epistemology and the Panopticon

November 19, 2004

Last night I proctored an SAT that contained the word “epistemology.” I couldn’t help but remark to my students afterwards that I had majored in epistemology (more or less), and someone remembered that I had said I’d been a philosophy major. So now I’ve augmented aggregate world knowledge about the study of knowledge itself, which is one meta-level off from doing something actually useful.

In a most apropos fashion, I was reading the Village Voice while proctoring, and came across an article on Derrida, who is recently deceased. Apparently, despite his many public appearances, he was loath to have his picture taken, and relented only when a newspaper ran a picture of Michel Foucault with the caption “Jaques Derrida.”

Incidentally, my senior seminar was on Foucault, and that particular copy of the Voice also had an article on rethinking prison spending, and I’m thinking “build panopticons! save money!” Oh, Foucault. A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.

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good golly miss molly

November 19, 2004

Last night I saw a burlesque performance featuring my best friend Molly Crabapple, in which she did a corset-peeling striptease, and ended up in pasties. The show was also graced by the comic reverse striptease (she started off nearly-naked, eating cream puffs, and hilariously laced herself into corsets and girdles) of interntional burlesque star Dirty Martini.

Williamsburg Spelling Bee champion Megan was in attendance, and we spent some time pondering the sexual preference of the cute bartender, who turned out to express strong women-oriented proclivities, but in Williamsburg, you just can’t freaking tell. Megan has an even better vocabulary when she’s drunk. Do you ever sometimes get a new, exciting word caught in your head and you just want to say it continuously? I think mine recently has been “panacea.” Hers is “analogous.”

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Seeking fellow addict for jittery romance

November 16, 2004

Today I filled out the hour-long questionnaire for the dating site eHarmony.

In the end, instead of showing you pictures of attractive people you might want to have sex with, you get a personality profile. Whee.

Mine says lots and lots of things like:

  • You may have tension or struggle with others who do not have the same sense of urgency that drives you, and you may question why others don’t see things your way.
  • Your communication style is rapid (some people might say abrupt), because you like to maintain a high activity level with a variety of things going on simultaneously.
  • When communicating with you, others must be stimulating and exciting in their presentation of ideas.

They make it sound like I’m on crack, or meth, or Adderall. Maybe too much espresso. Personally, I think caffeine and urgency are the stuff of romance.

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Harlem magic

November 15, 2004

Today I discovered that the Starbucks in Harlem at 125th and Lennox is owned by Magic Johnson. This is peculiar, as Starbucks is not a franchise; Starbucks locations are just owned by Starbucks. But this one has artsy photos of Magic Johnson sipping coffee, and a bulletin board explaining how Magic Johnson’s development corporation is supposed to improve the quality of life in inner cities.

While in Harlem, I had an eggnog latte at the aforementioned Starbucks, and then an eggplant fritter at the health food place on that block. That’s two foods with the word “egg” in them that contain no actual egg.

And finally, at 127th and 2nd, there is a park featuring some graffiti art that says “Crack is Wack.” This, itself, doesn’t seem particularly strange to me. What does seem strange is that on the fence to the park is an official city sign proclaiming that the actual, official name of the park is the “Crack is Wack Playground.”

Apparently someone just got sick of naming things after MLK, Marcus Garvey, and Booker T. Washington.

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I shall never grow weary of venturing out in my pink fedora

November 13, 2004

The Machinist is the creepiest-ass movie I have ever seen. And while I adore the delectable Molly Crabapple, she and I are mutually agreed that neither of us is the large, bravado-providing hunk of meat with whom it would’ve been more prudent to see this film.

On an incidental note, the lead character in The Machinist is prominently seen reading “The Idiot,” which launched Molly and I into a post-cinema conversation about Dostoevsky, during which she said: “I first read Crime and Punishment in the mountains in Kurdistan when I thought I was going to die.”

All this from a lass of twenty-one.

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post-election cartography

November 12, 2004

This map juxtaposes this year’s election results with a map of slave states and free states prior to the Civil War. Guess which states voted for Bush? Red state = slave state.

Also, here’s a map of the red and blue states adjusted for population:


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feeling better, patronizing the fast food nation

November 11, 2004

My family always ate at Wendy’s when I was a kid, so that seemed like the thing to feed myself in in celebration of my renewed wellness.

I was about to place my burger-and-fries order when I realized I had totally forgotten about the existence of the Frosty.

Those things are pretty good. (I don’t really like ice cream because it’s too hard and hurts my teeth, and soft serve usually seems too full of air. I think the proper place for ice cream is as a condiment, atop pie).

