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(no subject) [Jan. 6th, 2010|01:38 pm]

solarium
I am just starting my new courses and I feel concerned at the weight of trying to lug my brain back into action. I have immense respect for all of you who managed to do this well, and I can see the benefit of post secondary education right after highschool. Then you haven't had four years of only doing what you feel like doing with your brain :(. However, just after musing on it for an hour, my scholarly inspiration is picking up again. I am trying to remember how to write essays, how to finish coffee induced lab work. It's exciting!! But the A's I was trying for may take more work than I expected. ALSO it would be easier in a classroom, I think. Reading online boxes is moderately less inspiring. But much more convenient for me.
I have so many ambitions and taking this first step feels scary and hard, but I am trying to just look at it as a step to take that I will overcome, and then it will be OK? It all will be ok no matter what comes of it!


I made Kalliope an impromptu book shelf and she pulls all her books down and flips through them and it's the sweetest thing. The things she does that imitate her parents are incredibly adorable. I found her flipping through Hemingway and laughing at all the text the other morning. She also grabs things out of her draws and makes like she's putting them on and sort of ends up with her pants and shirts as scarves. I guess she watches me dress too often ;)
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(no subject) [Jan. 5th, 2010|01:45 pm]

solarium
Midnight on New Years day was rang in under a few strange clocks, many countdowns, all uncertain, between pouring champagne and yelling and eventually just kissing because we had probably missed 10-9-8, etc anyhow! At the dawn I was still awake, attempting to rouse my companions yelling "but it's a new decade! it's a full moon! it's beautiful! up up up!" to no avail. Eventually after a much sleep deprived and over drink consumed self heard this incredible version of Chelsea Hotel #2 on the radio, and made love in the early morning, fell back asleep for a few hours.

Reminiscent of past years rung in but so much better.

I am musing over "New Years Resolutions", I read an amusing article in Nylon about this. I guess with age we're all seeing the futility of them, but it doesn't really stop me from wanting to try. Most of mine are simple. Like, brush your teeth and wash your face every day. Stuff like that shouldn't be hard! I live so without a schedule though that I often fall asleep without any set routine, and my morning routine only involves coffee and reading.

Other New Years resolutions are to finish all of my Dostoyevsky collected this year at the book sale (an awful lot of text) and if I am ambitious, to read the Lawrence Durrell and James Joyce also. It's not a matter of it really being too much text as it can be hard to diligently read older literature. I feel some bizarre sense of duty though, always have, to read the classics. I keep promising myself once I finish reading the classics on my shelf (which I always do enjoy once I am however far into the novel) I can start reading "fun" things. My favourite to read is Beat-era literature. Or just you know, anything. Where did this strange sense of instilled duty come from??

Other resolutions are to strike a good balance in saving money and buying locally (a revelation about my favourite book store brought this about) and to try to play guitar or harmonium every day, as you improve incredibly quickly that way. And to learn to dress in a classier fashion. I am getting somewhat older and looking like a vagabond hippie girl isn't really as charming (at least to myself). Start indoor herb garden, and only keep plants I am actually prepared to upkeep and deal with the bounty of (a large garden last year rather overwhelmed me).

I start school tomorrow. Kalliope calls for me now. Much love <3. Hope to try and write more, maybe start some sort of fun tumblr or something?? But we've been on lj forever.
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(no subject) [Jan. 4th, 2010|10:41 pm]

brennabrennaaa
[Current Music |merzbow-rainbow electronics2]

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2010 Plans. [Jan. 4th, 2010|09:47 pm]

wedeconstruct
1. Spend one solid month {plus more} at Hamilton Wood Type & Printing Museum.

2. Write {in some form} every day.

3. Read at least one book a month.

4. Apply to Oregon College of Art and Craft.
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(no subject) [Jan. 4th, 2010|12:44 am]

brennabrennaaa
























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(no subject) [Jan. 4th, 2010|12:30 am]

brennabrennaaa
[Current Music |tony conrad june 1965]


















