GOOD READ
I'm too tired to provide context.
9/13/11
9/12/11
Some French Action
My lovely maman sent me this poem this morning to start my week. Glorious!
L’Aube
J’ai embrassé l’aube d’été.
Rien ne bougeait encore au front des palais. L’eau était morte. Les camps d’ombres ne quittaient pas la route
du bois. J’ai marché, réveillant les haleines vives et tièdes, et les pierreries regardèrent, et les ailes
se levèrent sans bruit.
La première entreprise fut, dans le sentier déjà empli de frais et blêmes éclats, une fleur qui me dit son nom.
Je ris au wasserfall blond qui s’échevela à travers les sapins : à la cime argentée je reconnus la déesse.
Alors je levai un à un les voiles. Dans l’allée, en agitant les bras. Par la plaine, où je l’ai dénoncée au coq.
A la grand’ville elle fuyait parmi les clochers et les dômes, et courant comme un mendiant sur les quais de marbre,
je la chassais.
En haut de la route, près d’un bois de lauriers, je l’ai entourée avec ses voiles amassés, et j’ai senti un peu
son immense corps. L’aube et l’enfant tombèrent au bas du bois.
Au réveil il était midi.
9/7/11
9/6/11
Just traipsing the internet...
In addition to severely burning my rice tonight and getting absolutely soaked by the remnants of Lee on a run, I read this:
A City Divided (from American Prospect magazine)
The piece visits a lot of points that I feel like are always coming up in conversations here about the Two DCs (Although I totally disagree with the opening assumption that you can judge socio-economic status based on dogs! I mean look at Watson... One would assume Gen and I are foppish English country gentry). I also like Matt Yglesias' response.
On a much lighter note - I miss when our zoo had a cute panda :(
9/5/11
Some grad school lessons thus far
Soooo I began graduate school a few weeks ago. Which (in addition to reacquainting myself with my college beer/pizza belly, being constantly disheveled, and having scarily ginormous bags under my eyes) makes me an expert on graduate students.
I've already gleaned some notable observations/lessons beyond the "Do everything with Confidence" and the whole graduate students are suckers for all things free point (I saw people in the lobby fighting over brown key lanyards being distributed by our Health Services office yesterday ... really guys?).
1) Forget parents, depressing headlines, hypochondriac reactions to mosquito bites, scary neighborhood German Shepards, etc. The real fear mongering, stress-inducing scourge in my life right now is... my peers. When it comes to ongoing academic pressure and the looming, far-off-but-kinda-close need to find a summer internship, graduate students totally freak each other out. It's not Career Services that worries you, or your professors, or reading that nine zillionth article about how bad job prospects are these days.... it's just overhearing a classmate state that they are tidying up their resume a bit, have obtained a study guide from the T.A., or are getting their business cards printed and then suddenly everyone goes in to frantic panic mode a la "
2) Everyone bitches a lot. I can't tell yet if it's therapeutic or detrimental but it's certainly a bonding mechanism.
3) Students all seem to have those super thin macs. Me writing out my notes on legal pads stolen from my old job makes me a big time cave man/loser.
4) You experience a dramatic increase in caffeine and alcohol intake and can always excuse it by relating it to "networking." e.g. I have to haughtily down my 3rd pricey cappuccino of the day because someone who used to know someone who used to work somewhere I might want to work some day wants to meet for coffee. OR despite this intimidating pile of syllabi, I need to head out and try margaritas at that new Mexican place with all my new best friends because I just can't miss out on making connections during the first week.
[In relation, earlier I ran into a classmate who casually mentions she had a few Irish coffees this morning in order to successfully pass her Indonesian proficiency exam. She passed with flying colors.]
4) After working life with its pretty certain routines, this new daily schedule feels tremendously bizarre. In one day, I'll have class 8-10 am and then again 6-9 pm and in between about 79 hours of reading and three events with speakers. Unfortunately, this these-hours-already-don't-fit-
7) You drop things due to your new financial restrictions. My strategy has been the ever so obvious, eliminating things I can do myself (e.g. manis) and the things I already have one of (sadly this fall I will no longer will buy flats for every shade of the brown scale). Unfortunately, judging by the glasses I bought last week, I'm still not very good at being thrifty.
8) Within 2 days, everyone seems to know 3 things about everyone else in the program - A) where they live in the city B) what concentration they are and [thus associating them with stereotypes about that concentration] and C) are they single and/or in a failing relationship and likely soon to be single.
9) Rocco makes it hard to get anything done...
"There is nothing."
