pintada

i painted tonight. mostly because last night in seminar dvine made us tell everyone one activity we do to keep ourselves sane. i said painting, and realized i hadn't done it in a while. well, given the palimpsestuous nature of my recent work, i can't really do too much at once, but i did a few things, and made something quite simple that i like actually like quite a bit with some leftover reds and oranges.

the new stuff

all in all, i don't think the current stuff is as good as my last painting, which i also rather like. but really, its the strokes that matter. the feeling of moving the brush. the journey so to say.

the last one (muybridge i)

i also listened to some of scamz's stuff on phonography. in particular, beneath the waves, because i'm told that my recorded voice will be included when he does a live reading at MICA in february. i suggested perhaps, since i'll be there (though likely late, thanks to lavender), he should just let me do it live, but he ignored the request. i also listened to the other which always is a little nostalgia-inducing. alas, the night was a good artsy-rounded night. now if only i could get to sleep.

la musica del jc

i saw the black hollies saturday night. in planning to go, i worried that the six years that have passed would be enough to forget faces. that i'd be just another former neighbor like clint shoyman or a passerby like "jk's sidekick." my fears were confirmed when, though jong said he'd put me on the list, the doorman shook his head and looked at me as if to say "honey, i get that trick all the time, and i'm not falling for it." but after coughing up $10 and making my way inside, i was greeted with profuse apologies, and a shocked looking justin angelo yelling "nells bells!"

dj dusty shadows circa 2003

and thus began my nostalgic daydream in which i began to fall in love as we sat listening to a fuzzy ella fitzgerald eminate from the turntable while drinking wine and eating jong's eggplant rolatini. in which i awoke after a night at Guillo's to the sounds of Two Tough Guys, and arose to fully embrace my unemployment. in which the bridge & i would walk to the bar later known as el camino and consume 5 free rail cosmos in an hour, later drawing pictures of our stomachs with crayons depicting two doritos swimming in a pink sea. in which we all developed a strange attraction to biography channel programs on serial killers. in which i didn't have to worry about my name being on the list at maxwell's.

but these warm memories of brisk fall nights fail to capture my true feelings of those times. rhino has philosophized on the hegemony of memory, and this is certain a case for study. those were the worst of times. unemployment and then practically dehumanizing employment, academic disappointment, disagreements that should have indicated failure long before i acknowledged it. but at the same time, perhaps that is what made the good times so good, and the experience as a whole so intense.

those years in the jc were awful years, peppered with close friendships, crazy antics, belonging in unlikely places, sleepless nights, flaming bars, silly notebooks forever lost to the white star gods, and the feeling of truly being in a neighborhood. i suppose that's the last time i really felt like i was home. i haven't been back in almost 2 years, and i'm sure things have changed. i suppose the condos at the end of pavonia are complete, and PJ's somehow functions without the guz. but it still feels like i could defy frost and return home there. like i could walk by 7s and strike up a conversation with any of the smokers. like the high scores on the photohunt machine at uncle joe's might still be dominated by those using the quadrant approach. like the guys at the 7th and erie liquor store would still make quips about knowing how often i'm there. like something called rye coalition still exists. like i could show up at hamilton park and play some ball or take a nice stroll down coles, pausing at 130. indeed, i still remember the first time i pulled up to that apartment, with jk & the fiend holding a parking spot for me. that was the beginning of something definitive in both its complete depravity and its utter transformative qualities.

130 coles

and looking back from here-where i am happy, and get to reminisce with old friends-makes it all worthwhile i suppose. as i said in "Beneath the Surface" (by former JC resident, Scammell) memory is how we cut up the long runon sentence of our lives to derive meaning. it tells us who we were and thus, who we are. it is the way in which we define ourselves. i am no longer that same nells bells that moved onto the futon on coles street, but that will always be part of who i've become.

recuerdos y ideas

I wrote this for scammell's most recent piece, about memory. i'm not sure it'll make it into the final piece, but after about a month of reflection, i still kind of like what i said.

as something of an anthropologist i feel like i should frame memory in some sort of anthropological theory. of course, this is in no way indicative of anthropology as a whole, but i think memory is very intimately connected to ideas of truth and history. we are all who we are because of what we've experienced. we have these experiences and we try to break them up into digestible, understandable pieces. we chop experience up into memories in order to endow them with meaning. this is the moment i realized something, or this happened, or this experience is why i feel this way. but in reality, experience is just a long run on sentence of occurrances. and much like history, they depend entirely on perception. there is no single truth. there are as many truths as people who witness or live through an event. and yet, some truths are valued over others. they are reproduced and written down, and thus become fact, "official history." I think we do similar things with memories. We have a vast amount of experience from which to draw, but we choose certain memories from which to make meaning. these memories are a key part of the construction of our identities. they tell us who we were, and thus who we are. we make ourselves through our memories.

i've also been thinking about attraction a lot lately, too, and i think in a way its related. in fact, i think attraction may be the converse of memory in some ways. i have come to the conclusion that (and maybe this is cynical, but that would be rather in line with my usual musings on relationships) we are all attracted to people based on the idea of them. we attribute meaning before the substance, and sometimes forget that's the case.

its the idea that attracts us. the idea of that brooding filmmaker, or that silly footballer. and i think it matters very little how well we know the person. even if the object of attraction is an old friend, someone with whom we collaborate or create, even if we've witnessed them in other relationships or had our own previous relationships with them, its still the idea that attracts us initially. the idea of the good friend that becomes the lover. the idea of carrying over what we have into something else. the idea of the past relationship becoming renewed. we apply cultural narratives to our unique situations to make them meaningful. maybe epic.

perhaps more obviously, even if we've only known the person for a few moments, or simply seen them across a room. the attraction is the idea of them. we make assumptions based on our visual perceptions. As Celia Lury has written, vision and knowledge have become inextricably intertwined in modern Euro-American societies (1998:2). We make assumptions based on the visual. Certain clothing represents interests or values, glasses translate to intelligence, dreadlocks translate to particular recreational practices, a hoodie with 15 mini-buttons translates to some sort of leftist, anti-consumerist, possibly anarchist political position. And because, for the most part, we're using a common script, or what Eco calls “successive transcriptions” (1992:3) the translation is often close to what was intended by the performer. so, this is to say that often the idea of the person is not so far from the reality.

