23.5.11

On Thinking About Creativity: Are We Artists Or Not?

Creators come in different
shapes, colors, and sizes!
If you think you may be a writer, an illustrator, a photographer, a graphic designer, a sculptor, a songwriter, or a dancer, a filmmaker, a novelist, a poet, a dreamer, a baker, whatever, know a few things. Your art will fail you. The words will not come. The images will not appear. The lens will not capture a perfect reality. The story will not form. The movement will falter. The notes will not pluck. The cake will collapse.

22.5.11

Feeling Strangely Homey in Bushwick (Travels in Brooklyn)

After moving out of my graduate dorm at the New School, I had to couch surf and spend the night on a couple of trains before I could move into my new place in Brooklyn.

Still Riding the LIRR
In case anyone is wondering if I'm still riding the LIRR, I wanted to report that I am staying with a friend in Bushwick (home of New York's proletariat) until my place in Sunset Park (home of the Latino/Asian middle class) becomes available.

My hosts have been exceptionally gracious. So to thank them for their hospitality, I say "thank you guys!"
Living Unsettled
In the realm of general blog writing, it must be noted that living unsettled is a perfect catalyst for writing. Writing is integral to homelessness, I think. To write is to be unsettled. Good writing does not come out of stability. Writing is an effort to find the tension and seize upon it. Don't you think?

Last night Tompkins Square Park was filled with people for the annual Howl festival. I really don't know what the Howl festival is so I can only infer from the experience (since I didn't ask anyone) that it was a costume party out in the open treeness of the park. But isn't the Howl festival supposed to be about poetry and art?

I particularly liked the group of four dressed up as some kind of dragon creature.

Today will be another day living as a free-floating plankton in the sea we call the city of New York.

20.5.11

Journey to Montauk: Feeling Strangely Homeless on the Long Island Railroad

If you live in New York City and happen to be bereft of living quarters for a night, try this relatively cheap alternative.
RIDE the LIRR!
On My Way to Montauk!
Get Your Ticket at Penn Station
Yes, get your ass over to Penn Station. Take a Montauk bound train. You'll have to transfer at Jamaica, though. The seats are not terribly comfortable. So, try to find one of those facing seats so you can prop your legs up for the ride. If you take the midnight train the initial thirty-five minutes will not afford you much sleep time because you will be sharing the train with night-time revelers. Mostly Long Island kids with a penchant for partying in Manhattan. They're mostly white kids who may or may not stumble into your car seat half-drunk. Mostly harmless.

Since you are bereft of a home for the night, make sure your backpack has a toothbrush, toothpaste, extra pair of socks and some reading material. Also some snacks. the Long Island Railroad does not have a snack bar on board. You can load up on stuff at Penn Station but the prices are steep. I suggest buying your food somewhere else before you head to the train station.

A one-way train ticket to Montauk will cost you about 18 dollars one-way. That's off-peak prices. The return ticket will cost the same unless you return to New York City during peak hours (any time from like 8 until 10:30 in the morning and rush hour in the evening (4-8). It's not a free night on the LIRR but it is a helluva lot cheaper than a hotel room.

I have to stop here by saying that one could probably find a cheaper room to stay in New York City. The LIRR to Montauk suggestion is only for those lazy sons-of-bitches who just so happen don't have room accommodations -- or did not take the time to scour the city for a room, or just shit out of luck and rather not ride the L train all night (did that, not going to repeat it: Canarsie is scary).

There Are Toilets in Almost Every Car!
The good thing about LIRR trains is that they have toilets in every other car. Don't lose your ticket though. It's gold. The conductors are vigilant about checking. So keep it handy.

From Penn Station to Montauk is about four hours. If you position yourself right you can get about two and a half hours of sleep. The lighting is harsh on the train (a double-decker!). So put a towel over your head. At one point I had my shoes off and I had occupied four seats all around me with my backpack and other such stuff. The key is to make yourself unapproachable. If you are traveling the LIRR for living space you don't want neighbors. All you want is a place to sleep.

