is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Pandas, Tigers, and Birds. And Philosophers.
Pandas, Tigers, and Birds. And Philosophers.
Here�s about the least sexy thing I could ever say to you: last night, and most nights lately, I�ve read Kant in bed for an hour or so before sleeping. Great mind he had. I think people exaggerate the extent to which he separated the mind from the body. But still, the two are separate enough for me to declare him possibly the least sexy of all philosophers. Whom I read. (There are plenty of philosophers who are less sexy, but whose work I don�t tend to read.)
Last weekend I was in beautiful Worcester, Massachusetts, for a small conference on the work of Emmanuel Levinas. I have gone to this meeting every year for the last three years, and it�s always fun and tiring� tiring in the way that good philosophy can be (as opposed to the kind of tired that bad philosophy produces). It�s fun to be with a group of people who have been reading the same books for years, so that we can just jump right into real discussion with no backstory or exegesis. Of course there are always plenty of arguments and differences in interpretation, but that�s what�s fun about it. It always helps me clarify some piece of work I have underway. Plus by now many members of the group are friends I enjoy seeing.
The first night, Max and Rex (these may or may not be their real names!) were asking me about life in Haverford. I told them about my lovely students and the pretty campus, and then they asked about social life, and I said, �well, the most exciting thing that has happened lately is that a bird flew into my house through the chimney and THAT IS NOT A METAPHOR.� Ha. They laughed, and discussed how they don�t know any other women who would make a joke like that. Poor guys.
It�s true about the bird. And Hans Blix (TCNTUNWI), who loves nothing more than to kill the fake bird toy over and over again, took one look at a real bird and hid under the bed. A maintenance guy came to get the bird because I had to go teach at about the time it entered the house. When I came home there was bird blood everywhere. Not because the maintenance guy was a killer, but because poor birdy kept trying to exit through closed windows.
On the second day of the conference, during a break in the philosophy action, Max (author or last year�s Parable of the Hot Dog Bun) and John were each claiming that they would win some sports-related bet they had made. Max told an elaborate story about all the drinks he would buy for us all with John�s money. John, after a well-timed pause, replied: �When I win I�m giving my money to the poor.� That was a particularly perfect joke to tell in a room full of readers of Levinas. I�m still laughing.
John also happened to throw out a spectacular independent clause during the course of one conversation: �it may just be the old-school phenomenologist in me, but...�
I just looked at the entry I wrote after last year's meeting of the LRS, and it's description of my life at that moment is eerily like my life at this moment. In fact THIS YEAR I also neglected to bring any jackets to the conference and spent the whole weekend cold, AGAIN.
In John�s car there is a panda-mirror strapped to the back of the passenger seat so that young Miles, whenever he is fastened into his childseat, can see himself. When I was sitting in the place where the child seat usually is, I pointed out that it is strange to spend so much time looking at oneself in the belly of a bear.
Marilyn (with whom I spent an afternoon and evening in Boston before taking off for Worcester) made fun of me for bringing a stuffed tiger with me in my tiny suitcase. So I took a photo of tiger with her much-loved echevaria plant and emailed it to her. Tiger love planty!
11:14 p.m. - September 27, 2005
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