C&W, again

Here, a visual representation of a textual representation of a fantasy representation: Shehun, my old DaMOO character. I miss DaMOO. I'm on SecondLife (in the cheap seats), but it's not the same (duh). This .gif was part of the hypnotic Captain-and-Tennille performance that we gave: Jonathan speaking, me accompanying with image, repeated image, text, repeated text. Iteration.

C&W parts 2-3

Okay, I PROMISE I'll write about Detroit, even though most of you have probably heard my schtick on the sad, sad Motor City. But first:

Part of what Jonathan had to say:

But what I have been missing (and longing for, not just not finding) in our recent pedagogical discussion about new media and the communications technologies is a strong sense of how we are having, with our students, discussions about technology and subjectivity that extend beyond thinking about what kinds of cool critical thinking skills we can develop with videogames, or how neat it is to have students make iMovies to practice a variety of rhetorical skills. Indeed, I want to push for something more, a (dare I say) humanistic, but still critical, approach to technology, particularly the new communications technologies. Specifically, I want to advocate that we interrogate much more forcefully than ever before, both amongst ourselves and with our students, the dense interconnections between technology and subjectivity.

And part of what I had to say:

What is the place of the sexual self, the somatic body, in rhetoric and writing? We are most comfortable with discussions of identity that are accessible to analytic language. That is, we like to talk about things that can be talked about. The feedback loop inherent in this system necessarily elides considerations of the body and of sex, that most persuasive of human endeavors. The dilemma is how we are to talk about non-discursive rhetorics, since, as Laurie Anderson once said on a similar topic, “Talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” We have also, since Aristotle’s time, steered away from discussions of the so-called “inartistic proofs,” and one might argue that it is this very realm of the inartistic that we find many of our pleasures. The other dilemma is how to value something that we can’t analyze in our analytical-discursive field.

My sense is that answers lie outside of our field, in visual arts and computer animations, in immersive technologies that demand full and embodied participation from writers and readers. But even there, we only can hope to surround the body’s argument—not speak it. At the same time, this very surrounding, or immersion, might give us a clearer sense of our available freedoms, with the hope of adding to that number.

But we didn't get to say what we had to say...more on that later.

C&W pt 1: After my

C&W pt 1: After my dog got me up @ 5 a.m. yesterday, I worked until 8 p.m., caught a redeye @ 11:45, and hit Detroit @ 9:30 Eastern. Yawn.

Working on my C&W paper

Really, I just want to be Laurie Anderson. Or have coffee with her.

Nothing says Spring like...

...proctoring a comprehensive exam.

Things you never learned in your doctoral program ...

(and you refuse to learn now, on the job):

1. committee work will suck your life out through your eyeballs
2. you can't "liberate" anyone--not your students, not yourself, not the bag of SunChips stuck in the machine
3. people will always complain about bad writing (student OR high theory) because that's easier to do than to actually read something
4. you'll never get enough sleep
5. "hammerheads" and "redeyes" are the best coffee drinks, but not after 4 p.m., because you need to ...
6. get more sleep
   

High holy days

Yes, 'tis the season--this week marks the anniversary of my coming-out (23 years ago). I'm celebrating with wall-to-wall meetings at work: prep for the University Curriculum Committee (UCC); the UCC itself; Grad Council; thesis students; department Graduate Committee; a dozen other I'm forgetting; etc. Maybe I'll persuade the LAW that this momentous season deserves an extra-friendly date.

Last night, we had dinner with Charybdis and Mr. Charybdis. Now I'm trying to figure out whether the charbroiled shrimp or something else caused my, hmmm, active dreams: (1) all of my caps and fillings were falling out and my back molars were dissolving; and, later, in a separate bit of entertainment (2) I was pulling long gobs of stuff from my throat, after discovering I was possessed by a demon--and that this was the only way to exorcise him.

So this morning I'm just bemused by the broken and evil things my subconscious thinks might emerge from my mouth. But really, maybe it was the shrimp.

By the way, favorite new music discovery: Kathleen Edwards, whose performance I caught on Austin City Limits the other night as I was flipping through channels looking for Mission: Impossible reruns.

The best (but LATE) sight of the morning

So don't you think that, with all the advanced tech, we could at least have COFFEE during the 12-hr fast before routine bloodwork (okay, and the pee-in-a-cup test)? I mean, can't the machines account for the caffeine that I need just to get the blood moving?

Finally!

If only this were required reading.

