With the boys off at the front, Manon and I are spending some time entre filles this weekend...so far I've subversively eaten some of her taboule orientale and turned up the TV while she was on the phone; maybe tonight we'll have a soirée pyjama. She resembles more and more the little Russian countesses in War and Peace, shrieking and clenching her tiny fists when she doesn't get her way, or wandering the apartment with big, empty eyes, mouth slightly agape. She doesn't even seem to get any pleasure out of her music anymore...the blasts from her clock radio at all hours are technically correct, but lacking in feeling. I've learned a lot about the human condition from reading Tolstoy, and I think she's probably upset because not one of the young men who frequent our apartment has proposed to her. She's not a brilliant match, but...she has such nice eyelashes, and a dainty little brain, and it can't be denied that elle fait un effort:
Aujourd'hui
Manon voted for these singles on Most Eligible Singles. 10:26
Damien Irving
Manon voted for these singles on Most Eligible Singles. 10:26
Simran Paras
Manon a ajouté l'application Who Has The Biggest Brain?. 11:18
18 avril
Manon voted for these singles on Most Eligible Singles. 20:48
Daniel Holms
Manon voted for these singles on Most Eligible Singles. 20:48
Webster MsG
Manon voted for these singles on Most Eligible Singles. 20:48
Damien Irving
15 avril
Manon voted for these singles on Most Eligible Singles. 19:44
Sudhanshu Verma
Manon voted for these singles on Most Eligible Singles. 19:44
Don Cooney
Manon voted for these singles on Most Eligible Singles. 19:44
Adrien Poitou
13 avril
Manon voted for these friends on Most Eligible Singles. 14:58
Schoebel Vincent
Manon a changé sa photo du profil. 14:58
Manon a ajouté l'application Most Eligible Singles. 14:47
I tell her every day, "Ma puce, marriages are made in heaven," but she insists that they are made on the Internet, which, she reasons, is shaped like heaven.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
phonophage
Without the Internet in my apartment, my life is only mediated a medium amount, but I make do with metalanguage. A viellard sold me a weathered one-euro copy of Ulysse for fitty cent, because "vous êtes jeune." I watch Le Mépris most nights.
Last weekend Jennie, Jen, Alexandre and I made vegetarian meals à la provençale, tanned on the terrasse, and (almost) went to a beautiful island. Jen and I struggled nightly with the clic-clac:
Me: Clic!
Jen: Clac?
Me: Did it clic?
Jen: Yeah but…how do we make it clac?
Alexandre: Mais putain, hit recline!
I told my kids my “un œuf” joke, once they unscrambled the French and the English they seemed to get it. Then they offered me one of their own; unfortunately, l’anglais a effacé l’anglais:
Man arab meets woman english, he dit, he says, You want do party with me tonight? She says, Never! He says, I cannot do never, but never et demi?
Eventually I got the pun on “never”/“neuf heures,” but...it was too late. Soon after this a friendly feud broke out between two boys who usually agree on everything (“We have already fuck,” “Sometimes we like films pornos,” etc):
Subira: I am African!
Mel: I am Asian!
Subira: I am African!
Mel: …
…I think that was it. My girls meanwhile were doodling, giggling, as I approached covered their paper but begged me, “S’il te plait, dessine-nous un sexe, on n’en a jamais vu!” I drew them one…it was beautiful, perfect color.
You can never go home again, but Romain has gone to Rome again (so homonym), meaning I will never see him again until he joins Facebook. On the way to our romaintic farewell dinner which we let Marwan come to, he remarked how there was no one around at night in Marseille, and feeling this was a good time to parody/perpetuate racism, I dutifully and ominously replied, “Sauf les Arabes!” Romain loved this, and, feigning fear, warned, “Y a des Mabouds partout!”, which Marwan (not Arab) loved too.
Last weekend Jennie, Jen, Alexandre and I made vegetarian meals à la provençale, tanned on the terrasse, and (almost) went to a beautiful island. Jen and I struggled nightly with the clic-clac:
Me: Clic!
Jen: Clac?
Me: Did it clic?
