Despite the fact that this man was arrested (and presumably charged), I can't help feeling like Japan is "do whatever you want land". I especially love BoingBoing's screenshot of the newsreel cartoon, and the nickname reaction. They do good work.

Drive-by Coffee Spitter Arrested

What is it about paper writing that makes me so crazy? It seems to make everyone crazy, so I'm not alone. But of course one's true colors emerge under pressure, and mine are like one of those magic eye pictures. There's something there, everyone says so, but for the life of me I can't tell what I'm supposed to see, I can't focus my eyes correctly. I RUN from the work. If it weren't for the endless depths of the interwebs I wouldn't be able to stand even the pretense of being chained to the desk. It's just hard, and my life is so easy otherwise. I'm spoiled for hard work, that's the long and short of it.

Nonetheless, I'm in a cycle of procrastination, and I figure it's more productive to turn the insides out than simply keep refreshing my scrabulous games waiting for any one of my six opponents to make their freaking move.

Smokey and I went to Donovan's house today and had lunch with the host, Nell and Job, the host's cat. We imagined it as a kind of experimental playdate, and I must say the two beasties acquitted themselves admirably. Smokey was pissed to be put in the carrier, both times, but when I let him out at Donovan's he was cool, calm and collected, hissing minimally and not so much interested in Job as in the various appointments of Donovan's apartment. Part of the impetus behind the whole thing was to see if Smokey was freaked out by other cats. I don't know if he's ever been exposed to other cats, so I thought it was worth investigating. He gets into these moods where he can't leave me alone, but he doesn't really want me to do anything except talk to him. He doesn't want to be pet, he doesn't want to play, he doesn't like it when I chase him or try to wrestle, he just doesn't want me to do anything else either. I go through this whole routine whenever he does this, I check his food, his poop space, everything's invariably fine, he's just... I dunno, unanswerable. If I do turn my attention elsewhere he lets out these deep throaty yowls that I imagine the neighbors must be able to hear and the only thing I can do to stop him is to talk to him, ask him what's wrong, make fun of his voice. Then he looks at me, with this fascinated expression, and if he comes over it's not so close that I can reach out and pet him (if I try he runs away), it's just close enough that he can get a better look at me speaking (or so it seems anyway). If I stop speaking and just look at him, he gets all self-conscious and turns away, ostensibly to do something else, and then as soon as I think it's all over and done with, he'll start with the yowling again. So far as I can tell this is his only symptom, of whatever condition I can't imagine, and it happens maybe once every other day, usually in the evening, until he decides to stop.

It seems especially appropriate that I should have a cat who's fascinated by speech, if that's really what it is. At any rate, my cat has a Face, in the Levinasian sense. He makes demands and I go crazy because I don't know how to give him what he wants. I don't know what he wants, so I theorize and plot. The kitty playdate was a precursor to a perhaps plan that I've been cooking up to get another cat. Two cats is a lot for a one bedroom apartment, and I'm not at the point of wanting another right now. But I wonder if maybe Smokey is just lonely for intra-species conversation, as it were, and I am, of course, completely inadequate for the purpose. If I could time it right, Job would come over when Smokey was being crazy, so I could see if his eyes lit up. Today at lunch he seemed to be completely detached and uninterested in Job, but that was a narrow window of time, and the first of such experiences for Smokey, as far as I know. I'm glad my Elder Admiral feels comfortable enough to express himself so openly, but I need to figure out what it is he's trying to tell me, or we're going to start resenting the misunderstanding.

Which, through a labyrinth of barely distinguishable connections, brings me to my Lacan and the Symposium paper... this concept of the agalma inside the little ugly statue of the silenoi. The magnetic jewel inside the repulsive body. Ostensibly this is Socrates through the eyes of the rogue Alcibiades (I love calling him that), but part of Lacan's point (as I gather), is that beloveds are invariably like this. They hold something out to their lovers that cannot be described, cannot be accounted for or made understandable to anyone else. We love them in spite of themselves, and despite our own images of whatever lovableness another being can possibly contain. That quality precludes rationalization partly because it isn't real, and partly because we cannot resist our own imaginations. Desire is a force beyond reckoning in the human sphere, and all this talk of religion and knowledge and the good, the beautiful and the true is just so much noise when you believe that adornment is there, inside that, waiting for you to break through the barrier. Socrates speaks, and Alcibiades is possessed by his words: "When I hear them, my heart pounds and the tears flow" (215d), and this from a great manly man who could swing wars with his genius (rhymes with...). So this prince pulls out all the stops, risks every cent of his pride to get this goatish older man to let him inside, and Socrates keeps his face turned away, saying, "it's not me." I understand how Alcibiades feels, enraged at the sudden confrontation with the boundary of his not inconsiderable seductive power, forever crashing against the gates of Socratic virtue. "So, I forcibly stop up my ears and run away, as from the Sirens, so that I won't grow old just sitting there beside him" (216a).

