Wakefields

hidden between bustops, these fields kind of remind me of pennsylvannia. it isn't very sunny in england, but it does rain quite often. the green trees and fields, the power lines stretched up in the heavens over our heads. black cords, modern magic connecting the expanses of nature. even the pollen in my eyes makes me think of home.

If you're lucky enough to have looked through my pictures you now get an update on life in leeds. It is in fact drawing to a close. i attempted to draw out my time here and found a job working at the Radisson hotel, but august will see me back in huntingdon in time for classes to begin again. i fly back to the states on august 2nd. i'll spend some quality time in coopersburg with family and friends before moving into the house in huntingdon with jon, kazia, ross and the numerous pets. i'm not sure i'm ready to think and write about summing up my experiences here. i've met so many people and seen so many different places. i dont think i really started to understand england until a week or two ago, and i'm still baffled most of the time. anna and i nearly got hit crossing the street in wakefield. and catching a bus is largely a matter of luck. why they insist on driving on the other side of the road, no one will ever understand. but england is more than driving on the other side of the road, pubs, pints and popular culture. i wish i could expand. yet i think i have learned a few things along the way, even if they have nothing to do with england. wow, that was all real vague.

Getting Married

i'm listening to the radio. not getting married. but everytime i sign on to facebook, my worldwide stalker gossip connection web, it seems someone else is getting hitched. and last weekend i experienced my first gay wedding. not My first gay wedding, but i waited tables and served drinks at A wedding. i must admit there were simple questions which arose in my mind, concerning those traditions we take for granted at any other wedding i have been to, and they were answered. there was no bride. just two grooms each wearing a tux. simple solution to a half joking half ignorant question. and honestly that was pretty much the only difference. both sides of parents spoke of gaining a son in law. i'm fairly certain there was a larger than average number of other homosexual men in attendance. the wedding party also seemed to consist of more friends than family as compared to the weddings i've been to, but this could be due to any number of reasons. so it was cool, they got married, everyone was happy.

1st of July, 2007: it has rained for the entire month of june. i need some sunshine. people have died in the flooding. will it ever let up? the 4th of july is only three days away.

French Riviera

Enthusiasm was wearing thin. Twelve hours earlier we were eating calamari in the old town of Nice. The sun still beating down on our faces. a few hours by bus and plane and we were sitting in an all night hole in the wall in north east England, chilly Newcastle. our train didn't leave until 4:30 and the train station closed at eleven so we took to the streets with luggage in tow. dark crowded unfamiliar streets looking for somewhere to pass the time. 24/7 city cafe. greasy English chips and chicken. the bars closed at 2:00 driving crowds of drunken teens towards our hideaway. i only begin at the end of the story in an attempt to persuasively convey our state of mind. harsh reality, optimism, out of touch. the shock upon returning to England was not overshadowed by excitement and expectation as was our shock upon arriving in France. maybe it was just getting late and we needed to sleep.

'French in Translation'
Monday afternoon seven friends and myself boarded a plane in Newcastle England. walking into the boarding area, i noticed right away that almost everyone getting on our plane looked retired. Monday evening we were on the beach in Nice France. the 21st century is an incredible time to live. (going through customs in France i remembered i didn't speak french). that same evening we each treated ourselves to a pasta dinner and a crepe with nutella. the air was still warm, the waiters were friendly, the night was relaxed. the french riviera must be an incredible place to live.

Tuesday was devoted to the exploration of Nice and with the aid of daylight we got our first true taste of the city. the colors, architecture, style, food, and sun all made an impression as we headed towards the beach. by the time we eventually made it there a cloud formed in the sky and a light rain began to fall. disappointment. we walked along the coast with the sea to our right. the bluest water I've ever seen washed up onto the stony shore. i had noticed the musical sound this created the night before, and now i could see the stones rocking against each other with each wave. a man fished from the high rocks below the road. bright orange red and yellow buildings stood to our left with romantically carved balconies and faded blue shutters. all an apparent contrast to the bricks and dull modern facade of England. the old town was bustling with activity, shops, cafes, and tourists in designer clothes. narrow winding streets, wash hanging from lines stretched between windows to dry. artists, butchers, florists, all side by side.

that afternoon the sun was shinning bright and we went back to the beach. I had restrained myself from jumping into the sea the night before, knowing that we would be back. now however, there was no reason not to swim. no one else wanted to come, so i waded in alone. the water was cold, but not unbearable and i quickly got used to it, swimming out and floating, opening my eyes under the water to see the stones below. ten minutes later i waded out with a giant red imprint of a jelly fish on my right forearm. life just isn't fair, i only wanted to swim.

