I awoke this morning with only the greatest reluctance; rousing my sleepy body out of bed and into my "gymwear", I journeyed onto campus to be greeted by yet another of those cheery, upbeat visual spectacles that the "radical" undergraduates of Columbia seem to specialise in. Just beyond the tent-village erected by the hunger-striking Ethnic Studies protestors (5 days in and, apparently, still subsisting on nothing more than water, Gatorade, and a steady diet of Spivak) loomed the sight of around 200 mock gravestones. The nature of protest quickly became apparent: the gravestones were variously adorned with statistics regarding the numbers of immigrants who had died or been detained whilst crossing the Mexican-US border; personal anecdotes; and photographs of the deceased, complete with descriptions of the manner in which they died. It's hard to know what to make of all of this: on the one hand, one has to admire the dedication of those (presumably) students who spent their time organising this protest. On the other hand, and even leaving aside the complexities of the actual issue (and, moreover, what the protestors hoped to achieve by protesting against such matters on a non-government affiliated university campus), a field of graves is not necessarily the sight that one wishes to be greeted by on a cold, gloomy November morning. And let us not forget - for those organizing the protest certainly didn't - that today was Veterans' Day, the day on which America remembers its war dead and, above all, the young dead of World War I.
On a slightly different note, today I went to the Union Theological Seminary for the first time. I needed a copy of Hayden White's rather painful Metahistory from their library, so I dutifully plodded up to 121st St in order to retrieve it. What a beautiful building, especially the large quad/courtyard around which the whole structure is oriented. I look forward to eating my lunch and reading out there come Spring. Even better still, I entered the library to find out that they were holding my most beloved of events, a book sale! I picked up a copy of Jaokim Garff's recent biography of Kierkegaard in perfect hardback condition (not even a library mark on it) for a mere $6. At 867 pages I'm not entirely sure that I'll make it all the way through, but such a bargain made for a happy Simon indeed.
But lest we forget...
"Albert put it into words. 'The war has ruined us for everything.'
He is right. We're no longer young men. We've lost any desire to conquer the world. We are refugees. We are fleeing from ourselves. From our lives. We were eighteen years old, and we had just begun to love the world and to love being in it; but we had to shoot at it. The first shell to land went straight for our hearts. We've been cut off from real action, from getting on, from progress. We don't believe in those things any more; we believe in the war."
- Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front
I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
. . .
You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
- Sassoon, 'Suicide in the Trenches'
Monday, 12 November 2007
Saturday, 10 November 2007
Finally, An Update
Hello all (presuming I have any readers left after my long abstention from posting), many apologies for not updating in such a long time. Over the last six weeks...
I have read: lots more Being and Time; Peter Burke's What is Cultural History?; Robert Darnton's The Great Cat Massacre; Roger Chartier's The Cultural Origins of the French Revolution; Kant's Religion Within the Bounds of Mere Reason; Bill Bryson's Neither Here Nor There; Thomas Bernhard's The Loser (wonderful); and a bit of Kierkegaard.
I have seen: Animal Collective; Of Montreal; The New Pornographers; and The Thermals. Plus various films including The 400 Blows; Terror's Advocate; Michael Clayton; and probably many others. Oh, and Hellraiser at James's apartment a few days ago. On my walk home from James's apartment at 1a.m. I saw the famous Rockefeller Centre Christmas Tree being transported down the length of Manhattan. It had a 10-strong police car escort.
I have had to stay: Chloe; and my sister. Both very happy and splendid events. Chloe and I had the rather unique and hopefully unrepeated experience of getting on the subway to JFK at 4:45a.m. Yesterday I also saw Ellie and Dave and Miriam - it was something of a Brit's night out.
I have also: turned 24; had my fish and chips craving satisfied by the lovely people at A Salt and Battery; been to Anita's for a very lovely birthday dinner; bought a few more books; rejoiced at the fact that New York has finally turned a little cooler, but now wonder if it perhaps isn't a little too cold - 60% chance of snow in Pennsylvania today; watched England's heroics in the rugby world cup; and considered learning Dutch instead of French as my second language.
Also, congratulations to Martin and Malina on their engagement and forthcoming wedding (well, forthcoming in August. In Argentina). Very exciting.
Now that we're up-to-date, more, much more, very soon.
I have read: lots more Being and Time; Peter Burke's What is Cultural History?; Robert Darnton's The Great Cat Massacre; Roger Chartier's The Cultural Origins of the French Revolution; Kant's Religion Within the Bounds of Mere Reason; Bill Bryson's Neither Here Nor There; Thomas Bernhard's The Loser (wonderful); and a bit of Kierkegaard.
I have seen: Animal Collective; Of Montreal; The New Pornographers; and The Thermals. Plus various films including The 400 Blows; Terror's Advocate; Michael Clayton; and probably many others. Oh, and Hellraiser at James's apartment a few days ago. On my walk home from James's apartment at 1a.m. I saw the famous Rockefeller Centre Christmas Tree being transported down the length of Manhattan. It had a 10-strong police car escort.
I have had to stay: Chloe; and my sister. Both very happy and splendid events. Chloe and I had the rather unique and hopefully unrepeated experience of getting on the subway to JFK at 4:45a.m. Yesterday I also saw Ellie and Dave and Miriam - it was something of a Brit's night out.
I have also: turned 24; had my fish and chips craving satisfied by the lovely people at A Salt and Battery; been to Anita's for a very lovely birthday dinner; bought a few more books; rejoiced at the fact that New York has finally turned a little cooler, but now wonder if it perhaps isn't a little too cold - 60% chance of snow in Pennsylvania today; watched England's heroics in the rugby world cup; and considered learning Dutch instead of French as my second language.