How to turn this into some kind of professional document? That is the question.

Seriously...

Reposting from an October BoingBoing (I'm way behind in my web reading), I thought this was interesting: a robot that has been tasked to re-write the entire Luther Bible around the clock. It's interesting to me that they describe the robot as "ascetic". It's kind of strange to think that biblical transcription is moving into the hands of programmers. The robot's actually writing in calligraphy with a pen, I wonder where this printing will end up.

Robot Ascetic Inscribes Bible

The world is a crazy place, I'm sure we all knew that, but it strikes me afresh sometimes and I just have to say it. Crazy, crazy, crazy.

Which is more or less to say that my life is intense right now, not only because it's paper writing season again (the last two weeks no less, God help me) but also because I've been sick not once (see last post) but twice, with different colds. I'm hardly ever sick, and I take it like a baby, so the last three weeks have been pretty tough, especially all mixed up with happenings and responsibilities and whatnot. It's hard to do anything when I'm breathing through my mouth and coughing like a consumptive. The good news is that I am nearly over the last one, and when it's finally over I'm going to spray this whole place down with Purel and have done with it. Here's hoping.

Backtracking a little bit, Thanksgiving was a narrow hiatus on the sick front, about two days where I felt pretty okay. I was fortunate enough to have two thanksgivings this year, one with the Dad in Rochester and one with my Mom in Ithaca. The Rochester festivities were more traditional, turkey and such, and it was nice to spend time with my Grandmother, who just moved up there from South Jersey. I've had dinner at her new place the last two Fridays and it's really excellent being able to call her up and head over to see her, only an hour and a half away. At Mom's Adam and I made surf and turf, which was really awesome, I love cooking with my Brother. I've never really liked seafood, and I don't think I will ever like shrimp in particular (plus Brohan would lose a source of boundless amusement) but I'm trying to expand my horizons and scallops wrapped in bacon are pretty damn good. I've been trying to cook salmon at home too. Dom was up for a visit one Monday and I made a maple version that was really good, so here's hoping.

This last weekend I spent in Rochester, which was really more awesome than I could have planned on my own. Thankfully I have some friends in Rochester this year, so I finally got to see the city the way I like to see cities, which is to say, according to my sub-cultural inclinations. I went down on Friday and hung out with my family in Pittsford for a little while, then met up with Drew downtown. I met Drew and Laura while they were visiting Chris in Belgium, and now that I'm back in Upstate it's great to have awesome people to go visit when I'm in Rochester, which is relatively frequently now that both my Dad and Grandma Susie are there.

So I met up with Drew Friday night, and while we were waiting for Laura to get off work the guys were playing the expanded version of Guitar Hero, with all the different instruments, I can't remember what it's called. I had absolutely no intention of attempting such a thing in a room full of relative strangers, but everyone else had an instrument (or was chicken) so I ended up "singing". It was actually way more fun than I thought possible, perhaps because I was too busy deciphering the game cues to remember that I was making a long series of strange muted noises into an amplifying device. I didn't know most of the words to the songs, so there were a lot of randomly annunciated hummings and clickings, but I ended up being pretty good at it, which gave me an ambiguous sense of satisfaction. It's a mimic game, so I'm not actually singing, although maybe I could, but it's more about following the cues and hitting the line that the "notes" makes across the top of the screen. I guess it's more about timing, but that can't even really be the whole truth, because a lot of the guys were musicians and still had trouble "playing" their "instruments". I don't think it necessarily bodes well for my karaoke prospects, but at least I can follow trailing words set to music. At any rate it makes me want an Xbox... though of course I should be wary of all rabbit holes, the internet is enough of a distraction.

