I love ellipsis...
They seem to indicate without doing so. I stupid thing to say out loud but a lot of time it truly is what is unsaid that means more. I look, a gesture: a smile, a hug, etc...
I have had a lot of these of late. Things unsaid and such that I worry about it.
Oh well,
...
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
Wow, another chance for post-debauchery introspection...
So I went to a wedding in Fayetteville and it was great. Except I have been hungover for 2 days now. I always find that the 2.5 hr drive home from the great North Western frontier provides a chance for some deep thinking (while listening to Ryan Adam's Love is Hell, as is my custom). I realize that in a week I embark upon a new chapter of my life and a chance to try what I failed to do in The City: grow-the-fuck-up. Now some of you might say (from experiencce) that such a mission is doomed to failure in that deranged and depraved town but I can promise you it is a far less dangerous of a beast than Gotham. So I began to think about life, liberty, and the recent free time I came into (not that I am too pleased by this) and decided to make up a list of things to accomplish while living in Fayett-Nam. This are derived from a few premises which I will outline first.
1. I am fat. There is no bones about it. I am sure you can read back through the enthralling archives of this blog and find me mentioning it many times over and how I planned to do something about it. Well, I didn't. As per the last time I see myself mentioning my grand designs to get that svelt thing around my lower abdomen/upper groin that Brad Pitt has (damn his eyes/*see picture below) I have put on about 8 pounds. Way to fucking go dude. I admit even though I was concerned about this issue it was not until last weekend that I had the kind of epiphany necessary for true life changes. But it is too embaressing to discuss here.
2. I have an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. This is also simply a fact and it negatively effects many aspects of my life (not least of which is my girlish figure).
3. I don't write enough. And under no circumstances do I count this tripe I am working on at this moment as "writing" (though I do need to do more off this. It is healthy in a wierd way). I mean concerted, structure, intentional writing. While I shall not perish I do need to publish.
4. I am a quitter with poor follow through skills (see 1-3). Though I feel that grappling with #1 will lead to an improvement on this front.
Roommate just walked in. Time to prepare myself a feast of sticks and twigs so that I can garner that sweet bod like Brad's. More to follow.
* That thing up there!
1. I am fat. There is no bones about it. I am sure you can read back through the enthralling archives of this blog and find me mentioning it many times over and how I planned to do something about it. Well, I didn't. As per the last time I see myself mentioning my grand designs to get that svelt thing around my lower abdomen/upper groin that Brad Pitt has (damn his eyes/*see picture below) I have put on about 8 pounds. Way to fucking go dude. I admit even though I was concerned about this issue it was not until last weekend that I had the kind of epiphany necessary for true life changes. But it is too embaressing to discuss here.
2. I have an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. This is also simply a fact and it negatively effects many aspects of my life (not least of which is my girlish figure).
3. I don't write enough. And under no circumstances do I count this tripe I am working on at this moment as "writing" (though I do need to do more off this. It is healthy in a wierd way). I mean concerted, structure, intentional writing. While I shall not perish I do need to publish.
4. I am a quitter with poor follow through skills (see 1-3). Though I feel that grappling with #1 will lead to an improvement on this front.
Roommate just walked in. Time to prepare myself a feast of sticks and twigs so that I can garner that sweet bod like Brad's. More to follow.
* That thing up there!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Summer...
So summer finally arrived here in the durty south and that means many things...
First off, as many of you know I have an odd masochistic streak in me that demands that I spend time during the summer outside with children. I usually hurt myself in this fashion by working at the local Boy Scout Camp for 6 weeks: bossing around idiot underlings, reading philosophy, writing letters, catching up on the New Yorker and all in all enjoying the sights and smells that awaken those old memories which lie in my genes. To catch the smell of sweet grass or the distant stench of decay. To notice the smell of wild roses or that smell that comes from cold droplets of rain frying on the scorched earth. These reach back into what we can claim to be our primal "essences." Stamped in proteins and passed down before the dawn of the language and concepts we use to describe them. But I puff up and digress.... This is an experience I cherish more than almost any other and it has stood as such a formative one that I cannot imagine my life without it in my passt. Needless to say this year "real life" intruded upon my Rousseau-esque idealizations in the form of that need for health insurance. My employer could not spare me for 5 weeks and quitting is not an option at this point. So I figured out a way to tag along as a volunteer with a group of 14 urban youth who had been collated so as to keep them off "the streets." It should be a requirement for everyone to spend a week in close quarters with a group of people whose background is so different from your own (riding the subway does not count here). It was great times and I will have to elaborate more at a later date. I am getting lost in my own silliness....
