read two books this past week. one was a crime-fiction, well-schooled in murder by elizabeth george, that my sister gave me probably 12 or more years ago. found it in my room in madison. the writing is decent, not extraordinary, but with certain qualities that make it fun to read. the second, flags in the dust by william faulkner, is one of the more moving books i have read this year. dealing with the sartoris family in mississippi, as so many of his novels do, this one was not published until many years after it was written. his publishers claimed it was 3 or 4 novels without enough of a connection. if ever there was a reason not to listen to publishers and editors, this would be it. as far as a grand narrative spanning lifetimes and historical events, like a tolstoi novel perhaps, it has more of a collected short stories feel. four main story lines separated by characters but all have a bearing on another as in the end, they are all essentially family. beautifully written in faulkner's often dense and distracted prose (stream of consciousness thrown in at times), it foretells so well the coming of realismo magico or magical realism of a garcia marquez or alejo carpentier. the final 40 pages or so are densely pathetic, stirring emotion and announcing a finality through death and birth. the novel implies that no matter how hard one struggles against fate, there are certain people who are simply born into a pattern that they are doomed to fulfill. the female characters are somewhat exempt, but to them falls the difficulty of living with and outliving the arrogance, stubborness and finally tragic outcome. but is it tragedy if you seek it? although the story in many sense affirms the inability to evade fate, it clearly shows the fate as chosen as it is inevitable.
rare novels affect the reader for any appreciable time after the story ends. nevertheless this text has clearly driven the writing of a good friend of mine down in mexico (indeed he recommended it to me), and having read it i see his own work in a different light. as well, it is clear the effect that faulkner's writing had on garcia marquez and his stories cien anos de soledad y el general en su laberinto. helping my friend edit his text i have been struck by the difficulty of writing well. sounds obvious, but when you read a text so clearly and comprehensibly written that it seems easy, you thoughtlessly compare the writing of others to it and deprecatingly demarcate the failures. unfair really.
i am now about halfway through another book called "the once and future king". king arthur story but told from a rather different perspective. if you have the time, i highly recommend it (very easy read, probably intended for younger audiences in general) as it truly is fun to read.
25 August 2008
well well well. first day back at school. my first class so far has been french. here are the general course listings. 1105, 2105, then it goes higher, but those dont matter. i dont really speak french. i took a course this summer, was a total nerd (maybe i should use the present tense) and got the best score in the class. so, i decided that the 1105 was too basic (and yes, there is an 1106 offered next semester, but you know i go to a small school of only 29000 souls, so i can understand why they would not be offering any of the in-between courses).
it turns out i am not the smartest kid in my class. however, i am certainly not the worst (although as the herd thins this week, i wonder how far down i will sink as those others who only caught 70%- and yes that is a guess number- of what the teacher was saying will drop). but not me. i am in it for the semester i think. yes, it is going to be hard, but it is better than taking the wimpy course and being bored out of my mind. plus, this aint the first time i have been in a room where i dont really speak the language. all in all, it will be an enlightening, and humbling, experience.
as a matter of fact, that is one thing i like about school, first days in particular. you walk away humbled.
later tonight i am attending a class i may or may not end up taking. i will let you know how that one fares.
it turns out i am not the smartest kid in my class. however, i am certainly not the worst (although as the herd thins this week, i wonder how far down i will sink as those others who only caught 70%- and yes that is a guess number- of what the teacher was saying will drop). but not me. i am in it for the semester i think. yes, it is going to be hard, but it is better than taking the wimpy course and being bored out of my mind. plus, this aint the first time i have been in a room where i dont really speak the language. all in all, it will be an enlightening, and humbling, experience.
as a matter of fact, that is one thing i like about school, first days in particular. you walk away humbled.
later tonight i am attending a class i may or may not end up taking. i will let you know how that one fares.
