sick day

the tickle in my throat that i've been trying to keep within reasonable damage limitation boundaries suddenly broke out of its shackles this morning, and developed into a full-fledged cough tickle. went for a very interesting lecture this morning by gerry cohen - am guessing that he's holding the lecture series to talk through his arguments for his new work in progress, "rescuing justice". canadian with a great sense of humour. brief background on him: marxist political philosopher who's very big on the logical, analytical arguments and critical of rawls on the basic structure, constructivist front. is luck egalitarian, like dworkin, but disagrees with dworkin on resourcism and thinks welfarism is at the core of it. to contain the cough, i was drinking water non-stop throughout the lecture, which meant that about halfway through, i was desperate to use the loo. i stayed for the Q&A, but finally left 40 min into the Q&A as was almost bursting at the time. the loo was quite quaint, almost like something you'd expect in a B&B, with floral curtains, and actual fabric towels hanging from towel racks to dry your hands with. today was also the day i entered a college for the first time - all souls. it's a graduate college, and the myth surrounding it is that it's for the super super intelligent students, and if you are top of your year in finals, they offer you a research scholarship in all souls. never actually quite confirmed, but i've never objected to circulating urban legends. otherwise, god forbid, they might die out (unlikely but logical possibility nonetheless)

then went to hear anne krueger speak at the union. a little disappointing. the person who presented her (the host?) clearly had no idea about the subject matter at hand "thank you for the informative and very entertaining talk". it was just the same old IMF spiel, free trade argument aimed at the non-specialist. not that i am a specialist, of course, but i'd have liked to seen more engagement with the academic literature, or more nuanced rebuttals to the technological-capabilities, dynamic-externalities critiques. of course, maybe if i'd raised those issues, i would have got such an answer, but there were so many questions on my mind i just wasn't sure which one to ask. and also didn't want to sound like a complete ponce. but basically, yes, a wasted opportunity because the stiglitz and sachs talks i went to were well attended by well-informed people who generated well-informed discussions. whereas this was much more... aimed at the generalist.

time capsule

it's a little like being a dog (or a squirrel) and unearthing a bone (hazelnut) that one has forgotten even existed, and savouring the flavour of the bone/hazelnut partly due to the unexpected delight of it all and partly due to the way age has allowed the flavours to sink in deep...

that's how i felt anyway when i unearthed a whole load of sings circa 1999-2000, which brought back many memories of the time. some of them possess street cred (eg Pavement's Stereo, purveyors of the lo-fi sound that inspired Blur's reinvention and ultimately led to winning of the greater war of egos with Oasis) most of them just possess pure nostalgic, cheese value though. eg Savage Garden's To the Moon & Back. I remember the time when many many people went gaga for Darren Hayes. There was also Nine Days, Absolutely (Story of a Girl), which had the most inane music video ever. Girl in a bathtub who electrocutes herself and the tub overflows into the room where the band is playing. Who even remembers that song? Then there's Pet Shop Boys - Go West, which had all the men in hard hats facing... west, presumably. I remember that very clearly because I think that's the first discussion in my family that I was privy to (or understood the significance of, most likely) that was about gay men. It was about how Go West had become adopted as an anthem by gay men. Its truth or falsity I do not vouch for. I make that statement for entirely different reasons. I also found Scott Weiland's Lady Your Roof Brings Me Down. I remember Suzie's obsession with Great Expectations. And Gattaca... does this mean a more general obsession with Ethan Hawke? Ethan Hawke's in a play in New York at the moment, that involves him lying on the couch for half and hour before the play starts, with his boxers pulled down so you can see his bum. in a very small theatre.

So anyway, it was like being 16 or thereabouts all over again. It worries me - the level of nostalgia felt for music from days gone by. I thought that was only supposed to happen when you turned 40, the way some from my parents' generation (i won't name names) claim to like engelbert humperdink and los lobo. will blur and radiohead be relegated to such joke status in 20 years time? Or is that fate reserved for lesser beings? Imagine, though, the day that Eminem becomes fuddy-duddy - the choice of middle-aged slipper-wearing folks. That'll be the day.

it's sad, so sad...