Jen: Yeah but…how do we make it clac?
Alexandre: Mais putain, hit recline!
I told my kids my “un œuf” joke, once they unscrambled the French and the English they seemed to get it. Then they offered me one of their own; unfortunately, l’anglais a effacé l’anglais:
Man arab meets woman english, he dit, he says, You want do party with me tonight? She says, Never! He says, I cannot do never, but never et demi?
Eventually I got the pun on “never”/“neuf heures,” but...it was too late. Soon after this a friendly feud broke out between two boys who usually agree on everything (“We have already fuck,” “Sometimes we like films pornos,” etc):
Subira: I am African!
Mel: I am Asian!
Subira: I am African!
Mel: …
…I think that was it. My girls meanwhile were doodling, giggling, as I approached covered their paper but begged me, “S’il te plait, dessine-nous un sexe, on n’en a jamais vu!” I drew them one…it was beautiful, perfect color.
You can never go home again, but Romain has gone to Rome again (so homonym), meaning I will never see him again until he joins Facebook. On the way to our romaintic farewell dinner which we let Marwan come to, he remarked how there was no one around at night in Marseille, and feeling this was a good time to parody/perpetuate racism, I dutifully and ominously replied, “Sauf les Arabes!” Romain loved this, and, feigning fear, warned, “Y a des Mabouds partout!”, which Marwan (not Arab) loved too.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Le problème avec Leah
Who said it?
Peter Brooks or "Norman Bronzino."
1) "Je suis convaincu qu'il n'y a pas de pédagogie sans érotisme...il me semble qu'on n'apprend vraiment bien que des professeurs dont on est amoureux."
2) "I want to talk mainly about bodies emblazoned with meaning within the field of desire, desire that is originally and always, with whatever sublimations, sexual, but also by extension the desire to know .... The desire to know is constructed from sexual desire and curiosity."
3) "J'ai écrit un roman. [...] Personne ne me reconnaîtra: je pouvais tout dire. Et c'est plein du sexe."
4) "Katie, the only problem with this paper is, I want to know more..."
Answer bank: Peter Brooks
Peter Brooks or "Norman Bronzino."
1) "Je suis convaincu qu'il n'y a pas de pédagogie sans érotisme...il me semble qu'on n'apprend vraiment bien que des professeurs dont on est amoureux."
2) "I want to talk mainly about bodies emblazoned with meaning within the field of desire, desire that is originally and always, with whatever sublimations, sexual, but also by extension the desire to know .... The desire to know is constructed from sexual desire and curiosity."
3) "J'ai écrit un roman. [...] Personne ne me reconnaîtra: je pouvais tout dire. Et c'est plein du sexe."
4) "Katie, the only problem with this paper is, I want to know more..."
Answer bank: Peter Brooks
Männersmittel
The later capitalism gets, the more I realize das Leben ist kein Ponyhof, die Honig-Waffeln sind Honig-Waffen, and my Hosen have Hosen (for real...Berlin was at times cold enough to warrant two pairs of pants). But I'm embracing the modern media of mediation, whether it's delicious Antioxidantsmittel ("medium for transmitting antioxidants") or my Gesichtebuchmachine ("computer"), either bei Thorsten or at the post-pretentious cafe that, despite its best intentions, is quite the Ponyhof. What kind of mediation-savvy idiot-savant goes on vacation just to go on the Internet, right?
Jamie: i think i'm in the right place
as soon as i entered the ponyhof, i heard someone say "normativo" in italian
2:14 PM me: hey i need to get off my facebookmachine
where should i go?
Jamie: ok===you should leave kreuzberg
go to the holocaust memorial
me: where is that?
Jamie: its right near the brandenburg tor
on a road that goes south perpindicular
2:15 PM to the tor
its actually on hannah arendt straße if i remember coorectly
then you go see some other cool stuff
and definitely check out Dussmann
2:16 PM its the four storez book / music store
me: ohhh hannah ARENDT strasse
At the Holocaust Memorial children were playing a game of cache-cache (not cacher!). Jamie and I capitalized on the generosity of a German Jew ("Not many left you know! All in America! Universities! You want coffee?") in his trendy boutique.
