7/8 is one of those weird fractions that only a Feb could appreciate. 7 down, one semester left. I guess in this metaphor, the glass is unquestionably more full than empty, and I suppose it is.
I just finished my first senior year in college (if you really want to call it that). There are some outstanding papers and little assignments, but for all intents and purposes it's done now. For some reason, I am reminded of a line from David Hickey that I read in January. Dave Hickey is this postmodern art historian that blends the high arts with all kinds of Pop culture and unlikely �low-brow� references. His book is called "Air Guitar� is a Hunter S. Thompson-esque gonzo-journalism meets Vasari and Winckelmann. Well, in one of the abbreviated chapters Kalb had us read, Hickey goes into the inability of words to really match a physical experience or even the difference between reality / memory / second-hand telling of a past event. Hickey asks - what do you lose when you describe a kiss? (this is
his overly romanticized example). Well, in short, you lose the kiss. you lose the heart-pounding, jumpy stomach, spiritual resignation or submerging into something other than the self... (I knew I was waxing poetic today, didn't know it was
that poetic or just that sappy and melodramatic). Hickey's conclusion is that description (no matter how apt or accurate) doesn't stand in as a replacement for experience.
I guess I am reminded of this for a few reasons. Yesterday I re-watched part of Jiang Wen's
In the Heat of the Sun and in one particularly interesting scene, the director slows the film, focuses on a still image and adds his own voice track stating that he started out with sincere intentions, but the story forced him to turn it into a lie. He says that the audience really wouldn't want it any other way, and that true honesty is impossible. Eventually the film goes back to normal speed and he saturates us with the admittedly false narrative. I have been thinking about sincerity lately - if it's even possible and if it even matters. I sometimes get the feeling that my passions are so flippant that my sincerity oscillates between them at a break-neck pace, contradicting and discarding past interests without institutional memory. I think I set out to be loyal, or sincere, but maybe I am not able to maintain that energy over time � hence my need to acquire new handbags, friends, and favorite artists and authors as a seasonal rite.
But the way I feel right now � I think it teeters into that gray area Hickey is describing (or alluding to if you follow his logic). About being a student, what I will remember about being a student, and the general fondness I have for my time here� it�s kind of sad that you have to lose the kiss after all.
posted by lmjasinski at 2:32 PM
