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New York was wonderful. By our last day I was possessed by an almost physical craving to live there again, and even seeing three foxes in the garden this morning was not quite enough to console me.
( the gory details )
( the gory details )
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May. 8th, 2003 11:50 pm...it was New York, the dream-site
the lost city the city of dreadful light...
from Adrienne Rich, An Atlas of the Difficult World VII
I had dinner up around 125th street and took a patchwork journey home, by taxi, down Broadway to 96th and then through the Park, down 5th past all the museums, to Park Avenue and through that Grand Central Station overpass/underpass, and on down south. A jag over to Gramercy Park, and straight down second to the East Village. And it was all the ridiculous majesty of this feat of engineering, this wonder of the modern world, from the grand scale of the skyscrapers to the trash piled on the corners, the clean modern lines and the carved eccentricities of the nineteenth century, brownstones and parks and apartments and wasteland. How I will miss this place, all of the glory and insanity in it, all the pain and delight of the world in these few miles.
the lost city the city of dreadful light...
from Adrienne Rich, An Atlas of the Difficult World VII
I had dinner up around 125th street and took a patchwork journey home, by taxi, down Broadway to 96th and then through the Park, down 5th past all the museums, to Park Avenue and through that Grand Central Station overpass/underpass, and on down south. A jag over to Gramercy Park, and straight down second to the East Village. And it was all the ridiculous majesty of this feat of engineering, this wonder of the modern world, from the grand scale of the skyscrapers to the trash piled on the corners, the clean modern lines and the carved eccentricities of the nineteenth century, brownstones and parks and apartments and wasteland. How I will miss this place, all of the glory and insanity in it, all the pain and delight of the world in these few miles.
I spent the evening organizing my books, although many of them are still in stacks on the floor. Greek history in particular is out of control. And I spent about half an hour wandering around because I could have sworn that I owned both volumes of my Epictetus edition.
In the land of meaningless coincidences, I own three English translations of the Odyssey, three editions of the Greek lyric poets and three books on Roman culture by J.P.V.D. Balsdon (I recommend Romans and Aliens, if only for chapter titles like "The Romans and their ghastly bad taste").
So much for that.
In the land of meaningless coincidences, I own three English translations of the Odyssey, three editions of the Greek lyric poets and three books on Roman culture by J.P.V.D. Balsdon (I recommend Romans and Aliens, if only for chapter titles like "The Romans and their ghastly bad taste").
So much for that.
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Sep. 9th, 2002 04:35 pmI really must get a laptop. This whole only having a computer at work thing is quite distressing.
Spent today reading the book I'd assigned my students. My initial impression was correct--it's not a very good book, which means that it should make excellent discussion material. "What on earth was she talking about here?" It'll take at least an hour just to figure out what the author's argument was. My class is small and fun. Fun for me, anyway--the students had better get ready for some hard thinking, I fear. But that's what an education is for, and if they haven't had to think yet, well, there's no time like the present.
This is rather scattered--I've been thinking about an article in Sunday's Times about moving to New York after September 11th, which of course is what I've done. I'm not sure what I think about it (or indeed, what I mean by "it" in that last sentence). Am I somehow barred from ever being a "real New Yorker" because I wasn't here? No. I mean, I may never be a real New Yorker, but that's going to have a lot more to do with my fear of roaches and my lack of a permanent job in the area than where I was last September. And yet surely there is some kind of difference. There ought to be.
This is still garbled, and I doubt it will be more coherent by Wednesday. At the moment you can't turn around in New York without some kind of 9/11 memorial stuff, which doesn't surprise me much, but also doesn't really help me clarify my thoughts. I feel very disconnected from whatever it is I'm supposed to be feeling. My husband (who writes about the commemoration of WWI and WWII) seems disinterested, and no doubt would point out that all public commemoration in experienced differently by the individuals who participate and observe it. I'm tempted to suggest that he spend Wednesday outside and call it fieldwork.
Spent today reading the book I'd assigned my students. My initial impression was correct--it's not a very good book, which means that it should make excellent discussion material. "What on earth was she talking about here?" It'll take at least an hour just to figure out what the author's argument was. My class is small and fun. Fun for me, anyway--the students had better get ready for some hard thinking, I fear. But that's what an education is for, and if they haven't had to think yet, well, there's no time like the present.
This is rather scattered--I've been thinking about an article in Sunday's Times about moving to New York after September 11th, which of course is what I've done. I'm not sure what I think about it (or indeed, what I mean by "it" in that last sentence). Am I somehow barred from ever being a "real New Yorker" because I wasn't here? No. I mean, I may never be a real New Yorker, but that's going to have a lot more to do with my fear of roaches and my lack of a permanent job in the area than where I was last September. And yet surely there is some kind of difference. There ought to be.
This is still garbled, and I doubt it will be more coherent by Wednesday. At the moment you can't turn around in New York without some kind of 9/11 memorial stuff, which doesn't surprise me much, but also doesn't really help me clarify my thoughts. I feel very disconnected from whatever it is I'm supposed to be feeling. My husband (who writes about the commemoration of WWI and WWII) seems disinterested, and no doubt would point out that all public commemoration in experienced differently by the individuals who participate and observe it. I'm tempted to suggest that he spend Wednesday outside and call it fieldwork.
And welcome to New York!
Sep. 2nd, 2002 12:34 pmI'm back in town, post-graduation. I've moved into my funky new apartment. Yay. My email is working again (if you tried to email me last week, I didn't get it). Yay. I got paid again. Yay!
But... the roof is leaking. And there is NO HOT WATER in the apartment at the moment. This would be less of a problem if it wasn't raining and almost chilly in the city right now--hence, of course, the roof leak.
Can this kind of thing be fixed over Labor Day weekend? I sure hope so. I'm really not looking forward to washing my hair in cold water tomorrow morning. This is a big bummer. I'll write more later when I'm not quite so pissed off at the universe.
Luckily my husband is here to reassure me that things will get better.
But... the roof is leaking. And there is NO HOT WATER in the apartment at the moment. This would be less of a problem if it wasn't raining and almost chilly in the city right now--hence, of course, the roof leak.
Can this kind of thing be fixed over Labor Day weekend? I sure hope so. I'm really not looking forward to washing my hair in cold water tomorrow morning. This is a big bummer. I'll write more later when I'm not quite so pissed off at the universe.
Luckily my husband is here to reassure me that things will get better.
