Minnesota went for Kerry after all. That doesn’t excuse the rightist wing-nuts, but it does let MN off the hook for the election result.
After years of sanctimonious crap, the Bush administration has reversed its otherwise Protestant moralistic position to come out against delayed gratification. For the better part of US history, it was not apparent who won the very night of the election. But now, if you don’t know right away, it’s some kind of crisis (for more information, see Gore 2000 concession speech). Now we’ve got the Chief of Staff Andy Card saying he’s sure. Well, that’s nice, but apparently nobody who counts votes is sure and neither are the major networks. I guess it’s different when you’ve got a hotline to god.
That said, it doesn’t look good by any measure. The legislature is looking especially not good, and Kerry must win Ohio.
In other news, I am extremely pissed off at my home state of Minnesota. In my lifetime, Minnesota has gone from a liberal state to a crazy state. I was educated in one of the best public school systems in the country (okay, that’s what they TOLD me; it was at least pretty good). We had high taxes, good social services, good roads, a strong university and public school system, a high relatively standard of living (though that was already in decline on the iron range when I was a kid). The state routinely went democratic and even voted for Mondale in 1984, which was such a blowout that CNN reporters last night were referring to the 1988 Dukakis election as the biggest blowout in recent history because they apparently no longer consider 1984 a legitimate contest for president. Anyway, I used to joke that Minnesotans were wannabe Canadians (except, I have now learned, for one crucial difference: Minnesota had good roads). No more. Now Minnesotans want to be California or rural Pennsylvania or something. A string of republican governors (punctuated by Governor Meathead), consistent cuts to taxes, education, the arts, a stratospheric rise in property value in Minneapolis-St. Paul, and a very organized Christian lobby have effectively changed the state’s political landscape.
I intend to conduct further research (i.e. call my mom) to bring you more information about how my beloved home state has gone to hell.
Now, I must go clean myself, eat breakfast and teach Sound Studies. In that order.
PS – To my knowledge, our department is not hiring this year, though if you are employable in a liberal arts discipline, I’m told there are lots of open positions across the Faculty of Arts. And thanks in part to the Canada Research Chairs program, Canadian institutions across the country are poaching American academics with impunity. Failing that, there are apparently lots of single Canadians.
because I already did. If you haven’t and you can, you know what you must do.
This evening, the spectator sports part will set in, and we’ll watch hours of commentary and states lighting up in different colors.
This is the point where progressive Americans make the joke about moving to Canada if Bush wins. Except I’m already in Canada. How cool is that? Someday I’ll write something about American imaginations of Canada. Probably including my own from days passed.
Meanwhile, in my continuing efforts to chronicle escape routes for others, I offer this link. I can vouch for Croatia. It’s really cool and the range of political opinion is all over the map. Extra points: EVERYONE I met there knows their government is corrupt, as opposed to the apparently vast number of Americans who believe theirs is run by men [not sic] of virtue.
The new Autolux CD arrived in Friday’s mail. It rocks. I have read countless articles about how Ken Andrews was the real genius behind the band Failure, and that when they broke up, he took it with him. Well, Andrews has a booming rock voice and knows how to write a rock anthem to be sure, but Greg Edwards’ performance in Autolux suggests that Failure was an ensemble effort, not just Andrews’ vision. Autolux doesn’t sound like Failure, but that’s precisely the point. You can hear Edwards’ creative sensibility mixed together with other members to create something completely different and yet really cool.
The antipiracy warnings on the case and the CD are a little scary looking, though. Once the visual part of this blog is up and running (ie, I get around to buying a scanner and digital camera), I’ll share.
It’s not like I haven’t been writing this semester. On the contrary, I have been writing constantly: grant applications, letters of recommendation, vision statements, lectures for two grad seminars (and more lectures — note to self: don’t ever again assume you can re-use old lectures from graduate seminars), the Derrida obit, endless small items for the tenure file, reviews of journal and book manuscripts, comments on theses finished and in progress (both MA and PhD), this blog, countless emails, an ad for an RA, and countless other tiny bureaucratic documents. Carrie has too. We bought a whole box of printer paper at Bureau en Gros in August, and we’re down to our last ream.
But since the beginning of fall, I haven’t been writing in the academic sense of putting together prose for publication. Well, until the last couple weeks. You’re supposed to get a pass for about a year when you book comes out, which I didn’t take, and you are supposed to get a pass when you move. But I didn’t know I was moving until May, which meant that all sorts of promises were in place for fall under the assumption that i would still be in Pittsburgh. That led to me bailing on two conference commitments (highly unusual for me). And it’s slowed down my writing tremendously. Not realizing how foolish it was, I had promised three people an essay for an edited volume on the voice, to be published in French. They’d been kind enough to invite me to a conference that was otherwise almost all in French last spring, and I am new enough at this business to feel quite honored when someone wants my work to translate it and publish it in another language.