Cannes, where they host the famous film festival, is a half hour south-west of Nice and it's the city of the Rich and the Famous. there's a certain luxurious aroma in the air. tanned, wearing designer clothes and gold chains or diamond earrings. everyone. sunscreen for 20 euros, i preferred to burn a little. Anna and i met an older gentlemen who noticed us speaking English. he was from Manchester and has spent the last 25 years in Cannes. 'I've met all the stars, Nice is a beautiful city, where are you two beautiful people from?' that sort of thing. private yachts and private parties on private beaches, 'no, I'm not registered on the beach'. high class my friend. it was the old women in gold diamonds and red sweaters with high heels and great big hats and makeup caked on sunken tanned faces that kind of makes you wonder. these people are slightly out of touch with reality. i can't say it wouldn't be a relaxing life to lead.

Monaco is extravagant. one city, an entire country. the wealthy and the royal. Monte-Carlo is a world famous casino with a prominent position within the country, high on a hill overlooking the sea. when it opened it was known as the cathedral of hell. we walked down to the beach and watched a volleyball game through a fence. jellyfish were out in full force. we took a ten minute bus ride across the country and surveyed the port and everything else from near the palace. everything was beautiful. we went to the aquarium and looked at the fishes.....

Time again...i was writing this last week just after we returned from France and that's why the date of the post is what it is and in any case, i was getting sick and writing very slowly and then Monday morning i got a phone call and a job interview and Tuesday i started working at the Radisson hotel and its now Saturday afternoon and its been my first chance to write and I'm afraid those wonderful stories of Nice will have to wait for some other time. i don't think it was going anywhere anyway.

Time, as chorus

It has been over a year since my first post and nearly a month since my last. and well, the jig is up, the time has come, the cock has crowed, the clock has struck, the tide is rising, and the sun is setting, its about time i wrote something down. Classes are over, finals are finished, I've spent a year studying in England. I pause here for contemplation. Enter Time, as chorus. wade through memories bound in digital frames lashed loosely together by imprecise language...I've been sitting here for 10 minutes now wondering where i should go from there. I've left myself knee deep in memory, sitting on the edge of the bed slightly baffled, letting my mind wander an hour or more away, trespassing upon the unknown lands of space-time. Saturday afternoon was sunny, or the sun filtered down through the clouds every few minutes and I took off walking. there is a large stone building that can be seen from Anna's kitchen window which from a distance i have always supposed was a castle. Here you may infer that it was not a castle at all. and when i finally got close enough to see the stone towers rising above the small brown town houses i had difficulty getting any closer. the roads i walked down ended in culdisacs and wooden fences and dogs, with English accents, barking behind flimsy wooden gates. a gang of children on bicycles raced around taunting and chasing each other weaving in and out of the houses along the paved footpaths which i also followed. my castle was not 200 yards away when a large metal fence lined with barbed wire stood in my path. a quixotian giant with six arms, each brandishing a razor sharp saber. i ducked down an uncertain path into someones backyard and attempted to circumnavigate the giant. In some roundabout way, following narrow alley streets and turning down shrubbery lined drives i eventually arrived in the parking lot of my castle. Its the 21st century, why shouldn't castles have parking lots? Exactly. no reason why a moat and horses can not be replaced by a steel fence and cars. Of course this all made more sense when I realized that my castle was in fact a Prison. Enter Time, as chorus. a metaphor surfaces on the still lake of consciousness. disillusionment, facade. I've often mentioned the island of claustrophobic geography, prison walls, the city. I've been reading too much philosophy and enjoying 'Orlando' by Virginia Woolf more than may be healthy for my writing. but here there is no turning back. the walk was worth it. Prison or castle, i found a wonderful pet store along the way.

the sun shines through the window as it rises somewhere close to 4:30am, if my half asleep attempt at reading a clock can be trusted. when i awake sometime later, grey clouds hover and rain is threatening a morning walk. an hour later the sun is shinning and then again it looks like rain. am i dwelling on the weather? but it has been light until past nine pm for a few weeks now.

