Trachtenberg, Alan. The Incorporation of America: Culture and Society in the Gilded Age. New York: Hill and Wang, 1982. Print.
nb for next fall - chapter 6 - p. 182, Fictions of the Real.
also following chapter on White City.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
microrebellion, craft brewed.
homestyle table wail.
and either it's the phalanges, the carpals, or the synapses staging microrevolution?
or maybe the brain staging a rebellion, recoiling at how awful all this is,
but my heart is fortified and saddened because it knows that i will try to pound it out until there's just bloody stumps left and i don't use the shift key because i'm typing with my nose.
but typing with my nose is going to make it hard for me to stare out the window while i type as i am wont to do.
and i'm not all that overly attached to capital letters anyway.
but.
a meek proposal, so mild as to possibly one day inherit the earth. a suggestion.
we are the romans. we should revel in this. all of the money that is being spent for cheerladder games like "vote for me!" should be spent to vitalize local economies and create jobs in constructing modular recyclable eco friendly non-animal tested colisseums (yesh i don't know how to spell that sorry i am such a marginal and ign'nt roman) that can be taken down when campaign season is over.
and we send anyone who is frog enough to bellow hir own name to the admiring bog the livelong day into those stadiums naked armed only with pens and swords and see who comes out alive.
carry the bigshow on widescreen flatscreen every screen in the land: pay per view and pbs alike, the advertising spectacle so grand as to make the superbowl marketing extravaganza look like a twelve year old wanking it to the barred screen lines of some cut rate skinemax flick pirated three times. halftime will culminate in a good old fashioned orgy (we are romans after all) with manic pixie dream girls rolling around on the field (in the blood mud) eating cupcakes, while madonna has a threesome with britney spears and angelina jolie while the winsome ghost of lohan hovers above all, her skin translucent wings gleaming.
the bars would be packed. it would be unifying national spectacle and fair sacrifice for the honor of leadership, no?
and either it's the phalanges, the carpals, or the synapses staging microrevolution?
or maybe the brain staging a rebellion, recoiling at how awful all this is,
but my heart is fortified and saddened because it knows that i will try to pound it out until there's just bloody stumps left and i don't use the shift key because i'm typing with my nose.
but typing with my nose is going to make it hard for me to stare out the window while i type as i am wont to do.
and i'm not all that overly attached to capital letters anyway.
but.
a meek proposal, so mild as to possibly one day inherit the earth. a suggestion.
we are the romans. we should revel in this. all of the money that is being spent for cheerladder games like "vote for me!" should be spent to vitalize local economies and create jobs in constructing modular recyclable eco friendly non-animal tested colisseums (yesh i don't know how to spell that sorry i am such a marginal and ign'nt roman) that can be taken down when campaign season is over.
and we send anyone who is frog enough to bellow hir own name to the admiring bog the livelong day into those stadiums naked armed only with pens and swords and see who comes out alive.
carry the bigshow on widescreen flatscreen every screen in the land: pay per view and pbs alike, the advertising spectacle so grand as to make the superbowl marketing extravaganza look like a twelve year old wanking it to the barred screen lines of some cut rate skinemax flick pirated three times. halftime will culminate in a good old fashioned orgy (we are romans after all) with manic pixie dream girls rolling around on the field (in the blood mud) eating cupcakes, while madonna has a threesome with britney spears and angelina jolie while the winsome ghost of lohan hovers above all, her skin translucent wings gleaming.
the bars would be packed. it would be unifying national spectacle and fair sacrifice for the honor of leadership, no?
