sorry givings
One year ago at the present hour, I believe I was sitting in my bathroom on the lowered toilet seat because it had the only strong heater in the apartment. I was basically landlocked for 3-4 days, churning out a 6000w paper for Animality class.
Now in the early morning of this celebration of genocide as festivity, I realized I should have brought here my Chinese dictionary so as to check the etymologies for my 19th century "transamerican renaissance" paper. Yet all I can still dream of is to learn Greek and Latin for this "other" etymology. Just how funny does ethnicity get? As Rey Chow puts it, "the efficacy of the term [ethnicity] derives, precisely, from its contradictorines, its irrational nature" (The Protestant Ethnic and the Spirit of Capitalism 28). Indeed, "no critic has ever suspected, much less declared, that in drawing on classical Chinese poetry for his imagist poetics, Erza Pound lost his cultural identity as an American poet" (Michelle Yeh, qtd. in Chow 117).
I wonder how my mum is getting on with her reading of Monolingualism of the Other, in its Chinese translation that is, if you like, one of its impossible possibilities.
Yes. I'm also writing about the -- "my" -- mother in so many ways. Not just with this paper on Chinese Secret Societies in the United States but also with the Gender and New Media paper on the figure of the child through Lee Edleman's No Future, the Cosmia Von Bonin and Takashi Murakami exhibitions. Didn't Cixous say somewhere that the impossibile writing is writing for and of the mother?
As for the paper on Aesthetics, Sam and I are still trying to survive Adorno's relentless murder. Or suicide. Or still-birth. We don't quite know yet. DL's statement, "the philinstine is your colleague, not the ones obsessed with Britney Spears" still haunts me. And so a contestant from tonight's Project Runway spit on her garment for a spiritual inebriation with "aesthetics."
Now in the early morning of this celebration of genocide as festivity, I realized I should have brought here my Chinese dictionary so as to check the etymologies for my 19th century "transamerican renaissance" paper. Yet all I can still dream of is to learn Greek and Latin for this "other" etymology. Just how funny does ethnicity get? As Rey Chow puts it, "the efficacy of the term [ethnicity] derives, precisely, from its contradictorines, its irrational nature" (The Protestant Ethnic and the Spirit of Capitalism 28). Indeed, "no critic has ever suspected, much less declared, that in drawing on classical Chinese poetry for his imagist poetics, Erza Pound lost his cultural identity as an American poet" (Michelle Yeh, qtd. in Chow 117).
I wonder how my mum is getting on with her reading of Monolingualism of the Other, in its Chinese translation that is, if you like, one of its impossible possibilities.
Yes. I'm also writing about the -- "my" -- mother in so many ways. Not just with this paper on Chinese Secret Societies in the United States but also with the Gender and New Media paper on the figure of the child through Lee Edleman's No Future, the Cosmia Von Bonin and Takashi Murakami exhibitions. Didn't Cixous say somewhere that the impossibile writing is writing for and of the mother?
As for the paper on Aesthetics, Sam and I are still trying to survive Adorno's relentless murder. Or suicide. Or still-birth. We don't quite know yet. DL's statement, "the philinstine is your colleague, not the ones obsessed with Britney Spears" still haunts me. And so a contestant from tonight's Project Runway spit on her garment for a spiritual inebriation with "aesthetics."
posted by msl at 1:53 AM
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