the given Galois representation.

The proof of Serre's original conjecture is pretty much complete by now. Here's a layman's notice from 2005 on Khare's proof. My thesis will (hopefully) be a formulation of the conjecture (in particular, the so-called "weight part" of the conjecture) over imaginary quadratic fields along the lines of the formulation over totally real fields by my supervisor and two others (at conferences I've heard it referred to as the "BDJ conjecture" and the "Buzzard-Diamond-Jarvis paper" even though it hasn't actually been published yet), and then to also provide some evidence that the conjecture is the correct one.

成语 (chéng yǔ)

One of the 成语 we've learned is 四面楚歌, where
四 = sì = four
面 = mìan = side
楚 = chǔ = country/area
歌 = gē = song

There's a story that goes along with it, which I believe Chunyan said comes from some historical occasion. There were these two regions at war and the army of one had fought its way into the region of the other, but had gone too deep too quickly. (I wouldn't be surprised if this is used as a Go proverb.) The invading army was surrounded and their opponents (if I have the story correct -- we were a bit confused about this) started singing a song from the homeland of the invaders to demoralize them.

The expression is used to mean that you're "facing hostility on all sides". I remember it by a misreading of the literal translation: there's country music on all sides.

LLL

No, this is not a post about the LLL algorithm, which a few of us might otherwise have been contemplating, or at least taking advantage of, when we instead went to see "Love's Labour's Lost" at the Globe last night.

I don't tend to stray far from my flat-to-office-and-back-again circuit these days, but the Globe is right on the Thames, halfway between work and home. Plus, as we stood in the yard through the whole play, the tickets were cheap.

The slapstick doesn't really do much for me and the plot is flimsy at best, but the banter is fun and the language lovely and the theatre itself a delightful place.

Prin. But what was sent to you from fair Dumaine?
Kath. Madam, this glove.
Prin. Did he not send you twain?
Kath. Yes, madam; and moreover,
    Some thousand verses of a faithful lover:
    A huge translation of hypocrisy,
    Vilely compil’d, profound simplicity.
Mar. This, and these pearls to me sent Longaville:
    The letter is too long by half a mile.
Prin. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart
    The chain were longer and the letter short?
Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never part.
Prin. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.
Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
    That same Berowne I’ll torture ere I go.
    O that I knew he were but in by the week!
    How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek,
    And wait the season, and observe the times,
    And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rimes,
    And shape his service wholly to my hests,
    And make him proud to make me proud that jests!
    So perttaunt-like would I o’ersway his state
    That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are catch’d,
    As wit turn’d fool: folly, in wisdom hatch’d,
    Hath wisdom’s warrant and the help of school
    And wit’s own grace to grace a learned fool.
Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such excess
    As gravity’s revolt to wantonness.
Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note
    As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote;
    Since all the power thereof it doth apply
    To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

LOTR

We arrived at the IMAX last night at 10:30 and left this morning at 9:15, one The Lord of the Rings trilogy viewing richer. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to make it all the way through, as they didn't even start until after my usual bedtime, but I can't sleep through a single scene of those movies. I still wish he had done The Hobbit, though it would have meant a few more hours at the theatre last night.

Walking home this morning in the crisp apple sunlight, with my eyes still full of tears and the soft Shire version of the soundtrack theme still floating through my head, I marvelled at how all the people on the street were clearly oblivious to the fact that the world had just been saved in an epic battle from an awful evil.

ROH

I usually operate on the assumption that opera is out of my budget, so that I won't go and check to see what's playing only to be depressed by the astronomical prices. Séverine told me the other day that the Royal Opera House has student discounts, so I decided to peruse their website.

To my great delight, I discovered that they've just started a series of free lunchtime concerts every Monday. As the Royal Opera House is just around the corner from my office, I plan to attend regularly. It appears that the tickets for the first one (this coming Monday) are all booked, but I've already reserved a spot for the following week.

At Brandeis, the Lydian String Quartet used to give free lunchtime concerts a few times each semester and I would go whenever I could. It's such a lovely and refreshing break in the day to take an hour and listen to live chamber music.

"Why is she in London?" the familiar British voice demands, testing my comprehension of the preceding passage in Chinese.