However, the idea is simply the iconic permutation of the real person. Certain aspects of identity may be highlighted while others are ignored or downplayed. And this happens on both ends, the attractor and the attracted. Or perhaps it's aspects of the affair itself that are highlighted or downplayed. Its scandalous nature highlighted, the mundane interactions downplayed. Or the comfort level highlighted, the misunderstandings downplayed.

But this is not to say that attraction is meaningless. Its what happens after the attraction that counts. Its what's built on top of the attraction that lasts. Because eventually (maybe it takes 30 seconds, maybe 4 years) the idea of this person, this encounter or relationship melts away to reveal the truth beneath it. That charasmatic artist becomes a real human with talent, but confidence issues, or the young ambitious politician transforms into a someone too absorbed with the state of affairs in the world, and not absorbed enough with you. But if you're lucky, that quirky bass player slowly transforms into a complex personality that is compatible, comfortable, and real. complete with faults and failings, but with just the right combination of smirks, jokes, surprises, and awkward talks about the future to make you realize its not just the idea of it anymore. there's real substance.

but only if you're lucky.

piensos extranos

1. i acquired a tiny thing of grey pupon mustard recently, and damn its good. i mean, yes, i like mustard a lot. but the g.p. beats the hell out of safeway/shoprite brand dijon mustard. mmmmm...

2. i ran two miles on tuesday with the kronner. it was pretty pathetic at the end. there was a very slow but steady upwards hill that just killed me. but hey, at least i'm trying. we did get to discuss his thoughts on moving to chicago though.

3. my internet went down yesterday, and was fixed today. they guy who fixed it was from chicago, and we discussed the beloved windy city. then i got an email from smoyer who just moved to chicago. i'm now putting together something to send, but i have to find a few more things. its all making me miss chi town. and i won't ever fly through there for the holidays. i'll have to make a trip sometime soon.

4. it was a crappy rainy day, and my allergies were bad, but i decided i had to get out and go to the grocery story before consuelo z arrives. and when i left the apt, i had something very exciting from method in the mail. just a bag, no cleaning goodies, but still. it lightened my day.

5. as did this
i was especially heartened because a few months ago i made an ill-advised attempt to argue in class that the butter cow had something to do with citizenship. at the time i basically conceded that it really was only about belonging. but this proves the point. speaking of which, i should call duff.

lengua, sexualidad, y cuidadania

on my way to class tonight, i caught part of an npr story on a transgender woman who claimed her gender reassignment surgery as a tax deduction and the irs is denying the deduction.

what really got to me was the comparison with anorexia that was drawn by an "expert." "we need to fix the mind" i believe is the quote.

sigh.

speaking of sexuality and citizenship, i spoke to my wife tonight. although i think she's my ex wife. or maybe we're polygamous. well "we" meaning "she" because i certainly don't have a new wife.

we talked about nostalgia in class too. in freudian/lacanian terms. perhaps it is the past tense of desire. but i have a more complex relationship with the idea i believe. i've been thinking that i'm always concerned with playing things out. what would have happened. i need to learn to be ok with not knowing. i wouldn't say that i ever really regret. but i long to know. and why? if i'm happy now, why is it important what might have happened. what's important is what did happen. right? does this even make sense? probably not. but that is my new attempt at zen. not worrying about the might/could/should/would. "be here now" i guess.

i say this, of course, as i sit at my desk, staring at a picture of my bilagaanas & howard. & manu. how do you say indian (of the south asian sort) in dine'?

soy una anthropologa

today was a very anthropological day

it started with taking notes on boas and malinowski. later, in class, i was asked which i preferred. i hadn't really considered the question before, but i had to reply malinowski. yes, little ol' boasian department trained me. i'd still consider myself pretty adamantly 3 field (and when my archaeologist friends are particularly engaging, perhaps even 4 field), and i'm in no way durkheimian. but the more i think about it, the more i'm sure. yes, i'd rather read argonauts than race, language, culture. but that's not the extent. perhaps its a product of my embeddedness in exoticism, but there's a certain charisma to malinowski. he's somewhat of an enigma in a way i would argue boas is not. perhaps that's just a product of the diary, but i also like his longterm fieldwork. his interrelatedness. i like the way he defines (or at least uses the term) material conditions. plus he's polish. and who doesn't like a good pole?



i wrote for 4 hours today and only came up with 2 1/2 pages. but i think they're solid. i mean, as solid as they could be considering the topic. which, by the way, is applying durkheimian and weberian theory to this.

i also turned in an application for research funding, and wrote a call for papers today. after class tonight, i ended up talking to the jag and tudy about anthropologists in the military. we were mostly just noting things that we had already discussed yesterday at the roundtable, but i had one of those moments where i realized i had found what i was looking for.

i guess, one of my complaints about the dale was that i was looking for more community. i wanted to sit in the lounge and discuss anthropological notions. i wanted involvement and discourse, not just classes. and certainly i found that with certain people, like my wife and prof. ponger (who i may be co-authoring a paper with, our 300th of course) at times, but it wasn't an overarching theme in my life there. but i already feel in the midst of it here. so, tonight, i'm feeling content.

plus, its officially scarf weather now!