9.27.2008

You're Only a Virgin Once

...isn't that great? There are lots of things that give me that same amazing feeling I got when I lost my virginity, that special "hooray! I never have to be a virgin again!" feeling. In contrast, there are other things that I don't mind being a virgin of or for until I'm dead. Examples!

Happy to not be a something-virgin (France-related activities category):
  1. A having done actual research in France virgin!
  2. A figured out the laundromat virgin!
  3. (Probably should be the first one): A survived getting here from SFO virgin!
  4. A discovered the automatic checkout machine at the monoprix so I don't have to deal with the bitchy exact-change-crazed checkout ladies virgin!
  5. A developed rudimentary speaking skills virgin!
Things that I'm fine with never losing my something-cherry of (generic category):
  1. Shooting a gun virgin.
  2. Operating a motorcycle virgin.
  3. Voting Republican virgin (sorry, cheap shot.)
  4. Wearing a cowboy hat virgin.
  5. Drinking a wine cooler virgin.*
All of this is, of course, inspired by finally having gone and done actual real-life research at the BNF. I made an idiot out of myself in front of all but one of the people I had to talk to (this time, not so much with French, just with not knowing where I was or what I was supposed to do next), but overall it was still a neat experience. It's very quiet there and the people look very serious while they sit in their little rows reading and tapping away on laptops. I think it'll be a good place for me to spend my days once it gets cold; I could happily spend all of November in the rez de jardin, ignoring the outside world.

Unrelated notes: It's a warm and sunny day in late September here in Paris, and it's Saturday. This means that the Ile St. Louis is awash, nay, immersed in tourists. Happily, my apt. is on the troisieme etage, so I am slightly above the fray. I expect the idiots will be out in force this evening for the official weekly woo-screaming. Tomorrow, I'm meeting my homies for a picnic in the Luxembourg Garden. Next week, my mom and stepdad are visiting, and our shared touristy outings will inspire more picture-taking on my part.

* I wish I could say that I was a bitch-beer virgin, but I'm not. But it's not my fault. Matt-O: if you're reading this, remember when certain fruity drinks were offered to us as "beer"?

9.25.2008

Classy Bitch

...that's me. Check my flickr page to see what I mean.

Also, be sure to read this awesome, and accurate, article from CNN/Time: United States of France. (Don't worry...it's short.)

So I want to announce my emotional, spiritual, and eschatological revival. Since coming to France, I have been very sad, because I miss my wife and I miss my friends and my command of French vacillates wildly. But I figured it out, guys. Here's my secret: I just don't pay attention to the fact that I happen to be in Paris. It makes a HUGE difference. I just walk around, I buy some food sometimes, I read for my dissertation, and I happen to be in Paris while I'm doing it! Also, as was re-confirmed by the little reception thing tonight at the place I work at, I got really lucky with my fellow grads. They are rad and they make me less depressed.

On the agenda for right now: more pasta. Listen to Motorhead on my iPod.

9.23.2008

How to Get Set Up at the Bibliothèque Nationale de France


  1. Fill out the online Pre-inscription form. Wait until they e-mail you back.
  2. Go to the east entrance of the BNF. You go through security, which is quick, and then take a left. The Service d'Orientation des lecteurs is over on the left. You go in and sit down and the two front desk people get to you when they get to you. They'll give you a number after they briefly sound you out.
  3. When your number comes up, you go back to one of the cubicles behind the front desk people. If you're lucky, like I was, an incredibly nice grandmotherly lady will fill everything out on the computer, take your picture with a webcam, and produce your card. You have the option of getting a 15-day pass or an annual pass; they're almost the same price, so especially if you're a student, you might as well get the annual pass.
  4. You don't pay for the card there. You have to go back to the main entrance hall and go to the caisse (I know, I know, I should have already known this word): the cashier. You pay him and your card is activated.
  5. You then have to go the big long security desk by the escalators and turn in your bag, if you have one, and put all of your stuff into an transparent plastic briefcase thing (my phrasing for this: "Il faut prendre une...une valise en plastique?") This is to prevent you from stealing all of their shit.
  6. Then you go down an escalator after you beep a kiosk thing with your card, which registers your presence there.
That's as far as I got today; it turns out that the material you request can take up to an hour to show up if you haven't reserved it, so I figured I had pulled off enough heroics for one day and I'll reserve stuff online before I return on Friday. I'm just relieved to have jumped the initial hurdles.

9.21.2008

Atsa Spicey Blog Post


IM Conversation between my homie K and I the other day regarding the tranny contestant on the latest America's Next Top Model:

"I don't think the tranny can cut it."
"I know, I'm just wondering how long the tranny can hang in there."

NO PUNS INTENDED.

9.19.2008

Merced

Those of us in the UC system have been known to shake our heads in bewilderment at the existence of the newest campus: UC Merced. First off, we don't know where it is. Last year I remember a group of three history grads speculating that it must be somewhere in the wasteland east of LA, possibly in the middle of the Mojave Desert. Further, we can't imagine what it must be like to work there, with the predictable dearth of facilities and the rest of the system looking down its collective nose at you.* Finally, it's one of those issues that doesn't have an easy answer: the state system guarantees that its top 10% of high school graduates can enter the UC, but it lacks the facilities. It had to build somewhere.

