why do weekends end and start the way they do?
It was an odd question but I thought you would understand.
Something to be said about all the traces, then?
Who gives a fuck about an oxford comma? The trace then is what? What is there and what is not there, the word always haunting the word that is present, exerting its influence, though it is not really present...bourne evokes born, but it isn't born, though born is still there, we say it without saying it, it is said, but not brought into presence, thus the to be but not yet come is more powerful, or at least allows for the temporal space for it to be.
Noise complaints, fights, obnoxious kids, lots of cigarette smoke, random people who look like they came off of a street or wrestling match stumble in, the odd homo eroticism that guys tend to display in the presence of women to impress them?, the neighbours to whom you speak only on weekends and don't remember you during the week, and the funniest part of it all...the clean-up and the pot of coffee at 830 the next morning.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Life and its ironies
Life never ceases to be coincidental/ ironic.
It seems I keep running into people, or better put, I cross paths with people in ways that I don't expect to ever meet (again). Funny how that has been working, at least as of late. It is quite comic of late. I would list the incidents, but I don't want to, for now.
Also funny/ ironic, I can see all the angles except when it comes to me. I can see everything, I see everyone's intentions, I see the moves, except my own. I am so naive it is comic. Yet, I can't seem to regret it, no matter what people tell me. Haha.
Lil wayne is a post modern poet. He doesn't collapse into binaries. He doesn't fall into the classic, money or bitches, he prefers to fuck bitches AND get money.
It seems I keep running into people, or better put, I cross paths with people in ways that I don't expect to ever meet (again). Funny how that has been working, at least as of late. It is quite comic of late. I would list the incidents, but I don't want to, for now.
Also funny/ ironic, I can see all the angles except when it comes to me. I can see everything, I see everyone's intentions, I see the moves, except my own. I am so naive it is comic. Yet, I can't seem to regret it, no matter what people tell me. Haha.
Lil wayne is a post modern poet. He doesn't collapse into binaries. He doesn't fall into the classic, money or bitches, he prefers to fuck bitches AND get money.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Asa Nisi Masa
So I should have been studying last night, and I was, well half-heartedly, when I got the grand idea to watch Fellini's 8 1/2 instead. Materials science really sucks and you can only glean so much and my roommates were out at the "library" so I had access to the downstairs TV which is rare.
It was a marvel of modern cinema. Loved it. It was so oddly haunting/ sad it affected my dreams. Last night I dreamt that I was going to get A Lover's Discourse by Barthes from McClures and I was on my bike...the sky was really gray to the point that it seemed that everything was in grayscale...all the colours were really washed out...downright depressing really. SO I rode down there and everything was closed. Beyond being closed, there were no people, it was deserted, a ghost down. Perhaps a subconscious personal interpretation of the movie? I dunno, these things just happen.
I liked Luisa best. Her character. It exuded something, some fuzzy meaning that I couldn't quite capture with words but I know is there. Barthes had a work for this...like a secondary meaning that is implied but not completely presented. Guido was really kind of vile, but there still is some ID with him as well. To not love. Such a horrible thing.
Speaking of love, writing was the topic of my last Chemical Engineering class. He gave us an article by Tom Friedman. Prof asked who knew who Friedman was. I immediately said "op-ed writer for the NY Times, wrote World is Flat, Lexus and Olive Branch, Letters from Beirut to Lebanon, and he has a new book coming out tomorrow..." and then he asked who has read him...only my hand was raised.
The funny part. He asked us to analyze the article (about global warming of course). He asked his style. Poeple started throughing out the ethos, "I liked it", "it was silly", "informative"...the classics. The prof obviously was frustrated with these answers so I decided to chime in with "It is highly rhetoric driven with the first paragraph speaking to the classical nostalgic lore of nature's beauty attempting make an emotional connection with the reader while use the facts to establish some authority for his message, though they are highly rhetorical within themselves.Can you explain that? I did not want to explain it, but I did. Everyone looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language.
Then he asked who reads the NY Times.
Their Answers
-liberals
-people who hold power and influence
-literate people
He then said, well it is viewed as the newspaper of note for the us by the world, this is how we get represented.
Then we talked about technical writing. Apparently the writing we do in history, literature and art is not focused on clarity and uses too high of diction...etc i will type my notes at one point.
I started to get bored so I pull out my book and started to read (thanks Freddy Dostoevsky).
It makes me sick to be in a room with this gross disdain on the language that we use. People really need to read some stuff occasionally and stop playing all these video games and such.
Makes me sad is all.
