because I don't have a lot of time to write. my observation is this: americans in england are extremely prone to english accentitis. swear to god you don't know you're overhearing an american til they get to a really flat, nasal 'a'... their 'o's are round, their 'u's are 'yews', their 't's are perfectly enunciated.
6/28/2004
6/27/2004
damn internet cafe
I wrote almost an entire posting this afternoon and the computer I was working on shut down without warning...I lost the whole thing! sometimes these things happen for a reason-- maybe what I had written wasn't quite up to snuff-- but it's still irritating.
Emily left this morning to go back to Wales, and I had my first London day solo. I spent it 'street haunting' Bloomsbury, Charing Cross, down by the Thames, and capped the day off by revisiting the Tate Modern, which incidentally is the coolest spot in London to sit and have a cup of coffee. They have a lovely terrace with awesome views of the Thames and all the buildings lining the north embankment. I watched the sun set there on Friday night; it was then that I understood how Monet conceived of the style that would become Impressionism here in London, watching the light from the setting sun play on the Thames.
Thursday night was kind of trippy; we began the night by heading to Brick Lane for some rocking good Indian (ok, Bangladeshi) food and ended the night fleeing a pub brawl through the kitchen. Ok, the night didn't really end there, but that's all I care to blog about. The brawl was fascinating. One minute we were watching England v. Portugal in the Euro 2004 in a funky bar in Brick Lane with the largest groups of cute british boys I've ever seen assembled in one place in my life; the next minute portugal scored their first goal, some yob threw his drink in disgust, and the guy who got soaked turned around and punched yob #1.
All that is violent enough but not reason to get too upset. Until the fight grew into a bunch of brawling football fans, and until said football fans began hurling glasses and bottles around the bar and innocent bystanders started bleeding. Until it looked like we were going to have a repeat of the Great White concert and Emily and I would be squashed under the stampede of the aforementioned cute brits and their attendant ladies. Luckily, we's wicked smaht, and we snuck out through the kitchen and into a back alley. Police descended on the joint and we found another pub in which to finish watching the game. the match itself was very exciting, except for the whole part where the brits had a goal disallowed and lost in the penalties. this loss was quite destabilizing for the british and the media are still trying to figure out exactly what went wrong.
so that's all for now... off to enjoy the balmy rainy london fog. cheers!
Emily left this morning to go back to Wales, and I had my first London day solo. I spent it 'street haunting' Bloomsbury, Charing Cross, down by the Thames, and capped the day off by revisiting the Tate Modern, which incidentally is the coolest spot in London to sit and have a cup of coffee. They have a lovely terrace with awesome views of the Thames and all the buildings lining the north embankment. I watched the sun set there on Friday night; it was then that I understood how Monet conceived of the style that would become Impressionism here in London, watching the light from the setting sun play on the Thames.
Thursday night was kind of trippy; we began the night by heading to Brick Lane for some rocking good Indian (ok, Bangladeshi) food and ended the night fleeing a pub brawl through the kitchen. Ok, the night didn't really end there, but that's all I care to blog about. The brawl was fascinating. One minute we were watching England v. Portugal in the Euro 2004 in a funky bar in Brick Lane with the largest groups of cute british boys I've ever seen assembled in one place in my life; the next minute portugal scored their first goal, some yob threw his drink in disgust, and the guy who got soaked turned around and punched yob #1.
All that is violent enough but not reason to get too upset. Until the fight grew into a bunch of brawling football fans, and until said football fans began hurling glasses and bottles around the bar and innocent bystanders started bleeding. Until it looked like we were going to have a repeat of the Great White concert and Emily and I would be squashed under the stampede of the aforementioned cute brits and their attendant ladies. Luckily, we's wicked smaht, and we snuck out through the kitchen and into a back alley. Police descended on the joint and we found another pub in which to finish watching the game. the match itself was very exciting, except for the whole part where the brits had a goal disallowed and lost in the penalties. this loss was quite destabilizing for the british and the media are still trying to figure out exactly what went wrong.
so that's all for now... off to enjoy the balmy rainy london fog. cheers!