My paper is on recordings of Osama bin Laden’s voice — which, if you read the paper this morning, you know is a current issue. Now that I have a complete draft, I’m pleased to say that it’s decent. I have plans to revise it thoroughly (as usual, I didn’t even get to half the stuff I wanted to cover) and publish it in English as well. As you can see from the blog, I had hoped to finish it off last weekend but couldn’t.
GOOD LORD IT WAS TOUGH TO GET TO THIS POINT. First of all, there are endless distractions and obligationsrelated to being in a new place, being in this place, and not being in the old place, which meant it was hard to get long spans to write. This is not supposed to be a problem as I’ve adoped what I call the “academic Atkins diet”(1), which is a practice of writing where you do an hour or even half an hour a day instead of the binge-purge model of so many academics. One of my teachers once compared academic life (or at least the writing part of it) with peasant life: periods of intense productivity puncturated by long periods of leisure or torpor. Anyway, I have discovered that my plan works best for projects in progress or that have reached a certain critical mass. If I’m under a deadline (or, uncharacteristically for me, way past a deadline in this case), it’s not all that satisfying to see my work inch along. There’s also Endnote, which is wonderful when you cite something the second or third time, but a real pain the first time you cite something. And there were endless newspaper articles, clippings and printouts from websites that needed to be entered into the bibliographic database and then put in my paper. All this is to say that for the last two weeks I have been struggling to get this essay down and to move it forward — partly struggling to find the time to think and write well, and in the absence of that time, struggling to switch gears quickly to get into my writing space while I have the moment. This adds unpleasant pressure to the whole thing, and there were moments when I had serious doubts as to whether I could finish the piece before winter break. It really was a practical problem (I can’t remember the last proper “writer’s block” I had), but it’s hard not to experience it on an emotional roller coaster. Our writing is so tied to our senses of self as academics. Or maybe it’s just me. Like a reverse-metaphysics-of-presence or something. Now that it’s a touch-up away from the
And now, looking at the next two weeks, I’ve got two other deadlines approaching. Luckily, it’s for much smaller stuff.
(1) I called it the “academic Atkins diet” because it comes from kind of trendy advice books and has all sorts of names. But the technique is good. I got a ton of writing done last winter doing it for an hour a day. The method probably deserves its own entry but in the meantime, let me say this (which was originally going to be a Bad Subjects essay) about the real Atkins diet. I hate the Atkins diet. I realize that people have lost weight on it. Good for them. But American food culture is so messed up that it has finally found a way to attach a negative moral valence to bread. Bread! Also, there’s the whole anti-vegetarian backlash associated with it, the shameless and deceptive branding by the big food companies, and all that, But that’s for another time. I’m pleased in Montreal to find less Atkins mania.
(2) Carrie took her course release in the fall, and has therefore managed to get more of her own work done. I’m jealous, but after years of me having the lighter teaching load, it’s been a long time coming for her.
This just in, courtesy my new feminist radio research friend Sarah:
http://www.marryanamerican.ca. It’s a noble cause. If things go, er, south next Tuesday, I expect to be getting a lot of calls from American friends about jobs at McGill. I will refer them here.
And Greg D. points me to this tidbit from The Onion:
I have nothing clever to say right now. Good night.
opened for Trail of Dead (along with IQU) last weekend. I picked up the CD but only today had the pleasure of unwrapping it and listening to it.. It’s got that lovely indierock mix of tightness and rawness. You can check them out here.
Sound Studies tomorrow. Semiprofound sound fact #356:
In The Victorian Soundscape, John Picker writes about Charles Babbage’s campaign against London Street musicians. For those who don’t know, Babbage was a famous 19th century mathematician and inventor of something called the “difference engine” which was something like an early general-purpose computing machine. With a little historical license, some have called him the inventor of computing. I’m not going to get this across clearly because it’s been a long day and I’m tired, but here you have the “father of computing” opposing math and music: Babbage said that street musicians made it impossible for him to do his calculations — to compute. I want to write something about the later attempts to eradicate “noise” in cybernetics as a metaphorization of this earlier urban bourgeois sensibility. And something else about the opposition of computational precision and music. I’ll get it right, but not tonight.