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
takeaway window confession
bitter herb dumplings: paket servis
there in fifteen minutes or less, and i'll drive over sidewalks and kids to do it.
but not stray dogs or cats.
okay:
essential dissection? check
begat
a warped shimmering layered set of personality
situation dependent
only
a hard shell come along too in the course of it all and every now and then a grain of sand gets under there,
under the shell and scratching on delicate mucosal membranes
nostalgic - a common theme
for what never was - the vaguest banality, the vainest conception of back when everything was right
depending on what back seat you were in when you set about to fumbling with the back when.
abstinence
just don't do it
altho thinking on what never was is a substitute for thinking about the way things could be different
now
like put everything down and walk away and the uncertainty of the oh what would happen to me?
filler would happen, punctuated by Moment. and i would lack all of the pleasantries that i have and those are so hard to give up.
domestication is a bitch.
there in fifteen minutes or less, and i'll drive over sidewalks and kids to do it.
but not stray dogs or cats.
okay:
essential dissection? check
begat
a warped shimmering layered set of personality
situation dependent
only
a hard shell come along too in the course of it all and every now and then a grain of sand gets under there,
under the shell and scratching on delicate mucosal membranes
nostalgic - a common theme
for what never was - the vaguest banality, the vainest conception of back when everything was right
depending on what back seat you were in when you set about to fumbling with the back when.
abstinence
just don't do it
altho thinking on what never was is a substitute for thinking about the way things could be different
now
like put everything down and walk away and the uncertainty of the oh what would happen to me?
filler would happen, punctuated by Moment. and i would lack all of the pleasantries that i have and those are so hard to give up.
domestication is a bitch.
Monday, February 27, 2012
An open letter to Pastor Steve Riggle of Grace Community (mega)Church
I would with all greatest respect direct my request towards Pastor Steve Wriggle.
I understand that you have your own convictions regarding the right of adults to live in blessed love with one another, but once a church gets into the political business by discouraging a mayor's First Amendment rights to free speech, that church should consider giving up its protected, tax-exempt status. Attempting to use one's churchly position to pressure Houston mayor Annise Parker regarding the consensual rights of adults in this wonderful country is downright abusive of the faith and authority which so many have invested in the leaders of their spiritual community.
I certainly hope that you will remember the Christ who showed his love to those most scorned in a society and do the most uplifting works in that name. There is much charity to be done before infringing upon the rights of others.
I understand that you have your own convictions regarding the right of adults to live in blessed love with one another, but once a church gets into the political business by discouraging a mayor's First Amendment rights to free speech, that church should consider giving up its protected, tax-exempt status. Attempting to use one's churchly position to pressure Houston mayor Annise Parker regarding the consensual rights of adults in this wonderful country is downright abusive of the faith and authority which so many have invested in the leaders of their spiritual community.
I certainly hope that you will remember the Christ who showed his love to those most scorned in a society and do the most uplifting works in that name. There is much charity to be done before infringing upon the rights of others.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
apparently
we turned out smart AND queer.
what were they feeding us in that gifted and talented program?
did it have something to do with the sprouts katie brought? the salt and vinegar chips that adrienne shared? the wheat germ on my yogurt? my one love's bell pepper rings?
i could go on.
but the point is - we're all adults. and not new at it either. i should have got on by now.
what were they feeding us in that gifted and talented program?
did it have something to do with the sprouts katie brought? the salt and vinegar chips that adrienne shared? the wheat germ on my yogurt? my one love's bell pepper rings?
i could go on.
but the point is - we're all adults. and not new at it either. i should have got on by now.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
to be near
To be near she who was for so long an idol, and I was for a shining time her adored pet.
We had such aspirational affection, and of course, immature to us both in hindsight, but no less lovely. We use words like "quite" and "lovely." She has taken to enunciating in tiny stacatto any two ts together in words, hard edged unlike our native lazy approach to consonants - we tend to bevel the edges at least.
After a protracted separation, her brief return is from a place that is a shining castle and museum of humanity and civilization. Her brief return is to a place that has county roads, no real center of population and a large number of heavy pickup trucks driven as a matter of course, down those county roads who are all shrugging their shoulders into ditches, from a place where three lanes become six, but there is not much horn honking.
Plus, as she says, "The noise just goes down into the water."
Everyone wants a piece of she and her daughter. Silent fights simmer, never quite breaking boiling, and legitimately inflated lower lips lumber along as giant balloons over upturned faces. All are quite miserable in their love and impatience. We starve for her and we are glad that she can do quite well without us, but what we don't understand is that she doesn't see that we like it when she is near. We do not understand how she could not understand what we understand and alternate between long stretched sinewy tension transmitted digitally, slowly, like getting messages back from distant planets, and loathing for our own expectations and needs.