It turns out that Merced is due east of San Jose, not LA. It's out in the central valley a few hours from the south bay. Back in August, the NY Times ran this brilliant article about how Merced is also on the short list of worst-hit American cities in the housing bust. There's a lot of compelling stuff in the article, but here's the most important paragraph, IMHO: "He was selling houses for $300,000. That means a buyer would have needed a household income of about $100,000 to comfortably make the payments. But Merced’s per capita income of $23,864 ranks among the lowest for metropolitan areas in the country. “None of us paid much attention,” Mr. Glieberman says."

To me, this is the essence of what has happened and is happening as the world market goes bananas, the inevitable endpoint of the "free market." So long as there's a short-term profit to be made, the fact that it's predicated on absolutely nothing doesn't bother anyone. I'm not even going to throw an anti-capitalism hissy fit here; I'm just mad from my family's solid centrist Democrat perspective that the last four presidents (yes, Clinton too) did everything they could to unleash speculators, the blood-suckers of commerce, from any and all regulation.

And now even the mainstream media is starting to come up with "that was a bad idea" op-ed pieces. I just wonder what's going to happen next. Is it possible to move away from the model of constant growth toward something approaching stability, or is that just absurd naiveté on my part based on reading far too many European lefty theorists over the last few years?**

Personal notes for the day: Almost got run over by a bus on this morning's hike out to the Observatoire de Paris. There's a park there I wanted to sit in and read, but it's closed for some reason. Lunch tomorrow with the other grads in my program...I'm bringin' the wine. My stress was alleviated somewhat earlier today when I discovered that I actually can get the journals Gorz wrote in, all of them, back in the states. That means if they laugh me out of the BNF on Tuesday, I can still write a dissertation. Still very lonely and bored most of the time, but I'm hanging in there.

* Which I am doing right now. I am now part of the system.
** Don't answer that question.

9.17.2008

Update on the Researchin'

My homie A has been off in Peru, kicking ass and stomping all over archives. Among her many positive qualities, she has the gift of laser-focus, so I am not at all surprised that she's already dug through tons of data in the few weeks she's been down there. Inspired by her tales of funny Marxist reading rooms and wee museums, here's a quick update as to progress on my end.

At this point, I've gathered almost every book my guy, André Gorz, ever wrote. I started by haunting the bookstores of the Latin Quarter, but discovered that A. everything is too bloody expensive and B. they only had the stuff he wrote in the last ten or fifteen years before he died, anyway. In a bright fizzling 40-watt stroke of pseudo-genius, I decided to check out Amazon.fr, the French cousin of amazon.com. Sure enough, tons of books I could never find in the bookstores here or back in the states (or on the English-language main amazon site for that matter) popped right up. I bought 'em all and had them shipped to the UC center.

The search interface for the Bibliothèque Nationale is a nightmare, but I hunted down the one periodical Gorz wrote in back in the 50s that I'm quite sure I can't get in the states (Paris-Presse, AKA l'Intransigeant). The BN reopens next week after its annual month off, so I'll be there on Tuesday, swallowing my terror and confronting the full awesome power of French bureaucracy in hopes of getting a few reels of microfiche out of it.

On a happier note, I verified that the main periodicals Gorz wrote in (Le Nouvel Obs, which he co-founded, and Sartre's Les Temps Modernes) are not only available in the states, they're available in the bloody UC to the SC library! Yay for SCHOOL! Also, I got in touch with one of the major scholars who knew Gorz and wrote about him, and he agreed to answer a bunch of questions for me. Yay for E-MAIL!

This morning the latest book showed up in the mail at the center...Gorz's one true philosophical treatise, Fondements Pour Une Morale. It's...well, it's 600 pages of dense phenomenology. I've been steadily working through his better-known and more accessible stuff, but this one is going to be a bitch. Oh, André! Why did you have to party with Sartre and get inspired by him! One Critique of Dialectical Reason per century is more than enough!

So, basically, things are going ok. I feel like I'm truly lost in the surreal mists of dissertation research, shot-through with doubt. And that's how the system is supposed to work.

9.15.2008

Another Grande Jour in Paradise

The picture is of me in my Parisian disguise: bic-ed (pronounced "bick - ed") head, new 9-euro shades from some crappy souvenir shop next to Notre Dame, and "I am obviously going about my business" attitude to SPARE.

Here's how the day goes down for me:
  1. Oh, god, I'm awake again.
  2. Cheerios (yay!) and coffee (more yay!)
  3. Clean, shower, decide on destination.
  4. Hike somewhere. Hike or take the metro back.
  5. Read Gorz, take notes.
  6. Mid-afternoon malaise. Take another hike? Half-heartedly do crunches and push-ups? Too early to start drinking...crap.
  7. Whew. Made it to evening. Open bottle of cheap-ass wine. What's for dinner? Ha ha! Just kidding. It's pasta.
  8. Webcam chat with B! Or, sometimes, just IM or e-mail.
  9. Watch stuff. Thank goodness for TV on the internet and funny French movies my landlord left in the apartment.
  10. Ugh. Time to try to fall asleep for a few hours.
Rinse, lather, repeat, bitches!

9.13.2008