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(no subject) [Jan. 3rd, 2010|11:20 pm]

areyou_hungup
1) Its fifteen degrees below zero in NYC and tomorrow evening, I have to go all the way from Queens to Manhattan in this cold, to tutor Spanish to Steven Spielberg’s daughter. Steven Spielberg’s daughter is eight years younger than me, and has her own apartment near Central Park. Meanwhile, I’ve never lived with less than two people, but what matters is quality, not quantity. Steven Spielberg’s daughter is interested in Don Quixote, and in getting into UCLA, because she wants to go to college somewhere sunny, with beaches, with tanned people, very far away from the NYC weather. Meanwhile, I’m applying to graduate programs in NYC, because apparently I think I can handle this weather. Steven Spielberg’s daughter is my mother’s high school Spanish student, and she has a real name too, that I won’t mention due to celebrity privacy issues. Steven Spielberg’s ex wife is paying me a lot of money an hour to tutor Spanish to her daughter, so that she gets a good grade in her Language class, and gets into UCLA. But maybe I shouldn’t mention this either, because now my friends are going to think I have money and say: “You owe me for this time, and for that time I paid for your drinks and for that time too. And how about donating any extra money to charity?”

2) You know how I manage to handle this weather? I play mind games and imagine I am some hot detective from Florida who is on a mission in Alaska. That is, in my imagination and under my rags, I am actually really good looking, but over my huge winter coat and upon the sock covering my entire face, I am just another homeless lady. I believe in my mind that this is my original idea, but in reality this theme is from a really bad movie I watched once, about a detective in Alaska who is trying to solve a crime. I’ve noticed how sometimes at parties, a guy will try to show off to a group of people by narrating an “original movie script” to them, something they believe they spontaneously came up with. But then the story is exactly like some famous action movie that everybody has already seen. People are so predictably spontaneous, even Steven Spielberg.

3) Allen Ginsberg once wrote in some biography that one could get fat by eating Oreos. He mentioned that even if you didn’t eat anything but Oreos all day, you would still get fat. Guess what I’ve been eating all day? Half a pack of Oreos. You see, I’ve been acting like a skinny person lately. That is, skinny people are always “too nervous” to eat, and they are always too neurotic, or too stressed to finish their entire plate of food. Boo. Skinny people used to get on my nerves, so I always tried feeding them, hoping this would stop making them act so neurotic and stressed, so skinny. I love feeding skinny people because I feel like I’m caring for a starving child. But then I started acting like a stressed, neurotic skinny person myself. And eating like a skinny person was getting on my nerves, but I was too stressed and moody to do anything about it. I mean, I have all these Italian genes, and not enough flesh to go with them, so I thought: I’ve been acting like a moody depressed skinny person, and I’m sick of it. Pass me the Oreos and let me be happy. Yes, happiness is a box of Oreos don’t you judge me.

4) I used to think that to get a good job you just had to be well qualified. I also used to think that to get into a graduate program, all you needed was a good writing sample that showed you could address a philosophical issue clearly and successfully. I used to think people would select you, for a job or for a program, based on your merit. This is why I spent so much time working on my writing sample. But this is Humbug. Apparently, a big part of succeeding in life is learning how to kiss ass. Screw merit.
Kissing Ass applies to your boss, your supervisor, your professors, and also ( I'm recently learning) graduate program committees. Ever since last summer, I have been introduced to professors whom, if I successfully kiss ass, might have enough influence to get me into their program. When people recommend me to e-mail professors who work in my programs of choice, what they are implicitly recommending me, is to kiss their ass.
At this point and knowing that rejection rate is %80, I am still wondering why do I even have to explain myself with a cover letter! Just read my writing sample which I have spent time on, and if you like how I do philosophy, fine, and if you don't, then spare me the trouble of having to meet you, shake hands with you, tell you that I like your work, e-mail you to remind you that I like your work, e-mail you to ask you for a letter of recommendation, kiss your ass. I have other things to do over here. Like write in this journal, or read chick-literature for example. But also, when I get rejected, I may just wonder if it was due to my lack of philosophical abilities, my lack of ass-kissing abilities, or a combination of the two.