Also, congratulations to Martin and Malina on their engagement and forthcoming wedding (well, forthcoming in August. In Argentina). Very exciting.
Now that we're up-to-date, more, much more, very soon.
Tuesday, 25 September 2007
As I'm sure you are all aware, on Monday Iranian President Ahmadinejad made a speech on-campus at Columbia. Whilst I do have plenty to say about this, I'm not going to give a blow-by-blow account of exactly who said what and when. There are plenty of media reports available, including the following:
http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/906472.html
http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/906778.html
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/7010962.stm
http://commentisfree.guardian.co.uk/brian_whitaker/2007/09/no_homosexuality_here.html
http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/editorials/la-ed-columbia25sep25,0,1726100.story?coll=la-news-comment-editorials
http://time-blog.com/swampland/2007/09/there_are_no_homosexuals_in_ir.html
To read a full transcript of Columbia President Lee Bolinger's challenge to Ahmadinejad go here:
http://www.columbia.edu/cu/news/07/09/lcbopeningremarks.html
To look at my photographs from the event, go here:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=69100&l=3ca19&id=222304758
Rather, I wanted to give people a sense of what the students and those involved with Columbia made of all of it, as well as offering a few comments on some of the misreporting in the press. The first thing that should be noted is that many, many Columbia students were angry first and foremost because it was all but impossible for any of us to actually get tickets to see Ahmadinejad's speech. The university administration engineered proceedings to ensure that by the time ordinary students had any idea that Ahmadinejad was coming to speak the tickets were long gone. Only those 'in the know' stood any chance.
Opposition to Ahmadinejad's visit began immediately after the story broke. Posters depicting the execution and torture of homosexuals and children appeared all over campus from Friday. By Monday, Revolution, the on-campus Socialist group, had censored most of these posters with stickers claiming that the images "offended public decency." This is somewhat ironic given that it was the Socialists who time and again invoked freedom of speech in order to defend Ahmadinejad's appearance. It should also be pointed out that what offends public decency is not photographs of brutality and murder, but brutality and murder itself. This is especially so when we consider that these posters depicted public executions, perhaps the greatest affront to public decency (and, incidentally, prohibited by numerous conventions and treaties to which Iran is a signatory). Incidentally, as Human Rights Watch have noted, Iran has more children on death row than any other country in the world.
It is important to emphasise that there were two different kinds of protest against Ahmadinejad's visit. The first was simply a protest against Ahmadinejad himself and the policies of his regime. This was the position held by the vast majority of Columbia students. The second, sometimes related, protest was against Ahmadinejad's right to speak at all. The whole of America appears to be debating this question as well: were Columbia right to invite Ahmadinejad? Clearly many people think not, and a small but vocal campaign has begun with the aim of forcing Bollinger to quit. I certainly fell into the first category and, probably, the second as well. Freedom of speech cannot encompass Holocaust denial. This brings me onto the issue of what exactly Ahmadinejad actually said in response to questions about his denial of the Holocaust.
The media across the world have widely reported that he accepted the validity of the Holocaust as an historical fact. This, however, is a very dangerous and naive representation of what Ahmadinejad actually said. He did indeed begin his speech by stating that the Holocaust took place. How could he not? As Bollinger said of Ahmadinejad's Holocaust denial, "When you come to a place like this, this makes you, quite simply, ridiculous. You are either brazenly provocative or astonishingly uneducated." There was never any chance that Ahmadinejad would stand up in one of the world's leading universities and explicitly deny the Holocaust. He did, however, continually call for more research into the subject. Crucially, when it was pointed out that the Holocaust was a fact, he replied that there were "also facts in mathematics which were believed to be true for over 800 years until more research proved them to be false." The sentiment is clear and undeniable: like the false "facts" of mathematics, more research will eventually disprove the "fact" of the Holocaust. His argument is hardly subtle, yet the fact that not one single newspaper or broadcaster (to my knowledge) pointed this out is somewhat troubling.
Many people, both on- and off-campus, have criticised the tone of Bollinger's introductory remarks. Clearly Bollinger felt himself backed into a corner. But when he referred to Ahmadinejad as a "petty and cruel dictator" and stated that he doubted that Ahmadinejad had the "intellectual courage" to answer his questions (which he didn't. In fact, Ahmadinejad once again consistently failed to answer any difficult questions with anything approaching a straight answer) over 1000 students gathered on the lawn in front of Butler Library jumped to their feet and started cheering and clapping. Civility certainly has its place, but a confrontation with a murderous, misogynistic, homophobic, anti-Semitic dictator is not it. And if Bollinger achieved nothing else, at least he rattled Ahmadinejad. This was not the smirking, arrogant Ahmadinejad we usually see. Rather, it was the performance of a man who knew that he could not adequately address the questions put to him. Yesterday, away from his carefully-crafted and controlled media image, Ahmadinejad was revealed to be an intellectually inadequate failure.
In the end, was it all worth it? Once all the excitement had died down it was hard to not to feel somewhat deflated. What has been achieved? Yes, Ahmadinejad was humiliated; perhaps he even got a glimpse of how the hundreds of political (but not, of course, homosexual; Iran, we were reliably informed, "does not have this phenomenon") prisoners languishing in Iranian jails feel, but I doubt it. Words, however damaging, tend not to have the same effect as torture and execution. Moreover, what was this humiliation, this small victory, worth when there has been such a singular failure to report it accurately? Instead, what do we read in our newspapers and see on the television? More of Ahmadinejad's anti-Israeli posturing. Many, many people - Jews, homosexuals, women, Iranians - were gravely offended by Ahmadinejad's visit and speech. Yesterday, the name of Columbia University was in every newspaper across the world, but it's hard to tell whether that is something we, and I, should be proud of. There is much, much more to be said about all of this, but for now I have to go to sleep.