Summer also means reading and writing and watching movies that are totally sweet. I have already finished 2 Faulkner novels, Sedaris' most recent (which if you listen to This American Life or read The New Yorker) there is absolutely no reason to buy, and am well in to re-reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in preparation for the upcoming movie. I saw Star Trek twice (tottally fucking sweet), Terminator: Salvation (which was so terrible I loved it), and this past weekend I saw Transformers 2 (also twice, and if anyone can explain where the Air & Space Museum actually is I would appreciate it. It clearly is not where I thought it was).
More to follow....
First off, as many of you know I have an odd masochistic streak in me that demands that I spend time during the summer outside with children. I usually hurt myself in this fashion by working at the local Boy Scout Camp for 6 weeks: bossing around idiot underlings, reading philosophy, writing letters, catching up on the New Yorker and all in all enjoying the sights and smells that awaken those old memories which lie in my genes. To catch the smell of sweet grass or the distant stench of decay. To notice the smell of wild roses or that smell that comes from cold droplets of rain frying on the scorched earth. These reach back into what we can claim to be our primal "essences." Stamped in proteins and passed down before the dawn of the language and concepts we use to describe them. But I puff up and digress.... This is an experience I cherish more than almost any other and it has stood as such a formative one that I cannot imagine my life without it in my passt. Needless to say this year "real life" intruded upon my Rousseau-esque idealizations in the form of that need for health insurance. My employer could not spare me for 5 weeks and quitting is not an option at this point. So I figured out a way to tag along as a volunteer with a group of 14 urban youth who had been collated so as to keep them off "the streets." It should be a requirement for everyone to spend a week in close quarters with a group of people whose background is so different from your own (riding the subway does not count here). It was great times and I will have to elaborate more at a later date. I am getting lost in my own silliness....
Summer also means reading and writing and watching movies that are totally sweet. I have already finished 2 Faulkner novels, Sedaris' most recent (which if you listen to This American Life or read The New Yorker) there is absolutely no reason to buy, and am well in to re-reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in preparation for the upcoming movie. I saw Star Trek twice (tottally fucking sweet), Terminator: Salvation (which was so terrible I loved it), and this past weekend I saw Transformers 2 (also twice, and if anyone can explain where the Air & Space Museum actually is I would appreciate it. It clearly is not where I thought it was).
More to follow....
Monday, June 8, 2009
Too Long...
So I have been absent again from my blogging duties. I am not sure if duty is the right word but I blame that on being forced to read Kant as a small child.
1) A thought on the nomination of Sotomayor. There Republicans have made a huge stink over whether or not personal experience feeds (or should feed) into how one views the law and how one behaves as a jurist. I find this question laughable. The question is moot and reflect an old ideology and a lack of grasp on the reality of legal decision making. Fact: Personal experience DOES have an impact on how you make legal decisions whether you realize it or not. Tell me this to not be case with Scalia or (gasp) Roberts! This does raise other questions which is worth discussing: What kind of experiences do we want feeding into the decision making process? What kind of variety of life experiences do we want on the court? The first question is about individuals. The second is about the make up of the court as a whole. Jeffrey Toobin wrote a great bit in the New Yorker about how the court has always been decided to reflect some kind of electorate balance. In the beginning we had regional seats. Then we had a catholic seat. Then we had a jewish seat. These were facts of the process of nominations and confirmations. It seems ridiculous now to ignore this and cloak prejudice and partisan hackery in terms of "originalism" or accusing people of "reverse racism" (a phrase I am still not sure I understand). The fact that we try and give seats on the high court to women, african-americans, hispanics and hopefully one day a gay jurist is simply an attempt to get brilliant minds together first and second make sure those minds are a reflection of the America in which we live in and (more importantly I hope) a reflection fo the America we hope to someday find ourselves in. As usual though we are missing a chance to have an honest and open discussion about the American legal system in favour of name calling and buffonery. It will only get worse I promise
2)I am thinking about buying a gun...
