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!
Friday, 31 August 2007
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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