P.S. Last night, after all of this nonsense, I went to see the band Beirut play as part of the Wordless Music Series. The evening took place in a beautiful church near to the Lincoln Centre and began with a wonderful French musician named Colleen. She was followed by Katya Mihailova on piano and Colin Jacobsen on violin. The pair played pieces by Chopin, Scriabin, Debussy, and Part, before ending with what Jacobsen described as a "Bartok jam session." Beirut were simply sublime. The Eastern European tinge to their music sounded perfectly at home amidst the pews of the old church. The whole evening was a reminder of what makes New York so special, namely the opportunity to see and hear amazing spectacles you could never find anywhere else.
http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/906472.html
http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/906778.html
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/7010962.stm
http://commentisfree.guardian.co.uk/brian_whitaker/2007/09/no_homosexuality_here.html
http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/editorials/la-ed-columbia25sep25,0,1726100.story?coll=la-news-comment-editorials
http://time-blog.com/swampland/2007/09/there_are_no_homosexuals_in_ir.html
To read a full transcript of Columbia President Lee Bolinger's challenge to Ahmadinejad go here:
http://www.columbia.edu/cu/news/07/09/lcbopeningremarks.html
To look at my photographs from the event, go here:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=69100&l=3ca19&id=222304758
Rather, I wanted to give people a sense of what the students and those involved with Columbia made of all of it, as well as offering a few comments on some of the misreporting in the press. The first thing that should be noted is that many, many Columbia students were angry first and foremost because it was all but impossible for any of us to actually get tickets to see Ahmadinejad's speech. The university administration engineered proceedings to ensure that by the time ordinary students had any idea that Ahmadinejad was coming to speak the tickets were long gone. Only those 'in the know' stood any chance.
Opposition to Ahmadinejad's visit began immediately after the story broke. Posters depicting the execution and torture of homosexuals and children appeared all over campus from Friday. By Monday, Revolution, the on-campus Socialist group, had censored most of these posters with stickers claiming that the images "offended public decency." This is somewhat ironic given that it was the Socialists who time and again invoked freedom of speech in order to defend Ahmadinejad's appearance. It should also be pointed out that what offends public decency is not photographs of brutality and murder, but brutality and murder itself. This is especially so when we consider that these posters depicted public executions, perhaps the greatest affront to public decency (and, incidentally, prohibited by numerous conventions and treaties to which Iran is a signatory). Incidentally, as Human Rights Watch have noted, Iran has more children on death row than any other country in the world.
It is important to emphasise that there were two different kinds of protest against Ahmadinejad's visit. The first was simply a protest against Ahmadinejad himself and the policies of his regime. This was the position held by the vast majority of Columbia students. The second, sometimes related, protest was against Ahmadinejad's right to speak at all. The whole of America appears to be debating this question as well: were Columbia right to invite Ahmadinejad? Clearly many people think not, and a small but vocal campaign has begun with the aim of forcing Bollinger to quit. I certainly fell into the first category and, probably, the second as well. Freedom of speech cannot encompass Holocaust denial. This brings me onto the issue of what exactly Ahmadinejad actually said in response to questions about his denial of the Holocaust.
The media across the world have widely reported that he accepted the validity of the Holocaust as an historical fact. This, however, is a very dangerous and naive representation of what Ahmadinejad actually said. He did indeed begin his speech by stating that the Holocaust took place. How could he not? As Bollinger said of Ahmadinejad's Holocaust denial, "When you come to a place like this, this makes you, quite simply, ridiculous. You are either brazenly provocative or astonishingly uneducated." There was never any chance that Ahmadinejad would stand up in one of the world's leading universities and explicitly deny the Holocaust. He did, however, continually call for more research into the subject. Crucially, when it was pointed out that the Holocaust was a fact, he replied that there were "also facts in mathematics which were believed to be true for over 800 years until more research proved them to be false." The sentiment is clear and undeniable: like the false "facts" of mathematics, more research will eventually disprove the "fact" of the Holocaust. His argument is hardly subtle, yet the fact that not one single newspaper or broadcaster (to my knowledge) pointed this out is somewhat troubling.
Many people, both on- and off-campus, have criticised the tone of Bollinger's introductory remarks. Clearly Bollinger felt himself backed into a corner. But when he referred to Ahmadinejad as a "petty and cruel dictator" and stated that he doubted that Ahmadinejad had the "intellectual courage" to answer his questions (which he didn't. In fact, Ahmadinejad once again consistently failed to answer any difficult questions with anything approaching a straight answer) over 1000 students gathered on the lawn in front of Butler Library jumped to their feet and started cheering and clapping. Civility certainly has its place, but a confrontation with a murderous, misogynistic, homophobic, anti-Semitic dictator is not it. And if Bollinger achieved nothing else, at least he rattled Ahmadinejad. This was not the smirking, arrogant Ahmadinejad we usually see. Rather, it was the performance of a man who knew that he could not adequately address the questions put to him. Yesterday, away from his carefully-crafted and controlled media image, Ahmadinejad was revealed to be an intellectually inadequate failure.