17 August 2008
has it really been almost 3 years without me discovering the identity of peaches? well, i am either dumb or, well, i dont know. i do know that i have no clue who it is. peaches, any help? also, how can i call or email you if i dont know your number or addy? drop me either of those and i am on it. directly.
the four corners clearly does not refer to colorado, arizona, utah and new mexico junction (because i have never been there). any other hints?
the four corners clearly does not refer to colorado, arizona, utah and new mexico junction (because i have never been there). any other hints?
living the dream. alive and well down here in blacksburg. strange to be back in the states, stranger to back in the burg, but having a great time so far. here is something i wrote the other day.
blacksburg again. new apt, old road (broce drive). new job, same old job (sharkey's). new computer, new keypad (this will take some adjustment after learning and using a spanish version of the keyboard for the past three years). the differences make the experience unique, as they all are. looked over a few notes this morning and saw some notes from my first stint in grad school- thoreau and his philosophy on life: too much group think, too much movement (with the advent of trains and faster steam ships that made access to other parts of the globe if not mundane at least feasible for a larger part of the population), not enough communication with the natural. he moved to walden for myriad reasons, but one of the things he railed against was group think. information sources abounded, but what use were they? this concept has neither died nor diminished; if anything the exponential increase has caused mroe strife and needless movement while simultaneously increasing the gap between groups and the masses in general. no one will question the gain, but why does no one question the necessity of it? we have synthesized life as we have music and the written word. programs facilitate limitation.
unnecessary movement. i would be the first to disagree with his statements in that regard, but to what end? to justify my own meandering. sinuous path was simply a circle. the trail did not double back on itself, and the view did not erase a previous vision so much as provide complimentary perspectives. riding through campus on a bike yesterday showed me what i never saw on foot or en coche. la vista, no tan diferente, los edificios han cambiado pero no tanto que no puedo reconocer el paisaje. the skyline. the sun still sets over burrus in the early fall (depending upon where you stand). my williams hall has become the psychology department and the english dept. has moved to my freshman year dorm. how can that not be seen as a step back? the humanities have been pushed uphill to the ghetto (for those in the know) or to bumfuckegypt for those on the other side of campus. a proximity to the bk lounge (did i really work there for a month 12 years ago?) does not confer a status reflecting academic excellence. chale.
listening to big head todd and the monsters (did i really go see them at mixers 16 years ago?), and enjoying it, reminds me that some changes do not imply forgetting nor that what was left behind was unwanted or loved. i loved this town 8 years ago when i left it. on many levels it has improved, or perhaps grown would be a more correct term. what is the obsession with affirming that new is tantamount to improvement? group think. of course, when segments of the population do not embrace the new, we label them old, crochety, stubborn or, and perhaps the worst, weak. unable to adapt. adapt was a word i used to describe myself for every job i sought (how strange then that when i returned to blacksburg and applied for a job i filled out no applications, had no interview and was accepted for what andi wi who i am without a word). do i know how to adapt? or do i simply write to rail against what i have lost? my new phone annoys me. i am paying more than i want for an apt far from my ideal. i have given up a steady source of income that sustains me. i have seen too many episodes of poirot and now i will have to find another to replace it.
but the title track of this disc- bittersweet- seems to fit so well. guitar, bass and drum. strong lead vocals. the rhythm, like the voice, so familiar. "are we everything we wanted?" if we are not, then how realistic were the desires? "a bittersweet surrender." at what point do we all give up and accept who, what and where we are? cynical. unfair. pessimistic. fuck it.
strange that we stopped quoting famous poets and plays and other literary works in favor of modern, pop poetry- music. are we uncultured? impossible since this is now our culture. are we in a state of decline in this country? if so, does anyone care enough to retrard the slide? unlikely on both accounts. movement on a plane has a clear rising and falling action, but in four dimensions (i wont even get into string theory with its proposed minimum of 7 to 11 dimensions), there is only movement. we are neither above or below another time, simply we are not in the same space as before. an orbit seems to imply that we are returning, once a year, to a previous point yet this description has neither spatial nor temporal validity. but the cyclical, or eliptical, orbit implies a sort of return. regression. i am always fascinated at the problem of language. each word holds too many meanings. too many implications, value judgements. vocal communication creates as many problems as non-verbal signs. if only foucoult and derrida we easier to understand, right? their work on signs and play might elucidate some sort of truth for all of us instead of those who spend their time in a world unlike the others (parallel dimensions?). i have lived 80% of my life in an academic environment. i have no desire to leave it.
patience. i wrote, and to large extent believed, that i had become more patient. it is a lie. my frustration with those things beyond my control has not decreased due to my time down south. if anything, i may have lost the patience i once had. an ongoing project then.
my apt has one window and three doors leading out. my time is divided into looking there though the scenery is unchanged. movement has been checked.