3)So I dream about The City. The people are all there as I knew them and this is the best aspect of dreaming in New York. Many of you who waste your time reading this are recurring characters. But the city itself is different. It looks different. It smells different. It even tastes different. Yet, it is still New York. The New York of my dreams looks a lot like london. The streets are narrower the buildings squeezed even closer together and the clastrophobic aesthetic gets into your marrow. Below Canal the city is a lagoon. It looks like Lake Ponchatrain. There is green everywhere, of slime, moss, algae and plants attempting to wiggle out of the ooze. There are above ground subway lines that go no where. There piles covered in the slick green of decay. There are ruined boats and the skeletons of destroyed docks. That New York is one that exists only between the hours of 2-4pm but it is mine and that is where I get to meet you all. At least the Red Head is still there but the beer is free and the lights are even dimmer.
1) A thought on the nomination of Sotomayor. There Republicans have made a huge stink over whether or not personal experience feeds (or should feed) into how one views the law and how one behaves as a jurist. I find this question laughable. The question is moot and reflect an old ideology and a lack of grasp on the reality of legal decision making. Fact: Personal experience DOES have an impact on how you make legal decisions whether you realize it or not. Tell me this to not be case with Scalia or (gasp) Roberts! This does raise other questions which is worth discussing: What kind of experiences do we want feeding into the decision making process? What kind of variety of life experiences do we want on the court? The first question is about individuals. The second is about the make up of the court as a whole. Jeffrey Toobin wrote a great bit in the New Yorker about how the court has always been decided to reflect some kind of electorate balance. In the beginning we had regional seats. Then we had a catholic seat. Then we had a jewish seat. These were facts of the process of nominations and confirmations. It seems ridiculous now to ignore this and cloak prejudice and partisan hackery in terms of "originalism" or accusing people of "reverse racism" (a phrase I am still not sure I understand). The fact that we try and give seats on the high court to women, african-americans, hispanics and hopefully one day a gay jurist is simply an attempt to get brilliant minds together first and second make sure those minds are a reflection of the America in which we live in and (more importantly I hope) a reflection fo the America we hope to someday find ourselves in. As usual though we are missing a chance to have an honest and open discussion about the American legal system in favour of name calling and buffonery. It will only get worse I promise
2)I am thinking about buying a gun...
3)So I dream about The City. The people are all there as I knew them and this is the best aspect of dreaming in New York. Many of you who waste your time reading this are recurring characters. But the city itself is different. It looks different. It smells different. It even tastes different. Yet, it is still New York. The New York of my dreams looks a lot like london. The streets are narrower the buildings squeezed even closer together and the clastrophobic aesthetic gets into your marrow. Below Canal the city is a lagoon. It looks like Lake Ponchatrain. There is green everywhere, of slime, moss, algae and plants attempting to wiggle out of the ooze. There are above ground subway lines that go no where. There piles covered in the slick green of decay. There are ruined boats and the skeletons of destroyed docks. That New York is one that exists only between the hours of 2-4pm but it is mine and that is where I get to meet you all. At least the Red Head is still there but the beer is free and the lights are even dimmer.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Supreme Court Nomination: Day 1!!!
So I am totally giddy about this upcoming confirmation hearings. I will make two predictions: First she will confirmed. Second, the Republican's will make total ass-holes of themselves in the process. We shall see...
Saturday, April 25, 2009
A great day...
That cusp of summer is a great thing. Warm but not too warm so that when it rains it is so pleasant that you just want to sit outside and be rained on. I would do this more often but unfortunately most of my books are not water retardant.