5) My sister is wearing two sweaters and a knitted hat to go to sleep; this is how cold it is in NYC. My sister was telling me that for people who are from Chicago; this weather is flip-flop and Bermuda weather. I guess you don’t know cold until you know Chicago. But then again, you don't know Alaska until you spend the night in Flushing, Queens.
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(no subject) [Jan. 3rd, 2010|02:13 pm]

brennabrennaaa
[Current Music |golden retriever]


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(no subject) [Jan. 1st, 2010|06:15 pm]

brennabrennaaa
[Current Music |http://www.ubu.com/sound/maclise.html]









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A Child's Christmas in Buenos Aires [Jan. 1st, 2010|07:59 pm]

areyou_hungup
My mom told me this story about my niece in Argentina, and I thought it was sweet in all its innocence, so I’m writing it here. Ana’s mother (my sister) has a Catholic background, while her husband comes from a non-religious background. When she turned five, my sister who had been talking to Ana about Jesus, decided to take her to a church in Buenos Aires for the first time. “We are going to the house of the Lord!” was the theme of the day. So Ana, excited to get to see the Lord, put on her best dress and shoes, tied her blonde curls away from her face, painted her little nails pink and held my sister’s hand all the way o the church. There was no mass when they got there but there where plenty of sculptures and images of a crucified Christ, and a suffering Virgin Mary, crying at the feet of her son, the usual guilt-trip oriented Catholic stuff that we see a lot in Argentina. Lighted candles with melting wax, holy water at the entrance, the smell of wine mixed with salt and lavender, the usual James Joyce-Dubliners-catholic decorative items, etc.

But Ana was enjoying herself, until she sat down with her mother in front of the altar and waited anxiously for God to come out and greet her. It was his house after all, was it not? After a while of silence, Ana began to yell “God! God?” with her five years of youth and her innocence placed at the altar, she was only waiting for God to stop being rude. She wanted a face, she wanted to see. “Mom, this man is very rude!” she complained to my sister on the way back home, “We waited for him and he didn’t come!” “Maybe he lives in some other church! Maybe this was the wrong house Mom! What a rude man!” “Where is he?!”

And at this young age, and given her upbringing, Ana will probably hear two different answers to this question. Her mother will tell her that even though she can’t see him, Ana will feel God in her heart. And that God loves her unconditionally and that through the gospel, she will learn to love the way Jesus did. Her mother will tell Ana that there is an ultimate truth to God, and that part of her life’s mission should be to get closer to this Truth.

Her father on the other hand, may tell her that Truth is at times relative, that she should believe in principles that help her get along in life, without constraining her mind, and that she should not fall into dogmatism. He may tell her that although some people want to look for ultimate truths in their lives, such as a God, others are ok with the certainty generated by a community. Her dad might say that if some truths don’t work anymore for society, then we can discard them, and that this may only be for the better.

Both her mother and her father’s teachings will, hopefully, only strengthen Ana’s perspective, and her critical skills as a religious or as a non-religious person, whatever she chooses to be. I don’t write to take sides tonight (I spent way too much time debating about this in the past.) But what is interesting is my niece’s initial disappointment at such an early age. This disappointment is linked to her want of an easy answer, and a fast relief to her anxiety. How many countless times have I myself experienced this disappointment? Ana, with her five years of age and her ruffled skirts, her childlike manners, wanted God himself to confirm to her perceptually that there was a God. Because in future times of trouble, she would then be sure that this God would back her up regardless.

My niece’s anxiety at the church, related to her inability to see, reminds me of the time I took a Metaphysics class. One of the first themes we had to cover was Aristotelian substance, which is basically a non-changing, intrinsic aspect of being which we don’t see (we only “see” the changing aspects of being). Fine, but when I commented to another of my professors how interesting that Metaphysics class was, this is what he answered: “Metaphysical Substance?! There is nothing such as a substance Carolina! Where is it? I can’t touch it and I can’t see it, so why do we need a substance? Obviously, he was a pragmatist and a pretty cranky one too. He was not a metaphysician, but who can blame him for wondering? Who can blame him for, like Ana with God, having once felt disappointment due to lack of direct proof that it was there and that it was successfully working?

Something I know from experience is that whatever path my niece chooses from here, in faith or outside of it, will probably be equally as arduous. But hopefully she will pick the one that, besides orienting her in spiritual or earthly matters, will also allow her to handle life’s disappointments as best as possible, so goes it.
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The Grudge [Dec. 30th, 2009|10:38 pm]

areyou_hungup
Talking to my neighbor Austin last night, I discovered he is one more in the list of those who think that women “hold a grudge” longer than men do. Trust me; I’m sure he is right. If we assume that this term is connected to a type of emotional response, and that emotional responses are linked to the female gender, and that this response may include feelings such as resentment, sadness, lots of yelling, passive-aggressive bitterness and victimization, then I agree with Austin: I think that women are able to hold grudges against men, and that they are not scared of holding them.