6/22/2004
london calling
we have exultantly arrived in london! after settling in to our hotel, we headed over to the tate britain, then for indian food in notting hill. now we sit in an easyInternet feeding our neopets. london nightlife sure is intense. tomorrow morning the virginia woolf conference will convene at the University of London. can't wait! Emily will amuse herself in the natural history museum while I'm off conferencing. what else is there to say about london? well... we found a great organic food store (called planet organic!) where we bought sandwiches for lunch, then took them to a lovely park around gordon square. the parks here are much nicer than the ones we have in NY, I think. you don't have to fight with anyone for the nicest spot on the lawn, because there are plenty of parks, and plenty of nice spots to go around.
well, we're off to pass out at our hotel after a very long day of traveling. cheers!
well, we're off to pass out at our hotel after a very long day of traveling. cheers!
6/21/2004
letter from wales
tonight is our last night in mumbles, wales... tomorrow emily and I are london bound! I haven't posted in quite some time because I've been flitting about the british isles. A quick recap of the trip thus far [try this link to ofoto to see some pictures, maybe...]:
a mysterious package at JFK delays my plane's departure by two hours. My flight to Heathrow finds me squashed between the window and a pair of spiky welsh lesbians from detroit who are are part of a tour going to britian. they're all wearing matching t-shirts that read "babes in britain." they fuss over me the whole flight. I don't sleep much at all. I listen to my ipod to escape. I watch parts of "along came polly."
the flight gets in two hours late, and I end up missing my connecting flight to dublin. Ryanair charges me 60 pounds to change my ticket. I'm miffed, then slightly less so when I recall that my original ticket cost 60 pence.
Emily is there to meet me in Dublin. [shift to past tense narrative] We found our way to Davey Byrne's, where we partied with middle-aged professors. you might recall davey's as the setting of the Cyclops chapter in Ulysses. Why were we there? Why, because it was Bloomsday, of course! we didn't see much bloomsday action beyond a few people dressed in 1904 garb. we kept getting to places around the city moments after some scene from the novel had been enacted. finally we threw in the towel and settled in at the aforementioned Davey Byrne's. Random Irishmen tried to impress us by holding forth on the main thematics of the novel, and explained that essentially it's a novel about "peeple, ardin'ry peeple."
the next day we went to trinity college and saw the book of kells, which was cool, and the Long Room, which was cooler. we got terribly lost looking for the irish-jewish museum, but were very proud of ourselves when we found it. there are 1790 jews in ireland today, fyi. there was a NY Times article on the subject recently, if you would like to learn more about that curious ethnic combination. "shabbat shalom to ye!"
then home to wales.... where we've been for the last few days. wales is... indeterminate. the country doesn't seem sure of who or what it is. in my opinion, from my shallow observations over the last few days, I've found that wales is more than just love spoons... it's despising the English. welsh cakes. fields with wild horses running through. sheep grazing by the roadside. valleys with the sun on them, here and there a cluster of white houses. Big sky. A pub by the roadside covered with bougainvillea (I was surprised by how chintzy and fussy the pubs round here have been, as though someone's grandmother had got at them, and the owners don't dare change the decor for fear of insulting her). Wales is…full of “slappers” (incredibly skanky looking girls whose skimpy lycra attire is shocking even to my NYC sensibilities), “knackers” (lazy football fans with mean expressions on their faces) and “bellends” (dumb kids who ride their bikes two by two on narrow winding roads). Wales is the beaches along the Gower, with dramatically high and low tides. Signs that read “Helpu Creoso Merched Llwych ap Bws.” A main street lined with multi-colored row houses that slopes down to the sea, like a small-scale San Francisco. Sleeping peafowls. Far-off hills. Industrial Swansea, where eight Indian restaurants crowd together on one block, nearly forcing out the lone Turkish joint. Stores that close at six in the evening. Seven dollar bus fares to go two miles away. Neat stone walls, evenly parceling out farmland. People who gawk at our American accents—we’re the local celebrities wherever we go. so I leave somewhat regretfully, but am glad to be moving on to the woolf conference. will post more from london. til then... cheers!
by the way... england just won a big football game over croatia. some bloke on the telly just declared, "wayne rooney is a god... we all luv wayne rooney." france won their match too. go team go.
a mysterious package at JFK delays my plane's departure by two hours. My flight to Heathrow finds me squashed between the window and a pair of spiky welsh lesbians from detroit who are are part of a tour going to britian. they're all wearing matching t-shirts that read "babes in britain." they fuss over me the whole flight. I don't sleep much at all. I listen to my ipod to escape. I watch parts of "along came polly."
the flight gets in two hours late, and I end up missing my connecting flight to dublin. Ryanair charges me 60 pounds to change my ticket. I'm miffed, then slightly less so when I recall that my original ticket cost 60 pence.