It was a marvel of modern cinema. Loved it. It was so oddly haunting/ sad it affected my dreams. Last night I dreamt that I was going to get A Lover's Discourse by Barthes from McClures and I was on my bike...the sky was really gray to the point that it seemed that everything was in grayscale...all the colours were really washed out...downright depressing really. SO I rode down there and everything was closed. Beyond being closed, there were no people, it was deserted, a ghost down. Perhaps a subconscious personal interpretation of the movie? I dunno, these things just happen.
I liked Luisa best. Her character. It exuded something, some fuzzy meaning that I couldn't quite capture with words but I know is there. Barthes had a work for this...like a secondary meaning that is implied but not completely presented. Guido was really kind of vile, but there still is some ID with him as well. To not love. Such a horrible thing.
Speaking of love, writing was the topic of my last Chemical Engineering class. He gave us an article by Tom Friedman. Prof asked who knew who Friedman was. I immediately said "op-ed writer for the NY Times, wrote World is Flat, Lexus and Olive Branch, Letters from Beirut to Lebanon, and he has a new book coming out tomorrow..." and then he asked who has read him...only my hand was raised.
The funny part. He asked us to analyze the article (about global warming of course). He asked his style. Poeple started throughing out the ethos, "I liked it", "it was silly", "informative"...the classics. The prof obviously was frustrated with these answers so I decided to chime in with "It is highly rhetoric driven with the first paragraph speaking to the classical nostalgic lore of nature's beauty attempting make an emotional connection with the reader while use the facts to establish some authority for his message, though they are highly rhetorical within themselves.Can you explain that? I did not want to explain it, but I did. Everyone looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language.
Then he asked who reads the NY Times.
Their Answers
-liberals
-people who hold power and influence
-literate people
He then said, well it is viewed as the newspaper of note for the us by the world, this is how we get represented.
Then we talked about technical writing. Apparently the writing we do in history, literature and art is not focused on clarity and uses too high of diction...etc i will type my notes at one point.
I started to get bored so I pull out my book and started to read (thanks Freddy Dostoevsky).
It makes me sick to be in a room with this gross disdain on the language that we use. People really need to read some stuff occasionally and stop playing all these video games and such.
Makes me sad is all.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Pompous Bastard
I hate to post too many blogs in a row, entries or whatever. Just seems like I do nothing but write these bloody things. Irony of that is, I have not done anything. I had to write a paper...and for some reason I was able to draw Heidegger and Lacan into it, so it expanded rapidly. However, it had to be only one page and unfortunately I can't pull a derrida and write in erasure, so there was quite the trimming.
To the source of the title of this entry. I often wonder how I come off to people. Not that I really care, I just find the whole thing interesting. I do little social experiments all the time, just to see what will happen, to glean some deeper understanding about people, because they are rather interesting. Well, not all of them.
I like to have my things. I forgot my camera. It is driving me crazy. It is an old 1978 cannon slr with several lens which i just love. the funny thing is, i take pictures but i don't develop them. maybe i need to do something about that, but hey what's the hurry. I wake up early and take walks around. I love to watch the sunrise, so I am always up for it. It is my time to think, reflect, and the lighting is always so wonderful--if you can catch it. i have only been using black and white film of late. i like the graininess that you can get. i took some pictures without a light sensor and it produced some fun results...so much more organic, the nature of the absense of the photo.
I also did not bring up my stereo. Now that is killing me. I have a decent stereo i got from a friend of a friend for a favour kind of deal and I love it. I plug in my turntable, throw on a vinyl and drop that needle and it is pure joy, whatever the mood. Yes I listen to vinyls. You can't beat them, they have such a warm quality, and the philosophical aspect of having an analogue recording that represents the "photo" of the sound is just too good to pass up. I also have this thing where i see colors with sound...so it adds another layer to the party.
See the funny thing is, if you tel that to people...I listen to old jazz vinyls, i have a virtually antique camera, that i wake to watch the sunrise each morn--they look at you like you are full of (sh)it. I may be on many other things, but I don't have to generate a persona, a character for everyone. The funny thing about higher education is that it is supposed to embrace this sort of individuality, but whatever, it may not. Case and point, the ire directed at a fella who did not wear orange to the bloody football game...talk about the mass, the directed gaze, the danger of such things, ick.
