A word or two says that I am full of work, which probably means that should be doing the writing of the papers rather than the blogging à la procrastination. Everyone shoots ugly faces your way and there is much of the disappointment. Let's talk about a loss of social skills, a lack of having that which puts you in the forefront, let's talk about inferiority...does it Exist? I think the answer to this question is better put in exploring the date.
Today is the Fourth of Iyyar, which I thought to be Yom Hazikaron, and that would make tomorrow as Yom Ha'atzmaut. But this is completely contradicted by peoples who were essaying to tell me that Yom Ha'atzmaut was yesterday. I thought that the Fifth of Iyyar was Yom Ha'atzmaut because it is the date of the declaration of state-hood--even though the impending declaration of a new state had been announced as an even earlier in the week. Even if you go the by Gregorian Calendar, which states that Israel became a state of 14 May 1948, it zorks out that Yom Ha'atzmaut would be Sunday...
Anyway, I'll quit complaining. The real problem is that I got into an argument with someone on the presupposed Yom Hazikaron that was celebrated by Hillel as Yom Ha'atzmaut on campus. It was an argument about the wall. This one kid was handing out packets of 'wall propaganda' for chrissakes! I support the state of Israel's right to exist, as well it should, we need a little piece of sky and, god forbidding, some land. But with that comes responsiblity to realize the effects of what you are doing beyond yourself.--This guy tried to convince me that the green line didn't exist. Then I was looking at them on the facebook, what a terrible addiction, and he's in this group I noticed. Jews for Bush. What the Fuck?! If you want Greater Israel to rise as an all-American Foreign/Domestic interest, fisfuck crusade, the, by all means go ahead. The president of Hillel is a member.
People, criticize yourselves--especially you ashkenazi, we're known for beating ourselves up with guilt.
And that's a rant...
Je vous dis merde!
13 mai 2005
27 avril 2005
15 avril 2005
Sonnet Cynique
Sonnet Cynique
Apple blossom is a springy tendril curling
Round; to the stingy ports of the North Vancouver
Sound. And life begins at half-past-three, I am sure.
Uncanny clarity wears their view down over
To a caravan of cars from the bleeding core--
Who, in rotary carrousels say, "Tir-Lan-Laire,"
A nihilistic apex they find there-- Coming
From the Southern Neighbor unto her empty corps.
Oh, I am sure that she is alive, for in Spring
Clothes she was draped as she telephoned all aloft
Pilons of her city, Putrid, nih'list, rotting.
Trying to swimmy in a snifter of liquors,
Laughing at skeleton I once thought vital,
I smell the apple blooms deconstruct her title.
Apple blossom is a springy tendril curling
Round; to the stingy ports of the North Vancouver
Sound. And life begins at half-past-three, I am sure.
Uncanny clarity wears their view down over
To a caravan of cars from the bleeding core--
Who, in rotary carrousels say, "Tir-Lan-Laire,"
A nihilistic apex they find there-- Coming
From the Southern Neighbor unto her empty corps.
Oh, I am sure that she is alive, for in Spring
Clothes she was draped as she telephoned all aloft
Pilons of her city, Putrid, nih'list, rotting.
Trying to swimmy in a snifter of liquors,
Laughing at skeleton I once thought vital,
I smell the apple blooms deconstruct her title.
08 avril 2005
A fucking Rant
Avant avoir lu ‘Xala’ d’Ousmane
The phallus is, as Lacan would have us admit and realize, a signification of lack. This is a deconstructed signifier. Look You! Allow how lack has been given a connotation and how, at present, this connotation has been infused with power. Lack. Power. Lack/Power. What is the meaning for understanding this seeming binary, which may prove to never be a binary on any signifying level? There is no doubt an economic base to the phallus. The feudal society was phallus-dominated, with its Church and Institutions. This is not any part of my argument; the history of the goddess’ penetration and subordination as consort is ancient; repeated and inherently proven, it has become useless in summary unless the summarizer wishes to exert intellectual power in changing this well accepted discursive mythology. We know the phallus/lack attributed power that solidified its perception as an economic sign, but this sign has always been tied to production. But what is the fact that an ideology of production has ruled where the phallus/lack has governed in the most evident manner doing? When we take phallus as a misread signifier, we are accepting an ideology that allows for utopian teleology (Christian Judgment). As we work to produce and move capital by orders of class, etc. we are acknowledging lack of more perfect means of production. Those of the capital-controlling bourgeois class, who have the ideological illusion of controlling capital, associate with the signification of the phallus. They feel the lack for utopian production/reproduction apparatuses, and stroke their cocks in this discourse owning power. But what then occurs within this knowledge-of-lack/power/phallus in impotence. It is obvious; impotence is the systemic and forced repression of forgetting the knowledge/power-structure. What is more, this is imposed by Nature, the goddess. In this way, history has implanted a deconstructed, yet illusively manifest system within the human psyche of today that we recognize as privileged economic discourse. The ideology may have no history and the base no traceable history; this is not to say that they have always been in struggle with the nature they are trying to define. The problem in definition is that we can only see anything in terms of language, and at that, especially in the west, the language of power/economic and lack. This is the outcome of the dialectic of all these elements. Each is subverted to the other to create a coherent discourse that allows nature to destroy it under psychological terms. But the psychological creates a cyclical, because although it allows for a separate break-up of ideological constructs through nature (and experience as I will discuss later), the psychological is once more subject to capital modes of production (i.e., if we cure the psychological need we cure nature and ensure production, etc.).