On an unrelated note, does anyone know of a training regimen to improve at the game of Boggle?

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this worked for Marilyn right up to when she killed herself

November 9, 2004

Post-flu, I’m operating at about 45% capacity, but I managed to make it to ten hours’ worth of jobs today.

My new trick for girls: when you have the flu (or your cat has lupus, or Bush has just been re-elected), throw on some bright-ass red lipstick. No one seems to notice the rest.

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I have the flu

November 7, 2004

I have been in bed from Friday 8pm until Sunday 6am. While beds are, in general, designed to be comfortable, nothing is comfortable for thirty-four solid hours. I don’t know why infants and old people don’t just kill themselves. Oh wait — it’s because they’re physically incapable of ending it. How fucking pathetic is that? I want a failsafe button at all times.

Since Friday, I have eaten exactly six Saltines, and one bite of a raspberry popsicle which I then thought better of. I just took my Dayquil and now I’m going to try to go to work. It would be nice if America had some kind of social insurance system that allowed me to not go to work when deathly ill and still, you know, not die in penury. However, America is hardly ahead of the game as regards social welfare. (As Schaffer the Dark Lord said at the Dark Show post-election, “Think of it this way — if it had been a contest to be the most embarrassed group of people in the world, we would’ve won!”)

I have thousands of emails that it will take me awhile to get to. And I’m sorry for missing the Getcast launch party, my recording session with John P., Girls on Poles, work on Saturday, and everything else on my calendar. I was busy being alternately hot and cold every five seconds for a day and a fucking half.

On a positive note, my new roommate was responsible for bringing me the Saltines and Dayquil. In an entire day and a half of unmitigated suffering, the positive notes were my new roommate being lovely, and a text message from Schaffer the Dark Lord, which woke me up because I was sleeping with my cell phone, you know, hoping mommy would call.

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The Quran is my Vogue

November 5, 2004

Today I saw a woman on the train who had worked out this really cool hat-and-scarf system to keep her ears and neck warm. She had a white scarf wrapped all the way around her head, and then a lime-green hat overtop, and it looked awesome.

It took me fully several stops of looking at this to realize that she was, you know, Islamic.

This reminds me of something I saw at an art exhibit the other day — some guy took fashion photos out of magazines and drew burquas on the women with magic marker. It was by far the most interesting thing in the gallery, but I couldn’t help thinking that maybe art should have higher standards of technical ability and talent.

In any case, all the Muslim women who looked really hot and uncomfortable in July now look imminently prepared for winter. That dress-over-pants thing — brilliant.

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It’s Pinky and the Brain, Pinky and the Brain, one is a genius, the other’s insane

November 5, 2004

Today I went to UPS to ship my brother Brian’s birthday gift. I wrote out the ticket, the woman (very slowly) typed the info into the computer, and then she (very slowly) came back with a printed confirmation that said “BRAIN DZIUAR” and asked that I confirm that everything was correct.

“Looks great,” I said. I sure as fuck wasn’t waiting around for her to become not dyslexic.

Happy birthday, Brain!

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"More people voted for Kerry than voted for Reagan"

November 5, 2004

I’m not a Michael Moore fan, but his Seventeen Reasons Not to Slit Your Wrists is kind of funny.

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"and then I spanked you with my lacrosse trophy from 1997…"

November 5, 2004

Last night I performed at Schaffer the Dark Lord’s variety show, “The Dark Show”, at Apocalypse Lounge.

It’s hard to see out into the audience when you’re under the bright lights dominating a tiny stage in your six-inch heeled platform boots holding the mic with both hands, orating about sadomasochism. But Schaffer tells me the crowd dug my act, to the point of alternately laughing and gasping.

The guy before me sang a song called “NYU Girls Wouldn’t Talk to Me if I Were on Fire and Had a Bag of Money”. Eric Walton, practitioner of the magical arts, was far too debonair for his surroundings and can be my Dread Pirate Roberts anyday.

We were also treated to a performance by Dr. Powernozzle and Eugene the Human Doormat. They have the worst website ever. During their act, Dr. Powernozzle vacuums, steps on, and verbally abuses Eugene, the human doormat, and this is indeed funny, except that Eugene is a creepy middle-aged man who repeatedly informed me that I, too, could vacuum and step on him should I choose.

Incidentally, I attract a great deal of attention from male submissives, and there’s absolutely no way I’m stepping on someone’s face without getting paid a whole freaking lot of money.