So what have i learned? What great conclusions can be drawn from this experience? What am I feeling? Where am I going? 'Its all very wonderful, terrible, complex, different and good.' i'd like to end it there...but, i'm very glad I came to live and study in england, even if it is only for a short while. i've met a few wonderful people. i've travled extensively (i think so) and i've watched every Seinfeld episode two or three times at least. and i'm not quite ready to leave, but i really look forward to returning to Pennsylvania. so for what its worth. In Conclusion, i'm searching for a job. next week we are visiting Nice, france. Matt Foley says Nice is nice. i must go find out for myself. and then...i have no idea.

Book Review

Incredibly my second semester at Leeds is quickly reaching its end. Not winding down, but building to a climactic and frightening finish with a week left of classes and then exams. just for kicks i thought i'd post some of the better things i've read over the past few months. i picked a book from each course that i found enjoyable or most important or the one that leaves an impression. i just found these interesting and thought i'd share. these may not be the best works from each course, but i suppose they are the ones that reached out to me and said, 'look at this, incredible eh?' so i thought i'd pass on the sentiment, maybe just so you know i've done more than travel and maybe so i could get back into the studying mood.

'Between the Acts' by Virginia Woolf
read for modern literature last semester, my first glimpse of virginia woolf. the story of a small town on the day of their town pagent just days before the outbreak of world war II. Interested in History, art, war, sexuality, personal anxiety concerning all of these. blah blah. i became really interested in the connection that woolf builds between words and thought and the way that a single word is packed full of many many connotations beyond itself. words branch out in webs across time and space. thought and speech are not necessarily aligned, or maybe more than we first perceive. i'm now a huge virginia woolf fan.

Article on Foundherentism by Susan Haack
i dont have the actual article in front of me, and the name of it eludes my memory, but i found this article to be a very effective contribution to epistemology; the study of knowledge, what does it mean to say we know something, how do we know something, is this different than belief etc? anyway, there are two competing theories in epistemology, foundationalism and coherentism, both describing different ways in which we gain knowledge. Susan Haack presents a theory of knowledge that combines these two and she cleverly calls it foundherentism (philosophers tend to do this sort of thing). she uses the idea of a crossword puzzle to simulate how we gain knowledge. she looks at our practicle uses of the word knowledge and creates a theory, as opposed to building a theory and attempting to describe how it fits into life.

'The Mill on the Floss' by George Eliot
i read a number of different authors and poets for victorian literature last semester. i can't say a lot of it really appealed to me. the poetry was...a bit tedious, as were some of the books. however, there were some really interesting contributions to literature and when looked at in the context of the period, how people viewed reading etc. some of it is really pretty good. 'the mill on the floss' may not have been the greatest story ever, and there is a lot of criticism, but george eliot (not her real name, and not a man, oh the things you learn) kind of caught my attention because her writing style was really wondering and somewhat philosophical, taking random turns to discuss things not at all important to the story.

'Language Truth and Logic' by A.J. Ayer
philosophy of language. Ayer's book is incredible for many reasons. One, he wrote it when only 24. two, although the position of logical positivism which he backs is no longer popularly accepted, the book is still read as a major contribution to the philosophy of language; (an attempt to say something systematic about language and how we determine meaning). Ayer proposes the idea that in order for a statement to be meaningful it must either be analytic (discoverable a priori, a tautology true by definition, math etc) or empirically verifiable (principle of verifiability) corresponding to something that can be determined through observation of the world. In any case, this leads to the conclusion that any talk of metaphysics (transcendental reality, religious speculation etc.) is essentially meaningless. This drastically changes the face of philosophy if it is accepted. Ayer's book is a straightforward and concise argument that cannot be ignored.

'Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion' by David Hume
David Hume is the arch empiricist of modern philosophy. Essentially, this book is a fictional dialouge between three characters discussing the philosophical foundations of religous belief. The characters all outwardly agree there is a God, however their main discussion revolves around our ability to determine the attributes of this God. In a skeptical approach to the discussion, Hume is attempting to avoid the religous dogma that we all too often fall into. very convincing arguments and a strong introduction to philosophy of religion, i imagine.