In the end, was it all worth it? Once all the excitement had died down it was hard to not to feel somewhat deflated. What has been achieved? Yes, Ahmadinejad was humiliated; perhaps he even got a glimpse of how the hundreds of political (but not, of course, homosexual; Iran, we were reliably informed, "does not have this phenomenon") prisoners languishing in Iranian jails feel, but I doubt it. Words, however damaging, tend not to have the same effect as torture and execution. Moreover, what was this humiliation, this small victory, worth when there has been such a singular failure to report it accurately? Instead, what do we read in our newspapers and see on the television? More of Ahmadinejad's anti-Israeli posturing. Many, many people - Jews, homosexuals, women, Iranians - were gravely offended by Ahmadinejad's visit and speech. Yesterday, the name of Columbia University was in every newspaper across the world, but it's hard to tell whether that is something we, and I, should be proud of. There is much, much more to be said about all of this, but for now I have to go to sleep.
P.S. Last night, after all of this nonsense, I went to see the band Beirut play as part of the Wordless Music Series. The evening took place in a beautiful church near to the Lincoln Centre and began with a wonderful French musician named Colleen. She was followed by Katya Mihailova on piano and Colin Jacobsen on violin. The pair played pieces by Chopin, Scriabin, Debussy, and Part, before ending with what Jacobsen described as a "Bartok jam session." Beirut were simply sublime. The Eastern European tinge to their music sounded perfectly at home amidst the pews of the old church. The whole evening was a reminder of what makes New York so special, namely the opportunity to see and hear amazing spectacles you could never find anywhere else.
Monday, 10 September 2007
Ein Schaffender Spiegel
Today I read 550 pages of Christopher Clark's mammoth Iron Kingdom: The Rise and Downfall of Prussia, 1600-1947. Despite the (exhaustive) brilliance of Clark's book, I have returned home with one predominant thought, namely that the Hohenzollern's could really have benefited from a book of boy's names. To illustrate: the period of Prussia's greatest expansion began under Frederick William, known as the Great Elector. He was succeeded by King Frederick I; he in turn was succeeded by Frederick William I; his son was Frederick II (Frederick the Great); Frederick II begat Frederick William II, who in turn was succeeded by Frederick William III. And can anyone hazard a guess at the name of his successor? Frederick William IV. And on it goes. At one particular amusing point - and the book is full of them, as well a 770 page epic should be - Clark is delineating the causes of the Prussian-Danish war of 1864. He begins his account by noting that the conflict is somewhat difficult to understand, primarily because virtually every single actor was named either William or Christian. Anyway, Clark's book is frighteningly good and well worth reading, though full appreciation - not to mention fact-retention - might necessitate a rather more leisurely pace than I could afford.
Things I miss from back home: Heinz salad cream (for making tuna); decent canned tuna; proper fish and chips (a rich booty for the individual who can transport, intact and warm, a delicious deposit of fish, chips, batter, and salt to my plate); hearing the morning-song of the birds (ironic, that, given that they woke me up at 5:30am every morning for an entire year); Match of the Day; people who understand why a ODI tournament victory over India would not be a foregone conclusion; ryvita; Alpen; new CDs being released on a Monday. And friends, family etc.
Good things about New York: my new friends; the Columbia library; the unbelievably tasty corn on the cob; the easy availability of virtually every single kind of food you could ever imagine right on my doorstep (though they can't make a curry worth a damn, to coin an Americanism); the endless gigs and cultural opportunities; the apartment-comparison game; Columbia's swimming pool; the frequent random and comic occurrences; The Onion.
I'll end with a quote from Kant's Critique of Practical Reason which has been making more and more sense since I began reading Heidegger:
"To invent new words where the language already has no lack of expressions for given concepts is a childish effort to distinguish oneself from the crowd, if not by new and true thoughts yet by new patches on an old garment."
Spoken like a true Prussian. Sapere Aude!
Things I miss from back home: Heinz salad cream (for making tuna); decent canned tuna; proper fish and chips (a rich booty for the individual who can transport, intact and warm, a delicious deposit of fish, chips, batter, and salt to my plate); hearing the morning-song of the birds (ironic, that, given that they woke me up at 5:30am every morning for an entire year); Match of the Day; people who understand why a ODI tournament victory over India would not be a foregone conclusion; ryvita; Alpen; new CDs being released on a Monday. And friends, family etc.
Good things about New York: my new friends; the Columbia library; the unbelievably tasty corn on the cob; the easy availability of virtually every single kind of food you could ever imagine right on my doorstep (though they can't make a curry worth a damn, to coin an Americanism); the endless gigs and cultural opportunities; the apartment-comparison game; Columbia's swimming pool; the frequent random and comic occurrences; The Onion.
I'll end with a quote from Kant's Critique of Practical Reason which has been making more and more sense since I began reading Heidegger:
"To invent new words where the language already has no lack of expressions for given concepts is a childish effort to distinguish oneself from the crowd, if not by new and true thoughts yet by new patches on an old garment."
Spoken like a true Prussian. Sapere Aude!
Friday, 31 August 2007
Curioser and Curioser
As I ascended the five flights of stairs to my apartment I had already planned to post a new entry on my blog. I have an hour or so to kill before I go and see Deerhunter and Battles at the South Street Seaport and it seemed as good a way to fill it as any other, especially given that I had just spent three hours working on my MA dissertation. As I opened my door, however, I saw that I really did have something to write about. For you see, my rancid and foul apartment has been miraculously and inexplicable cleaned. At first I thought that this was the handiwork of Gian Maria, my as-yet un-met housemate. He is, after all, apparently due back today. But upon further penetrating the heart of darkness I discovered that this is not the case: his room is still completely bare, having been recently evacuated by the ungrateful Belgian urchin Thomas. So, who is responsible? The only logical conclusion is that there operates, within the Morningside Heights/Harlem area, a group of altruistic B&E (that's Breaking and Entering, for those of you who didn't watch The Bill between the ages of 6 and 10) specialists who randomly target apartments for their special treatment. Or, perhaps, UAH (University Apartment Housing, for those of you who didn't spend their entire summers reading Columbia University Graduate handbooks) have finally managed to pull their indolent fingers out of their equally indolent arses and actually do something useful. My money is certainly on the former.
