Monday, February 28, 2011

Teach to world to sing in perfect harmony...

(a symphonic blank stare--it's not designed to make you care!)

I had a dream last night that I was pulled aside by a professor who, having taken a number of courses with while an MA student, went on to give me good advice about something or other. I can't remember the details. The dream moved very quickly from one space to another: first in a college building, then outside in some strange sort of landscaped garden. I lost my phone in the manicured brush. He helped me find it, all the while scolding me for being so careless. It was a bizarre dream.

I find I am having more of them. Perhaps because I am drinking less. Or smoking less. I don't know. I had one about an orgy erupting in the locker room after ballet class. I haven't been back since. That was 3 weeks ago. "What are those men doing ing my head, having sex with me?" I asked a friend who I related the story to. How fucking pathetic. For all my talk about wanting to arouse the bodily pleasures the very idea, vivid and visceral, felt, makes me retreat.

J. never actually came to the club. I felt robbed of my chance to act and feel differently when confronted with an event that would stir powerful feelings of jealousy and inadequacy. I went home with my friends and we fucked instead. Wrestled in the hallway first, and then fucked. I wonder, though, if I just needed someone, anyone, to pull my ass out of the muck of disappointment that seeped up over not seeing him. Part of me thinks that those nearly 2 weeks of not seeing him were necessary--I almost long to have them back again, for the clarity of my position: I'm not with him anymore. Seeing him, sleeping with him--all of this was so much like what I wanted it to be, but not: it is not us getting back together, it is not us falling back in passionate love, it is not us making promises and compromises. Yet, I don't know what it is, and to the extent that all of the possibilities are not ruled out, I can't stop wanting to see him. I can't ask him for clarity, though: that would force the issue and I am afraid of what he would say. My cowardice on both sides presses me into a paraplegic listlessness.

In other news, my paper on Grindr is a go. I have departmental support for it. It is the paper I'm to present at the conference in Napoli. Professor "Just Dashing" thinks it's a great idea, and actually said I don't need to take the exam for his class since I'll be working on the paper. And he wants to me to work on it with the conference in mind, too. FINALLY! I am SO grateful that someone in my subfield is interested in one of my intellectual projects.

Of course, now I have to deliver, and a substantial part of me seriously doubts my abilities. I'm distracted and restless, my thoughts wandering so often to hover around the endlessly multiplying "what-if" questions that threaten to permanently shroud J. I don't know how to stop them except to muscle through. It took me almost 2 weeks of nearly insane flight-from-myself (fucking, drinking, dancing) to actually begin to feel like I didn't need to think about him all the time. I am like a freight train. It takes me almost forever to stop, and I can't turn on a dime. But fuck all, I can haul ass. I need, in such moments, to be my own saboteur. Ka-BOOM go the tracks, and crunch goes my "all steam ahead." Haha, I SO need a new paradigm!

And I have a meeting with my MA readers in about a month, which will be wonderful. I need to go and print out the fucking thing. Blah. 56 pages. But I managed to get them both to agree to meet, and considering the fact that I haven't been able to get that kind of response before, I'll take it. Now I just hope that the project holds and I don't walk into a meeting where the essay is drawn and quartered. If that happens, think I'll just scrap the damn thing and write a completely new project over the summer with professors who I will work with on a dissertation, using the MA as a chapter. I doubt that the meeting will go that way. But who knows. I just am SO sick of this essay at this point that if I had to devote serious attention to it again I wouldn't think it worth the effort.

(Prof. Just Darling accidentally called me "Gabriel" in class and when I showed-up at his office later was he mildly self-deprecating about the mistaken appellation, so I ran with it: "It must be my angelic face..." to which he says, "Your new haircut does show more of your cherubic face." I melted, putty in his hands...)

Anyway: he is SO prolific, and in part because, like me, he just gets BORED with a project if he has to dwell on it too long. I agree with him whole-heartedly: it starts to stagnate, putrefy, and become noxious to creative thought. He said to me, "Stop thinking about it, just start doing it." He's so right. And now I have someone to encourage me in that direction (i.e., productivity!) so I am super-excited. And goodness, he's just SO darling!

Future Plans:
1) WRITE PAPERS!
1a) Nietzsche paper: letting Bersani and Nietzsche have at it, conceptualizing the Ubermensch as a 'post-human' subject viz., beyond notions of selfhood idealized by Enlightenment moral philosophy; refiguring ethics as relations of disinvestment of the unified subject: the role of pleasure, plurality, fragmentation (engaging: Arendt, Deleuze, Agamben, Berlant).
1b) Social Movements Paper: Anonymous as a social movement organization? Thinking through the implications of collective political action as mediated by technology, esp. internet. 2/3 of the paper=BORING lit. review of social science blah on social mov't organizations. Then: interesting stuff on new media and political desubjectivization (Gladwell v. Cheyfitz, Deleuze, Agamben).
2) Cigars w/ the Writer (remember him? he's now, more properly, the Psychologist, but I can't really bring myself to change his name...) He'll be in town mid-March and we will get to spend yet another St. Patrick's together, only this time hopefully with good gin and not crap bourbon. Two years ago we did this, too, but it was his birthday, and I was wildly in love with him. He read the Rimbaud's "The Stolen Heart" ("My sad heart slobbers at the poop..."). How could I resist?! Well, two years does wonders. Who knows, maybe all I need to do to get over J. is remember I got over the Writer. And that doesn't stop me from loving him, just from being incapacitated in my loving. (Of course, part of getting over the Writer entailed finding and falling for J.... haha how twisted these strands become!)
3) Dental insurance!
4) Visit Gramsy and get a tan!

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