i love it on itunes, where you just let it play, and rediscover cheesy songs anew, as it moves on from your original selection to play the next alphabetical artist/album/song or its own random choice. i love the shuffle songs option on ipod and think ipod shuffle is an ingenious gimmick, in the way that apple is good at 'lifestyle-defining' gimmicks. so, anyway, current cheesy tune of choice is blue & elton john's sorry seems to be the hardest word. i love how they have this faux-serious, faux-grand atmosphere where they all stand around mr elton john looking suitably downcast and dressed up just so, the right amount of sheen exuding from their suits and their coiffure, emoting every word as if it came from their own vault of personal, very painful relationship experiences.

so anyway, i thought i'd blog because i've just filled in a blog questionnaire for lui on blogging (ok, maybe a little too painfully self-evident then) and under frequency of blogging, i put down a couple of times a month. so i thought i'd better do some quota-fulfilling. new york was absolutely fabulous, i love the poufballs in central park. since that word got in my head, i can't get it out. i love spring, i've decided. (paris in the springtime, i have yet to experience, though i'm willing to make a song and dance about it) when the air is filled with promise, when one thinks of long, langorous summer days (not filled with exams), and the trees are at their prettiest - big, giant poufballs of blossoms - while everything seems more alive by contrast with the dreary, drab bareness of winter. when the air is still crisp, but hopeful for better things to come.

they have a very efficient evacuation procedure at the MOMA at closing time - at 5.30, the ushers announce that the museum is closed. very generous, considering most places (including university libraries) kick you out ten minutes before. then they do this big sweeping motion - as they walk towards the exit, they gather up any remaining lingerers and firmly bring up the rear, ushering these disregarding art-lovers towards the door. we were on the very top floor, and were the last to leave, as i was hanging around waiting for my sister who was using the restroom (apparently, 'toilet' is quite a no-no for polite company so there we go. my one deference to the type of readership this blog commands). as we go down the escalators, in front and behind us are nothing but ushers, dressed in their maroon blazers. it's quite a sight, because they have this brisk, efficient way of walking, swinging their arms so they don't lose their balance while walking in this professional manner. when you're going down the escalator on about the 4th floor, it's great, because then you're sandwiched between layers and layers of ushers, and it feels like you're in a 1950s musical, because that's how people dressed in the 50s, and that they should be breaking out in song and dance, leaning over the escalator as they sing their maddeningly cheery ode to modern art museums.

the moma is fantastic. if you go to only one modern art museum this year, make it the MOMA.

also, how about kaiser chiefs' i predict a riot for social commentary, huh. who would've thought that was still possible in this day and age of pop music.

eureka!

today, i discovered the arc function in microsoft word. no more having to struggle with controlling the movements of my finger as i try to draw a perfect curve (under 'line') for all the parabolas and arcs that dominate economic diagrams. my life has been changed forever. my life, my friends, is now complete.

in celebration, your task is to discover the bad pun relating to the title of this post.

possibly not the most obvious connection in the world, but radiohead's 'a punch-up at a wedding' is very linked to my summer in edinburgh, enjoying adel's hospitality. more specifically, it's sitting at the round table by the tall windows, and i can almost smell the place, except there's not a specific smell that i can identify in my memory but there is a very strong sense of it. i can remember sitting on the striped seersucker-esque sofa, watching the matrix and spirited away, on the laptop perched on a tiny stool. i remember lowering the mattress every evening, and clearing it away in the morning. the tiny kitchen, the smell of scotch broth, the awful day that i fell asleep and the scotch broth burnt to a crisp and the fire alarm went off and i stopped thinking for three minutes, running around like a chicken with its head cut off would, i imagine. i remember watching ali g, hedwig and the angry inch, walking to the cameo to watch £1.50 films, the stuffy warmth of king's theatre which was more conducive to an evening nap than an intense performance of chekov's the seagull. i remember the smell of summer, walking through the parks, the sun, people lounging about in princess st gardens, leaving the cullberg ballet performance feeling absolutely thrilled and in unison about the sheer brilliance of the performance. snatches come to me as clear and pure as the colours in the captain zissou film. it's that sort of yearning nostalgia i feel right now as i reminisce about edinburgh.

i saw legally blonde for the third time last night. yes, i have decided that i do like the film and that it's actually surprisingly well-made. some of the scenes with her sorority sisters in it are a little cringeworthy but on the whole, it's got a good heart. on the other hand, avoid little black book at all costs. it's fluff that tries to convey a serious message, but is able to do so in the most stilted, awkward, shuffling way possible. whereas legally blonde glories in its frivolity while affirming the superiority of pink. now there's a positive message.