I will return to The Dark Show on Wednesday, Dec. 1 — save the date!

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election quotes from my inbox

November 5, 2004

“Tens of millions of us are disappointed today because we put so much of ourselves into this election. We donated money, we talked to friends, we knocked on doors. We invested ourselves in the political process. That process does not end today. These are not short-term investments. We will only create lasting change if that sense of obligation and responsibility becomes a permanent part of our lives.”

- Howard Dean

“They say you get the government you deserve, but I don’t remember knife-raping any retarded nuns.”

-The Onion

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All of New York is very depressed.

November 5, 2004

I, however, am less depressed, because I always knew Bush would win. I voted for Kerry, of course, and encouraged others to do the same, but I happen to believe that America is in the midst of a third Great Awakening which will last probably 50-100 years, and that that’s why we have an island, Manhattan, and that’s why I’m on it. I hear San Francisco and Massachussetts are also nice.

I will admit to approximately six hours of hope on the day before the election, when the polls looked good and Salon ran an optimistic cover story. But six hours of hope, well, it’s like “breaking up” after your first date. No temptestuous emotions. This, for me, has the beneficial effect that I’m pretty much raring to get started doing something for ‘08. Details are pending.

On a peripherally related note, I am very attracted to James Carville. I saw him on CNN, giving commentary while the electoral tally racked up badly. There’s something about liberals with Southern accents that’s very sexy; it’s that Southern liberals had to work at being liberals: they’re self-made. They’re existentialists, responsible for defining themselves. Like people in New York who aren’t from New York; we come here to meet each other, the ones who had to work for it.

James, thanks for the Clinton years. I appreciate it.

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nattering nabobs of negativism

November 3, 2004

In observation of the start of a brand new very bad day in America, Salon removed all the non-election news from their front page. There’s no time to see a movie; shit’s going down.

According to one Salon article, Bush has been having himself introduced at rallies as standing for “the right God.” Also from Salon:

Brought along with Bush is a gallery of grotesques in the Senate — more than one of the new senators advocating capital punishment for abortion, another urging that all gay teachers be fired, yet another revealed as suffering from obvious symptoms of Alzheimer’s.

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As the Onion said, "Vote, or P. Diddy will kill you"

November 2, 2004

I’m off to vote today, after calling the polling place hotline (1-866-VOTE-NYC) to figure out where, exactly, I’m supposed to do that.

Once you’ve voted, come on down to Pete’s Candy Store at 709 Lorimer St. in Williamsburg tonight for the “Eclection Night ‘04″ party, which will feature a live television on stage, sexy burlesque dancers, music, comedy, and the opportunity to make brief political speeches to other bar-goers. (Hey, I do that already! Hmmn….)

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Stella makes you a betta spella

November 2, 2004

Last night I emceed the Williamsburg Spelling Bee once again. Former second- and third-place winner Megan Rudesill took the gold (or, rather, the $25 bar tab that constituted first prize) with her masterful spelling of a variety of words, none of which I can remember at the moment.

She credits her victory to her request of the bartender that he get her the “best luck spelling drink.” Best luck spelling drink! Best luck spelling drink! That’s barely even English, but the bartender apparently concluded that Stella is the best luck spelling drink, and it seems to have worked. I commented that the best luck spelling drink would likely be something hard to spell (Cuervo? Kahlua?), but I suppose “Artois” is kind of hard to spell.

The next spelling bee is Monday, November 15 at Pete’s Candy Store. Bobby Blue and I will be there as usual to banter, read the words, and hit on the contestants.

After the bee, I stopped by photographer Eric Martin’s place and picked up a CD of photos from our last shoot, one of which is this red-toned one. I’ll put up new galleries on the site once, um … people buy me more espressos. Could that be best luck spelling coffee?

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hopes falsely raised and dashed upon the rocks

November 2, 2004

Yesterday, my graduate school sent me an email that said “Congratulations! You’ve been accepted! If you haven’t received your packet in the mail already, you will soon!” Et cetera, et cetera. I deleted it, because I had received the print version the day before.

About five seconds later, I received an email that said “We’re sorry, the acceptance email you just received was sent in error. Please disregard it.”

Naturally, I replied to this message. Within half an hour, the Dean of Admissions had left me a voicemail message saying that the school had accidentally sent out an acceptance to their entire database of 2,900 applicants, 2,800 of whom had been rejected, so they figured it was best to nullify the email across the board. She assured me that I had, in fact, been accepted.

What an auspicious beginning from the CUNY system.

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