My obsession cannot be sated for journals. I collect them, actually i write in them, preferably moleskine, they came out with soft cover pocket size journals that are wonderful too because you can actually put them in your pocket without breaking your back. Due to my latest picasso binge, my journal is filled with picasso and picasso inspired drawings/sketchs/pastels, so i am looking to purchase another. apparently muji has this one with a circle in the center of each page representing time, so it is a planner that allows for space. unfortunately, they don't believe in direct online sales from japan, and you can only get them at the MoMA and from some brit company who charges nearly four pounds for the thing. that cannot do.
but anyways, it does make me wonder, all of this, perception is reality but then what is real? how does perception change you? in theory none at all, but if we are so impressed by the other, who do we become? interesting thought though, our projection is dictated by the other, but at the same time our same projection is interpreted and reprojected on us. I know this isn't the most lucid musing, but think about it.
To the source of the title of this entry. I often wonder how I come off to people. Not that I really care, I just find the whole thing interesting. I do little social experiments all the time, just to see what will happen, to glean some deeper understanding about people, because they are rather interesting. Well, not all of them.
I like to have my things. I forgot my camera. It is driving me crazy. It is an old 1978 cannon slr with several lens which i just love. the funny thing is, i take pictures but i don't develop them. maybe i need to do something about that, but hey what's the hurry. I wake up early and take walks around. I love to watch the sunrise, so I am always up for it. It is my time to think, reflect, and the lighting is always so wonderful--if you can catch it. i have only been using black and white film of late. i like the graininess that you can get. i took some pictures without a light sensor and it produced some fun results...so much more organic, the nature of the absense of the photo.
I also did not bring up my stereo. Now that is killing me. I have a decent stereo i got from a friend of a friend for a favour kind of deal and I love it. I plug in my turntable, throw on a vinyl and drop that needle and it is pure joy, whatever the mood. Yes I listen to vinyls. You can't beat them, they have such a warm quality, and the philosophical aspect of having an analogue recording that represents the "photo" of the sound is just too good to pass up. I also have this thing where i see colors with sound...so it adds another layer to the party.
See the funny thing is, if you tel that to people...I listen to old jazz vinyls, i have a virtually antique camera, that i wake to watch the sunrise each morn--they look at you like you are full of (sh)it. I may be on many other things, but I don't have to generate a persona, a character for everyone. The funny thing about higher education is that it is supposed to embrace this sort of individuality, but whatever, it may not. Case and point, the ire directed at a fella who did not wear orange to the bloody football game...talk about the mass, the directed gaze, the danger of such things, ick.
My obsession cannot be sated for journals. I collect them, actually i write in them, preferably moleskine, they came out with soft cover pocket size journals that are wonderful too because you can actually put them in your pocket without breaking your back. Due to my latest picasso binge, my journal is filled with picasso and picasso inspired drawings/sketchs/pastels, so i am looking to purchase another. apparently muji has this one with a circle in the center of each page representing time, so it is a planner that allows for space. unfortunately, they don't believe in direct online sales from japan, and you can only get them at the MoMA and from some brit company who charges nearly four pounds for the thing. that cannot do.
but anyways, it does make me wonder, all of this, perception is reality but then what is real? how does perception change you? in theory none at all, but if we are so impressed by the other, who do we become? interesting thought though, our projection is dictated by the other, but at the same time our same projection is interpreted and reprojected on us. I know this isn't the most lucid musing, but think about it.
Dylan and friends
I went out and bought books. This bloody school thing can be so boring, so I fill the void with good reading and good music and good movies. The problem is that this void of which i speak is it actually doesn't represent the time void, as in here, I don't have the time associated with the huge educational void. Thus I spend hours in the lab, bored out of my mind, but I still must be there. I am in class nearly 28 hours a week. This is outside of homework and the effin' unit ops and pchem lab (though I did smuggle my copy of Image Music Text into the lab.
Before the football game I was reading notes from an underground. I feel you, ole Freddy. Too much identification I presume. I dislike attending football games. I think I could spend the eight hours of my life spent on tailgating and standing up for something more meaningful. Perhaps riding my dirtbike or motorcycle. I don't like to watch games anymore...well maybe soccer (the other football). There is just so much more text in soccer than football. Massive overhyped, lionized he-men running around into each other with the parade of flesh, both male and female provided for our entertainment with kitschy music to match and drunken fans. Bleh.
Don't get me wrong, I played football all through high school and was pretty decent...until my knee got destroyed. It's over though, I did it, experienced it, made friends, learned my physical limits, blah blah blah. I would much rather be doing something to deepen the experience of my life. Motorcycle ride into the mountains, hiking, reading, just taking a walk...writing.
I am excited about my new project. Borne out of Milton's writing and cultivated by my general boredom and disdain for this place it finally sprung to life. Sitting here reading, writing and listening to Mr Dylan, I am excited. Hooray for that. Can't wait for my Borges to come.