Emily is there to meet me in Dublin. [shift to past tense narrative] We found our way to Davey Byrne's, where we partied with middle-aged professors. you might recall davey's as the setting of the Cyclops chapter in Ulysses. Why were we there? Why, because it was Bloomsday, of course! we didn't see much bloomsday action beyond a few people dressed in 1904 garb. we kept getting to places around the city moments after some scene from the novel had been enacted. finally we threw in the towel and settled in at the aforementioned Davey Byrne's. Random Irishmen tried to impress us by holding forth on the main thematics of the novel, and explained that essentially it's a novel about "peeple, ardin'ry peeple."
the next day we went to trinity college and saw the book of kells, which was cool, and the Long Room, which was cooler. we got terribly lost looking for the irish-jewish museum, but were very proud of ourselves when we found it. there are 1790 jews in ireland today, fyi. there was a NY Times article on the subject recently, if you would like to learn more about that curious ethnic combination. "shabbat shalom to ye!"
then home to wales.... where we've been for the last few days. wales is... indeterminate. the country doesn't seem sure of who or what it is. in my opinion, from my shallow observations over the last few days, I've found that wales is more than just love spoons... it's despising the English. welsh cakes. fields with wild horses running through. sheep grazing by the roadside. valleys with the sun on them, here and there a cluster of white houses. Big sky. A pub by the roadside covered with bougainvillea (I was surprised by how chintzy and fussy the pubs round here have been, as though someone's grandmother had got at them, and the owners don't dare change the decor for fear of insulting her). Wales is…full of “slappers” (incredibly skanky looking girls whose skimpy lycra attire is shocking even to my NYC sensibilities), “knackers” (lazy football fans with mean expressions on their faces) and “bellends” (dumb kids who ride their bikes two by two on narrow winding roads). Wales is the beaches along the Gower, with dramatically high and low tides. Signs that read “Helpu Creoso Merched Llwych ap Bws.” A main street lined with multi-colored row houses that slopes down to the sea, like a small-scale San Francisco. Sleeping peafowls. Far-off hills. Industrial Swansea, where eight Indian restaurants crowd together on one block, nearly forcing out the lone Turkish joint. Stores that close at six in the evening. Seven dollar bus fares to go two miles away. Neat stone walls, evenly parceling out farmland. People who gawk at our American accents—we’re the local celebrities wherever we go. so I leave somewhat regretfully, but am glad to be moving on to the woolf conference. will post more from london. til then... cheers!
by the way... england just won a big football game over croatia. some bloke on the telly just declared, "wayne rooney is a god... we all luv wayne rooney." france won their match too. go team go.
6/15/2004
grumpy. running errands all over the feckin city today. worrying over too many connections between here and dublin (108 st to JFK to Heathrow to Gatwick to Dublin); the trip will take me from 5:30 pm today until 9:40 am tomorrow, EST. groan. and I'm really, really tired of poseurs, man. you know what I'm saying? occasionally it just gets to be too much. like this moby "are you a real NYer" quiz I came across. just for sh*ts and giggles, let's fill it out, shall we? I'm feeling snarky enough to do it. My answers follow the asteriks. feel free to fill in your own. basically it seems real new yorkers, according to moby, are blase about everything cool, and irritable about everything petty. Since I'm irritated by this list, I guess that makes me a real NYer.