Also, we are here, in rustic crude metal huts, among crumbling parking lots and empty storefronts, however tastefully the insides of our own homes are decorated. There is no charm here, this crude establishment which is slowly being painted over with more storefronts that will before too long also crumble to shit. Given the setting, is there any wonder there is something ambivalent in the feelings?
We had such aspirational affection, and of course, immature to us both in hindsight, but no less lovely. We use words like "quite" and "lovely." She has taken to enunciating in tiny stacatto any two ts together in words, hard edged unlike our native lazy approach to consonants - we tend to bevel the edges at least.
After a protracted separation, her brief return is from a place that is a shining castle and museum of humanity and civilization. Her brief return is to a place that has county roads, no real center of population and a large number of heavy pickup trucks driven as a matter of course, down those county roads who are all shrugging their shoulders into ditches, from a place where three lanes become six, but there is not much horn honking.
Plus, as she says, "The noise just goes down into the water."
Everyone wants a piece of she and her daughter. Silent fights simmer, never quite breaking boiling, and legitimately inflated lower lips lumber along as giant balloons over upturned faces. All are quite miserable in their love and impatience. We starve for her and we are glad that she can do quite well without us, but what we don't understand is that she doesn't see that we like it when she is near. We do not understand how she could not understand what we understand and alternate between long stretched sinewy tension transmitted digitally, slowly, like getting messages back from distant planets, and loathing for our own expectations and needs.
Also, we are here, in rustic crude metal huts, among crumbling parking lots and empty storefronts, however tastefully the insides of our own homes are decorated. There is no charm here, this crude establishment which is slowly being painted over with more storefronts that will before too long also crumble to shit. Given the setting, is there any wonder there is something ambivalent in the feelings?
Thursday, November 17, 2011
on science...
Related to Latour.
Something to remember about science: science is founded upon the appealingly rational idea of empirical knowledge - observation, measurement, recording, and repetition. However, these things are, like many other things, not as solid as one might wish them to be.
Our observation is limited to what we can or do observe. In the US, one is "officially" taught that there are five or so senses, with a sixth somewhere between the wished-for/believed-in and the observable, related to the perception of electromagnetics. A great deal of people have these in common, to varying degrees. We know that we do, because we have tools that tells us so, and measurements called decibels. However, due to our differences, we have "deficiencies" - which are only deficiencies in relation to the statistical mean value for a particular population for a particular measurement, in one or many senses.
Currently, a spacecraft launched 30 years ago has reached the borderspace of the heliosphere, but there is no monitoring or survey equipment on board beyond that which is capable of relaying the craft's position. This little time capsule, is empty, save for its capability, and our capability through it, to locate it in space, and in so doing, locate space. How many holes are there in this? How many different types of information could have been gathered; how many things of interest to our species?
How many types of information that we do not know about?
Measurement itself is another issue. Measures of sight or hearing are only of value in comparison to what is considered to be the normal ability. What is considered to be the "normal" ability? Is it the level of hearing or sight capacity that can be measured to be possessed by most people? Or should it be the level in the middle of the lower and higher end of ability? This is not an independent measure, without relationship to some other variable. The units of measure are all subjective, in some sense - horses are still, in the 21st century, measured in a unit called hands. It is currently accepted that a hand is equal to what is known as 4 inches, but what the hell is an inch. I've never seen one in the wild, and my hands are not 4 of them wide. Nor are my feet 12 of them long. They are based on decisions, made standard and viable only because of agreement upon their continued use. I myself will only hope to never see such a thing as a millimeter in nature, as it sounds quite poisonous.
Recording? I'd hope the average reader of the average text or work or document or piece or poetry or prose or drama or comedy or short story or magical spell would understand the faulty nature of transcribing what is not written into what is written. And certainly, the problem of the transcription of what is written to another written form is fraught with danger and possibility. The transcription of an experiment and its results is no exception.