But I also think women are less worried about dwelling through their “grudge” and of talking to others about “their grudge” (friends, therapists, their mother, their father, ministers, support groups and whoever else wants to listen.) And that in the long run, these women who “hold a grudge” manage to successfully work their way out of it, strengthening their character in the process, even if it takes them time. I may be too optimistic, but I would like to think that this is mostly the case. So it may also be the case that “holding a grudge” the way women generally do, is better than ignoring the grudge and blocking it, or pretending the grudge is not there and focusing on other things instead, like men generally do. So Austin is right, but for different reasons than the ones he may assume. That is, the problem may be that men don’t know how to effectively “hold a grudge.”

This brings me, again, to my APA afternoon session of the day, the “Women in Philosophy” conference. Gladly, there was a feminist man in the Panel, Tom Digby, who was presenting a paper about the issue of Manhood. I think that his position may help to understand why it is that men don’t “hold grudges” as much as women do. Assuming that a “grudge” is a highly emotional, passive aggressive, reaction to a circumstance or event, predominately held by women, then men don’t hold grudges because they don’t react like women do. Instead, men, who are generally trained since boyhood to be less emotional, to “suck it up,” and to “quit acting like sissies,” are also socially trained to “suck up” the grudge. So Digby, fighting oppression from the other side of the gender sphere, argues that the conception of manhood is damaging to males. Here I can add that ignoring “grudges” may also, in the long term, damage our fellows of the other sex, and indirectly harm women. I’ll make my point shortly.

Digby in his book "Male Trouble" (2003) argues that our cultural ideas of manhood are deeply influenced by the idea of the warrior. This ideal is characterized by a though, hypersexual male who can selectively focus in a war zone, can suspend his capacity to feel compassion for others and can only express “manly” emotions such as anger (so feelings of vulnerability here, are not “manly.”) Because this is a cultural idea, it means that boys are not born fixed in masculinity, but are rigorously trained through youth, often through humiliation by other boys or peers, to be men. What is interesting about Digby’s argument is that he explains how empathy, compassion and the tendency to nurture are biologically grounded in both sexes, but males are more prone to give up these qualities as they strengthen their “warrior” tendencies instead. So what is at stake here is men’s mental and physical health. Digby uses an example of NFL players who are now dealing with PTSD issues and physical deterioration after having spent their best years knocking each other down, and recalling how suicide rates in males are larger than in females because they are powerless over their vulnerability. Also, Digby argues, a male trained socially to be a “real man” would, like a warrior, be unaffected by the suffering of others, because a warrior must suspend his capacity to feel anything for his enemy in war, as to kill him without any doubt. Showing compassion would make “the real man” a sissy, or “a woman,” which is derogatively, the opposite of a man.

Even though none of my male friends are really like this, which is why they are my friends, I do notice that the social sphere and even the media still, explicitly or implicitly, portrays manhood through the idea of “the warrior.” Although most guys are smart enough to challenge this conception, there are some notions that are still deeply embedded in their sociality. Which brings me back to my initial point: Men hold grudges differently than women do, but maybe they could learn something from women. Generally, men either suppress their feelings, having been trained since boyhood that vulnerability is not “manly,” or they reveal them through anger, which is the only “manly” form of expression. And intermediate between these two is harder to find for men, because since boyhood, nobody has taught them how to express their vulnerability, for example. Women on the other hand, can more easily express vulnerability because they where not socially trained under the “warrior” ideal.

So men’s potential happiness is delimited by this notion of manhood, embedded in them since youth, and constrains their capacity to care for themselves and for others. According to Digby, a male raised with a “warrior” sociality, is not only more capable of committing domestic violence to the people who love him the most, but also, is most likely to commit suicide unable to work through his feelings. In conclusion, if men are liberated from this social constrain, then women will be one step less oppressed. That is, if women are less prone to suffer domestic violence, rape, emotional abuse etc. by men trained under this “warrior” ideal, they will gain equality and more freedom. And the more equal are men to women, the better for feminism. So letting men express their vulnerability would involve changing the norms of sociality that train them into becoming men through the idea of “the warrior.” By getting rid of this "manly" ideal, women may suffer less abuse from men, less domestic violence, and thus, be one step less oppressed. And men may even be happier overall as a gender.
Moral of the story, let men hold a grudge as much as they want to, maybe even for as long as women do. But let them do it more effectively. Let them talk, cry, dwell, instead of getting angry about it or suppressing it. It would only contribute to the achievement of equality, and this, hopefully, benefits everybody.
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Bad Romance [Dec. 29th, 2009|11:49 pm]

