Someone told me recently

that it is unfair to update my blog without writing a new post.  I haven't been here in a long while, so long that it feels strange to drop in like this.  Like with a friend you haven't seen in ages, like maybe I needed an invitation.  Gogolgirl definitely needs some re-envisioning in light of my curtailed free time -- and a brain that's mostly taken up with graduate classes and teaching.  Had I purchased a camera over winter break as I'd intended, I would give a shot at populating this space with images.  It's still a good idea, I think, but the camera has to wait until summer.

However, perhaps now that I've broken the silence, I'll come back again soon and do a little writing.  I'm not quite clear what I'll write about (paper ideas? french translations? medieval reliquaries? my thoughts about what should happen to each of the characters on LOST?) but I'm also not quite ready to abandon ol' G.g. just yet. 

Oh, and how are you, my two dear readers?  I've missed you.

Objects and Things

"The testimony of objects, in other words, brings into the present not just what was lost but the tangible presence of loss, loss in the form of a thing. The recovery of history and its evidence is an imaginative and performative act. This is a fact often lost in the empirical presumptions of museums. The objects are not whole ("this is all that's left") and have lost the context in which they were used. Once staged -- in the theater or the museum -- they are no longer identical to themselves."

"Presenting Objects, Presenting Things," Alice Rayner

The city I hate and adore!

While others do their bloggerly duties, I have only lyrics to offer. Oh, there are posts in the works: a puppet review, an essay about my family's farm house in the wilds of northern PA, responses to the reading I've done lately. But I am too, too busy at the moment. Finishing and beginning. Writing fast. Grading slowly...

Autumn in New York
Why does it seem so inviting?
Autumn in New York
It spells the thrill of first nighting.

Glittering crowds and shimmering clouds
In canyons of steel,
They're making me feel
I'm home.

It's Autumn in New York
That brings the promise of new love.
Autumn in New York
Is often mingled with pain.

Dreamers with empty hands
May sigh for exotic lands
It's Autumn in New York
It's good to live it again.

Desire, Porter style

I'd like to make a tour of you
The eyes, the arms, the mouth of you
The East, West, North and South of you
I'd love to gain complete control of you
and handle even the heart and soul of you

(You'll have to forgive me if I randomly post song lyrics. I am beginning a torrid love affair with the poets of Tin Pan Alley.)

Another year

All in all, not too damn bad. Low-key, but happy. A few drinks with some of the nicest "cool kids" around. Randomly bumping into and having coffee with an old friend. Lots of messages from people I love.

Here's to a year of small, intimate celebrations. Of lovely little fireworks. Of tiny deaths. Of new frontiers.

Fashion and Academia

Perfect together?

(The rest of the magazine this week is rather interesting as well.)

Procrastination

Some of my very ugly habits are starting to rear their unattractive heads. I didn't have any delusions that writing magically would become effortless upon returning to the PhD. And I keep reminding myself that I do in fact know how best to proceed: in small bits, writing really, really rough drafts at first, only editing once I've filled at least a few pages with words. However, I still have a few leftover things to finish up and my self-imposed deadlines loom. And for some reason, all the rotten forces of self-sabotage seem to be attacking at once. They are a particularly sneaky and evil little army.

I'm ok with the idea that there will be some pain involved in getting this degree. I've (for the most part) decided that it's worth it. And I suppose it helps to be able to write about writing here and know that you, dear reader, are listening. Perhaps, for the time being, this blog will become a space for me to work on/work out my continued issues with writing. That sounds a bit dreary, but then again, it's my blog after all. Y'all* will just have to deal.


*I, despite never having had a southern accent, nor residing in the South, nor spending any significant period of time there except for the one week my family went to Myrtle Beach, SC for vacation when I was twelve -- I, the consummate Northerner, for some unknown reason addressed one of my classes as "y'all" the other day. It was the class I'm particularly fond of and so I'm assuming I meant it as a term of endearment.