I am certainly pleased by the results, and especially that I never bothered to clean the kitchen myself. This just goes to show that if you ignore something horrible for long enough, eventually someone else will come and do it for you. I am also happy that the bathroom has been cleaned, although rather annoyed that I wasted the bulk of last night doing it myself. It was a truly rank experience and I sweated profusely throughout. The most significant achievement of the cleaning wizards is without doubt the disappearance of the flies. How this was acheived I will never know. I expected that they would disappear once the apartment was cleaned, but not instantaneously. And yet, fingers crossed, gone they are! This heartens and gladdens me more than I can possibly say. Now, if only the temperature of my room could stop resembling the inner core of Mount St. Helens I might be able to start liking my apartment. Let's also hope that Gian Maria is a pleasant, quiet sort of a person.
In other news, I had my German translation language exam today. I undoubtedly failed, but not in the 'oh my goodness I couldn't translate a single sentence' kind of way I expected, more in a 'hmmm...this is too hard for me now, but after a year of German classes I might well be able to do this.' Most people found it difficult, and frankly I can't help but think that if I wanted to know about Napoleon's relationship with the "austere and strict Governor of Hamburg" I would find an account in English. But still, these are the rules. Right, I'm off to hopefully enjoy a gig at the SSSP after the spectacular failures of the last two weeks. Bye!
I am certainly pleased by the results, and especially that I never bothered to clean the kitchen myself. This just goes to show that if you ignore something horrible for long enough, eventually someone else will come and do it for you. I am also happy that the bathroom has been cleaned, although rather annoyed that I wasted the bulk of last night doing it myself. It was a truly rank experience and I sweated profusely throughout. The most significant achievement of the cleaning wizards is without doubt the disappearance of the flies. How this was acheived I will never know. I expected that they would disappear once the apartment was cleaned, but not instantaneously. And yet, fingers crossed, gone they are! This heartens and gladdens me more than I can possibly say. Now, if only the temperature of my room could stop resembling the inner core of Mount St. Helens I might be able to start liking my apartment. Let's also hope that Gian Maria is a pleasant, quiet sort of a person.
In other news, I had my German translation language exam today. I undoubtedly failed, but not in the 'oh my goodness I couldn't translate a single sentence' kind of way I expected, more in a 'hmmm...this is too hard for me now, but after a year of German classes I might well be able to do this.' Most people found it difficult, and frankly I can't help but think that if I wanted to know about Napoleon's relationship with the "austere and strict Governor of Hamburg" I would find an account in English. But still, these are the rules. Right, I'm off to hopefully enjoy a gig at the SSSP after the spectacular failures of the last two weeks. Bye!
Monday, 27 August 2007
Bugs
In 1994 Pearl Jam wrote a song called 'Bugs'. The lyrics go as follows:
I got bugs/I got bugs in my room/Bugs in my bed/Bugs in my ears/Their eggs in my head/Bugs in my pockets/Bugs in my shoes/Bugs on my window trying to get in/They don't go nowhere/ Waiting, waiting...Bugs on my ceiling/Crowded the floor/Standing, sitting, kneeling/A few block the door/And now the questions.../Do I kill them?/Become their friend?/Do I eat them?/Raw or well done?/Do I trick them?/I don't think they're dumb/Do I join them?/Looks like that's the one.
Until today these had been but mere words to me. They have now, however, taken on a profound significance. The struggle of Eddie Vedder et al has become my struggle. But where Pearl Jam capitulated, Simon triumphed! Today I decided to taken on the various foul creatures inhabiting my apartment. Armed only with industrial strength 'Raid Flying Insect' I took down a small army of insects, at times ably assisted by my noble Belgian colleague Thomas. In fact, it was Thomas who engaged in the harshest battle of all, when he spied the most dreaded of bugs scuttling down our hallway: a cockroach. After frankly cacking his pants, he proceeded to empty literally half a canister of Raid Flying Insect onto said cockroach, ignoring my comments that the cockroach didn't really constitute a 'flying insect' and that the underside of a shoe might do the job a little more efficiently. In the end I pushed aside a visibly shaken (and I'm actually not joking) Thomas and dispatched the cockroach myself. The most unpleasant part was certainly scraping its still-twitching carcass off the floor. After a swift jolt from one of the mobile CPR machines generously scattered across this fair land, I resuscitated my Belgian squire and vowed to crush, kill, and destroy all bugs until they get the message that Apartment 64, 530 West 112th Street, New York, NY, 10025 is not to be messed with. As Dante wrote in the Inferno,
Through me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.
Justice the founder of my fabric mov'd:
To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.
Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon ye who enter here.
But don't let this put you off of a visit, I'm in the process of turning my apartment into a veritable Fort Knox of anti-bug equipment. I'm winning the war people! More soon!
I got bugs/I got bugs in my room/Bugs in my bed/Bugs in my ears/Their eggs in my head/Bugs in my pockets/Bugs in my shoes/Bugs on my window trying to get in/They don't go nowhere/ Waiting, waiting...Bugs on my ceiling/Crowded the floor/Standing, sitting, kneeling/A few block the door/And now the questions.../Do I kill them?/Become their friend?/Do I eat them?/Raw or well done?/Do I trick them?/I don't think they're dumb/Do I join them?/Looks like that's the one.
