In Search of Things Lost

What have I lost? It's a good question, and one that perennially seems to pop its little head. Some might be tempted to say, "Evan, you've lost your mind", and I might chuckle and smile a little, but then I'd be left right where I started.

I'm reminded of a little Buddhist saying, "If you lose your mind, come back." It's really rather simple, and I'd do well to heed its advice more often.

I find myself here about to enter my fourth week of school. It's rather surprising really, the speed with which the days fly bay when your under the golden yoke of school never ceases to amaze me. That was a long one. I'm reminded of some francophone literature I've been reading lately, "Cahier d'un retour au pays natal," by Aime Cesaire and, "La Lezarde," by Edouard Glissant. Glissant once said (in a critical paper entitled Discours Antillais) that meaning in francophone literature (or at least that from Antillais) is not supposed to be straightforward, at least not necessarily. Perhaps I should let him make his point because he states it much better:
C'est un des avatars de la pens�e occidentale que de pr�tendre qu'une oeuvre doive toujours se donner sans hiatus, et je connais nombre de contes de nos pays dont la puissance d'impact sur leur auditoire ne tient pas � la clart� de leurs sens. -p.345, Discours Antillais

Rough translation: One of the mistakes of western thought is the claim that a work (piece of writing, piece of music, etc.) must without discrepancy unfold its meaning. I know a number of stories from our countries whose strength of impact on their audience does not pertain to their clarity of meaning.

The paragraph from which that sentence came has made understanding francophone literature much easier for me. The reading came out of my francophone literature course. Thus far I've found the classes and the readings to be very interesting, though the latter are sometimes a bit difficult. It's a small class (about 10) which can make for very engaging discussion, though when the readings are hard, the discussion is often stilted. Our syllabus includes readings (creative works and theroretical/critical) from the Antilles, Algeria, Djibouti, and Quebec. With the exception of Djibouti, we're reading two authors from each country.

I'm having even more fun in my Baudelaire class. This isn't necessarily because the readings are more interesting, but because they're easier. I had a particularly difficult time reading the first work in my aforementioned francophone lit class and so the class became, as a whole, a bit frustrating. Baudelaire is a much easier read, at least when compared to Aime Cesaire, who has some surrealist tendencies. Like the francophone lit class, Baudelaire class is a mixture of primary (his writing) and secondary readings. The secondary readings include stuff by Walter Benjamin, Barbara Johnson, and Jean-Paul Sartre. From the man himself we are reading, "Les Fleurs du mal" (how could one not), Les Paradis artificiels, other poems, and a selection of his critical/theoretical writings. A very interesting course. I can imagine few greater academic treats than a semester devoted to Baudelaire. Perhaps one devoted to Iris Murdoch. In fact, there are many possibilities, really the beautiful aspect is the depth with which I get to delve into one author. yahooo

Linguistics get slotted in here because, well, it would be a shame to finish with my most boring course, but it would also be a shame to start with whining and bitching. Phonetics and Phonology...Bouuu hearnnss (I'm sure I didn't properly phoneticize that). Hopefully later sections will be minterestingsing. Actually, I'm really looking forward to syntax.

And last, but certainly not least, my introduction to Greek. This course progresses fast. We have class every day for an hour and 1-2hrs (sometimes even more) of homework per night. I'll certainly have a good foundation in Greek by the end of the year (heck, probably by the end of the semester), but as it is now, my vocabulary extends only just past the realm of farming.

Next month a may enroll in a weekly Buddhist studies course at the local shambhala Buddhist center. Other than that, I think this covers the academic side of things here as they are.

Other stuff to follow when I finish my homework. What I am saying, homework is never finished. It is more accurate to say that other stuff will follow when my homework no longer seems like a great big looming scythe dangling precipitously (I can't be bothere'd to look up my spelling) over my neck.

Ciao Ciao

Fluid nations?

Have any of you ever heard the term fluid nation bantied about? I was doing a little bit news catch up earlier this afternoon. After surfing through some daily news sites I went to the New Yorker site and came upon a silly article about the emerging discipline centered around the study of "fluid-nations", a term that, to my mind, seems relatively synonymous with "cultural group". That's really not a very good defnition; however, it will perhaps work as a definition if "cultural" is understood to mean shared experiences/beliefs. The author seems to agree (veiled sarcasm at the end) that the whole discipline is a bunch of huey, but nonetheless I am still curious.

Here's the web link if anyone's interested:document.write(myObject.popReferrer);http://www.newyorker.com/shouts/content/?030922sh_shouts