Before the football game I was reading notes from an underground. I feel you, ole Freddy. Too much identification I presume. I dislike attending football games. I think I could spend the eight hours of my life spent on tailgating and standing up for something more meaningful. Perhaps riding my dirtbike or motorcycle. I don't like to watch games anymore...well maybe soccer (the other football). There is just so much more text in soccer than football. Massive overhyped, lionized he-men running around into each other with the parade of flesh, both male and female provided for our entertainment with kitschy music to match and drunken fans. Bleh.
Don't get me wrong, I played football all through high school and was pretty decent...until my knee got destroyed. It's over though, I did it, experienced it, made friends, learned my physical limits, blah blah blah. I would much rather be doing something to deepen the experience of my life. Motorcycle ride into the mountains, hiking, reading, just taking a walk...writing.
I am excited about my new project. Borne out of Milton's writing and cultivated by my general boredom and disdain for this place it finally sprung to life. Sitting here reading, writing and listening to Mr Dylan, I am excited. Hooray for that. Can't wait for my Borges to come.
sadly relating
okay so i normally don't write in my current state but i feel i must.
i met the neighbors finally. well, i met them for the second time and this time seemed to stick more than the prior where they were blasted outside of their minds.
i met them regardless and was invited into a world of which i am not familiar. the civil war has apparently not ended, "our beer is your beer" mentality, they have a tap on their back poach and loose women circulate freely. i hate to say it like that, but sadly it is true.
i hate to say it, but i really think i was meant to be a doctor. i am too altrusistic to be real sometimes. one girl punch some guy in the face. i saw that she had an ice bag on her wrist, so when she came to the tap i inquired. i had had several gin and tonics with the intention of retiring early to notes from an underground...well i asked about her wrist and she seemed to be looking for real help. i sprung into action...not sexual.
i asked if i could examine her wrist. the answer was yes. I asked about the accident, testing of course for collier's one of the most common fractures. i have nearly broken every bone in the wrist so i was searching for all. i felt the bones for any omnipresent fractures...none...i them felt the phalanges, the fingers for fractures. she had complete mobility of her hand, fingers etc. i then asked her if it would be okay if i splinted her arm because it appeared to be a sprain and she needed to rest it especially while she was drunk.
i kept telling her that it would be dorky, but in her best interest. i then whipped out my knife and cut a cereal box...honey nut oats and fashioned a splint with a thumb brace. we looked for tape and could fine none in the apartment so we then went to another aprtment. by this time of course me leaving with her was interpreted as more than hmm altruistic, which in the modern world is a credit to me...?
but i found athletic tape and i made her a cast/ splint which turned out well and ironically was a hit at the party. funny how that works. it was a chore making sure this girl kept it on...casts such, this i know with my many breaks...
another girl was near to death as i had ever seen and i had to watch her...funny how this all works out. her boyfriend kept getting pissed that people were trying to help her. funny how that male ownership paradigm doesn't include care...i mean if she were his property, why wasn't he the one helping her instead of fending off potential suitors who were trying to make sure she woke up before she died or choked on her own vomit.
such it is life. the scenes were near almost famous to the extreme....it was oddly scary.
queerly funny how apt i am to being accepted to the community of the heavy drinkers and southern radicals though my views lay contrary...
i met the neighbors finally. well, i met them for the second time and this time seemed to stick more than the prior where they were blasted outside of their minds.
i met them regardless and was invited into a world of which i am not familiar. the civil war has apparently not ended, "our beer is your beer" mentality, they have a tap on their back poach and loose women circulate freely. i hate to say it like that, but sadly it is true.
i hate to say it, but i really think i was meant to be a doctor. i am too altrusistic to be real sometimes. one girl punch some guy in the face. i saw that she had an ice bag on her wrist, so when she came to the tap i inquired. i had had several gin and tonics with the intention of retiring early to notes from an underground...well i asked about her wrist and she seemed to be looking for real help. i sprung into action...not sexual.
i asked if i could examine her wrist. the answer was yes. I asked about the accident, testing of course for collier's one of the most common fractures. i have nearly broken every bone in the wrist so i was searching for all. i felt the bones for any omnipresent fractures...none...i them felt the phalanges, the fingers for fractures. she had complete mobility of her hand, fingers etc. i then asked her if it would be okay if i splinted her arm because it appeared to be a sprain and she needed to rest it especially while she was drunk.