I didn't calculate this SNAFU but once I got to Montauk (I had left NYC at like midnight) it was like four in the morning and the next train to NYC wasn't scheduled to leave for another hour and a half.
Photo by Bridget Shevlin on Unsplash
Montauk is Really Beautiful at Four in the Morning!
That really sucked. BUT. Montauk is beautiful at four in the morning.

1. There were no people
2. I am not used to this reality
3. I saw three deer on the road
4. The air is crisp and clean
5. Birds singing!
6. No people
7. I was dancing and singing!
8. The pretty manor in Montauk is awesome.
9. Too bad I am broke and can't stay there

Take the Return Trip and Feel New York City Again (Blechhhhh!)
The return trip was quiet until the train reached the New York City area and the car filled up with early morning commuters. Some kids who live in the Hamptons got on board and did their homework. A perky businesswoman sat next to me and filled out boring reports. I had to pay an extra six dollars because I returned to NYC during peak hours.

Here Are Some Practical Tips
The trip is about 45 dollars. The benefits are:

1. Toilets!
2. More comfortable than the subway
3. No one bothers you
4. Fewer stops

The negatives:

1. No vending machines
2. Long layovers
3. I could probably find a cheaper hostel
4. The seats do not recline

On My Trip to Montauk, Though:
Next time I go to Montauk, however, I think I am going to check out the lighthouse.

18.5.11

Why I Like Wanderers (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Just Love the Epic!)

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Just Love the Epic!
On Loving the Greek Epic Form
Odysseus slays the suitors (while Penelope and Telemachus Look On)
I have a penchant for Greek epic. It's the absolute in the epic I adore. The epic form does seem outdated. But it lives on in presidential speeches and high arching ontologies. Odysseus is an epic wanderer. He's clever. He's stubborn. And he risks the lives of others for his own gain. That's who he is. I think they call it an archetype. Odysseus the man of many wiles. They don't call him that for nothing. I don't like the epic for all those reasons, though: I like the epic form simply because I like to think of the stories of Homer and so forth as unmoored from traditional metaphysics.

Living Life Like I Am a Character in a Novel
I live more like a novel. Or at least when I read novels, especially contemporary novels, that is the vibe I feel. Maybe I should say I want to live my life novelistically rather than epically. Or maybe I should say to live one's life like an epic is foreclosed to us. To think of the world metaphysically has never been all that simple, or might I say, successful. We see in the novel something akin to what it means to live day to day in our modern life. We see in the epic something "satisfactory" to quote the Wise Men in T.S. Elliot's poem about the former dispensation of gods forgotten.

A New Dispensation: God is Dead
I would say the new dispensation is the forgetting of God. Of absolutes. God is still around. We just forget to not believe in him so he sticks around, lingers, like a photograph of a former boyfriend you keep for memory's sake.

I am not saying this mantra "God is dead," in a purely Nietzchean sense, but maybe more like God has been dead (no one killed him), and we like to keep his poster still tacked to the wall.

I'm The Type of Guy Who Likes to Wander 'Round
Which is why the wanderer is an apt modern trope. For Odysseus, it is a mark of human fragility and the inevitable consequence of a man who forsakes God. For the modern wanderer, it is not so much the case we wander because of something the Greeks called excessive pride (hubris). Still, instead, it is a search for different authority unrelated to a top/down structure of power. To wander is more like to stumble about looking for what authorizes existence.

We wander because to stay still is too Medieval.

We keep it going. Kierkegaard's category of immediacy, it turns out, is not a definition of despair but rather an accurate depiction of humanity. If the immediate man is the despairing man, then I would have to claim that all men are despairing.

Growing Up and What That Means for Me
What happens to philosophy when it grows up? Does it become a wanderer sans the narrative script of Greek verse?

I only say all this to mask a more autobiographical story.

I've been in flux. I am in between apartments. Moving from one place to another always unsettles me.

