Chasing.Red

THE TREES BY PHILIP LARKIN

Wed, 04 May 2011 22:58:53 GMT

A friend of mine's father passed away recently. He and his sister organized a gathering to both remember their father and celebrate his life. A few poems and eulogies were read, among which this was my favorite. I thought I'd post it here.

The Trees
by Philip Larkin

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

STARDUST MEMORIES

Tue, 15 Feb 2011 11:13:17 GMT

LOVE AND AGE

Sat, 12 Feb 2011 03:10:16 GMT

I've been wanting to write a post for a while on my changing view of relationships. I swear it'll come soon. Maybe this weekend?

In the meantime, this project by Lauren Fleishman touches on some of the things I've been thinking about.

JESUS CHRIST

Tue, 08 Feb 2011 00:36:18 GMT

Levis' new super skinny fit jeans, named completely seriously, "Ex-Girlfriend Jeans."

These will, of course, have to be worn without socks, but only because socks won't fit under there.

This is a new level of commitment to being hip.

MY MUSIC THIS MORNING

Fri, 21 Jan 2011 18:14:08 GMT

SOCIAL EXPERIMENTS

Thu, 20 Jan 2011 22:35:17 GMT

I just participated in a social science study. There were two parts. The first part was a play on the Ultimatum Game, except there was no ultimatum. Player A got to choose how to split a 100 point pie, and Player B had to take it. The number of points corresponded with some real-world financial payoff. I was Player C, so I just observed the interaction between Player A and Player B.

Then we moved on to the second part of the game. This began with us saying how we felt (happy, angry, disappointed, other, etc). After we recorded how we felt, we played some game where we managed risk for more real-world financial reward.

Looking back, it's clear that they wanted to induce an emotion by having us play some Ultimatum Game and then see how we managed risk under those emotions.

The obvious best move for Player A is to just split the pie 100/ 0. I suppose if you're very fair, then you might split the pie 50/ 50. If somehow you read the instructions wrong and were familiar with the Ultimatum Game, then you might split it 60/40, which is the limit of what Player B usually accepts in those kinds of games.

In the game I observed, Player A split the pie 40/60, which makes no rational sense at all.

Basically shows that Berkeley students are either exceedingly charitable or exceedingly stupid.

PEDAGOGY FOR THE UNIMPRESSED

Mon, 13 Dec 2010 08:11:16 GMT

Over the last four years as a graduate student, I've been teaching and tutoring here and there. I've mostly taught politics and political economy, but this semester I did some basic tutoring in Russian history as well.

It's been fairly dispiriting, to be honest. Students just don't care. I never thought I'd be the type to be bothered by students' reactions. It's fine that not everyone is interested in politics or political economy; I don't insist that everyone find it to be fascinating. However, there is something distinctly dispiriting when you see people yawn while you speak, especially if you’re making a serious effort to make the subject engaging. It's hard to keep putting in hours to prepare better lessons when students just don't seem to care about anything besides grades. All the tips about pedagogy I've read - pace, vary your tone, create in-class games, etc - aren't nearly as effective as simply saying "this will be on the test." Mutter that and eyes will open, hands will move.

I put in effort too. I spend hours upon hours writing up extra handouts, reading rough drafts, meeting with students at any time of the day (today I just met with someone at 9 PM because that was the only time they could make it). However, it's all typically met with disinterest, psychological breakdowns, or just plain thanklessness.

First, there is the disinterest. Again, I don't expect everyone to be interested in politics or political economy. At the same time, however, I also didn't expect that it would be met with such disinterest. For example, I recently explained Federalist Paper No. 10 to a student. It's fine that she found it too arduous to read a six-page article, but when I summarized the argument for her and suggested a Marxist interpretation, she was completely unmoved. It just kind of blows me away, to be honest. If a Marxist interpretation of a James Madison's paper isn't at least minimally stirring to you, I don't know what can be. I remember when I first read Federalist No. 10 as an undergrad; I literally jumped up and down because I thought it was so exciting. Here was a paper from a founding father that is overtly anti-populist! If American Idol and celebrity gossip are engaging, can't this at least be marginally stirring? There's a string of examples like this -- questions about philosophy, totalitarianism, Marxism, epistemology, and even hot topical issues such as gay marriage are all met with boredom or incredibly superficial treatment.

Of all the subjects that I thought would be easiest to engage students with, it would be politics and political economy. Again, not that everyone has to care, but a question such as "why are some people poor" seems like a much easier question to engage students with than "is Fermat's Last Theorem true?"