Moby's New York Quiz
as is true with most big cities, most new yorkers weren't actually born in nyc (i was, so there). *yeah so was I , you big bald technovegan
but at what point does a non-native new yorker actually become a native new yorker? this question can be asked in just about any big city, and each city will have it's own specific criteria for determining when a non-native becomes a native. for nyc i would list the following criteria as being essential for determining that one has become a native new yorker.
a-you have to have carried moving boxes and furniture up a 5 story walk-up at least twice. *yep. 72nd b/t 1st and york, and my present place on 108th. ok it's 4 stories, but it counts, dude.
b-you have to have gotten into at least two heated arguments with cab drivers who had no idea where they were going. *cab drivers don't fight with me, they smile and make small talk. maybe you should try a miniskirt, moby.
b2-you had to have had a much better idea of where you were going than the cab driver did. *to pretend to know the city better than a cab driver takes balls, bro. he drives around in it all day long. I'm not touching that one.
c-you have to have been annoyed at drunk tourists doing drunk touristy things (peeing under scaffolding, puking on your stoop, honking horns at 3 in the morning, etc). *ok but what about when I'm a drunk nontourist? am I supposed to get mad at myself?
d-you have to have had sex in a public place (central park, the bathroom at max fish, etc). *no comment.
e-you have to have been stopped by a tourist and asked for directions and given them 2 different correct ways to get where they're going. *but how many languages can you give them in?
f-you have to have reminisced about something being cheaper when you first moved to nyc (rent, food, crack, etc). *subways, cabs, milk, parking tickets, parking meters, bagels, the new york times... sigh.
g-you have to pepper your speech with yiddish, even if your a feklemt schvitzing shiksa, already. *don't make me plotz. you spelled "you're" wrong. what are you, some kind of dumkopf?
h-you have to have been annoyed and not impressed by a bunch of well known actors shooting a movie on your street.
i-at some point you have to have been on the 'L' train at a dangerously late hour.
j-you have to have gone bowling in one of manhattans 3 bowling alleys. *bowlmor, check.
k-you have to be able to tell people about what 'the ramble' in central park used to be used for. *nope don't know that one.
l-you have to look up every now and then and be surprised that the world trade center isn't there anymore. *surprised? I saw it fall. hard to forget that it's not there. it's always-already not there.
m-you have to look up every now and then and be glad that the empire state building wasn't destroyed by terrorists. *I'm too busy hating the tourists moving at .05 mph down 34th street looking up at it.
n-you have to resent country western singers who made money off of their '9-11' experiences in nashville... *is this like specifically something that bothers music industry people? as a "real new yorker," I wasn't aware there were country singers who did this.
**really stupid questions deleted**
q-you have to have gotten lost and then found and then lost and then more lost in chinatown. *I can usually find my way out of it, if I haven't been knocked unconscious by the smell of fish
r-you have to have maliciously snickered at people from out of town trying to hail taxis that are off-duty. *ha ha. guilty as charged.
s-you have to be able to know what the different colored lights on the empire state building sometimes signify. *see my answer to "g." it doesn't take a new yorker to realize why the building is green on march 17th, kiddo.
Moby's New York Quiz
as is true with most big cities, most new yorkers weren't actually born in nyc (i was, so there). *yeah so was I , you big bald technovegan
but at what point does a non-native new yorker actually become a native new yorker? this question can be asked in just about any big city, and each city will have it's own specific criteria for determining when a non-native becomes a native. for nyc i would list the following criteria as being essential for determining that one has become a native new yorker.
a-you have to have carried moving boxes and furniture up a 5 story walk-up at least twice. *yep. 72nd b/t 1st and york, and my present place on 108th. ok it's 4 stories, but it counts, dude.
b-you have to have gotten into at least two heated arguments with cab drivers who had no idea where they were going. *cab drivers don't fight with me, they smile and make small talk. maybe you should try a miniskirt, moby.
b2-you had to have had a much better idea of where you were going than the cab driver did. *to pretend to know the city better than a cab driver takes balls, bro. he drives around in it all day long. I'm not touching that one.
c-you have to have been annoyed at drunk tourists doing drunk touristy things (peeing under scaffolding, puking on your stoop, honking horns at 3 in the morning, etc). *ok but what about when I'm a drunk nontourist? am I supposed to get mad at myself?
d-you have to have had sex in a public place (central park, the bathroom at max fish, etc). *no comment.
e-you have to have been stopped by a tourist and asked for directions and given them 2 different correct ways to get where they're going. *but how many languages can you give them in?
f-you have to have reminisced about something being cheaper when you first moved to nyc (rent, food, crack, etc). *subways, cabs, milk, parking tickets, parking meters, bagels, the new york times... sigh.