After a few rounds Drew and I walked through the blustering winterness and went to this place Lux, which was really amazing. I don't know if it was just a good night, or if I was high on virtual triumph, but this bar completely sold me. I loved the decor, the crowd, the drinks. It was sooo freaking cold outside and I was under-prepared, but then we walked into the warm and Drew informs me that this beautiful place sells hot cider and whiskey. I thought he was joking at first, and then I was holding a huge hot mug of spiked cider. Really it was incredible, I don't know why more bars don't do that. The art was awesome, the bathrooms locked and were cleanish, and there was a huge outside space complete with a free-standing grated fireplace. I never wanted to leave, except for the fact that if I stayed I would eventually drink myself to death. If this place had been in Belgium I think I would have been done for. In addition to all that, the people were really nice, and I had a lot of random conversations with strangers that reinstated my faith in social situations like that, the bar scene as such. Maybe it was just a kismet of circumstances, but a better introduction to Rochester I could not have hoped for.

So I didn't sleep much Friday night. Saturday I spent the day with Julie and Dad in Pittsford helping with Christmas decorations and nursing my hangover. Then that night I went out with my friend Jeff, who is a musician (see Old Boy and Gaylord) and thus knows everybody. His was a whirlwind tour, one of the highlights being the Bug Jar that I've heard so much about (I covet one of the bugs tied to the ceiling, but Jeff reminded me those bugs are there for everyone). Some of the venues in this town seem really amazing, and with all the good bands in Rochester I'm not surprised why people like it so much. Oh yes of course, and when I said I wanted a hot dog (still feeling the night before), Jeff took me to this place called Dogtown, where I ordered a plate of delicious mess, beans and sweet potato fries topped off with a grilled red hot dog, mustard and sauerkraut. It was so good, but I only got about 40% into it. Apparently Rochester is famous for something called the "garbage plate", which everyone kept bringing up. I don't think I'm any kind of match for that thing, I couldn't even finish my Highland skillet (at the Highland Diner) on Sunday morning, hella good though it was. That's a fabulous diner that I actually knew about because my Dad has taken me there nearly every time I've visited. The plates piled high with stuff reminds me of Pittsburgh and the Pickle Barrel, beautifully cheap and wonderfully crass, I miss that place.

So now I'm all down with Rochester. I need to find the cool side of Syracuse, that's the next step. I've gotten into going to Taps on Westcott with Sangeetha and Paul lately, that's a pretty good time, though I really need to find a place with a real dartboard. I love shooting darts but those plastic computerized things make me a little crazy. The PBR is two bucks and they usually have basketball on so I'm set. I've been to the Mezzanotte Lounge a couple of times for shows, but despite the fact that they have a pretty good booking agent (that's where I saw Gaylord the last time) and the sound is pretty good, the place didn't impress me much logistically. If I have to haggle to get back into a place after every cigarette break because they don't believe in stamping for whatever reason, that's a big minus. Plus, I received a manhattan there that didn't have vermouth in it, just soda. Heads up people, there's no soda in a manhattan. Meh, I'm being bitchy, I'm sure the place will grow on me. The big problem with Syracuse, as was the case in Pittsburgh, is that you need a car to get out of your neighborhood, so that puts a big kaibosh on cutting loose. Plus I get two emails every other day informing me that someone's been attacked or robbed on campus or just outside, and although I haven't had any bad experiences yet, that gives me pause.

Now there are three papers to write in 11 days. I never know starting out how these periods will go, but despite my crippling doubts about the first papers I've turned in, I haven't made an ass of myself yet, so here's hoping it all comes off without a hitch. Or at least, none that are too public. My latest psychological improvement project is trying to figure out a way to stop the spiral of self-defeatism that besets me every time I do something that means something to me. I always think I get it wrong, and I make a lot of noise about it and embarrass everyone around me, and then it's ultimately fine. The impulse to control a situation when I have something invested in it is somehow hardwired deep in my brain. I feel the ambiguity bodily and writhe around for however long it takes to get the final outcome. In the interim, I invest so much faith in the magical power of words to negotiate the uncertainty that I make anyone involved crazy with my pre-emptive strikes. I have GOT to cut that out.

So it's just work, work, work from here until the 17th or so, but then it's winter break and I have all kinds of plans. Mike C. might come to visit, hopefully Phoebe and I will take a kick-ass roadtrip to Toronto (where I will get to see lots of people, but especially Mike D. and Jan, who I missed last time), and there might even be a visit from Drew and Chris, while the latter's taking another "I heart America" tour with at least one leg in Upstate before he heads back to the UK. I am going to be so happy to leave this first semester behind, I really hate adjustment periods, however necessary they may be. I don't necessarily know what I'm going to do with Smokey during those times, so if anyone out there feels like house/cat sitting, my house could be your house for a few intervals.

Anyway, I have one more chunk of reading to do before I turn in for the night, so I should get to that before I lose steam. I hope everyone is well!