The Ring of Gyges

The story of the Ring of Gyges as told by Plato in Republic goes like this: A man named Gyges is in possession of a ring which he finds could render him invisible when worn. Upon his discovery of this superpower, he trespasses into the palace, kills his king, and sleeps with the queen. The point of the tale is that the just man and the unjust man, thrown in the same circumstance, would behave no differently. When he has no fear of capture and punishment, man would do just as Gyges has done. No one will know, after all.

The trick, supposedly, is to resist the temptation of the Ring of Gyges-- to refuse to wear it at all.

But let's say, just for the sake of let's say, that I suddenly find myself the owner of this fabled ring. What will I do, I wonder.

Perhaps I will take a first class seat on a plane to Paris, steal fifty bags full of money, forge my residency papers, and then when that is done, perhaps I will remove the ring, pull a Frodo Baggins and take it to its destruction in Mount Doom, and then proceed to live the leisurely life of a French girl and no one's the wiser. Or perhaps I will keep the ring so that I may live a life of careless excess knowing that I can stock up on money anytime I want. Perhaps I will pass the ring on to my children as an heirloom. Perhaps.

David Denby, New Yorker writer and author of my favorite read of the moment, Great Books, said that with the ring on his finger, the first thing that he will do is to go to this chic and incredibly expensive New York restaurant around noon because that is when this guy he dislikes comes in to dine. And then, when the odious guy is just about to bring the spoon of this absolutely succulent and expensive dessert into his mouth, Denby will grab it for himself. And then he will steal a luxury car, drive himself to the airport, sleep in this five-star hotel in this European country, enjoy the view, catch a glimpse of black swans, and then- he wrote this in the 90s- he will go to Iraq and stab Saddam to death.

The fear according to Denby is that, everyday, man is living more and more like Gyges and the theoretical Denby and me. Everyday, man fears getting caught and getting punished less and less.

The trick, supposedly, is to resist the temptation of the Ring of Gyges-- to refuse to wear it at all.

A wish list

The trouble with instagram is that it allows you to see the world as it is lived by other people-- and boy do people live such grandiose and fabulous lives. And so, as I browsed through the gilded existence of Amina Aranaz and Bianca Elizalde in pictures, I found myself becoming increasingly envious. For now, I will have to do with wish lists:

1. Pretty pink china and crystal glasses
2. A French chair or one of those lovely ghost chairs
3. A box of Laduree macarons
4. A five-month-long vacation in Paris (But that goes without saying!)
5. A stock of pastel-colored bubblies
6. A mirror just like the one I have in mind
7. A couple more Tintin framed covers
8. A leisurely lunch at the new brasserie Ice told me about
9. And yes, my tuition fee for the coming semester (ack!)
10. Really red lipstick
11. Glass tray and coasters for my toiletries
12. A veritable bronzer for my sallow cheeks
13. A beautiful wooden bed with a hand-carved headboard
14. Shiny crystal things to brighten up my desk and the rest of the house
15. Ballerina outfits a la Natalie Portman's wardrobe in Black Swan

 But enough daydreaming. Let me go back to:

1. Mr. Denby-- he who rescued me from my unwillingness to finally sit on my AP syllabus revisions
2. Gorging on salted butter taffy/ Sofia Loren/ Ferrero gelato
3. Ice to my left, working on his paper on Heidegger
4. The vanilla and rose macarons I will get later

 My life isn't so bad, after all. :)

Some photos from the weekend:

Our Sunday in Instagram

I have become hopelessly enraptured with Instagram that my days have significantly slowed down. I do not merely eat, I take photos of my food, first and foremost. I do not merely go home, I beg Ice to stall so I may take photos of the road. I suppose I do not need to talk about our Sunday, for here it is, encapsulated and shrouded with nostalgia by Instagram.

My favorite part was when we found The New Yorker Complete Cartoons and the Woody Allen cartoon collection in Fully Booked. When Ice held up the giant The New Yorker book to me, for a second I thought it must be my birthday.