Second, there are the breakdowns. For example, I've found that extra office hours only attract people who are having life crises. People show up frazzled and stressed, and then at some point, completely spill into a mental breakdown. Perhaps this because people who have their stuff together can typically make it to your regular office hours. On some level, I really want to help. On another level, I also don't feel like I signed up to be a social worker or psychiatrist.

Third, there is the thanklessness. I've never been thanked for the extra effort I've put in. Not that I need to be validated, but it would be nice to get a small thank you card after I spent hours reading through a rough draft or writing up an incredibly long email explaining something. Are thank you cards antiquated? Frankly, I'm less inspired to put the extra effort in when I'm treated like some anonymous service worker.

There are also so many students who are so far behind that I often feel like I'm spending more time teaching rudimentary skills than political economy. Many students don't know how to structure a basic expository essay even by their fourth year. I'm literally teaching seniors how to write introductory paragraphs. This semester I even had a senior who didn't know what a footnote was. Last semester I had a senior who didn't know how to look up books in the library. How are we graduating these people?

It's just all very disheartening. I didn't think this was going to be Dead Poet's Society, but I also didn't think I would be spending my time teaching such rudimentary skills to such uninspired and unimaginative people. The whole experience so far is making me question whether I like research enough to want to stick with academia. This, after all, has been at the number one public university in America. I can't imagine what it would be like at a "party school" or commuter college.

Or maybe I'll just get inured. If I'm not deriving any fulfillment from teaching, however, why am I putting up with such the low pay?

FRENCH NEW WAVE MEETS WU TANG

Sat, 04 Dec 2010 19:30:14 GMT

OK, I swear a more substantial update coming in the next couple of days, but I can't possibly not post this. This kid mixed the dance scenes from Godard's Band of Outsiders with GZA's "4th Chamber" and then Vivre Sa Vie with Masta Killa's "Pass the Bone" (which, incidentally, used to be a GZA song).

For anyone who might unfamiliar with the original scenes, they're here and here.

See? They're much better with Wu Tang.

CHET BAKER BREAK

Fri, 03 Dec 2010 10:30:03 GMT

I haven't been updating very often, except to occasionally say I haven't been updating very often. Anna and I lived together for the summer and part of fall, so some thoughts on that. Some thoughts on the chapter I'm writing for a book. Some thoughts on my dissertation. Some thoughts about the department. Some thoughts on casual inference in the social sciences. Some thoughts on careers in academia. Some thoughts on pedagogy. Some thoughts about my parents. Some thoughts about my father. I'll post on all that shortly. But for now, a little Chet Baker, and then bed.

As a side note, with regard to this video, it looks like Chet is playing without one of his front teeth, which was lost after he was badly beaten during a heroin deal. How this hasn't affected his embouchure, I have no idea.

FRIDAYS AT THE OFFICE

Sat, 20 Nov 2010 01:07:59 GMT

BLOODY SUNDAY

Mon, 15 Nov 2010 21:03:33 GMT

So yesterday some friends of mine and I went into the city to check out Barney's pre-sale. On the way, we hear this beautiful opera music and a man's heavy tenor voice coming out of Maiden Lane. I thought it must have been some professional set up paid for by one of the high-end stores in order to draw customers. Once we come to the small street, we see this fat balding man with suspenders, buckling trousers, and a white shirt, singing next to a 1980s boombox and some CDs scattered near it. He was just standing out there singing, clearly not hired by anyone or even busking. We listen to a song, clap when he finished, and then move on to Barneys.

We arrive at the store and browse for a bit. My friend came to buy a black cardigan sweater, but didn't see any she liked, so I suggested we check out Brooks Brothers. So we head out, back in the direction we came from.

As we approach Maiden Lane again, I see the singer quarreling with some small frazzled homeless man. He's shoving him around, roughing him up a bit, and incoherently yelling. We start walking a bit faster, and by the time I was about 75 feet away or so, the opera singer had put the homeless man in a headlock and started punching the back of guy's head with full force. So I run up and yell, and the opera singer releases the other guy from the headlock. Dazed, the homeless guy at this point stumbles around and drops his bags. The stuff inside of his bags spills all over the sidewalk. The singer clearly didn't have enough and wanted to pound the guy a bit more, so I got in between the two. At this point, I see the homeless guy grab a sharpening steel off the ground, which must have come out of his bag, and hold it like he was about to stab someone. I also see that one of his hands is heavily bleeding all over the place.