"are we everything we wanted?"
blacksburg again. new apt, old road (broce drive). new job, same old job (sharkey's). new computer, new keypad (this will take some adjustment after learning and using a spanish version of the keyboard for the past three years). the differences make the experience unique, as they all are. looked over a few notes this morning and saw some notes from my first stint in grad school- thoreau and his philosophy on life: too much group think, too much movement (with the advent of trains and faster steam ships that made access to other parts of the globe if not mundane at least feasible for a larger part of the population), not enough communication with the natural. he moved to walden for myriad reasons, but one of the things he railed against was group think. information sources abounded, but what use were they? this concept has neither died nor diminished; if anything the exponential increase has caused mroe strife and needless movement while simultaneously increasing the gap between groups and the masses in general. no one will question the gain, but why does no one question the necessity of it? we have synthesized life as we have music and the written word. programs facilitate limitation.
unnecessary movement. i would be the first to disagree with his statements in that regard, but to what end? to justify my own meandering. sinuous path was simply a circle. the trail did not double back on itself, and the view did not erase a previous vision so much as provide complimentary perspectives. riding through campus on a bike yesterday showed me what i never saw on foot or en coche. la vista, no tan diferente, los edificios han cambiado pero no tanto que no puedo reconocer el paisaje. the skyline. the sun still sets over burrus in the early fall (depending upon where you stand). my williams hall has become the psychology department and the english dept. has moved to my freshman year dorm. how can that not be seen as a step back? the humanities have been pushed uphill to the ghetto (for those in the know) or to bumfuckegypt for those on the other side of campus. a proximity to the bk lounge (did i really work there for a month 12 years ago?) does not confer a status reflecting academic excellence. chale.
listening to big head todd and the monsters (did i really go see them at mixers 16 years ago?), and enjoying it, reminds me that some changes do not imply forgetting nor that what was left behind was unwanted or loved. i loved this town 8 years ago when i left it. on many levels it has improved, or perhaps grown would be a more correct term. what is the obsession with affirming that new is tantamount to improvement? group think. of course, when segments of the population do not embrace the new, we label them old, crochety, stubborn or, and perhaps the worst, weak. unable to adapt. adapt was a word i used to describe myself for every job i sought (how strange then that when i returned to blacksburg and applied for a job i filled out no applications, had no interview and was accepted for what andi wi who i am without a word). do i know how to adapt? or do i simply write to rail against what i have lost? my new phone annoys me. i am paying more than i want for an apt far from my ideal. i have given up a steady source of income that sustains me. i have seen too many episodes of poirot and now i will have to find another to replace it.
but the title track of this disc- bittersweet- seems to fit so well. guitar, bass and drum. strong lead vocals. the rhythm, like the voice, so familiar. "are we everything we wanted?" if we are not, then how realistic were the desires? "a bittersweet surrender." at what point do we all give up and accept who, what and where we are? cynical. unfair. pessimistic. fuck it.
strange that we stopped quoting famous poets and plays and other literary works in favor of modern, pop poetry- music. are we uncultured? impossible since this is now our culture. are we in a state of decline in this country? if so, does anyone care enough to retrard the slide? unlikely on both accounts. movement on a plane has a clear rising and falling action, but in four dimensions (i wont even get into string theory with its proposed minimum of 7 to 11 dimensions), there is only movement. we are neither above or below another time, simply we are not in the same space as before. an orbit seems to imply that we are returning, once a year, to a previous point yet this description has neither spatial nor temporal validity. but the cyclical, or eliptical, orbit implies a sort of return. regression. i am always fascinated at the problem of language. each word holds too many meanings. too many implications, value judgements. vocal communication creates as many problems as non-verbal signs. if only foucoult and derrida we easier to understand, right? their work on signs and play might elucidate some sort of truth for all of us instead of those who spend their time in a world unlike the others (parallel dimensions?). i have lived 80% of my life in an academic environment. i have no desire to leave it.
patience. i wrote, and to large extent believed, that i had become more patient. it is a lie. my frustration with those things beyond my control has not decreased due to my time down south. if anything, i may have lost the patience i once had. an ongoing project then.
my apt has one window and three doors leading out. my time is divided into looking there though the scenery is unchanged. movement has been checked.
"are we everything we wanted?"
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