This is evident in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. This is the reason for a formalist view proposed by I-want-to-say-it-was Guerard, that the novella holds together as a ‘skein of ironies’. Ironies attempt to dissuade the political/production means from infiltrating and, inevitably, describing the situation of nature/psyche by casting the concepts as disparities. Remember how Kurtz is affected by nature to psychological depravity yet he is rich beyond believe in capital. Everyone who goes to or talks about Africa retains gloom. But why then is Kurtz’s beloved lied to. She is a pure goddess, she has been untouched by nature. But she is still subject to the phallus. The systematic separation of elements furthers irony, etc…
The phallus is, as Lacan would have us admit and realize, a signification of lack. This is a deconstructed signifier. Look You! Allow how lack has been given a connotation and how, at present, this connotation has been infused with power. Lack. Power. Lack/Power. What is the meaning for understanding this seeming binary, which may prove to never be a binary on any signifying level? There is no doubt an economic base to the phallus. The feudal society was phallus-dominated, with its Church and Institutions. This is not any part of my argument; the history of the goddess’ penetration and subordination as consort is ancient; repeated and inherently proven, it has become useless in summary unless the summarizer wishes to exert intellectual power in changing this well accepted discursive mythology. We know the phallus/lack attributed power that solidified its perception as an economic sign, but this sign has always been tied to production. But what is the fact that an ideology of production has ruled where the phallus/lack has governed in the most evident manner doing? When we take phallus as a misread signifier, we are accepting an ideology that allows for utopian teleology (Christian Judgment). As we work to produce and move capital by orders of class, etc. we are acknowledging lack of more perfect means of production. Those of the capital-controlling bourgeois class, who have the ideological illusion of controlling capital, associate with the signification of the phallus. They feel the lack for utopian production/reproduction apparatuses, and stroke their cocks in this discourse owning power. But what then occurs within this knowledge-of-lack/power/phallus in impotence. It is obvious; impotence is the systemic and forced repression of forgetting the knowledge/power-structure. What is more, this is imposed by Nature, the goddess. In this way, history has implanted a deconstructed, yet illusively manifest system within the human psyche of today that we recognize as privileged economic discourse. The ideology may have no history and the base no traceable history; this is not to say that they have always been in struggle with the nature they are trying to define. The problem in definition is that we can only see anything in terms of language, and at that, especially in the west, the language of power/economic and lack. This is the outcome of the dialectic of all these elements. Each is subverted to the other to create a coherent discourse that allows nature to destroy it under psychological terms. But the psychological creates a cyclical, because although it allows for a separate break-up of ideological constructs through nature (and experience as I will discuss later), the psychological is once more subject to capital modes of production (i.e., if we cure the psychological need we cure nature and ensure production, etc.).
This is evident in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. This is the reason for a formalist view proposed by I-want-to-say-it-was Guerard, that the novella holds together as a ‘skein of ironies’. Ironies attempt to dissuade the political/production means from infiltrating and, inevitably, describing the situation of nature/psyche by casting the concepts as disparities. Remember how Kurtz is affected by nature to psychological depravity yet he is rich beyond believe in capital. Everyone who goes to or talks about Africa retains gloom. But why then is Kurtz’s beloved lied to. She is a pure goddess, she has been untouched by nature. But she is still subject to the phallus. The systematic separation of elements furthers irony, etc…
05 avril 2005
29 mars 2005
13 mars 2005
Another go, or so they say...
But they never really say that anyhwhere, do they? Geordie and I cast my play tomorrow. Well, I should probably say that we have "designs" to cast our play; the auditions are tomorrow (actually today if you want to be technical, past midnight and all). I have some definite major anxieties right now. The first is concerning school: Must do much more research on Jude the Obscure and actually finish it with my comments, and brush up on some Bakhtin and Medvedev, etc...understand Derrida, as the thai said, "phuket"! (2) I must work on a paper on Manon Lescaut in French; donce, je repris "Phuket!" (3) Go to that thing in Weslaco Texas for TFA with ASB to work with LII who are SOL in the USA...a bit touchy for the reprisal... (4) finish (start) my reading journal for my borderlands class, not too bad but an awful class... (5)Graduate with departmental honors bitch and study in France money straightening out, etc... (6)find true love (7)find a steady job (8) Family, etc...