I am falling in love with books again. A while without HAVING to read coupled with a job that allows me sometime to read can sure turn your mood around about reading. I wish I was a better reader though. Not that I don't read a lot but I mean I wish I was better at the task itself, at the quality. Not that I don't read quality stuff (and yes I include most of my comic book readingin the "quality stuff" category) but I mean I was better at reading. T.S. Eliot and Derrida were good readers in the sense that I am meaning here. The ability to think beyond what you are reading. I suppose practive makes perfect though...
Now I will go read!
I am falling in love with books again. A while without HAVING to read coupled with a job that allows me sometime to read can sure turn your mood around about reading. I wish I was a better reader though. Not that I don't read a lot but I mean I wish I was better at the task itself, at the quality. Not that I don't read quality stuff (and yes I include most of my comic book readingin the "quality stuff" category) but I mean I was better at reading. T.S. Eliot and Derrida were good readers in the sense that I am meaning here. The ability to think beyond what you are reading. I suppose practive makes perfect though...
Now I will go read!
Monday, April 20, 2009
And it pours...
So by my own account I have written more philosophy for myself then I think i did as a graduate student thus far. I admit it is far easier to do it in the comfort of your own home, beer and smoke at hand, without worrying about what some professor will say about your thesis or atrocious grammar. This is good. It also gives you a chance to spin freely in that viscous mess of your own thoughts. Philosophy of mind: lets talk about it. Political philosophy? In the words of the Fonz, "Sit on it!"
I have a love hate relationship with azaleas. For my norther brethren I am not sure if you know what these are. They are a flowering bush and they are southern as magnolias, bbq, and de facto racism and open homophobia. They are beautiful. They are a sure fire sign of spring (along with the birds) and they let you know that rain and sunshine in equal meausre are in the future but in a good way. They flower in shades that range from bright pink to fucia. They have a subtle smell that fills the air. My back yard is full of them (and two dog woods) and I like to sit there when no one else is around and read or sit there with others and try to play dominoes (my new love. fuck video games or metaphysics!). But the problem is that they die. And yes, everything dies but these do it slowly and painfully. They almost rust and turn brown and then your yard is full of brown dead flowers, each a monument to a failed dream or possibility. But I poetically digress and badly at that.
My job goes on. This is how things go over a beer:
Me: "How you doing? "
Them: "Dude. Bitching day. Lots of paper work to do. Boss sucks."
Me: "That sucks."
Them: "How was your day?"
Me: "A mentally retarded kid ripped my shirt of while trying to beat the shit out of me. And I got spit on.:
Them: "Oh."
Me: "Yeah, all and all not a bad day."
It takes a certain kind of hate/love to with stand that. Luckily I am going back to school in the fall.
Ok, that is as much of a facile update as I feel inclined to share in my current state.
I have a love hate relationship with azaleas. For my norther brethren I am not sure if you know what these are. They are a flowering bush and they are southern as magnolias, bbq, and de facto racism and open homophobia. They are beautiful. They are a sure fire sign of spring (along with the birds) and they let you know that rain and sunshine in equal meausre are in the future but in a good way. They flower in shades that range from bright pink to fucia. They have a subtle smell that fills the air. My back yard is full of them (and two dog woods) and I like to sit there when no one else is around and read or sit there with others and try to play dominoes (my new love. fuck video games or metaphysics!). But the problem is that they die. And yes, everything dies but these do it slowly and painfully. They almost rust and turn brown and then your yard is full of brown dead flowers, each a monument to a failed dream or possibility. But I poetically digress and badly at that.
My job goes on. This is how things go over a beer:
Me: "How you doing? "
Them: "Dude. Bitching day. Lots of paper work to do. Boss sucks."
Me: "That sucks."
Them: "How was your day?"
Me: "A mentally retarded kid ripped my shirt of while trying to beat the shit out of me. And I got spit on.:
Them: "Oh."
Me: "Yeah, all and all not a bad day."
It takes a certain kind of hate/love to with stand that. Luckily I am going back to school in the fall.
Ok, that is as much of a facile update as I feel inclined to share in my current state.
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