g-you have to pepper your speech with yiddish, even if your a feklemt schvitzing shiksa, already. *don't make me plotz. you spelled "you're" wrong. what are you, some kind of dumkopf?
h-you have to have been annoyed and not impressed by a bunch of well known actors shooting a movie on your street.
i-at some point you have to have been on the 'L' train at a dangerously late hour.
j-you have to have gone bowling in one of manhattans 3 bowling alleys. *bowlmor, check.
k-you have to be able to tell people about what 'the ramble' in central park used to be used for. *nope don't know that one.
l-you have to look up every now and then and be surprised that the world trade center isn't there anymore. *surprised? I saw it fall. hard to forget that it's not there. it's always-already not there.
m-you have to look up every now and then and be glad that the empire state building wasn't destroyed by terrorists. *I'm too busy hating the tourists moving at .05 mph down 34th street looking up at it.
n-you have to resent country western singers who made money off of their '9-11' experiences in nashville... *is this like specifically something that bothers music industry people? as a "real new yorker," I wasn't aware there were country singers who did this.
**really stupid questions deleted**
q-you have to have gotten lost and then found and then lost and then more lost in chinatown. *I can usually find my way out of it, if I haven't been knocked unconscious by the smell of fish
r-you have to have maliciously snickered at people from out of town trying to hail taxis that are off-duty. *ha ha. guilty as charged.
s-you have to be able to know what the different colored lights on the empire state building sometimes signify. *see my answer to "g." it doesn't take a new yorker to realize why the building is green on march 17th, kiddo.
6/14/2004
rule britannia!
this time tomorrow night I shall be on a virgin atlantic flight bound for londontown. huzzah! this maitresse spends way too much of her time reading, writing, and teaching about English literature and history-- and yet her knowledge of England after, oh, 1945 is completely negligible. as in, a british friend told me he was methodist, and I raised an eyebrow and said "A Dissenter, eh?" and he looked at me funny and told me no one says that anymore.
one whirlwind weekend in london back in january 1999 added little to my experience of contemporary britain, and so my knowledge of the place nowadays is filtered through the accents of various expatriate professors, friends, Monty Python, Hugh Grant, and an obsession with BBC America. In other words, I'm totally stoked to spend the next fortnight traveling around with my best mate, Emily. see? I'm getting the lingo down already.
First stop: Dublin for Bloomsday. I'll try to post as much as possible, and will include pictures if I can figure out how. "Yes, I said yes, I will yes!"
one whirlwind weekend in london back in january 1999 added little to my experience of contemporary britain, and so my knowledge of the place nowadays is filtered through the accents of various expatriate professors, friends, Monty Python, Hugh Grant, and an obsession with BBC America. In other words, I'm totally stoked to spend the next fortnight traveling around with my best mate, Emily. see? I'm getting the lingo down already.
First stop: Dublin for Bloomsday. I'll try to post as much as possible, and will include pictures if I can figure out how. "Yes, I said yes, I will yes!"
6/13/2004
Sing it, Solomon.
I went to a lovely wedding last night, although it was somewhat difficult to be there, as it was the marriage of my ex-boyfriend's older brother, and none of the guests knew the best man and I had called it quits.
Nevertheless, the couple had chosen a reading during the ceremony from chapter two of the Song of Solomon. I'm not usually one to go around quoting the Bible, much less here in cyberland, but it did make me recall one of my favorite verses from the songs. Here it is, from the New International Version:
Song of Solomon 3
1 All night long on my bed
I looked for the one my heart loves;
I looked for him but did not find him.
2 I will get up now and go about the city,
through its streets and squares;
I will search for the one my heart loves.
So I looked for him but did not find him.
3 The watchmen found me
as they made their rounds in the city.
"Have you seen the one my heart loves?"
4 Scarcely had I passed them
when I found the one my heart loves.
I held him and would not let him go
till I had brought him to my mother's house,
to the room of the one who conceived me.
5 Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you
by the gazelles and by the does of the field:
Do not arouse or awaken love
until it so desires.
I particularly like this verse because I believe it inspired several chapters of _Nightwood_.