But where does it end, hopefully nowhere, I hope I get that internship--It a "Phuket" that the Thai restaurant Zen Zero has been utterly disappointing (having only been there twice, and the last time being qutie long ago, so I have no idea wh I am saying this)...it's owned by a Nepali, I think. But my point is that I am saying a big 'phuket' to the anxiety surrounding the production of a play I wrote, it's utterly frightening. I keep wanting to think up pseudonyms in case people hate the play. I tried anagrams the other day with Geordie; the best I came up with was W(illiam). B(utler). Rude Van Rod. (from andrew dubrov)...anyway, its late and this is starting to branch out into word mush...absolutely ridiculous.
Breugel's adventures may be moved to the SWA,T (Student Writers Association, The) website, which I will post a link to when I am not so much a lazy sonuvabitch.
Ciao,
Dru
But where does it end, hopefully nowhere, I hope I get that internship--It a "Phuket" that the Thai restaurant Zen Zero has been utterly disappointing (having only been there twice, and the last time being qutie long ago, so I have no idea wh I am saying this)...it's owned by a Nepali, I think. But my point is that I am saying a big 'phuket' to the anxiety surrounding the production of a play I wrote, it's utterly frightening. I keep wanting to think up pseudonyms in case people hate the play. I tried anagrams the other day with Geordie; the best I came up with was W(illiam). B(utler). Rude Van Rod. (from andrew dubrov)...anyway, its late and this is starting to branch out into word mush...absolutely ridiculous.
Breugel's adventures may be moved to the SWA,T (Student Writers Association, The) website, which I will post a link to when I am not so much a lazy sonuvabitch.
Ciao,
Dru
21 février 2005
A Morsel of Innocence
Breugel watched a new generation of adolescence once: (he was a dirty old ghost watching buggerly, etc., two young lovers, etc.):
"What a lovely spider-fall," is what she said. Tithing carefully not to slip too far below the parsnips. They were walking along an unimpressive stoop of little houses which may have been suburban or rural. And oh yes so many Japanese hybrids but none enough to equal the sheer volume of Sportus-Utilitatoruses of the genus Vehiculus. They were white, black , gray, blue, champagne, nearly all sensible colors although a teensy bopper drove a purple bug here or there, and a great yellow jeep perhaps; daddy's hot fuck fantasy in xmas bonus roadsters or lesabre convertible; "or were they too feminine?" she asked again, now tithing more daringly. Rather than answer, he gripped her hand and let it speed into the warmth of his own happy blood. And perhaps their pulses would circade together.
Though, as Breugel could see, she never felt more alone.
Prochaine: La petite Babiole qui se trouve presque à la peine de morte.
"What a lovely spider-fall," is what she said. Tithing carefully not to slip too far below the parsnips. They were walking along an unimpressive stoop of little houses which may have been suburban or rural. And oh yes so many Japanese hybrids but none enough to equal the sheer volume of Sportus-Utilitatoruses of the genus Vehiculus. They were white, black , gray, blue, champagne, nearly all sensible colors although a teensy bopper drove a purple bug here or there, and a great yellow jeep perhaps; daddy's hot fuck fantasy in xmas bonus roadsters or lesabre convertible; "or were they too feminine?" she asked again, now tithing more daringly. Rather than answer, he gripped her hand and let it speed into the warmth of his own happy blood. And perhaps their pulses would circade together.
Though, as Breugel could see, she never felt more alone.
Prochaine: La petite Babiole qui se trouve presque à la peine de morte.
16 février 2005
The Adventures Continue
Breugel knew of Bakhtin, and didn't like him. He had heard at length of the "legless trouble maker" who had smoked his dissertation. No one but Leavis could be so close to the truth, and Billy Wimsatt too, for they were the true beacons of light in the wasteland. But they failed to embrace Freud, and were genuinely cruel to him. Academia was cruel to visionaries and buffons. Breugel was, of course, both.
The beginning of the end of his life:
Il était jeudi, le vingt-neuf septembre que Monsieur le Vicomte Champignon de Michemache est arrivé. Lorsqu'il est entré la bureau pitoyable de Professeur Docteur Breugel Breugel Breugel, tout a apparu à noircir. Ses yeux rouges pénétrèrent la coeur de Breugel Breugel comme une épée amoreuse et vicieuese aussi.
That's all for Breugel's story today, nothing intersted or entertaining, I will start transcribing my journals soon.
Ciao,
Dru
The beginning of the end of his life:
Il était jeudi, le vingt-neuf septembre que Monsieur le Vicomte Champignon de Michemache est arrivé. Lorsqu'il est entré la bureau pitoyable de Professeur Docteur Breugel Breugel Breugel, tout a apparu à noircir. Ses yeux rouges pénétrèrent la coeur de Breugel Breugel comme une épée amoreuse et vicieuese aussi.
That's all for Breugel's story today, nothing intersted or entertaining, I will start transcribing my journals soon.
Ciao,
Dru
12 février 2005
Deuxième effort à commence une «blog«
Après avoir trompé mon premiére effort à commencer écrire une «blog» (à cause de j'ai oublié mon «username»), j'ai décidé à l'essayer encore...alors, bienvenue.
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