What I'm up to these days, part II ...

... oh yeah, and yesterday, the main sewer line backed up into my tub.

The only cool part of this event (really, it was cool) is that the plumbers had this camera they sent down into the pipes so they could see the roots. Really, it was like watching a colonoscopy on House. Sort of.

What I'm up to these days...

(an illustration of my latest emails)

Dear Mayor Riddell:

I'm attaching the following complaint (which I've sent to the Better Business Bureau, the Yucaipa Chamber of Commerce, and the police department) to provide background information to this issue. What I am writing you for, specifically, is to complain about a frivolous 9-1-1 call.

Basically, what happened is that in the course of a dispute over a transaction at a local business (a pet grooming place), the groomer called 9-1-1 in order to intimidate me. This incident happened sometime between 1 and 2 p.m. at Pampered Pet Boutique, located at 33527 Yucaipa Boulevard #C4, Yucaipa, CA 92399. If anyone listens to the tape, you'll hear her saying "oh, it's not an emergency," and then staying on the emergency line for another minute before saying "never mind, they're leaving."

When I was demanding a partial refund (or even an explanation) of a fee--a demand that was *not* threatening, or assaultive, or even particularly combative--the staff at the business below talked louder and louder, moved closer to me in an effort to physically intimidate me, wouldn't listen to me, and THEN said that my demand was "harassment" and dialed 9-1-1. The call was made by Stephanie (I think that's her name), the groomer at that business, and it lasted for a couple of minutes. I would like someone to inform Stephanie that she shouldn't tie up police resources in order to threaten her customers.

While the actual business dispute shouldn't concern you (I'm cancelling the charge and letting my credit card company deal with Pampered Pet Boutique), I'm very concerned, as a San Bernardino County resident, that *anybody* in a local business makes a frivolous call to 9-1-1 and ties up that resource (even for a *minute*) in order to threaten a dissatisfied customer. If such a false call to 9-1-1 is against the law, as I believe it is, then I'm sure that I (and a witness) would be willing to formally complain.

The Rockefeller Center Zamboni

A rare sighting of this lovely creature in its native habitat.

The view in Atlanta. On my way home from CCCC, I'm noticing how tired I am. Good conference--although, as usual, the best stuff happens somewhere other than official sessions. Travel tragedy: I left my favorite hat somewhere (prolly O'Lunney's Pub) and lost my favorite leather gloves.

Free internet access--like socialized health care, a fabulous thing if you don't mind waiting in line. Note to self--writing teachers are computer hogs.

Cyborgy

Breakfast in New York. I'm testing out mobile blogging--yep, dear reader, this post is from my cellphone.

I don't know why, but it's worth watching.

Hey, it's finals week. I must rely on others' creativity.

Just in time for CCCC

And you?

My Linguistic Profile:

60% General American English

15% Upper Midwestern

10% Midwestern

5% Dixie

5% Yankee

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Wait, you mean I had to come back?

New York was great. Good food, lots of people wearing black, and snow. I did manage to finish my paper (it had to do with immersive technology, representation, and post-cyborg ironies...trust me), and so earned my scholarly keep. The LAW and I strolled around her old stomping grounds (NYU) and almost crashed an Official Event, but I nixed it once I saw the Ukrainian folk dancers in native costume. I just couldn't do it.

One highlight was the Museum of Modern Art--more specifically, Van Gogh's Starry Night, which I managed to see in its lovely thick-paintiness just before MOMA closed and they kicked us out. I didn't realize it was there, and had wasted entirely too much time downstairs looking at idiocies like Martin Creed's "The Lights Going On and Off." Yeah, right. My next piece, for which I hope MOMA forks over tens of thousands of dollars, will be, hmmmm, "Sometimes You Step in Sticky Things," quickly followed by "The Room Smells Bad," or my signature piece "The Lights Go Off and You Get Hit With Pillows for No Reason," all of which would add to Creed's postmodern protest against "things" and "consumerism" and also explore "the qualities of 'nothing.'" What a crock of s***. Oh wait, that's my next piece.

Start spreadin' the news....

That's right, New York/New York. I'm presenting a paper that I'm still in the process of writing.

So I took a job compatability test and found out that I'd be great in a job involving things rather than people. But what if I just think of people as things? Does that count?

Seriously, though, raspberry farming and writing comic books up in the wild northwest looks pretty good. I'm not sure that I can convince the LAW (who'd have to bankroll the endeavor) of the value of this new life.