Nevertheless, the couple had chosen a reading during the ceremony from chapter two of the Song of Solomon. I'm not usually one to go around quoting the Bible, much less here in cyberland, but it did make me recall one of my favorite verses from the songs. Here it is, from the New International Version:
Song of Solomon 3
1 All night long on my bed
I looked for the one my heart loves;
I looked for him but did not find him.
2 I will get up now and go about the city,
through its streets and squares;
I will search for the one my heart loves.
So I looked for him but did not find him.
3 The watchmen found me
as they made their rounds in the city.
"Have you seen the one my heart loves?"
4 Scarcely had I passed them
when I found the one my heart loves.
I held him and would not let him go
till I had brought him to my mother's house,
to the room of the one who conceived me.
5 Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you
by the gazelles and by the does of the field:
Do not arouse or awaken love
until it so desires.
I particularly like this verse because I believe it inspired several chapters of _Nightwood_.
6/10/2004
well, it could be worse.
and just like that, it's over. nice while it lasted.
whenever I'm bummed about something, it usually helps to reread this passage from Lucky Jim:
“Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider crab on the tarry shingle of the morning. The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again. A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse. His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he’d somehow been on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad.”
yep. definitely feeling better now.
whenever I'm bummed about something, it usually helps to reread this passage from Lucky Jim:
“Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider crab on the tarry shingle of the morning. The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again. A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse. His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he’d somehow been on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad.”
yep. definitely feeling better now.
getting better
know what else is detrimental to productivity besides infections? infatuations. it's that whole "I don't want to think about this/I don't want to stop thinking about this" vicious cycle kind of thing. it's so distracting, and yet so delicious, when you lose a couple of minutes and you come to and you're like "what just happened?" and you realize you were daydreaming...
6/09/2004
6/08/2004
6/07/2004
jane, get me off this crazy thing
called love
man I need to kick back and dip into mike myers' filmography a little. this paper writing thing's for the birds.
man I need to kick back and dip into mike myers' filmography a little. this paper writing thing's for the birds.
6/06/2004
wish you were here (don'tcha)
my apartment is full of sleeping 21-year-old girls ar the moment. For some reason my ex and his friends find that tantalizing, but I persuaded them to stay away so my sister and her sorority friends could sleep off their hangovers here.
moving today...as soon as the sorority sisters wake up and my dad comes with the aforementioned SUV [see post of 5/25]. the thing that concerns me the most is how my dog will adapt-- to the move, to my being single, to new people being around... but this is a good test run of the paris upheaval.
so much upheaval. so little downtime.
moving today...as soon as the sorority sisters wake up and my dad comes with the aforementioned SUV [see post of 5/25]. the thing that concerns me the most is how my dog will adapt-- to the move, to my being single, to new people being around... but this is a good test run of the paris upheaval.
so much upheaval. so little downtime.
6/04/2004
well that was interesting
so I didn't finish my Zola paper yesterday, as I'd hoped. Yesterday, when I wrote that I would kick my own ass if I didn't finish it, I was a little hazy on how that was going to happen. But I found a way to do it: by drinking too much and staying out too late last night. I was hurting so bad that I could do little more than sleep today. Consider my ass kicked.
And no rest for the weary: when I came home at 3:30 in the morning, my ex (who I still live with for the moment) lectured me for not calling. Matt, usually the most rational person on the planet, was sincerely convinced I was lying in a gutter somewhere, and wouldn't let me sleep til I apologized for not calling. my dog registered his dissatisfaction with my behavior by barking for the next 3 hours.
so I think that classifies as punishment enough for not having finished the paper. My new goal is to have the paper written by the time I go to bed tonight, proofread in the morning, and then drop it by my professor's apartment.
And no rest for the weary: when I came home at 3:30 in the morning, my ex (who I still live with for the moment) lectured me for not calling. Matt, usually the most rational person on the planet, was sincerely convinced I was lying in a gutter somewhere, and wouldn't let me sleep til I apologized for not calling. my dog registered his dissatisfaction with my behavior by barking for the next 3 hours.
so I think that classifies as punishment enough for not having finished the paper. My new goal is to have the paper written by the time I go to bed tonight, proofread in the morning, and then drop it by my professor's apartment.
6/03/2004
I'm so bored
...with the U.S.A.