areyou_hungup
When I think of all my bad relationships, I tend to blame it on incompatibility. When I think of the relationship between Art and Philosophy, I also think of incompatibility. This is why I still have fun with this discipline; I can always test my arguments on real life examples. Let me explain, my morning session at the APA Conference today was on Aesthetics. Precisely, about the relationship between Art and Philosophy. More specifically, a drag. Not because these should not work together, but rather due to the way these were forcefully joined. Carlos Garcia from Buffalo State University (NY) was attempting to link art and philosophy by giving us a philosophical interpretation of the art of Carlos Estevez, a Cuban artist. He first provided a definition of art that was in nature essentialist through two conditions: 1) art has to be an artifact, and 2) art has to generate an aesthetic experience. This definition is at a first glance already flawed, because it wouldn’t be able to include much of conceptual art. But beyond this, because nobody cares about defining art except for philosophers. But what is interesting about his project is what is at risk in this relationship.

That is, why are we even trying to constrain the artwork to the cognitive claims of philosophy? Because, I argue, we still want to problematically hold on to the concept of autonomy in art. Garcia, claims that art is not reducible to philosophy, and yet by giving us a “philosophical” interpretation of the work of Estevez, he constrains the ontology of the work to the realm of logic and perception, reducing art to philosophy. What is at risk? For the sake of keeping the autonomy, at the level of philosophical definition, the historical dimension of the work is dissolved. So here we have another form of Iconoclasm in Aesthetics: The more philosophy we put into the work of art, the more distant we get from experiencing the work in its ontological completeness. That is, the less we get to bring in the historical dimension, which allows us to bring in the ethical dimension of the work. Clearly by looking at these artworks, if an installation by a Cuban exile who addresses violence and suffering is not political, historical, if it does not have an ethical dimension, then what is it? If it is not ontologically complete then it’s not art, it’s just philosophy. Talk about a one sided relationship over here.

Then again, to give philosophy a break, I went to the artist’s website to further explore his works, and this is what his statement of purpose said:
“In my art I answer the question, what is a human? What is happiness? What is freedom?”
So now, finally enough, we have an artist who believes that his art can answer philosophical questions. It can solve the problem of personal identity, free-will and also somehow give us a universal definition of what happiness is.
Not only are philosophers playing artists, but now artists are playing philosophers. Garcia’s project is just another example of scholarly work where art and philosophy have to compete for first prize by dissolving each other in the process. After sitting through this panel, all I can say is that Philosophy and Art needs to establish a better theoretical relationship. They are both pretty neurotic disciplines, but they need each other, because what is of the philosophy of art without art? And how can art answer philosophical questions without philosophy? Can’t join them together, can’t separate them.
Basically, another story of all my bad relationships, another bad romance. Maybe this is why I like Aesthetics.
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(no subject) [Dec. 28th, 2009|09:01 pm]

areyou_hungup
1) If we really want to understand why analytic philosophers have turned Art into one big logical problem of indiscernibility, all one has to do is walk around the Contemporary Art section at the Met. Here, we can see so many amazing art objects that are no different from their mere real counterparts. My own personal favorite of the evening: Dan Flaven, who put up a fluorescent light in a corner of the museum, and called the piece “Fluorescent Light.” I love it, I’m not being sarcastic.


2) So I can’t afford Ballet classes in Manhattan anymore. This constrains me to the art of practicing Pointe work at home. I usually use the living room, because I have enough space to jump. But I also like this area because I have view to the building in front of ours, where the neighbors decorated their window with Christmas lights. I like how the colored lights look from a distance, always glistening under the snow. I check my posture by looking for my reflection in the window, unaware if another person could be looking back at me. Mom keeps telling me that there is probably some neighbor, really bored, who could be spying on my ballet class. She could be right, people do seem pretty bored in the evenings here in Queens.
I did not believe her but now I do. Last night, before going to sleep I walked into the kitchen leaving the lights off. While I was getting some water, I looked through the window at the neighbor’s Christmas lights, always on and shining in the cold of winter. There was a figure moving, probably a small boy or girl, and it was twirling around and jumping, apparently striking some basic Ballet positions. Apparently I had a spy. The figure was a mere shadow from the window, but it was dancing and it appeared to look for her reflection in the building in front of hers. We could say that I was only spying back, but the child was too busy jumping and turning to the Christmas lights in winter to notice.