So now I turn around and am both trying to hold the singer off and ask the homeless man if he could please not stab anyone. The two circle around for a bit, but I could now tell that neither of them wanted the situation to escalate. If they did, they could have easily gotten around me. The singer, certainly, could have just pushed me away, given how big he was.

I ask everyone to calm down and start apologizing to the homeless guy, who clearly is really upset for having just been publicly beaten up. After a few minutes, the singer, out of breath, goes off to sit in a chair, and loudly announces, to no one in particular, that he's too famous for this crap, how he's known Robert (which seems to be the homeless man's name) for 20 years, and how he's sick of being harassed by him. He also goes on about how Robert needs to go back to the institution and take his meds, etc.

The homeless guy, at this point, is still standing on the sidewalk, holding that sharpening steel like a weapon, and is clearly still really pissed off. I go up and apologize to him, tell him everything is going to be OK, and ask if he needs me to call the paramedics for his bleeding hand. He fumes a bit, but basically starts packing up his stuff. I help him collect his things, put them in his bags, apologize again, and then see him walk off, with a lot of blood still dripping off of his hand.

Confused as to what just happened, my friends and I stand there for a bit, and then get back to heading to Brooks Brothers.

Once I'm at Brooks, I start looking at some of their sweaters and jackets. After a while, however, I looked down and noticed there is blood on my shirt.

So now I need a new shirt.

NEW ART ACQUISITION

Wed, 10 Nov 2010 22:59:07 GMT

Calligraphic piece from 1891. It's going into the dining room, which is now mostly a studying and writing room. I actually wanted something with more color, but the piece says "progress with a pen," so I thought it would help me through my dissertation writing malaise.

I want to get rid of the frame though and replace it with something else. Thoughts on these options?

One
Two
Three
Four

DONALD BYRD

Wed, 10 Nov 2010 16:47:40 GMT

NEW 'YE

Wed, 10 Nov 2010 04:13:55 GMT

New 'Ye album, in 320 encoding, for your downloading pleasure.

If you haven't seen his 35 minute music video for this album, you need to stop what you're doing, cause he's about to ruin, the image and style that you're used to. Just for a reality check, this is what hip hop videos used to be like when I was growing up. Now hip hop videos feature Phillip Lim dinner jackets, morning jackets, ballet dancers, and a sirin? Unbelievable.

His feature on SNL was also one of the most incredible performances I've seen in a while.

NEWEST SUIT OBSESSION

Tue, 09 Nov 2010 07:46:41 GMT

Meet my latest suit obsession: Tom Ford.

Also, not to sound like Patrick Bateman, but the subtle roll off that unfused shirt collar is ridiculously nice.

BACK TO BROKE

Sat, 06 Nov 2010 17:06:09 GMT

The old adage about things being too good to be true is apparently pretty robust. Yesterday's mysterious money was indeed part of a scam.

A few hours after I made that post, I received a phone call from a private number. I didn't pick it up in time, and the person didn't leave a message. Was it from the person who sent me those checks? I had no way of knowing.

My curiosity was really piqued after that, so I decided I should Google around to see if anyone else has ever had this happen to them. Before I started Googling, however, I noticed that I had an email in Thunderbird. The application's little icon was bouncing up and down in my dock.

The email was from Michael Morris, a British man I've been in touch with.

First, a little about Michael -- Michael emailed some UC Berkeley graduate student listservs a few weeks ago, looking for a tutor for his 12 year-old daughter. He wanted someone to teach her math, English, and science for $45 an hour, three hours a week. They were moving to America soon and she would need a tutor shortly after they arrive.

The pay seemed fantastic. It was much better than the standard $20 an hour I normally get for tutoring students in political science, so I applied. I poured soupy enthusiasm into my introduction letter and played up my experience as an after school chess instructor at various elementary schools. I told him how I could create lesson plans and then supplement them with activities around UC Berkeley's campus (e.g. teach her a little about natural history and then go on a nature tour around campus to identify animals, trees, and flowers). I was really excited about it, actually. I could get paid good money to tell a kid all sorts of cool stuff and then take her on trips to identify plants, conduct experiments, and listen to famous poets in Morrison Reading Room. It seemed like a pretty ideal side gig.

So the new email in my inbox was from Michael, who apparently wants to know if I received his checks. He said he tried calling me earlier and wanted to talk as soon as possible.