'Measure for Measure' or 'The Winter's Tale' by William Shakespeare
or any other play by shakespeare. i know he isn't always associated with a relaxing read, but it really is good. his plays seem to discuss everything and the language really is poetry. the hard part is getting past the first few pages i imagine, but after that it is very easy to be drawn into the play. 17th century hollywood. sex, drugs, murder. exit pursued by a bear.

(kinda) lost in translation

but the fruit and the vegetables....Those ripe red juicy tomatoes make Barcelona more than perfect. City of design? Maybe. Picasso, Dali, who were they if you have tomatoes that leave your tastebuds tingling with anticipation for more. The tastes, smells, sights and sounds are nothing like that cold stale northern island of England.

'Ah no comprendo'
"two cappuccinos? Ok. where are you from?" (in spanish of course)
and anna understood enough.
' Greece'
'ah yes Greece, beautiful country. and him?'
'The United States'
'Ah...Bush!'
'yes, bush'
'Well, welcome to spain!'

Captain Hook bar, giant statues of cats, camels and mammoths, many many dogs, try a dino's gelato, friggo, el torro, park guell, cuitadella, girl from australia traveling the world, hostel with no windows turning into a sweat lodge, men on the street selling sixpacks, la rambla, old couple from oregon, rabla del raval, placa catalunya, bush, american embassy, barcelonetta, funicular de montjuic, crema catalana, tapas, ill on the pier, biciclettas. Barthelona, Girona, running out of a cafe to catch the last train, Figueres, Barcelona. sunshine, post cards.

"Luke Visits UK"

This is a story about a guy named Luke and his adventure across the Atlantic ocean to visit his brother in England.

Luke's brother's name is Ryan. Some say they look alike. "You both have the same eyes." And the same blonde hair and red beard.

Ryan decided to take his brother to see the sights. This is a picture of Luke in London, standing across the Thames from Big Ben.

This is Luke standing in front of Shakespeare's Globe Theater. He is studiously holding a copy of Othello that he has to read for English Class. He might start to read it on the plane ride home. No time for books now. Ryan and Luke are off to the Tate Modern. Luke really enjoyed the slides.

Ryan is a Beatles fan and couldn't let luke leave england without a trip to liverpool. It just wouldn't be right.

They took a trip on the Magical Mystery Tour. "Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes..." Doesn't get any better than that.

They went to York too, and spent a lot of time wandering around Leeds with anna searching for a pair of sunglasses for Luke.

It was a great trip, and luke even bought sunglasses after much deliberation. but all good things come to an end. Moral of the story? Always visit your brother studying overseas.

pastel perspective

I suppose I immediately began comparing Munich to England. the united states was somewhere else in my mind. Aleks and I had been walking the clean pastel streets of Munich, while snow slowly fell, for only a few hours when i noticed something different. Please do not take this as shallow or an expression an any ill will towards england, but as a general all around subjective opinion, the people in germany are just more attractive. better looking? ageing well? maybe its my own personal aesthetic.

And they obey cross walk signs.

In england, if there is a gap between traffic large enough for a small dog to quickly scurry through then there is plenty of room for a pedestrian to sprint across the street. often causeing cars to quickly break, and their drivers, in that time it takes for them to slow down, to give a friendly annoyed scowl. Aleks made sure i understood that a german driver is much less likely to slow down for any silly pedestrian attempting a cross. Crosswalk etiquette? Its like the living room lava game and stepping on the street when the light is red is simply frowned upon, i suppose.

anyway...i had so much more to write about munich, chai tea latte, oh german food, twin peaks, pastel buildings, madonna, castles, dolly parton, jenny, the devestations, mermaids with eating disorders and well there just isn't any time now that i've procrastinated so much. i apologize. i'll just post some pretty pictures and then get on to another post and studying and traveling and.

are you aware you are seated in an emergecny exit? (Fight Club? a glance around) yes i am. And are you willing and capable of performing the emergency exit procedure? (tyler durden, a look at the guy next to me, is he laughing inside like I am?) sure.

