Desouvrement
Desouvrement, meaning an unworking... a negation, in a way, of a (de)term-ination... For more, read Inoperative Community.
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Currently grooving to: Dr. Dre feat. DJ Quik - Put It On Me
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Assembled enthusiasts: (hardly a crescendo) "sing something!"
Rabbi (must've been thinking "oh these motherfuckers" <--- say like Boris)
Solitary voice from crowd (?): (half hearted but hopeful) "Bulla Ki Jaana!"
Rabbi: (must've been thinking "fool ass bitch made punks" <--- say like Alonzo)
(Rabbi had previously been explaining how out of place he felt, being invited as chief guest, to inaugurate a film festival.)
Having been involved in stuff like this (i.e. as a member for the college department committee organizing the annual festival), I know exactly how these invitations, well, pass from 'non-being into being' (to abuse some Heideggerianisms.) Here's how it goes:names are tossed around - a lecturer might've met someone 'eminent' or well-known, struck up a conversation (i.e. networked), gotten a phone number or email address, with promises of, "yes, hope to see you again" or "let's collaborate on someting."
In a way, this tossing up of names used to be a lot like Bart's cloud-talk...and the next thing you knew, the pickup and drop-off was assigned. A "be there five minutes before 9am", fixed for residences best reached by four wheels and not two feet.
(Cutting back from/to my reminiscing)
Rabbi: (must've been thinking "ok, time to put them down hard.")
Rabbi: "It's strange, you know. When I go to parties, I'm asked what I do. When I say I'm a singer, I'm immediately told, 'sing something for us!' I feel like asking them, 'what do you do?' An accountant? Ok, do some accounts for us.' " (sic)
Rabbi: (must've been thinking "Damn! I'm thirsty! I want a beer." <--- say like Alonzo)
He did sing, though. It reminded of the feelings that surge and overcome, when someone who I love, cries. As if there is/was nothing else in the world. As if everything else ceased to exist, and all that mattered and existed, were the words and the tears. He sang; I forgot about the audio recorder in my pocket...
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Finally, an opportunity to link to a story I came across a few weeks ago.
_
Currently grooving to: Dr. Dre feat. DJ Quik - Put It On Me
_
Assembled enthusiasts: (hardly a crescendo) "sing something!"
Rabbi (must've been thinking "oh these motherfuckers" <--- say like Boris)
Solitary voice from crowd (?): (half hearted but hopeful) "Bulla Ki Jaana!"
Rabbi: (must've been thinking "fool ass bitch made punks" <--- say like Alonzo)
(Rabbi had previously been explaining how out of place he felt, being invited as chief guest, to inaugurate a film festival.)
Having been involved in stuff like this (i.e. as a member for the college department committee organizing the annual festival), I know exactly how these invitations, well, pass from 'non-being into being' (to abuse some Heideggerianisms.) Here's how it goes:names are tossed around - a lecturer might've met someone 'eminent' or well-known, struck up a conversation (i.e. networked), gotten a phone number or email address, with promises of, "yes, hope to see you again" or "let's collaborate on someting."
In a way, this tossing up of names used to be a lot like Bart's cloud-talk...and the next thing you knew, the pickup and drop-off was assigned. A "be there five minutes before 9am", fixed for residences best reached by four wheels and not two feet.
(Cutting back from/to my reminiscing)
Rabbi: (must've been thinking "ok, time to put them down hard.")
Rabbi: "It's strange, you know. When I go to parties, I'm asked what I do. When I say I'm a singer, I'm immediately told, 'sing something for us!' I feel like asking them, 'what do you do?' An accountant? Ok, do some accounts for us.' " (sic)
Rabbi: (must've been thinking "Damn! I'm thirsty! I want a beer." <--- say like Alonzo)
He did sing, though. It reminded of the feelings that surge and overcome, when someone who I love, cries. As if there is/was nothing else in the world. As if everything else ceased to exist, and all that mattered and existed, were the words and the tears. He sang; I forgot about the audio recorder in my pocket...
_
Finally, an opportunity to link to a story I came across a few weeks ago.
posted by dematerialized at 10:32 AM
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