I'm really confused at this point. $6,350 is around 150 hours worth of work. At 3 hours a week, this was about a year's salary. Who would pay some unknown tutor a year's salary in advance? Especially if we've never even met? I could be a pedophiliac looking guy for all he knew.

I wrote him back and told him that I received the money, but was confused on why the amount was so large. I asked that he call me so that we could discuss what was going on.

It took a while for Michael to call me again. In the meantime, Anna did a little Googling and - bingo - found sites describing a scam that sounded all too similar to what Michael was doing. Apparently scammers set up these arrangements with tutors for their supposed 12 year-old kid. Some ridiculous amount of money is given, and then they ask the the tutor to deposit the money and pay for the nanny and daughter's trip to America. This requires wiring the funds, of course. The trick, however, is that the checks will actually clear and show up in your account after about a week. That's where you're tricked into thinking this is legit. After a month, however, the bank discovers that the international cashiers checks are invalid, and the funds are taken from your account. You're then left having just wired over a few thousand dollars to some supposed nanny and child, and no job.

Michael ended up calling around 7 or 8pm. You could hear in his voice that he was from an Anglophone African country, and I couldn't help but think it was Nigeria. I asked him some questions, but he was kind of insistent that we communicate mainly through email. I probed a little more, acting like I just wanted to have small talk and create goodwill. He was clearly becoming really uncomfortable. Finally, I asked him if he was a native Brit. He said no, he was from Mexico.

"But you live in Britain now?" I asked.

"Yes, for 26 years," he answered.

"Are you a businessman?"

"I'm an engineer."

"Really? What school did you go to? I did a Masters program in Britain in engineering," I fibbed.

He then hung up.

So there it goes, no $6,350 for me. It'll be back to my daily diet of homemade vegetable soups and crowded bus rides on the 51. At least I had my ten minutes of fantasizing about what I could buy with this windfall. Mammoth tusk, antique scrimshaw, and Liberator Pistol from the French Resistance, you'll one day be mine, but that day just won't be tomorrow.

MYSTERIOUS MONEY

Fri, 05 Nov 2010 23:23:59 GMT

I received a FedEx package this morning. Inside was a single check for $3,200, made out to me. The check is drawn from Ying P. Lie and the sender of the FedEx package is John Eamon. I don't know either of these people.

Bewildered, I went to speak with my roommate about it, and an hour later, the doorbell rings.

It's another FedEx package. This one is from Mary Alice Brinn in North Carolina. I open the package and inside is another cashiers check for $3,150. This one doesn't say who it's drawn from, only that it's again made out to me.

I'm suddenly thinking about all the things I can buy. Ralph Lauren Polo and Black Label suits; bottles of Oban and Auchentoshan; Chesterfield sofas; Karmann Ghias; Fornasetti plates; oil paintings; first issue editions of old books I love; trips to Southeast Asia. I also think about how I can finally send money to my parents.

That happens for about ten minutes. Then I turn back to the reality that I just received two checks totaling $6,350, from unknown sources, and this is really shady.

I'm now sitting here in my jeans and henley, with two checks and a little bit of whiskey, and thinking I should probably call the police. Before I do, I should probably contact everyone I know and ask if they've secretly sent me some money as a gift. Given how close friends and family members know that I've been hurting for money, and really don't like accepting gifts, maybe someone sent this as a way to avoid an argument?

So if you've overnighted me $6,350, you should speak up now.

NATE BUSKING IN PARIS

Fri, 22 Oct 2010 06:40:54 GMT

YOU WIN SOME, YOU LOSE SOME

Sat, 09 Oct 2010 03:25:35 GMT

I've been wanting to get a shawl collared cardigan, like these ones, for a few months now, to prepare for the coming Fall and Winter weather. Anna saw me put one on at a store and threatened to leave me if I ever wore such a thing.

"You can wear that when you become a professor in Michigan," she said strongly.

On the upside, I confessed to her that I've been thinking about getting a pair of double monk shoes, like these. Surprisingly, she approved. How I got those by the Sartorial Approval Committee, I have no idea.

Of course, I'm smart enough to know to always approve of any skirt or shirt she brings home. Though, to be fair, she dresses much better than I do.

HOAGY CHARMICHAEL TELLS IT LIKE IT IS

Tue, 05 Oct 2010 17:14:55 GMT

Up since 5AM, writing a chapter for a book. My co-author credits for the work is less than optimal, but I'm getting paid, and will have my first publication in about six months. Unfortunately it's on the political economy of advanced countries, but I'm promising myself to focus only on developing countries for the next year once this chapter is done.