Or maybe it's the tracts passed out in the subway stations announcing the end of the world on May 21, 2011.

And, Finally a Dedication to Walker Percy and György Lukács
I dedicate my homelessness to Walker Percy and György Lukács. No, don't worry, I am not writing a doctoral dissertation on those two guys. It would be fun. I am lucky if I can land a teaching gig this summer. Pay my rent. Eat hot dogs on Coney Island and manage to subsist on anything that can be stir-fried in a wok.

Peace out.

14.5.11

Photograph: Lovers NYC

A series of photographs capturing love in and around New York City . . .
The Wall, The High Line, New York City, 2010
Love, Brooklyn
A Couple Sit Near the Bronx River

29.4.11

Journal & Rants: "I'm Doing A Great Job!"

In this post, I discuss my own problems and the issues I have with success and failure.
A pin that reads, "I'm Doing a Great Job!".
Pin found in the back of a chest of drawers during Spring Cleaning, 2011
14th Street Union Square Station
I gave fifty cents to an accordion player. But my thoughts quickly meandered to my own problems. I am having trouble putting together a desk. I have had thoughts lately related to failure. The desk will not be put together. But should I waste that one hundred dollars I spent? I will call the desk manufacturer tomorrow to get replacement slugs.

It is annoying. I also feel that I should have asked my roommate to help me. I was frustrated when I was unable to get the damn desk built like I wanted to. But that is the way it goes.

Spending Time Watching Movies like Rise of the Planet of the Apes
I watched Rise of the Planet of the Apes. The movie is a prequel reboot of the classic film series from the 1960s. My favorite character is Caesar (played with incredible CGI aplomb by Andy Serkis), whom we see in this film — a certain generosity to humans that is shortlived. But that is my favorite scene: when Caesar helps. The rest of the movie is just pure chaos, monkey-versus-man madness.

Problems With Failure Has to Do With Problems With Success
It is counter-intuitive but I can trace the problems I have with failure to problems I have with being successful. Moments of failure become intensified for me. In one way, I am more comfortable with failure because it is a mode of being that I have allowed myself to feel as the norm; being successful (or feeling successful) is an alien feeling for me.

How do you feel about success? Does success feel real to you or are you like me in that your feelings surrounding success are often conflicted and a cause of anxiety? 

Travel Diary: Fountain Lover, 2007

Roma, Italia
Roma is a City of Fountains
Visiting Rome, I notice fountains. Lots of them. Rome is a city of fountains. Washing my face in a fountain feels refreshing. The city lends itself to wandering, to existing among its old, palatial buildings.  

It is Also a City of Squares
It is a city of squares. Of tightly winding streets that curve and turn every which way — I know because I have been lost in them. And I have gotten others lost. When you travel alone, getting lost in a city feels adventurous. Getting lost in a city with others — especially with others who expect you to know the way — is embarrassing.

It Was My Time as a Catholic Seminarian I Spent the Most Time in Rome
My mother and my first-cousin met me in Rome when I was spending the Winter there — I, along with a group of seminarians from the American College in Leuven, Belgium (where I officially was a student at the time), was staying at the North American College (near the Vatican). It is the American seminary in Rome (and at that time I was a young seminarian). We met the Pope and I spent a glorious Christmas in the Eternal City.

Getting Lost in Roma — With Others
My family was staying at a hotel on the opposite side of town from where the college is located. Since they knew I would be in town, they made travel plans to visit me. In between my duties at the seminary and so on, we met often and meandered through Rome's old, city streets. Trying to get to their hotel one evening, we were chased by Roman dogs — that was scary — and I was lost. At that time — it was 2001 — people still used paper maps to get around town. We eventually found the hotel — but for a long time we were lost, going up and down streets, as I turned the map over and over trying to get my bearings.

I am not generally good with maps — but I have learned through the years to plan a route and to follow, read, and generally be directed by signs — and with Google Maps, Apple Maps, Open Maps, and all of those nifty smartphone map apps, it is a lot easier to find one's way.