Until today these had been but mere words to me. They have now, however, taken on a profound significance. The struggle of Eddie Vedder et al has become my struggle. But where Pearl Jam capitulated, Simon triumphed! Today I decided to taken on the various foul creatures inhabiting my apartment. Armed only with industrial strength 'Raid Flying Insect' I took down a small army of insects, at times ably assisted by my noble Belgian colleague Thomas. In fact, it was Thomas who engaged in the harshest battle of all, when he spied the most dreaded of bugs scuttling down our hallway: a cockroach. After frankly cacking his pants, he proceeded to empty literally half a canister of Raid Flying Insect onto said cockroach, ignoring my comments that the cockroach didn't really constitute a 'flying insect' and that the underside of a shoe might do the job a little more efficiently. In the end I pushed aside a visibly shaken (and I'm actually not joking) Thomas and dispatched the cockroach myself. The most unpleasant part was certainly scraping its still-twitching carcass off the floor. After a swift jolt from one of the mobile CPR machines generously scattered across this fair land, I resuscitated my Belgian squire and vowed to crush, kill, and destroy all bugs until they get the message that Apartment 64, 530 West 112th Street, New York, NY, 10025 is not to be messed with. As Dante wrote in the Inferno,
Through me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.
Justice the founder of my fabric mov'd:
To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.
Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon ye who enter here.
But don't let this put you off of a visit, I'm in the process of turning my apartment into a veritable Fort Knox of anti-bug equipment. I'm winning the war people! More soon!
Wednesday, 22 August 2007
My Apartment
The story of my apartment is strange and confusing one. Here is a brief summary: I picked up my key on Monday. In the process, I discovered that the surname of my apartment-mate was Annovi. 'Ah,' thought I with some pleasure, 'Italian!' I eagerly and somewhat nervously ascended the six flights of stairs to my apartment, noting that the total lack of elevator will certainly get me fit over the coming year (as well as breaking my back when my boxes are finally shipped over here). I inserted my keys only to find that nothing happened. So, after much time-wasting, I got the super of the building to come and let me in. Liberal application of WD40 seemed to mitigate the crappiness of the keys somewhat. 'At least security won't be an issue: I have a key and I can't get in!' I chortled to myself.
I entered the apartment to find a large amount of mess. Then I went to what was supposed to be my room, only to discover random junk strewn across the place. I entered the other room and found something rather more surprising. You see, I had been told that Annovi had been living in the apmt for a year. Yet in this room, supposedly his, I found just a suitcase with some clothes heaped haphazardly. I donned my best Nancy Drew outfit and went hunting for clues. I kept finding lots of things to suggest a new student: the same International Office orientation info pack I had; a brand new cell phone box; a guide to NY. Most confusingly, on the desk I saw a Belgian passport. No posters. No decorations. Yet in the 'spare' room (we have a kind of extra room, completely randomly. It is big enough for visitors to come and sleep in! Hurrah!) I noticed a bookshelf adorned with many, many books, a number of which were in Italian. This just reinforced the oddness of it all: it was clear that my apmt-mate was Italian, and I'd been told that he'd been living there for a year. Yet his room did not suggest this at all. I left feeling very dejected, in part because my room really resembled a prison cell, even down to the black metal wire-frame bed. But the story doesn't end here...
I went back to Anita's and had a lovely long chat to Chloe which really reassured me. Then I went to meet Adam and James (they are about to begin the second year of their PhDs in the History dpmt and have most excellent taste in music) for dinner. Afterwards James and I walked to the edge of my street. I debated going back into the apmt, not wanting to get demoralised again. In the end I decided that I would go. I climbed the stairs, only to find a man sitting outside. He asked if I was the person who lived at number 64 and then told a very confusing story, which goes like this: his name is Thomas. He is the Belgian. Annovi is indeed Italian. He is away until the beginning of September. Thomas has never met Annovi, but he is friends with a German named Julius who lived with Annovi in the apmt last year. Thomas, like me, is new to NY (he's just starting his MBA), but he doesn't have an apmt yet. Julius was told that I wouldn't be moving in until the beginning of September (he apparently still has a key...this is a little confusing but probably a result of Columbia double-charging for the room) so he said Thomas could stay there whilst it was empty and he looked for an apmt.
Two questions then present themselves: 1) why was Thomas sitting outside, and 2) why does it appear as if Annovi doesn't actually occupy either room? The answers: 1) Thomas was sitting outside because my apmt has two locks. But he only has the key to one of them. When I left I locked the top lock, thus locking him out. He had left his passport in his room and had no ID, so the building's super wouldn't let him in. Hence his look of delight when I happened upon the apmt: he'd have slept in the stairwell if I hadn't arrived. 2) Annovi used to live in my room, but when Julius moved out, he swapped to Julius's old room. So he is basically 'between rooms', and all of his stuff is boxed up in our spare room. Thomas was extremely apologetic about the mess, explaining that he didn't realise I'd be arriving yet. As far as I was concerned this was all rather odd, but fine, and I left. I had planned to move some of my stuff in yesterday, but the rain was torrential and I couldn't get everything soaking wet. I just went back into the apmt and it is now very clean and tidy. Thomas is still there, but wasn't in. I think he's moving out at the end of the week, but he seems very friendly so I don't mind having him around. I haven't even fully moved in yet anyway. Thus concludes the odd tale of my new apartment. Photos soon.
Before I go, some congratulations to be offered:
Sir Charles and Judy Mackerras on their 60th wedding anniversary.