The Chinese CDs play in the background while I work. The same dialogues repeat daily, slowly burning into my memory. Like with music, I listen again and again, memorizing the lyrics without initially understanding the meaning. I sometimes catch myself murmuring the phrases along with the CD. Occasionally it catches my attention on a more concious level and I'll understand what they're saying or look it up if I don't. The few words in English have a tendency to stand out, and the question "Why is she in London?" almost always gives me pause. 'Why is she in London?' I wonder, having missed, once again, the explanatory passage that came before.

New Millenium

The other day I booked a table for tonight (I hope... I made the reservation online and have not had any response from them yet) for dinner with a few friends at an Ethiopian restaurant. I wouldn't normally worry too much about reservations at an Ethiopian restaurant. It's one of my favourite cuisines in the world, but I guess others aren't as enthusiastic because the restaurants tend not to be too crowded.

My complacency got a bit ruffled this morning when I heard on the BBC news that Ethiopia is just now (as in today) celebrating the new millenium. Apparently sometime during the sixth century, the birth of Christ was pushed back a few years for everyone (at least for those who noticed and cared) except the Ethiopians. Now thrifty Ethiopians can break out the "2000" shaped glasses they've been hoarding for the past seven years and celebrate in style.

I hope we can still have dinner tonight.

Sunni Patterson

Amy Goodman had Sunni Patterson and Truth Universal on Democracy Now! the other day.



So we know this place,
for we have glanced more times than we'd like to share
into eyes that stare with nothing there
behind them but an unfulfilled wish
and an unconscious yearning for life
though death rests comfortably beside us.
At night their moans are louder.
They come to visit the guards at the gate,
and they stay until morning
torturing their guilt-ridden insides.
The silent cries of the keepers are louder
than the booms that come from the guns
they use to occupy the space.
And we know this place,
for we have seen more times than we'd like to imagine
bloated cadavers floating through waters of a city gone savage,
foraging the land for what can be salvaged.
But what can be saved when all is lost?
It happened in August, twenty-nine days in.
We are now five days out of the only place
we knew to call house and home.
Few things are certain:
one, we have no food;
two, there are more bodies lying at the roadside
than hot plates being distributed
or first aid being administered
or recognition as a citizen.
Fourteenth Amendment, X, refugee, check.

And we know this place.
It's ever-changing yet forever the same:
Money and power and greed, the game.
They suck and devour the souls of the slain.
What a feast for the beast at their table of shame
with napkins around necks that catch the blood that drains
from the flesh they chew, it's hailed again.

And we know this place, all too well,
dank with the smell of death and doom.
It hovers, it smothers, no growth, no room,
no pretty, no please, just grey, just gloom,
just burned me of hope, and it died too soon,
just juckin’, just jiving, just living, we just fools.

And we know this place. It’s decked in all its array and splendor,
golden streets with good intentions
capture our attention, gadgets and inventions
pesticide the food supply, flu-like symptoms,
diabetic condition, a cancer in the system,
held on hold, it’s a pistol to the temple.
Go run to the churches, tell reverend it’s simple.
Good works and good deeds is what equals redemption,
but tell me, please, Jesus never mentioned,
how do churchmen get extensions on freedom,
while children are being fondled
from the altar to the streets, then back to the sanctuaries?
It's kind of scary, ain’t it?
to know that both the prophet and the priest practice deceit,
then come to the people and claim peace, peace,
come to the people and claim love, love.
But where is the peace, huh?
Where is the love?
Where that balm in Gilead
that can heal the wounded soul
or make the half-man whole?

I swear, we know this place,
because we have vowed before never again to return,
but here we are, back in the desert,
dry mouth and thirsting for waters from Heaven.
But come, come, children, rally around,
and maybe together we can make a sound
that will shake the trees or rattle the ground,
make strong our knees,
we's freedom bound.

And we know this place.
Reclaim the crown.
Hold onto the prize,
never put it down.
Be firm in the stance,
no break, no bow,
got to forward on, Mama,
make your move now. Forward on, Papa,
make your move now.
Forward, dear children,
’cuz freedom is now.

-Sunni Patterson