Saturday, November 29, 2003

It's been a wonderful weekend so far.
Interesting company, non-stop activity, and coherent sleep.

I was here and have a Sing Loud tattoo to show for it. Then peeked into this non-happening joint before heading off here. And then back we went to singing loud.

Tons of junta on the roads, two buck margaritas and shots in test-tubes...
God did I freeze and God do I love tequila!

Thursday, November 27, 2003

Social anthropology has robbed me of my ability to see the world sans stealth and subterfuge. Just back from another movie and all I can reflect on is incomplete frames. As we pontificated in class today, representations are important not for what they say but what they leave unsaid.

And I have to do a paper that situates my project and life experience and goals within the boundaries of this science, this culture, this artifice. What do I say? That I do not see much meaning in doing anything except for that which helps me wade through endless, precious, wasteful time? That in navigating this constant search for meaning, I all but lose control of the idea of being in control? That the idea of making sense is invested with modernity and doesn't excacty make sense?

Derrida says that every answer corrupts the question. I, it seems, am irretrievably corrupted.

Tuesday, November 25, 2003

Some people don't just lend me perspective, they are my perspective. And that doesn't work out too well sometimes. Just like critiques of the culture concept, individuals do not exist as coherent, internally homogenous organs devoid of history and external influence. Objectivity, unlike price, is not available on request. And hence, I must deduct their motivation from their opinions and hope that the remainder contributes to clarity. My fingers and toes have been crossed all day...time to uncross and get the blood flowing.

Sunday, November 23, 2003

I've been busy fire-fighting minor upheavals, some bad most good. And there is yet so much more work to do.
I guess those guys at the orientation did get it right after all. The function of academia is to keep its members in a state of constant tension, battling imaginary foes and transitory woes. And God, is it an efficent machinery! All I have to do is look around at all the work other people seem to be doing and the constant 'buzz' in the air and it brings on a near-nervous breakdown. Processually Foucauldian and ultimately Kafkaesque. Those two should have collaborated on their work, would have been paranoia at its brilliant best.

Monday, November 17, 2003

Another funeral. Time to mourn. For the passing of an idea, a stance, a future.

And then the aftermath. Rewriting, reconfiguration, reparation.
Practice never makes perfect.

Wednesday, November 12, 2003

Thoughts that put life into jeopardy. God save mankind from them.

Just back from a really interesting set of talks on Edward Said and his work and it has fortunately helped settle some of my essential discomfort with the inapplicability of most academic work. Not that it hasn't raised murkier issues.

How does one think and how does one choose? If epistemology allows categorization of the world, what is it that will allow the choice of the category to slot oneself in? How does one balance involvement and objectivity?

The themes seem to recur everywhere. The debate is omnipresent.
How does one give of oneself without adding a conditional clause of gift?

Tuesday, November 11, 2003

No careful contrivance.
No premediated speech.
No veracity of knowledge.

How then will the plot come to light?

Monday, November 10, 2003

This is an exercise of putting away things. In designated grids of space and time. In subsuming order into chaos. Compartments, colours and Excel sheets. The appearance of reality in the transcendence of time.

How goes the Ph.D?
It goes...




It is as convoluted as I choose it to be.
Pretend soldiers of warless times.

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

New seasons, new garbs, new songs and new eyes...
My Christmas wishlist

Monday, November 03, 2003

Familar panic and the run-for-cover screams...

I don't understand. This is not the usual forerunner of doom. This one is a new guy. I don't know him, he doesn't scare me....he unnerves, displaces and disorients, but doesn't evoke any fear.

I don't understand. What manner of enemy, what category of foe? Do I fight or flee?
It's been a great week. Been to see this and this...

Sunday night, I am dead and dying and hoping to find a new day and a new morning...complications galore, but nothing worth killing myself over...

Sparkling conversations, interesting company and people galore...somewhere I have in me the sneaking feeling that it doesn't get better than this.