I needed to breathe. I think I gave up last Sunday. If you scroll down, you can see my post. All week, I have not read the newsites, haven’t gone to dailyKos or Atrios or TPM or, even, Juan Cole. I didn’t read that Musharraf is keeping the vardi. I didn’t follow Putin or the forged documents. I cared not about polls, the ups, the downs or the irrelevance. I have not watched a minute of cable (even Daily News).
I took some time out from the political world. I took the El up to teach. It was so much fun. First day, a guy with some severe Tourette sat next to me. Saw me grading the map quiz and made chit-chat about whether he had spotted the Red Sea or not. Then, a girl in a short-short skirt boarded. And he went nuts with a streak of highly inventive profanity. I laughed so hard, I got the hiccups. Which made the lecture even funnier. Second day, a young couple sat in front of me. The guy leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Next thing I hear the girl yell: What the fuck you mean, did I fuck him!? Luckily, I had my reading done but it was still the smallest train in the world for 30 minutes.
I went to see Vanity Fair. Mira Nair, the director, is in my good books lately. She got even more props for giving a big up! to Said: “Salaam to Edward Said for continuing to inspire”, the credits read. Google tells that Said was her neighbor and they discussed the book over the past years. I knew that her husband teaches at Columbia so it makes sense. I also came across an interview in the NYT of her promoting the movie. It contained this gem:
Mira Nair: Last time I checked, Muslims looked like every other human being. My parents are Hindu, and I married into a Muslim family. I would be happy to be mistaken for a Muslim.
Indeed. That’s the paper of record for you. Spotting Muslims so you don’t have to. Anyways, the movie was very fun. The reviews had been less than sizzling with all this bemoaning of butchering of Thackeray. Like any of these reviewers have actually read the book. Please. I thought it was a good movie that stood fairly alone from the text. The camera was alive and the color palette warm. I had a good night at the movies.
Had a nice conversation with some friends about Victorian literature. Made me think about books I hadn’t in a long time. Far From The Maddening Crowd. We played around with setting up a reading list of some late Victorian authors and doing a book bash. Maybe, we will. I miss Marlowe at times like this. He yells Faulkner in your face. Heard from Aimee and we are trying to get a book reading on campus for her. That will be awesome.
Next week, I grimace through another birthday. How I hate thee, O fickle time. As Mark Strand puts it:
Nobody sees it happening, but the architecture of our time
Is becoming the architecture of the next time. And the dazzle
Of light upon the waters is as nothing beside the changes
Wrought therein, just as our waywardness means
Nothing against the steady pull of things over the edge.
Nobody can stop the flow, but nobody can start it either.
Have a good weekend, gentle reader.