...with my paper on Zola
...with this afternoon. it's going so. slowly. and I'm getting no. work done.
if I don't finish this paper this afternoon, I will kick my own ass. and that's a promise.
...with my paper on Zola
...with this afternoon. it's going so. slowly. and I'm getting no. work done.
if I don't finish this paper this afternoon, I will kick my own ass. and that's a promise.
6/02/2004
no mas!
I handed in my Middlemarch paper today. That's a huge relief. But I find myself back at my desk now, looking at the books I have to turn into a paper on _Au bonheur des dames_, the Zola novel about the first department store in Paris. I'm arguing some crap about Empire, gender, and the consumption of space. Wish I had another day to take off to recuperate from the last paper, but I have to finish this one by tomorrow afternoon.
Took the day off today to shuttle my little sister around NYC. We saw "Assassins"-- which was wonderful. So much more subversive and disturbing to see the play in person, than simply listening to the soundtrack. It's playing at Studio 54, where I saw "Cabaret" twice; it was odd to be seeing another show there. The orchestra was playing "Wilkommen" for some reason as the audience took their seats. I half expected Leon Czolgosz to start tweaking his nipples and singing "Money makes ze vorld go a-round, ze vorld go a-around, ze vorld go ar-ound."
Czolgosz, for those of you who are not up on your American history, assassinated President William McKinley in 1901 "in the temple of music by the tower of light/between the fountain of abundance/and the court of lilies/at the great panamerican exposition in buffalo."
It's worth seeing if only for Doogie Howser's star turn as Lee Harvey Oswald. he is, by the way, most impressive in the role.
Took the day off today to shuttle my little sister around NYC. We saw "Assassins"-- which was wonderful. So much more subversive and disturbing to see the play in person, than simply listening to the soundtrack. It's playing at Studio 54, where I saw "Cabaret" twice; it was odd to be seeing another show there. The orchestra was playing "Wilkommen" for some reason as the audience took their seats. I half expected Leon Czolgosz to start tweaking his nipples and singing "Money makes ze vorld go a-round, ze vorld go a-around, ze vorld go ar-ound."
Czolgosz, for those of you who are not up on your American history, assassinated President William McKinley in 1901 "in the temple of music by the tower of light/between the fountain of abundance/and the court of lilies/at the great panamerican exposition in buffalo."
It's worth seeing if only for Doogie Howser's star turn as Lee Harvey Oswald. he is, by the way, most impressive in the role.
6/01/2004
NY Times on Goodman, Chaney, & Schwerner
Andrew Goodman was my father's second cousin.
"Remembering Lives Given, and Taken"
June 1, 2004
By CLYDE HABERMAN
On a Memorial Day weekend, Carolyn Goodman talks about her
son, Andrew, who fought for equal rights and died in the
cause with two others 40 years ago.
NY Times article
"Remembering Lives Given, and Taken"
June 1, 2004
By CLYDE HABERMAN
On a Memorial Day weekend, Carolyn Goodman talks about her
son, Andrew, who fought for equal rights and died in the
cause with two others 40 years ago.
NY Times article
I have a home!
Found a sublet! 108th and B'way. Back to the old Columbia 'hood. Roar, Lion, Roar. It's right around the corner from Cannon's, and close to the Indian Cafe, and the Hungarian Pastry Shop, 1020, and SoHa are all around the corner. Oh, the nostalgia is just too much! Koronet pizza! Riverside Park! Butler library! Caffe Taci! Bliss, sheer bliss.
Once the inconvenice of moving is over, that is! This weekend I'll move, and then it will all be over. Finally. I'm definitely looking forward to the next stage.
Once the inconvenice of moving is over, that is! This weekend I'll move, and then it will all be over. Finally. I'm definitely looking forward to the next stage.
technical difficulties
my links keep disappearing! it's most annoying. apparently blogger is looking into this.
my middlemarch paper is almost finished. it's mammoth. I didn't mean for it to get that long but it's thirty pages right now. when am I supposed to write my Zola paper, I want to know, if I'm spending all this time on Eliot??
my middlemarch paper is almost finished. it's mammoth. I didn't mean for it to get that long but it's thirty pages right now. when am I supposed to write my Zola paper, I want to know, if I'm spending all this time on Eliot??
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