James Robinson on getting AHRC funding for his PhD.
Jo Wickham for getting her job at Penguin.
Hurrahs to all!
I entered the apartment to find a large amount of mess. Then I went to what was supposed to be my room, only to discover random junk strewn across the place. I entered the other room and found something rather more surprising. You see, I had been told that Annovi had been living in the apmt for a year. Yet in this room, supposedly his, I found just a suitcase with some clothes heaped haphazardly. I donned my best Nancy Drew outfit and went hunting for clues. I kept finding lots of things to suggest a new student: the same International Office orientation info pack I had; a brand new cell phone box; a guide to NY. Most confusingly, on the desk I saw a Belgian passport. No posters. No decorations. Yet in the 'spare' room (we have a kind of extra room, completely randomly. It is big enough for visitors to come and sleep in! Hurrah!) I noticed a bookshelf adorned with many, many books, a number of which were in Italian. This just reinforced the oddness of it all: it was clear that my apmt-mate was Italian, and I'd been told that he'd been living there for a year. Yet his room did not suggest this at all. I left feeling very dejected, in part because my room really resembled a prison cell, even down to the black metal wire-frame bed. But the story doesn't end here...
I went back to Anita's and had a lovely long chat to Chloe which really reassured me. Then I went to meet Adam and James (they are about to begin the second year of their PhDs in the History dpmt and have most excellent taste in music) for dinner. Afterwards James and I walked to the edge of my street. I debated going back into the apmt, not wanting to get demoralised again. In the end I decided that I would go. I climbed the stairs, only to find a man sitting outside. He asked if I was the person who lived at number 64 and then told a very confusing story, which goes like this: his name is Thomas. He is the Belgian. Annovi is indeed Italian. He is away until the beginning of September. Thomas has never met Annovi, but he is friends with a German named Julius who lived with Annovi in the apmt last year. Thomas, like me, is new to NY (he's just starting his MBA), but he doesn't have an apmt yet. Julius was told that I wouldn't be moving in until the beginning of September (he apparently still has a key...this is a little confusing but probably a result of Columbia double-charging for the room) so he said Thomas could stay there whilst it was empty and he looked for an apmt.
Two questions then present themselves: 1) why was Thomas sitting outside, and 2) why does it appear as if Annovi doesn't actually occupy either room? The answers: 1) Thomas was sitting outside because my apmt has two locks. But he only has the key to one of them. When I left I locked the top lock, thus locking him out. He had left his passport in his room and had no ID, so the building's super wouldn't let him in. Hence his look of delight when I happened upon the apmt: he'd have slept in the stairwell if I hadn't arrived. 2) Annovi used to live in my room, but when Julius moved out, he swapped to Julius's old room. So he is basically 'between rooms', and all of his stuff is boxed up in our spare room. Thomas was extremely apologetic about the mess, explaining that he didn't realise I'd be arriving yet. As far as I was concerned this was all rather odd, but fine, and I left. I had planned to move some of my stuff in yesterday, but the rain was torrential and I couldn't get everything soaking wet. I just went back into the apmt and it is now very clean and tidy. Thomas is still there, but wasn't in. I think he's moving out at the end of the week, but he seems very friendly so I don't mind having him around. I haven't even fully moved in yet anyway. Thus concludes the odd tale of my new apartment. Photos soon.
Before I go, some congratulations to be offered:
Sir Charles and Judy Mackerras on their 60th wedding anniversary.
James Robinson on getting AHRC funding for his PhD.
Jo Wickham for getting her job at Penguin.
Hurrahs to all!
Monday, 20 August 2007
Too Many Bands, Too Little Time
On the back of buying tickets for Jon and I to see Les Savy Fav on Sep 21st I just read that the Brooklyn's very own Wu-Tang killa bee is playing his classic Liquid Swords in its entirety on home turf on Sep 15th. The "bad" news? I already have tickets to see Girl Talk that night. And I missed an apparently excellent free gig yesterday in Brooklyn. And tickets to a new gig by The National have just gone on sale...Yay New York!
In Praise of The Simpsons
Just a brief post: last night I caught a new episode of The Simpsons and thought I should offer praise to the recently-maligned cartoon. It is really only once you arrive in the US and spend time in the midst of the "humor" offered on US television that you start to appreciate just how brilliant and sophisticated The Simpsons really is. At one point in yesterday's episode Lisa is shown a video at the Dentists which is designed to appeal to an "urban youth" audience. It features some rapping bacteria called 'Menace Tooth Society'. The hero is Luda-crest (voiced by the real Ludacris). The bacteria machine-gun teeth before Luda-crest and his gang violently attack the bacteria. At the end Lisa says "Hmmm...that video condemned tooth decay, but it also kinda glorified it. Mixed messages." The political content was almost unbelievable: the whole episode was explicitly about how the Fox network is immoral and hypocritical, and especially about how their news reporting is controlled by the Republicans. It is quite amazing to see an episode like that aired on Fox in such politically febrile times.
Finally, given the topic of humour, and especially political humour, I must make mention of Barak Obama. In a Democratic debate yesterday he responded to criticism that he was not experienced enough but retorting "Well, I did prepare for this debate by riding the bumper cars at the local fairground." Irony! Wit! From a US politician! From any politician! Barak has my vote (if I could vote), and not just because he went to Columbia.
Finally, given the topic of humour, and especially political humour, I must make mention of Barak Obama. In a Democratic debate yesterday he responded to criticism that he was not experienced enough but retorting "Well, I did prepare for this debate by riding the bumper cars at the local fairground." Irony! Wit! From a US politician! From any politician! Barak has my vote (if I could vote), and not just because he went to Columbia.
