Tuesday Hatred: A wandering troop of sensations
I hate that, for finite beings, no matter how much one has read, there is still more to be read. In a bookstore the other day I saw a display touting Bolaño as an “essential author” (essential to whom, for what? Until quite recently he didn’t even exist!); I found this amusing, since on that store’s heavily-laden shelves were any number of books to catch the interest of anyone. And indeed, there to get one book, I ended up with four, and that’s not counting the little … journal? … about private presses (itself printed on a private press) from earlier in the day. And of course what really prompted this hatred is the endless output of the academy.
I think we’re on the verge of producing some knowledge!
I hate humidity. I hate being drenched with sweat as a result of bicycling home. I hate feeling as if I should be doing something without knowing what (answer: reading or producing a compelling outline or applying for fellowships or the like, probably). I hate it when my emails are not promptly responded to, even though I don’t respond promptly to all emails that come my way. I hate it when authors I admire are misinterpreted in such a way that the misinterpretations come to obscure the real (i.e., discerned by me) points and arguments.
I hate tanned women wearing turqoise jewelry with so-called “arty” sensibilities, and also I hate this guy, for capitalizing “make” and “making”.
I hate that the Buffalo Collision concert was moved from the Independent to CODA, and I hate that CODA seems to be going for the same swank feel that I dislike about Yoshi’s. I just wanna hear some jazzzz, man! Preferably in a large rectangle with some people selling $3 beer bottles out of a cooler at the back. I also hate that the concert was moved without any indication of when the new starting time was. Hint: it wasn’t the old starting time. When I got to CODA (why not just “Coda”?) it was full of bar-industry tools for some kind of bar-industry tool event. Low-quality thump-thump music was being DJed. The group, I learned, would perform, if (?) they performed, in two hours’ time. Having now gone out and returned, I’m not sure I’ll even return, even though I do want to see Berne and Roberts. It’s only the trio lineup anyway! I hate all this shit.
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