Watching this in connection with a class. It's a few years old but worth a watch. Maybe a few small government extolling republicans should watch it...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPKGZreusoQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPKGZreusoQ
9/3/11
Labor Day Weekend
Well, we are officially back to regular programming. So many, many thanks are owed to my beautiful girlfriend for getting us started again. One thing that is unusual about this blog is that it is only at its best, and creative regular, it seems, when Nadia and I are far away from each other. During the summer while Nadia was in St. Louis, we blogged...well, never. Many things were started and half-finished, but nothing was ever posted. That's on track to change now that Nadia and I are both back in school. Expect the unexpected from us. Expect, well...ramblings on anything and everything.
But in the meantime, I am taking most of Labor Day Weekend off, rather than the "off days" I usually take which still involve self-absorbed research, writing, and schoolwork. I am swearing off serious work until Tuesday in honor of the holiday weekend.
Although the history is largely ignored by most people today, Labor Day began as a Federal holiday in 1894. It was, at the time, considered an empty Congressional gesture to mollify workers in the wake of tremendous social, economic, and political unrest during and after the Pullman Strike by railroad workers in Chicago that spring. The thought of the U.S. Military being mobilized to disperse striking workers, killing 13 citizens in the process, may seem completely foreign to us today. But in reality this type of thing is all too common even in today's world, and the recent riots in London should be a wake-up call to "first-world" nations who believe that socio-economic influenced violence cannot sprout at their doorstep.
I'm continually amazed how much we take for granted, and how much of the history of labor relations in this country has simply disappeared from public consciousness over the last century. The battle of labor versus management, the tension between the individual rights and the collective, are conflicts that continue to define us and shape the direction of our country to this day.
"Labor Day" is like drinking a tall-glass of Congressional Kool-Aid. It rolls off the tongue easily, evoking images of picnics and hot dogs and the end of summer at the lake or beach. We begin the summer with Memorial Day, a somber holiday, and we end the summer with Labor Day, a last triumphalist hurrah before we face the hard facts of Fall. Perhaps the feelings that each evoke should be reversed at times so we remember why these holidays exist in the first place. Take a moment this weekend to think about what the history means and how people fought for their rights, and to make the world a better place for their children and their children's children.
But in the meantime, I am taking most of Labor Day Weekend off, rather than the "off days" I usually take which still involve self-absorbed research, writing, and schoolwork. I am swearing off serious work until Tuesday in honor of the holiday weekend.
Although the history is largely ignored by most people today, Labor Day began as a Federal holiday in 1894. It was, at the time, considered an empty Congressional gesture to mollify workers in the wake of tremendous social, economic, and political unrest during and after the Pullman Strike by railroad workers in Chicago that spring. The thought of the U.S. Military being mobilized to disperse striking workers, killing 13 citizens in the process, may seem completely foreign to us today. But in reality this type of thing is all too common even in today's world, and the recent riots in London should be a wake-up call to "first-world" nations who believe that socio-economic influenced violence cannot sprout at their doorstep.
I'm continually amazed how much we take for granted, and how much of the history of labor relations in this country has simply disappeared from public consciousness over the last century. The battle of labor versus management, the tension between the individual rights and the collective, are conflicts that continue to define us and shape the direction of our country to this day.
"Labor Day" is like drinking a tall-glass of Congressional Kool-Aid. It rolls off the tongue easily, evoking images of picnics and hot dogs and the end of summer at the lake or beach. We begin the summer with Memorial Day, a somber holiday, and we end the summer with Labor Day, a last triumphalist hurrah before we face the hard facts of Fall. Perhaps the feelings that each evoke should be reversed at times so we remember why these holidays exist in the first place. Take a moment this weekend to think about what the history means and how people fought for their rights, and to make the world a better place for their children and their children's children.
A Saturday Poem
A Dark Thing Inside The Day
So many want to be lifted by song and dancing,
and this morning it is easy to understand.
I write in the sound of chirping birds hidden
in the almond trees, the almonds still green
and thriving in the foliage. Up the street,
a man is hammering to make a new house as doves
continue their cooing forever. Bees humming
and high above that a brilliant clear sky.
The roses are blooming and I smell the sweetness.
Everything desirable is here already in abundance.
And the sea. The dark thing is hardly visible
in the leaves, under the sheen. We sleep easily.
So I bring no sad stories to warn the heart.
All the flowers are adult this year. The good
world gives and the white doves praise all of it.
Linda Gregg
So many want to be lifted by song and dancing,
and this morning it is easy to understand.
I write in the sound of chirping birds hidden
in the almond trees, the almonds still green
and thriving in the foliage. Up the street,
a man is hammering to make a new house as doves
continue their cooing forever. Bees humming
and high above that a brilliant clear sky.
The roses are blooming and I smell the sweetness.
Everything desirable is here already in abundance.