Ron: You like this store? Or you think it has changed for bad?
Jamie: No, it's super!!
Ron: Thanks God!
Me (loudly, looking at shoes): Jamie I love this Shoah!!
Jamie: I think you mean Schuhe.
When we left, skinny jeans in tow, he said with a conspiratorial flash of rotting teeth, "You come back, we have party." Disconcerting, because his skin was so clear, and the whites of his eyes so white...also, I don't even like to have party.
To make sure gender roles stayed normativo, I again provided Lebensmittel for the Männer, who earnestly but not without the aid of webcomics sought to understand the economies...now when my kids ask me "Madame, c'est quoi le subprime mortgage crisis?", I'll know what to say.
Chris: With banks whispering sweet encouragement, people bought homes they couldn’t afford, and now they are falling behind on their mortgages.
Jamie: But the overwhelming majority of homeowners are doing just fine. So how is it that a mess concentrated in one part of the mortgage business — subprime loans — has frozen the credit markets, sent stock markets gyrating, caused the collapse of Bear Stearns, left the economy on the brink of the worst recession in a generation and forced the Federal Reserve to take its boldest action since the Depression?
Me: Can I have some more wine?
Chris: It really started in 1998, when large numbers of people decided that real estate, which still hadn’t recovered from the early 1990s slump, had become a bargain.
Me (sotto): Make it schloss, make it schloss, make it schloss am dem Hose...
Jamie: Bubbles lead to busts. Busts lead to panics. And panics can lead to long, deep economic downturns, which is why the Fed has been taking unprecedented actions to restore confidence.
Me: Hey do you guys ever feel like women are just vessels for homosocial relations between men?
Back in Marseille I’m feeling better, like neither a phage nor a vessel, but I’m eaten up by a deadening self-referentiality, my (literal [physical] and literal [textual]) body become both subject and object. Metaphor’s a metaphage, it consumes itself to the point of anorexic finitude….what’s all this meta for, anyway?
Jamie: i think i'm in the right place
as soon as i entered the ponyhof, i heard someone say "normativo" in italian
2:14 PM me: hey i need to get off my facebookmachine
where should i go?
Jamie: ok===you should leave kreuzberg
go to the holocaust memorial
me: where is that?
Jamie: its right near the brandenburg tor
on a road that goes south perpindicular
2:15 PM to the tor
its actually on hannah arendt straße if i remember coorectly
then you go see some other cool stuff
and definitely check out Dussmann
2:16 PM its the four storez book / music store
me: ohhh hannah ARENDT strasse
At the Holocaust Memorial children were playing a game of cache-cache (not cacher!). Jamie and I capitalized on the generosity of a German Jew ("Not many left you know! All in America! Universities! You want coffee?") in his trendy boutique.
Ron: You like this store? Or you think it has changed for bad?
Jamie: No, it's super!!
Ron: Thanks God!
Me (loudly, looking at shoes): Jamie I love this Shoah!!
Jamie: I think you mean Schuhe.
When we left, skinny jeans in tow, he said with a conspiratorial flash of rotting teeth, "You come back, we have party." Disconcerting, because his skin was so clear, and the whites of his eyes so white...also, I don't even like to have party.
To make sure gender roles stayed normativo, I again provided Lebensmittel for the Männer, who earnestly but not without the aid of webcomics sought to understand the economies...now when my kids ask me "Madame, c'est quoi le subprime mortgage crisis?", I'll know what to say.
Chris: With banks whispering sweet encouragement, people bought homes they couldn’t afford, and now they are falling behind on their mortgages.
Jamie: But the overwhelming majority of homeowners are doing just fine. So how is it that a mess concentrated in one part of the mortgage business — subprime loans — has frozen the credit markets, sent stock markets gyrating, caused the collapse of Bear Stearns, left the economy on the brink of the worst recession in a generation and forced the Federal Reserve to take its boldest action since the Depression?
Me: Can I have some more wine?
Chris: It really started in 1998, when large numbers of people decided that real estate, which still hadn’t recovered from the early 1990s slump, had become a bargain.
