Dispatch III: 6 November 2004. Mops, books, arson redux.
So! I hope you're in the mood for some forced metaphor because damned if I don't have some to give you, kind charitable soul that I am.
First off, I finished today the book In Search of Respect: Selling Crack in El Barrio, by Philippe Bourgois. San Francisco State University graduate Bourgois spent five years in East Harlem's Puerto Rican slums during the late 1980s, resulting in this book. It's actually a fascinating read and gives a compelling insight into the 'street culture.' Heavy on transcriptions of the conversations he had with people he befriended. For an anthropological text, it's really very good.
Additionally I finished Harlan Ellison's collection of short stories, Deathbird. I've been putting that off for awhile. Harlan Ellison is a literary genius, although unfortunately I'm not quite sure I can say why. Anyhow, if you're into short stories, or speculative quasi-science fiction, or better if you're into science fiction short stories, you need to read Ellison. I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream is another good collection, primarily because of the title story.
Also started One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Next, at the advice of someone who is far wiser than I and recommended it. Interestingly enough I've passed by the setting for the novel many times; I'd never really considered that before now. It's fairly good so far, although I'm not well into it.
***
Forced metaphor time. So I was mopping the back room today, because I'm sort of obsessive about things being clean and also that's part of what they pay me for, and it struck me that the water in the pan that the mop drains to is always dirty and gray-looking, whereas the water with the soap in it that I use to clean the floor is much cleaner. I don't know whether or not the dinginess comes from the floor--it's supposed to--or the mop, which is probably pretty filthy after all this time.
Are we not perhaps doing the same thing--telling ourselves that the world is really cleaner because what we do results in a bucket of icky water? Maybe the water's icky because of us--not the world. You may feel free to ponder on this moment of philosophical greatness.
***
Finally, although I know you are getting tired of this. The signs posted warning up about fires have been mentioned before. Now I simply note that one of them has been partially burnt up.
I love this school.
-Alex
First off, I finished today the book In Search of Respect: Selling Crack in El Barrio, by Philippe Bourgois. San Francisco State University graduate Bourgois spent five years in East Harlem's Puerto Rican slums during the late 1980s, resulting in this book. It's actually a fascinating read and gives a compelling insight into the 'street culture.' Heavy on transcriptions of the conversations he had with people he befriended. For an anthropological text, it's really very good.
Additionally I finished Harlan Ellison's collection of short stories, Deathbird. I've been putting that off for awhile. Harlan Ellison is a literary genius, although unfortunately I'm not quite sure I can say why. Anyhow, if you're into short stories, or speculative quasi-science fiction, or better if you're into science fiction short stories, you need to read Ellison. I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream is another good collection, primarily because of the title story.
Also started One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Next, at the advice of someone who is far wiser than I and recommended it. Interestingly enough I've passed by the setting for the novel many times; I'd never really considered that before now. It's fairly good so far, although I'm not well into it.
***
Forced metaphor time. So I was mopping the back room today, because I'm sort of obsessive about things being clean and also that's part of what they pay me for, and it struck me that the water in the pan that the mop drains to is always dirty and gray-looking, whereas the water with the soap in it that I use to clean the floor is much cleaner. I don't know whether or not the dinginess comes from the floor--it's supposed to--or the mop, which is probably pretty filthy after all this time.
Are we not perhaps doing the same thing--telling ourselves that the world is really cleaner because what we do results in a bucket of icky water? Maybe the water's icky because of us--not the world. You may feel free to ponder on this moment of philosophical greatness.
***
Finally, although I know you are getting tired of this. The signs posted warning up about fires have been mentioned before. Now I simply note that one of them has been partially burnt up.
I love this school.
-Alex
posted by Alex Osaki at 10:15 pm
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