3) I went to the American Philosophical Association Conference this morning and it revived my strange love affair for this city. I don’t know if it revived my love affair with Philosophy, yet, but I have to say New York really does have so many resources and research opportunities, grants, fellowships that one can make use of. And ideas, sometimes it really is good to hear ideas from other people…I haven’t heard ideas like these in such a long, long time. On one side of the hotel; we have a panel addressing post-medieval solutions to the problem of Being. In another floor, the Contemporary Feminist Continental Philosophy panel discussing Foucault and oppression while on the other side of that room, the Radical Philosophy Association is debating Marxism. In another floor we have the panel of Christian Philosophers, on the room besides them, the Society of Existentialist Philosophy. It is hard to decide what panel to attend, and sometimes it is hard not to get lost within so many (sometimes incompatible, but hopefully reconcilable) ideas. But one thing I know is that the more exciting I tend to find these conferences, the duller do I find real life, real jobs, and real people. Which obviously goes both ways… that is, the duller real people, real life, and real employers find ME.
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Open Letters [Dec. 27th, 2009|06:53 pm]

areyou_hungup
Reading the New York Times this morning (I’m slowly transforming into a white person) I found an interesting article about a publishing company. Open Letters is a small press affiliated with the University of Rochester that publishes nothing but literature in translation. And this is just a really good idea. Starting out with the correct assumption that English speaking readers don’t have full access to voices and viewpoints from around the world, these translators want to change that. That is, they are trying to change the conditions of recognizability, so that Westerners can begin to acknowledge other voices. Their recent publications include “Season of Ash” by Mexican novelist Jorge Volvi, Brazilian political poetry, and an anthology of eastern European writers titled “The Wall in my Head.”

Open Letters and their recent project brings me to think the issue of acknowledgment in aesthetics. Once the authorial voices gain representation through translation, the public gets to acknowledge these formerly un-heard, un-read voices. No doubt that this is a great idea, given that there is a set of readers out there that’s very interested in translations and international literature, and is not getting what it wants. But it is also a great idea to specifically want to translate social critiques, political poetry, and literature that addresses suffering and the perils of violence. The issue of literary accessibility takes me to Judith Buttler, whom I have been reading these holidays. Buttler addresses photography related to violence in her work, but I believe the issue is the same with political works of literature. It is not exactly true that an excess of images of suffering makes us callous and passive towards these ethical/political issues. It is rather the opposite; the dominant media carefully selects and filters the images we get to see, excluding anything that may have more than a superfluous meaning. This is evident in times of war for example. As Buttler argues, it is in the realm of representation that humanization and dehumanization are confirmed endlessly.

Buttler’s assumption that whoever can be represented stands more of a chance of being regarded as human, while those that are not represented, are at risk of being de-humanized can be used in the realm of photography but also in literature. What this publishing company is doing then, at the level of recognition or representation, is allowing us to acknowledge and, thus, giving others the chance to represent themselves through the translation of these voices. I’m loosely interpreting Buttler over here, so bear with me, but if we fail to acknowledge due to a lack of translated political works, these voices and what they want to represent are at risk of loosing representation. Not just politically, but at an ontological level (because we don’t take into account their precariousness, vulnerability, interdependency etc. if we never get to read them.) So I think that when Buttler argues for more egalitarian norms of recognition at the level of representation in photography, we can also incorporate this view to the literary realm, where more egalitarian norms of recognition would demand for more translators that could help us gain more access to political literary works. So Open Letters press is not only translating but also allowing us to acknowledge, by giving us better, more egalitarian norms of recognition, how’s that for a good book deal.
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rainbow eve [Dec. 25th, 2009|07:37 pm]

socialghost

Vetiver - Houses .mp3
Found at bee mp3 search engine

collection. )
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(no subject) [Dec. 25th, 2009|08:45 am]

whiskeyface

Amazing

Watch this if you're drunk/stoned

16 girls one bicycle, enough said

Obsessed


HH!
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...................................... [Dec. 24th, 2009|12:12 pm]

townsfolk
what are your favorite personal blogs? websites? image archives? news sources? fashion blogs? etc.
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