Me (sotto): Make it schloss, make it schloss, make it schloss am dem Hose...
Jamie: Bubbles lead to busts. Busts lead to panics. And panics can lead to long, deep economic downturns, which is why the Fed has been taking unprecedented actions to restore confidence.
Me: Hey do you guys ever feel like women are just vessels for homosocial relations between men?
Back in Marseille I’m feeling better, like neither a phage nor a vessel, but I’m eaten up by a deadening self-referentiality, my (literal [physical] and literal [textual]) body become both subject and object. Metaphor’s a metaphage, it consumes itself to the point of anorexic finitude….what’s all this meta for, anyway?
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Sonnenstudium
Je hais les dimanches, but daylight savings last Sunday provided for an hour less day and an hour more sun. Monday was l’Annonciation, when Marie gave her fiat, c’est-à-dire son “oui” libre, sans contrainte ni réserve, a text tantamount to sex, for in nine months’ time the Son was born (Romain, I’m sure, views his Fiat in similar terms). True or false: if Marwan provided this exigesis for his Catholic girlfriend, who is named Marie, she would realize that the prohibition of premarital sex is not necessarily catholic, and she can make an exception. Answer: True, because Marwan is Actually a God.
I'm in Berlin now, pursuing my career as a digital performance artist (literally), i.e. constructing my identity on the internet until my digits bleed. I cooked dinner for Jamie and Chris while they swilled red wine and discussed mediation, gender roles, how godlessness will get you nowhere and other Stuff Aristocratic Liberals Like. They've gone off drinking and won't be back until late capitalism. My interactions with Thorsten, the landlord, have been limited but rich.
Thorsten (breathing heavily behind me): Hallo!!
Me (turning quickly as fear turns to joy): Oh...hi!
Thorsten (toothy): Hi!
Me: So...lot of rain, huh? I'm trying to be positive, but...I could really use a trip to the Sonnenstudio.
Thorsten: Ja! Sky like porridge!
The Girlfriend: Hallo, I'm The Girlfriend, Dogma. Do You have everything for Your comfort?
Unclear whether she meant "I'm Thorsten's girlfriend, my name is Dogma," or "I am The Girlfriend, not just a girlfriend. I'm no positivist...I'm the girlfriend: [this is] dogma"...we could have sworn her name was Teresa.
I guess I should profiter de Berlin, but it just makes me miss the Hohepunkte and Cocktails-To-Go I enjoyed that summer with kleine Hannah...during my days I just follow the wall, fall into a daze and hear, italicized, in my head, nostalgie, ostalgie, faux-stalgie, ho-stalgie, lost-algie...
I'm in Berlin now, pursuing my career as a digital performance artist (literally), i.e. constructing my identity on the internet until my digits bleed. I cooked dinner for Jamie and Chris while they swilled red wine and discussed mediation, gender roles, how godlessness will get you nowhere and other Stuff Aristocratic Liberals Like. They've gone off drinking and won't be back until late capitalism. My interactions with Thorsten, the landlord, have been limited but rich.
Thorsten (breathing heavily behind me): Hallo!!
Me (turning quickly as fear turns to joy): Oh...hi!
Thorsten (toothy): Hi!
Me: So...lot of rain, huh? I'm trying to be positive, but...I could really use a trip to the Sonnenstudio.
Thorsten: Ja! Sky like porridge!
The Girlfriend: Hallo, I'm The Girlfriend, Dogma. Do You have everything for Your comfort?
Unclear whether she meant "I'm Thorsten's girlfriend, my name is Dogma," or "I am The Girlfriend, not just a girlfriend. I'm no positivist...I'm the girlfriend: [this is] dogma"...we could have sworn her name was Teresa.
I guess I should profiter de Berlin, but it just makes me miss the Hohepunkte and Cocktails-To-Go I enjoyed that summer with kleine Hannah...during my days I just follow the wall, fall into a daze and hear, italicized, in my head, nostalgie, ostalgie, faux-stalgie, ho-stalgie, lost-algie...
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