days four and five: vv and spooky

Are we tired of the "day" titles yet? Might switch that up here... It's the weekend. How do we celebrate that here at egs? With more classes. v's Lyotard continues to delight in depths of libidinal gaming. Food is fine, weather is -- bleak, actually. Cloudy, cold and rainy. And I have unfortunately developed a cold, and/or am reacting to the beautiful flowering hills and the comfy feather pillows. But what would any experience with akb be without coughing and kleenex? How would anyone ever find me in a crowd? Okay, maybe my notable pate, but what if I'm surrounded by tall men? Hmmm... I might stifle that cough after all... I'm not in terrible peril!

Anyhow, class was great. On the last day, students requested signed copies of v's notes and mobius strips. These will surely be worth serious cash -- watch ebay.


In other excitement, we had entertainment for two nights! On Saturday, Josh and I made our way to Happy Bar for the first time. DJ Spooky (that subliminal kid, aka Paul D. Miller). Very hip.

Sunday began our nightly speakers, commenced nicely by Barbara Hammer with a showing of her film Resisting Paradise, which considers the relationship between art and war, and our responsibilities therein. Had the dvd not skipped out at the penultimate scene (and not been restarted), I would have been slightly happier. As it was, the interweaving of stories of Matisse and refugees from atrocities of WWII was intriguing. And the next morning, I ate breakfast with Barbara and her partner, further discussing these themes, as well as war atrocities against women.

day three: vv

victor vitanza. The man. The myth. The legend. And I'm back in his class. But let's back up...

Josh and I start our day with a brisk walk up the side of a mountain. Well, nearly. We start down a path headed away from town -- a direction we've not yet explored. Before too long, we come to a fork in the road. We start with the left, but soon decide that the steep pitch and muddy path are a bit too much for 7am. We retreat, start again, this time to the right. This takes us back, around, and through, until we find a resort of sorts that appears to be undergoing renovations. Oh, and a ridiculously steep drop off the edge of the mountain. We head back.

Class begins at 10am (making morning walking and then breakfast completely reasonable), and I find myself once more preparing for the vitanza experience. I haven't had this directly since my first year in rcid. At that point, after each weekly class, I'd call my dad, alternately excited for the mind-blowing knowledge and experience, or crying, convinced I'd never make it through this. Two years later, all ABD'd, I'm more optimistic with those prospects. But here, I'm faced with v for three hours, twice a day, for three days, and all on Lyotard (a French post-structuralist philosopher perhaps most known for his work on libidinal economies and the differend). I quickly realize that I'm not the same pre-scholar who walked into Clemson; I follow (as much as one can) v's moves, the theories unfolding in fits and starts, gestures, asides, tangents and word play. The sheep bleating outside fit nicely into the whole experience. This is going to be fun.