is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Sharks, Manatees, Cute Boys, Killers, and Depressed People.
When I got to the Law, Culture, and the Manatees conference (some call it sharks and manatees), I ran into my friend Sara right away, which was good, since she was the main person I was looking for, because we had plans to have some COCKTAILS. But first we went to a panel on the rule of law, and then after it was over she told me that she had read my diary entry about bad presentations, and that had made her stay up all night making sure her presentation wasn�t bad. Of course, that was not my intention in writing my semi-crabby rant. Also, I doubt very sincerely that Sara would ever give a bad presentation, being that she is smart, and ethically attuned, and spends a lot of time thinking about people. I suspect she might have spent many night-hours working on the presentation even in the absence of all blogging activity by me.
Anyway, I didn�t see her presentation because I was stuck in a heinous traffic situation. Some huge accident happened that closed down all lanes of I-95, which turned at 2.5 hour drive into a 4.5 hour drive. The only good thing in it all was that I had my iPod and tiny portable iPod stereo (thanks, dad, again!), had packed a peanut butter sandwich, and had just bought myself a HUGE fountain Pepsi even though I�m not supposed to drink such huge amounts of Pepsi anymore due to project: caffeine-limitation (which is attached to project: no salt in support of project: don�t faint). Anyway, I�ve figured out that it�s OK if I abuse caffeine or salt every now and then as long as it is really every now and then. And I was very happy to have a huge Pepsi, and sandwich, and a lot of choices of music while I sat there, for hours, not moving. Ugh. I sang the whole album Big Plans for Everybody by Let�s Active and also Our Endless Numbered Days by Iron and Wine. Etc. I love singing in the car!
I didn�t give a paper at the conference this year�the first time I haven�t given a paper at LCH in the last eight years! But since I�m hosting the Symposium next week, I figured I might not be able to go to LCH this year, so I didn�t submit anything. Then I was asked to comment on a panel featuring Peter Fitzpatrick, who has been a great mentor of mine, and who was also being honored with an award while at the conference, so I could not say no. And it was fun. I was slightly nervous about it, kept bouncing back and forth between thinking I had nothing to say or that I was saying too much, etc. In the end what I came up with was on the bold side, which made me nervous. But when it comes down to it, giving a paper is like wearing what you�re wearing. Whatever you have written, or whatever you have on, you have to ROCK it. No apologies. And that�s what I did. It went well. And it was fun, too, to be part of an excellent panel (also featuring James Martel, an old and supersmart colleague of mine from graduate-school days). (One of my favorite conversational moments was when James, earlier in the day, said, �I have to go practice my speech,� and Nasser�s all, �Speech?! What, are you Mussolini?� Ha. Apparently one is supposed to call what one does a �presentation� or a �paper,� but not a �speech.� Nasser knows!)
So, I�ve been going to this conference forever. I realized this time that lots of the older scholars feel like they�ve watched me �grow up� on some level, since they met me early in my grad-student years and now I have a tenure-track job. It was sweet, and encouraging, how much excitement was expressed by every single person who heard I got a job. It is sometimes easy to forget that academia does manage to build some forms of community, because there are also huge metaphoric land-tracts of academic enterprise that don�t feel like community at all.
I saw some good papers (and some not-so-good ones, of course. That�s just how it is.), and caught up with some good friends, and had some good conversations, some philosophical, some just fun and silly. I saw Jennifer and Karl and Shai and Roger and Martha and Austin and Julie and Marianne, and had dinner, as it often turns out, with a gaggle of Europeans and Australians, and caught up with many others. Some of them I wish I had had more time with. But I was only there for 24 hours. Compromises were made!
Then I drove back to QuakerBubble, and this time the 2.5 hour drive took only 2.5 hours, thankfully. I got me some of that cute-boy-action, and all was good, and then he left town for a few days. Now I�m working.
On the way home I listened to three John Vanderslice albums: Pixel Revolt, Time Travel is Lonely, and then Cellar Door, twice. The longer I love Vanderslice�s work, the more I love it, or I love it differently over time. Lately I am really impressed by what it means to write the songs he writes. And since I was singing them all the way home, I was thinking also about what it means to sing them. As I�ve mentioned before, he writes songs from the standpoint of all kinds of difficult or marginalized or hateful protagonists, so when you sing a Vanderslice song, it usually isn�t from the standpoint of identification with the song. In this regard, the song I�m currently really into again (re-into?) is �Heated Pool and Bar,� about what it takes to be a military person asked to do terrible things. Another favorite in this category is of course �Exodus Damage,� the song about a guy attracted to the subversiveness of a terrorist he has met, and torn between different visions of the �right answer� to a problem (the song includes the great refrain �Dance Dance Revolution/ is all we�re going to get/ unless it falls apart/ so I say go/ go down/ let it fall down/ I�m ready for the end.�). Also: �Continuation,� a song about a cop trying to figure out why serial killings have continued after the killer is dead, if the only people aware of the details of the killings are he and three fellow cops. He narrows the possible dirty cops down to one because, of the four cops, only he himself and this other one fit the profile of a killer. So he starts following the other cop, but then realizes that the other cop is following him. So, dude, like, is HE himself the killer? Whoa. It�s like a suspense movie in a 4 minute song, and it�s really well done (and subtly done, which is not always the case with a Vanderslice song, which is really the only complaint I can think of to voice about his work in general). I also, in that song, like the way he turns really prosaic lines into poetic sounds, like: �He�s been dead for days/ still killing us anyway/ There is me and Reeger and Thompson and Foley only.� (Vanderslice does not always manage to turn prose into poetry, but sometimes he does it very well.)
(Yes. I do have some guilt hanging over me of never having completed that project he and I began. However, someday I will. Like, probably this summer. And then you�ll hear how to get your hands on it.)
And then there are songs of his that you can sing without feeling like you�ve been disembodied by a reactionary, a maniac, a killer, a trapped and unhappy father, a guy who fears all love, or a promising actress. Because there are the songs about depression. The instrumental song �Golden Gate� which separates the two other songs about suicide at the end of Pixel Revolt is really lovely. It�s playing right now. It�s interesting how chemical (as well as other forms of) depression can create things of beauty as often as it can make it impossible to create anything. Many of us have probably felt both sides of that.
12:46 a.m. - March 26, 2007
s - 2007-03-26 12:37:48
my insomnia was entirely my own -- what i credit you with is making me think ethically about my Speech (if only mussolini had!), and about the possibility that it could be witnessed. sometimes we forget these things in academia. and for any other readers, jill gave the best response Ever! really. so sharp, so clear. but we weren't surprised.
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jill - 2007-03-29 10:32:46
aw, shucks. now i'll have to figure out how to be sharp, clear, and also SURPRISING. like maybe i'll show up dressed as a red panda baby.
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