The same holds to repetition. Science is predicated upon the experiment, and the re-creation of results to create a supported case for a relationship between things. This re-creation of results must be achieved by re-creations of that which elicited the results in the first place. Look, if perception, measurement, translating, encoding are tough, let's not even joke about re-creating the conditions for a particular event. Not friggin possible. To be able to recreate the conditions, we would first have had to be able to observe all the conditions which made the results of the initial experiment possible. Herein lies one limitation. Secondly, well, if the agreements for the measurements stay the same, this might be an easier part, what with the agreement and the effort towards the precision of instruments likely to be involved in such an important scientific endeavor as ours. Still, measurement is a funny notion with any amount of thought, and that's worth noting. Then, the first go-round must have been interpreted, encoded, and re-interpreted in such a way as to make these conditions of replication/repetition possible.
Science is a symbol of our understanding, but should not be understood as the boundary of understanding, nor should it be accepted as gospel or poetry without genuine acknowledgement of its limitations in the first place, which are basically our own.
Something to remember about science: science is founded upon the appealingly rational idea of empirical knowledge - observation, measurement, recording, and repetition. However, these things are, like many other things, not as solid as one might wish them to be.
Our observation is limited to what we can or do observe. In the US, one is "officially" taught that there are five or so senses, with a sixth somewhere between the wished-for/believed-in and the observable, related to the perception of electromagnetics. A great deal of people have these in common, to varying degrees. We know that we do, because we have tools that tells us so, and measurements called decibels. However, due to our differences, we have "deficiencies" - which are only deficiencies in relation to the statistical mean value for a particular population for a particular measurement, in one or many senses.
Currently, a spacecraft launched 30 years ago has reached the borderspace of the heliosphere, but there is no monitoring or survey equipment on board beyond that which is capable of relaying the craft's position. This little time capsule, is empty, save for its capability, and our capability through it, to locate it in space, and in so doing, locate space. How many holes are there in this? How many different types of information could have been gathered; how many things of interest to our species?
How many types of information that we do not know about?
Measurement itself is another issue. Measures of sight or hearing are only of value in comparison to what is considered to be the normal ability. What is considered to be the "normal" ability? Is it the level of hearing or sight capacity that can be measured to be possessed by most people? Or should it be the level in the middle of the lower and higher end of ability? This is not an independent measure, without relationship to some other variable. The units of measure are all subjective, in some sense - horses are still, in the 21st century, measured in a unit called hands. It is currently accepted that a hand is equal to what is known as 4 inches, but what the hell is an inch. I've never seen one in the wild, and my hands are not 4 of them wide. Nor are my feet 12 of them long. They are based on decisions, made standard and viable only because of agreement upon their continued use. I myself will only hope to never see such a thing as a millimeter in nature, as it sounds quite poisonous.
Recording? I'd hope the average reader of the average text or work or document or piece or poetry or prose or drama or comedy or short story or magical spell would understand the faulty nature of transcribing what is not written into what is written. And certainly, the problem of the transcription of what is written to another written form is fraught with danger and possibility. The transcription of an experiment and its results is no exception.
The same holds to repetition. Science is predicated upon the experiment, and the re-creation of results to create a supported case for a relationship between things. This re-creation of results must be achieved by re-creations of that which elicited the results in the first place. Look, if perception, measurement, translating, encoding are tough, let's not even joke about re-creating the conditions for a particular event. Not friggin possible. To be able to recreate the conditions, we would first have had to be able to observe all the conditions which made the results of the initial experiment possible. Herein lies one limitation. Secondly, well, if the agreements for the measurements stay the same, this might be an easier part, what with the agreement and the effort towards the precision of instruments likely to be involved in such an important scientific endeavor as ours. Still, measurement is a funny notion with any amount of thought, and that's worth noting. Then, the first go-round must have been interpreted, encoded, and re-interpreted in such a way as to make these conditions of replication/repetition possible.
Science is a symbol of our understanding, but should not be understood as the boundary of understanding, nor should it be accepted as gospel or poetry without genuine acknowledgement of its limitations in the first place, which are basically our own.
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