if there was an indie music hierarchy, which band t-shirt would be the coolest of the cool? (i know some smart alec out there is going to tell me it's the decemberists t-shirt with the bicycle on it for highly self-interested reasons) it would have to balance between the obscurity of the band (indie street cred, devotee to uncovering the latest talent before they sell out so you can say you supported them in a crucial phase of their development) and the actually-affirmed talent of the band (so people don't go WHO? or think you're actually a snob and can appreciate that you're cool and the iconography of the t-shirt). In short, it would be a band on the very cusp of attaining fame, when its reputation has been cemented (NME cover/being branded Next Big Thing optional). The Futureheads have very much slipped into well-known territory. There's quite a cool Killers t-shirt in baby pink but they are more towards the Strokes-end of the spectrum at the moment. (Strokes always cool, but knowing tip of the hat towards them by emulating their dress sense rather than wearing the band t-shirt). So, who would it be? And please, no retro-chic suggestions eg Rolling Stones tongue t-shirt. So been there, done that, got the t-shirt, next. i tentatively suggest they might be giants. or magnetic fields.

talk talk

sometimes, when an opinion is expressed, there seems to be absolutely no leeway for discussion, where it seems almost as if all the expresser of the opinion (X) wants from you is an act of conversion on your part. there was mild oxbridge bashing going on at a dinner i attended on thursday night. this guy got on to the topic of how his ex-girlfriend went to cambridge, and so they attended a ball. then it got on to how he thought people in oxbridge were a bit full of themselves, and he's glad that's not where he went to uni. at which point, i replied that there is such a diverse set of people in oxford that you can pretty much find a set of people with similar interests to hang out with. attending an imsoc (indie music society) event and witnessing the existence of indie boys who go to oxford just proves to me without a doubt that all sorts of people can (and do) survive in oxford. you might just have to look a little harder. and i also point out that it's not just all public school types - there are a fair number of state school students as well. and he just shrugs in a "i'm not convinced" sort of way.

what is the point of such a conversation, when your mind is already made up, and you aren't really even that interested in what i have to say? let's just talk about something else. the weather, for example. i'm not going to get all self-righteous and rail about the narrow-mindedness and prejudices held by some, but such a conversation just seems essentially pointless.

i just think that you have to distinguish the institution from the people, because there is a very real sense in which the institution is bigger than the people who attend it. (see relatd theories of the state...) there are just pleasanter things that one can talk about.

also realised recently: never underestimate the wonderfulness of a common vocabulary. it makes conversation so much easier, when certain phrases conjure up the same images in both your minds so that there isn't the need to have to say everything out loud, and the other person somehow picks up on the most important point you wanted to make but didn't have to scream out in twenty-five poorly chosen words because he just got the point. and maybe such conversation is pointless too, because it's preaching to the converted (the other extreme) but at least that feels good.

the illusion of choice

i hate microsoft because of their high-handed ways, because of the way they create the illusion of choice such that if you choose them, it's natural and it's good and it's sensible because they are the best option around. never mind that they actively shaped and manipulated your choices so that they are what they are. and, oh, it just takes the click of a button. and also, by the way, we're not allowing you to log in to MSN Messenger until you actually update it. ("You must update to continue. Do you want to update now?" Oh, you can choose No all right, but then it just returns you to the sign-in page. Guess what happens when you click on the "sign in" button. It's a vicious circle of the most vicious kind). Never mind that I don't need the new edition, never mind that I want minimal features, minimal spyware, minimal monitoring of my online activities because I want to be able to choose what I put on my hard drive, never mind all that. No no no, I want the new version of MSN Messenger because it comes with added features. Some days, I feel a great sympathy for the Marxist critique of capitalist society. All choice is an illusion, because the capitalist society creates needs along with the creation of new products - things that do things you never thought you wanted a thing to help you do! (witness sell-a-vision : if only I could buy eloquence the way I can buy contraptions that julienne vegetables with mathematical precision)

sometimes, i wish i could see things from only one side. that i wasn't so damn in-two-minds the whole time so that i could see it from your point of view as well as mine so that i'm never able to give an answer, draw a conclusion, or form an opinion. so that there is nothing of my own to articulate because all i do is pilfer and loot, sacking the stores and the treasure houses and then pretending it's all mine but really, it once belonged to someone else, and is mine in name only. and only because you were unaware of the origins.

i've worked myself into a mild, feverish state thinking about how i could do a masters in middle eastern studies and just spent ages looking through course outlines. in two years i can. and maybe in two years, i will.