i kept telling her that it would be dorky, but in her best interest. i then whipped out my knife and cut a cereal box...honey nut oats and fashioned a splint with a thumb brace. we looked for tape and could fine none in the apartment so we then went to another aprtment. by this time of course me leaving with her was interpreted as more than hmm altruistic, which in the modern world is a credit to me...?
but i found athletic tape and i made her a cast/ splint which turned out well and ironically was a hit at the party. funny how that works. it was a chore making sure this girl kept it on...casts such, this i know with my many breaks...
another girl was near to death as i had ever seen and i had to watch her...funny how this all works out. her boyfriend kept getting pissed that people were trying to help her. funny how that male ownership paradigm doesn't include care...i mean if she were his property, why wasn't he the one helping her instead of fending off potential suitors who were trying to make sure she woke up before she died or choked on her own vomit.
such it is life. the scenes were near almost famous to the extreme....it was oddly scary.
queerly funny how apt i am to being accepted to the community of the heavy drinkers and southern radicals though my views lay contrary...
Monday, September 1, 2008
Female Objectification
I am writing a great deal. Do you know why? Would you like to? Well, you're watching my words, so I'll assume you do.
I am writing because I am bored. Again. Chemical engineering is a death trap for the inquisitive mind. At least the undergrad sector of it. Is that not ironic? That a science course primarily based on experimentation and research can be so dull. Maybe it is just me. It is quite possible.
Observations of the other humans:
It would be nice if we lived in a world where humans would stop referring to each other like pieces of meat. Maybe this goes towards my gender than anything else. People are people, not bodies (though some mind seem deviod of a mind) they still deserve to be treated with respect, at least some. Is it vulgar organic materialism, I dunno.
Example:
Went to a mexican restaurant with some friends. We had a very attractive waitress, to whom my friends attempted to flirt very heavily. I will admit she was pretty, but my defining characteristics of the lass went far beyond her buxom anatomy. She was left handed, had moderately good diction and grammar with a remarkably neutral accent, though it had undertones of Tennessee/Kentucky/Northern North Carolina. No doubt my friends did not recognize these traits and instead opted to discuss here more obvious features, often resulting in awkward run in with said waitress when she walked in on their conversations.
What to make of this? She deserves more respect than .
It is a shame that we live in a world where we not only profile, but we view each other as objects. Mulvey and Cixous (and Freud) could step in here I know, but lets go with Milton. Pleasure of the body is only one half of the equation. It is difficult to have a conversation with an object.
I know this isn't the most thought provoking. I don't offer theories on why this objectification occurs. Maybe because our society doesn't place as much emphasis on talking as it once did. A good conversation is not a myth. They can happen. People do read good books and watch good movies and maybe even listen to good music--granted not in a disney movie kind of way. Organic materialism I will call it...male ownership model, envy, castration anxiety...I do not know that that is the solution to the question, but it may have something to do with it. College lifestyle doesn't help either.
Drives me crazy is all
I am writing because I am bored. Again. Chemical engineering is a death trap for the inquisitive mind. At least the undergrad sector of it. Is that not ironic? That a science course primarily based on experimentation and research can be so dull. Maybe it is just me. It is quite possible.
Observations of the other humans:
It would be nice if we lived in a world where humans would stop referring to each other like pieces of meat. Maybe this goes towards my gender than anything else. People are people, not bodies (though some mind seem deviod of a mind) they still deserve to be treated with respect, at least some. Is it vulgar organic materialism, I dunno.
Example:
Went to a mexican restaurant with some friends. We had a very attractive waitress, to whom my friends attempted to flirt very heavily. I will admit she was pretty, but my defining characteristics of the lass went far beyond her buxom anatomy. She was left handed, had moderately good diction and grammar with a remarkably neutral accent, though it had undertones of Tennessee/Kentucky/Northern North Carolina. No doubt my friends did not recognize these traits and instead opted to discuss here more obvious features, often resulting in awkward run in with said waitress when she walked in on their conversations.
What to make of this? She deserves more respect than .
It is a shame that we live in a world where we not only profile, but we view each other as objects. Mulvey and Cixous (and Freud) could step in here I know, but lets go with Milton. Pleasure of the body is only one half of the equation. It is difficult to have a conversation with an object.
I know this isn't the most thought provoking. I don't offer theories on why this objectification occurs. Maybe because our society doesn't place as much emphasis on talking as it once did. A good conversation is not a myth. They can happen. People do read good books and watch good movies and maybe even listen to good music--granted not in a disney movie kind of way. Organic materialism I will call it...male ownership model, envy, castration anxiety...I do not know that that is the solution to the question, but it may have something to do with it. College lifestyle doesn't help either.
Drives me crazy is all
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