bizarre day---update blog---attempt to decide which phone calls to address. march around psu looking for something besides credit. great presentations. i like the class as a student run affair. if only we could teach all the time. impressive projects. finish paper. can't eat. too depressed. had juice and an avocado.
listening to the same LSE lecture on repeat on the MI5 on account of the gorgeous diction of peter hennessey.
http://www.lse.ac.uk/resources/podcasts/publicLecturesAndEvents.htm
an aries, no wonder i love him.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Hennessy
trying to imitate the speed and fluency of it. the acquired pronunciation. and the storytelling of cold war britain and bunkers and pre-cell phone electronic alert system for the queen's car. for a moment i was so obsessed with london. no for one year exactly. and now i am still an anglophile. found an australian friend. he said i had a curious way of speaking. i told him i was listening to the oxford and cambridge letters. areopagitica very fine indeed
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Areopagitica
defense of free speech! indeed! milton.
milton areopagitica google books
and of breton woods
and the WB and IMF and the bottom billion and the plundered planet.
great lectures indeed.
paul collier
http://www.amazon.com/Plundered-Planet-Must-Can-Manage-Prosperity/dp/0195395255
aussie friend asked of blake. and i dreamt oh yes.
i met him on a train years ago, only once and imagine, he remembered me and just redescended upon portland as well. and now i am so fond of aussies after the good LA ones . . . the mere sound of the voice thrills me.
read of emily dickinson's epilepsy and the german tongue in the economist.
spoke to the person who gave lecture on sovereign wealth funds. he is very picaresque. it was excellent. they all were.
except for the racist one. ever so portland to accept all the coyly stated border war propaganda in its convoluted "racism is now socially acceptable" kind of way.
oh and heavens bless judith butler for decrying racism within the gay rights movement in germany.
bless her. bless her.
and for having the gaul to speak of islamaphobia.
bless her.
there are many women who wear hijab.
i myself have craved it two days in a row, and am imprisoned in my western equicalent, trench and head to toe black.
and what luck to study and make this!
http://hijabniqab.blogspot.com/
pity it was a tree falling in the forest alone!
and teacher forbade me my oral presentation!
was it islamaphobia, or just garden variety american sexism?
but one of my nightmares lives here:
http://thereallacc.blogspot.com/
and it twitches though almost dead.
it is the inferno.
my economics presentation was stumping for microcash from the angels via tech start-ups, a subject that revolts me now thank heavens its over.
here is the paper:
with twenty six reads in four hours!
http://www.scribd.com/doc/35757798/facebookVC-1
and wow 86 people read my
http://www.scribd.com/doc/35107639/the-faux-economist
which my teacher loathed even more than my original writing or addenda for his transition economics class some of which i forgot to upload.
scribd is getting sued regarding ads and privacy violations for holding web history for strategic placement. their ads i never look at. but funny eh?
drinking sweet tea with soy creamer which is what i crave when i feel very infantile.
i should feel lonely, but instead i feel empty and nothing.
and i try to smile a bit.
i dreamt an old friend died. she is popular and beautiful and young. i am worried why it was. it was to help me learn to value my own life, which i barely do. if i were half as wonderful as her, it would be a lot. of course i would never write her to tell her i dream this. i fear she drives her car intoxicated, often.
and another friend so happily by my side, and everything else is the nausea in between good dreams. i hope i have the good dreams recorded.
i spent silent time near a person with whom i feel sympathy.
it was headlong courage that threw me into that arena, that brief moment of humanity, in silence, and comprehension, and fear. the air is the main thing i like about portland. and walking around with less fear and less heat and less struggle.
the rose garden is my new paradise. i went three days in a row but skipped on account of my school work today.
its heaven.
and as of last friday, i have begun prodigious walking, mixed with some shopping, in concurrence with the oxygen, the weather, fewer threats (traffic, smog, crime), and my eternal nihilism.
the trouble started in 2008 when i became depressed again, and began to isolate. and then in 09 february i remember losing interest in food. the excesses of juice became my way of affirming life. but generally, i felt no fuel to move, but carefully didn't disappear. but i felt weaker and weaker. it was the smog too, killing my appetite and my nerves and my brain of course. and then i could barely move in excess. except in summer for my school break when i took long walks through the cement and smog and tried to feel sportlich, and drank lots of aloe and orange and tomato.
and then when my friend said, you look better, after saying you have to eat, and me saying, yes i have been, it hurt me a little. except i wanted to tell him, i just wear bigger clothes and more layers of them, to hide my self from scrutiny. and that it is my high calorie juice binging that sustains me.
and then, now in portland, i can eat a few things: tempeh, vegenaise, and juice.
and lately corn tortillas.
i feel like the oil and protein helped rebuild the decreasing brain mass which subsisted on fructose and caffeine. and i feel it. circulating: fat and protein.
no more chips. and potato anything sounds awful.
so many things have bad associations. the taste ruins my whole day. like peanuts. or tomato. or hummus. it reminds me of depression. or sweetness, i don't like that either. or garlic.
kafka on my mind, cachexia and the year 2000, when everyone died and i lay immobilized by fear and poverty, as withered as a heroin addict, waiting for a sign, afraid to go anywhere, waiting for california to explode in my mind like a gigantic neon carnival.
going to the umbrellas of cherbourg this weekend and then maybe to see all the apparatus downtown saturday. and to the roses. still need to get some dishes and things, but i am very bad about material existence on account of apathy and indecisiveness.
underneath this all is my feeling that my teacher is grading me unfairly, based on not understanding my english, my perspectives. and not only that, he isn't trying to understand, but is looking for a more catechism regurgitation approach. and i really think subconsciously he spots me for an infidel. and the spiritual content is correct. he should walk on me. that is what he is into. and then i am into receiving school money and privilege. so i should accept the rules as they declare them. i feel systematically discouraged. but i think if i come with a doctor's note, a disability, and perhaps hyperabilities as well, he might listen to another another way of thinking, and have a heart for the economic desperation besetting students who have literally gone through hell to get to the classroom.
the spiritual content of his transmission feels disparately severe. it is as though he takes me into his confidence to bestow the negativity of his soul. he is lear, and i cordelia. and i have such fondness and respect. but as i try to express it, he scorns my mind. as if to let me know he is afraid of dying, and feels closer to it. and through a little brutality he can feel more alive for a bit. and i will live longer, so his word is inconsequential, and he knows it. so picking on me, guarantees us a little afternoon conversation. and we are so lonely we could die, so were it not for his picking on me, we might have nothing to do, in this abysmal hell of consciousness.
so in a way, i feel it to be affectionate picking.
but i have noticed my tendency to find or militate abuse. one look at me, and the mad ape starts screaming. its the vegan eyes. they are open. and my spine has not been snapped yet by their shark teeth.
so i am like a shrimp on their plate.
and i trudge the stairs realizing by my age sylvia plath had her head in the oven, truly the best place for a woman's head.
and then i read about the appalling pay gap and the academic discrimination in germany and feel solaced, as sadly i know it is so hard for some men to tolerate the fact that women have ideas of any kind at all.
and when we do, they are clearly all wrong.
and how utterly disgusting! der spiegel reports that the German Institute for Economic Research thinks women like getting paid less than men. right. of course.
http://www.spiegel.de/international/germany/0,1518,705134,00.html
i imagine they are like the american enterprise institute or something.
back to BBC.
internet wizardry
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clay_Shirky
reminds me of keen"s cult of the amateur