And the sea. The dark thing is hardly visible
in the leaves, under the sheen. We sleep easily.
So I bring no sad stories to warn the heart.
All the flowers are adult this year. The good
world gives and the white doves praise all of it.
Linda Gregg
9/1/11
And... we're back!
Apologies for the absence.
Usual thang... got really busy (travel/moving/work/school/everyday we shufflin/etc.) and then got kinda lazy and then sort of forgot we had a blog. THEN there was the infamous DC earthquake (We were at a sushi restaurant... Gen kept eating as though nothing was hapening, I thought the world was ending...) and there was a flood of internet chatter in connection with that (not to mention the Hurricane that followed) and I remembered BB42 and felt sheepish.
So anyhow, we're back and committed and voila below some photos to recap our summer of fun.
Fact 1) Watson is still uber cute.
Fact 2) Midwestern touring galore.
Fact 3) I still take not very good amateur artistic nature shots in Ithaca.
Fact 4) We done went a lil country
Fact 5) Gen almost killed me with fireworks.
Fact 6) We went to maybe our favorite concert of all time.
Fact 7) I already want to burn some of my textbooks and miss summer.
7/7/11
Best American Novel Ending of All-Time
Wow, this is awkward. I haven't posted anything to this blog in a month. And believe me, there are so many things to tell! Between starting a new job, Nadia arriving in Missouri, a boot-stomping 4th of July at the Lake of the Ozarks we have enough to write a novel at some point. I promise that expositions and whimsys from yours truly will make a comeback. Speaking of novels, name the following novel ending...certain things have been edited to prevent the obvious answer:
Most of the big shore places were closed now and there were hardly any lights except the shadowy, moving glow of a ferryboat across the Sound. And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors' eyes--a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for G's house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an æsthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.
And as I sat there, brooding on the old unknown world, I thought of G's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of D's dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
G believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter--tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning----
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
Most of the big shore places were closed now and there were hardly any lights except the shadowy, moving glow of a ferryboat across the Sound. And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors' eyes--a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for G's house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an æsthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.
And as I sat there, brooding on the old unknown world, I thought of G's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of D's dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
G believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter--tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning----
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
6/30/11
Happy Birthday Claudette (or is it Clef?) !
A very HAPPY belated BIRTHDAY to the best singer of Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love You that I will ever know.
6/29/11
mmm mead
Wikipedia can clearly not always be trusted. Confidently cited information sometimes rings bogus. Whether made up or certified factual, wikipedia entries are a treasure trove of silly information. I hope the below from the "honeymoon" wikipedia page is true.
[the source cited is the illustrious sounding Wassail! In Mazers of Mead written in 1986 by Robert Gayre and published by Brewers Publications. ]
Stand forewarned, moving forward, I plan to give all of my friend's a months worth of mead as a wedding present. And, having tried mead at the Maryland Renaissance festival three years ago, I can tell you... it's best left to the dark ages.
6/28/11
Street Art
We watched Exit Through The Gift Shop last night. Anyone see it? Thoughts?
We enjoyed it. Amusing send up of the art world's pretensions and also entertaining introduction to a world, its characters, and its products (some fantastic, ranging from moving to laugh out loud goofy, and always impressively original murals), which we knew next to nothing about about. Not to mention it reminded Gen of his fight the man long haired middle school sk8ter boi days. By the end we had totally lost track of where the hoax ended and where it began.
Relatedly, I saw this article today which I found amusing -- Soviet War Statue
We enjoyed it. Amusing send up of the art world's pretensions and also entertaining introduction to a world, its characters, and its products (some fantastic, ranging from moving to laugh out loud goofy, and always impressively original murals), which we knew next to nothing about about. Not to mention it reminded Gen of his fight the man long haired middle school sk8ter boi days. By the end we had totally lost track of where the hoax ended and where it began.
Relatedly, I saw this article today which I found amusing -- Soviet War Statue
 |
| the mural street art-ified |
We've been traveling and adventuring...
... and unable to post frequently as a result. Voila Walt to wholeheartedly summarize the mood:
Song of the Open Road
 |
| as a I whisper, "Camerado, I give you my hand!" |
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes.
These are the days that must happen to you:
You shall not heap up what is called riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve.
However sweet the laid-up stores,
However convenient the dwellings,
You shall not remain there.
However sheltered the port,
And however calm the waters,
You shall not anchor there.
However welcome the hospitality that welcomes you
You are permitted to receive it but a little while.
Afoot and lighthearted, take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before you,
The long brown path before you, leading wherever
you choose.
Say only to one another:
Camerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love, more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law:
Will you give me yourself?
Will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?
Walt Whitman
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