I also have this dissertation that's hanging over my head. Right. More early mornings for me this week, I'm sure.

NOTE TAKING: ALOE BLACC

Wed, 22 Sep 2010 07:40:21 GMT

As I've written many times before, I've somehow had the luck of being friends with the most incredible group of guys since high school. Loyal, ambitious, and talented, they've gone off to become photographers, graffiti artists, hip hop musicians, and scientists. I'm always reminded of how lucky I am to have the friends that I do, for so long, every Christmas when we do our reunions. When I see the stuff they produce throughout the year, however, I feel inspired in addition to lucky.

Nate just dropped his latest album, and NPR did a small feature on it. Here is the link, where they've posted the entire album for you to listen to. I'll go as far to say that this is one of the best albums to have dropped in the last couple of years. "Mama Hold My Hand," for example, is like having a little Bill Withers in 2010. You just don't get this kind of stuff anymore.

AHMAD JAMAL FOR THE LATE MORNING

Fri, 17 Sep 2010 17:16:55 GMT

For anyone who says jazz is dead (I'm looking at you Dave), Ahmad Jamal put this out in 2008. Hotter than fish grease, smoother than butter.

ELF SUITS

Sun, 12 Sep 2010 02:10:40 GMT

What's with grown men these days wearing short-cropped suit jackets with skinny lapels and highwater pants with the cuffs rolled up? And dress shoes with no socks? And loosely tied neckties?

If you're going to wear a suit, wear a suit; if you're going to wear a tie, wear a tie. Stop looking like you raided the Keebler Elves' closet and tried to wear clothes like you modeling for a teenybopper's magazine about cute 12 year-old boy bands.

Somewhat related, I've been meaning to write something about the New York Times' article on the generation 20-somethings who refuse to grow up. It's worth a read, though I would have liked a more upfront discussion of how this trend relates to (philosophical) liberalism, as in our culture of capitalism and individualism, and (American political) liberalism, as in our post-60s politics and culture. I suspect that the post-60s anti-conservative backlash is part of why this generation refuses to grow up. Nine to five work schedules, corporate careers, and white picket fenced homes are now seen as a suicide. Suburbia is where you go to die, or so it's believed. To a certain degree, we may have moved away from that because the life of the company man with his two story house is no longer possible. But to the degree that it is possible, many 20-somethings have turned away from it because they've defined their lifestyle as "anti-corporate, anti-suburban, and anti-conventional," but have yet to create meaningful alternatives to that life outside of just reliving their adolescent years (and related to what I started this post with, dressing like one).

One of the interesting things that'll come out of this is whether this generation will have mid-life crises. Traditionally, the mid-life crisis was something the 35-40 year old corporate man experienced - a sudden moment when he wakes up in a cold sweat and realizes that he's wasted his life as a copy machine salesman. He then goes off and tries, but invariably fails, to recapture his youth by buying sexy cars and philandering. For this coming generation of mid-lifers, can you really have a mid-life crises when you've never grown up?

THE MAP

Fri, 03 Sep 2010 09:43:35 GMT

As you might have inferred from previous posts - ones where I've tried selling my books and suit - I'm kind of hurting for money. I've been listing a bunch of things on eBay, but the few things I've posted here have sold, so I thought I'd post a few more.

The latest thing I'm selling is a very large vintage map of South America. It's one of those old scroll maps they had in classrooms. I think this one dates back to about the 1950s or 1960s. I'm looking to get $100 for it. It's huge - the map itself measures 46" x 64.5", while the scroll bar measures 54.75" long. Anna is actually holding it up in the photo, but you can't see her at all. I'm actually listing it here mostly because I can't ship something this big. I bought it a long time ago thinking that maybe there would be some space in my room for it, but it's way too crowded with other things I've collected, so this thing has stayed nicely rolled up in storage for about two years. I think it would look great on a big empty wall. Pictures of it are behind the cut below.

I have some other things I'm selling - more suits, some ties, an antique field scope, and a possibly a bunch of vinyl records. I'll stop Craiglistifying my journal, so if any of those interest you, just send me a message or post a comment here. I don't have pictures of the antique field scope or suits yet, but I will after this weekend.

SPRINKLE COAL DUST ON MY GRAVE

Sat, 28 Aug 2010 21:24:49 GMT