Sunday, 19 August 2007
Greetings from New York
I've been in NY for six days now. All is going pretty well, despite some spectacular examples of incompetence and obtuse thinking. It's already apparent that the bureaucracy of the US is going to be a constant source of bewilderment and irritation. Perhaps even worse, however, is the rudeness and general lack of manners I've encountered. Until yesterday I was here with Chloe and in just a few days we saw instances of impoliteness (to put it mildly) that almost defied belief. But, on the other hand, we met many nice people too, including the woman at FAO Schwarz who gave us a free chocolate brownie and directions to a nearby store, and the man comically who told us to "get a room" when I was tickling Chloe (or "Chole", as she was dubbed at one point). Anyway, all of this led me at one point to storm into Low Library (not actually a library for those who aren't familiar with Columbia's campus) shouting "Americans need to learn some manners!!!", drawing glares from the two middle-aged Americans sitting inside.
Tomorrow I move into my new apartment, or at least pick up the key (the Columbia Housing people win the award for rudest and most idiotic people encountered thus far, by the way). Soon thereafter I can stop living out of suitcases and start to get my life into some semblance of order. I have to complete my MA dissertation within the month and classes begin here on September 4th so it's important I get things sorted out asap.
Some good things over the past few days: dinner with Susie and Jeremy; dinner with Tom; the pleasant weather; West Ham winning; pizza; the grocery store just by my apartment; the Labyrinth Books loyalty card ($10 voucher for every $100 spent); the Sunday market by Columbia; the many free gigs and films on offer; the budget lovingly prepared for me by Chloe; the Chinese "take-out" that fed me for three days; Michael; free headphones at the Apple Store; spending time with Chloe.
The next post should include some photos and info on my new apartment. Hopefully it will be a little more coherent too. I hope everyone is good and well. Bye for now!
Tomorrow I move into my new apartment, or at least pick up the key (the Columbia Housing people win the award for rudest and most idiotic people encountered thus far, by the way). Soon thereafter I can stop living out of suitcases and start to get my life into some semblance of order. I have to complete my MA dissertation within the month and classes begin here on September 4th so it's important I get things sorted out asap.
Some good things over the past few days: dinner with Susie and Jeremy; dinner with Tom; the pleasant weather; West Ham winning; pizza; the grocery store just by my apartment; the Labyrinth Books loyalty card ($10 voucher for every $100 spent); the Sunday market by Columbia; the many free gigs and films on offer; the budget lovingly prepared for me by Chloe; the Chinese "take-out" that fed me for three days; Michael; free headphones at the Apple Store; spending time with Chloe.
The next post should include some photos and info on my new apartment. Hopefully it will be a little more coherent too. I hope everyone is good and well. Bye for now!
Thursday, 2 August 2007
Galut Consciousness
Hello all, welcome to Galut Consciousness. Firstly, a brief note of explanation. The idea of this blog is to keep my friends and family back home in England updated on my progress in New York. It is a fast and convenient way for me to convey my thoughts, observations and feelings to those sufficiently interested to read them.
But why 'Galut Consciousness'? 'Galut', as all students of Jewish philosophy should know, is Hebrew for 'exile'. It refers to the 1800 year period during which the Jews were exiled from their homeland. During the course of the nineteenth-century a number of prominent Jewish intellectuals - amongst them the pioneers of Zionism; philosophers; and theologians - starting discussing galut 'consciousness'. Galut consciousness had a twofold meaning. Firstly, it referred to the physical fact of the Jews' exile: Jews were not in Israel. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, it referred to the mental condition of living under exile. The Jews were alienated not just from their spiritual homeland (Israel), but also from their de facto homeland (Germany, France etc). In summary, galut consciousness is about the condition or mental perspective of living in exile.
It could well be argued that, as a Jew living outside of Israel, I myself suffer from galut consciousness. That is a point of contention. But what cannot be denied is that I am about to become an exile - self-imposed, perhaps, but an exile nevertheless. On Monday 13th August I will move to New York in order to begin a 5-7 year PhD in the History Department at Columbia University. Thus will begin my own experience of galut consciousness. Hence, therefore, the slightly pretentious (though I prefer learned) moniker of this blog. I hope that people will come and read my thoughts and look at my photographs and post their comments and suchlike as often as they can.
Thanks everyone!
But why 'Galut Consciousness'? 'Galut', as all students of Jewish philosophy should know, is Hebrew for 'exile'. It refers to the 1800 year period during which the Jews were exiled from their homeland. During the course of the nineteenth-century a number of prominent Jewish intellectuals - amongst them the pioneers of Zionism; philosophers; and theologians - starting discussing galut 'consciousness'. Galut consciousness had a twofold meaning. Firstly, it referred to the physical fact of the Jews' exile: Jews were not in Israel. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, it referred to the mental condition of living under exile. The Jews were alienated not just from their spiritual homeland (Israel), but also from their de facto homeland (Germany, France etc). In summary, galut consciousness is about the condition or mental perspective of living in exile.
It could well be argued that, as a Jew living outside of Israel, I myself suffer from galut consciousness. That is a point of contention. But what cannot be denied is that I am about to become an exile - self-imposed, perhaps, but an exile nevertheless. On Monday 13th August I will move to New York in order to begin a 5-7 year PhD in the History Department at Columbia University. Thus will begin my own experience of galut consciousness. Hence, therefore, the slightly pretentious (though I prefer learned) moniker of this blog. I hope that people will come and read my thoughts and look at my photographs and post their comments and suchlike as often as they can.
Thanks everyone!
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