mountain goat syndrome

Its just an itch in the back of your mind when rocks rise up before you. it might just be stepping up on the curb or maybe its a tree or a grassy slope or a long flight of cement stairs leading towards an art museum in philadelphia. the possibility of getting higher, a change in elevation, a vantage point. something makes you go to the top. i don't really understand it. ross told me, "its mountain goat syndrome, i've got it bad". yeah me too.
It turns out that ross also has columbus syndrome; see a body of water and it must be crossed. last week, in an incredible feat of human endurance, ross rowed a boat across the atlantic ocean to come visit me. And when he arrived, after considerable dancing, shouting, frisbee tossing, football watching, and shakespeare lecture listening...we decided there was no way to go but up. to the topper most of the popper most if one were quoting the beatles.
To be short. we headed towards the highest mountain in all of england and wales. caught a train from manchester to bangor in wales and then a bus to caernarfon. really clean, cheap, cozy (owner little weird though seems like a good guy) hostel called totters. wandered the tourist town, castles and fishing, until we ended up exhausted and on top of a hill overlooking everything. MGS (mountain goat syndrome).
Next day. a bus to llanberis and the beautiful countryside of wales. snowdonia national park and the base of snowdon mountain (highest in all of england and wales 3500something). beautiful beautiful hike. lakes, sheep, mountains, 18th century pen-y ceunant isaf tea room near the start of the trail. down the first road behind the rail station. we walk into the tea room after our summit and are greeted by the growling of a friendly black lab who, as it turns out, only understands welsh. and then his eccentric companion, owner of the tea room, speaks english as well, and loves to talk. we're given tea and free slice of cake and praised for our pennsylvania heritage in a country (the US) that deserves to be slandered nearly as much as england. theres a large welsh community in PA so we're ok. luckily we aren't from london. but everyone in wales was really friendly and helpful and beautiful mountains and lots of sheep and rock walls and highest mountain in england and wales. its really easy to get on a bus to any small town and find a cheap place to stay, some decent food and a mountain or two to hike. all in northern wales.

near disaster results in greatest grilled cheese ever recorded in history of mankind.

I just made the most impressive grilled ham and cheese sandwhich ever to grace mortal eyes. i think it was perfect. thick slabs of cheddar cheese and three slices of ham melted deliciously between two whole wheat pieces of bread lightly dashed with english butter and fried a to a crisp golden brown on both sides. Disaster was putting the butter in the microwave. i didnt' expect the wrapping would ignite. only my dignity was hurt when my flatmate came into the kitchen just in time to see me frantically blowing on a flaming stick of butter. it must be taken into account that i've spent the past 4 days asleep with a fever, only waking to eat (wonderful greek sandwhiches) and attempts at reading ayer's take on the philosophy of language. Any practical accomplishment, no matter how meager, is a bit like a light at the end of the tunnel. seriously though, this grilled cheese was no wimp. the cheese was melted to perfection, not too gooey, but just enough and warm and crunchy but not stiff and stale like those sad imitations of grilled cheese you would be served in a school cafeteria. oh this was a grilled cheese like no other.

Speakers Corner

Imagine a large modern city. Like any city, this one has its share of evangelical religous zealots, racist fanatics, outspoken marxist supporters, lonely politically inclined obnoxious conspiricay theory believing middle aged men prone to argument, and (as if we need to make it a catagory in itself) the mildly insane. Its difficult, but now imagine this eclectic group of people were all to gather together, in early democratic fashion, on a regular basis in a public arena in order to 'enlighten the masses' who came to debate and listen. Envision a surreal ancient athens where politicians with ragged beards, grown men dressed like superheros, and racist grandmothers shout from the third rung of footstools while surrounded by crowds of heckling spectators. If the picture isn't quite clear in your head don't worry because you can go see this spectacle of modern society for yourself.
If you happen to be lucky enough to be in London on a sunday morning I highly suggest you make it a point to visit speakers corner. hop on a bus or the tube and head towards Hyde Park. You can't miss the crowds gathered around the men and women shouting from their vantage point a foot or so above the heads of everyone else. I wasn't sure what to expect. In my head i may have envisioned soap box speeches and enthralled orderly attentive crowds. I wasn't prepared for the scene that unfolded before me. around half past twelve anna and i got off the tube (an experience in itself) around green park. we meandered along towards hyde park and browsed the books being sold on the street while sipping coffee from starbucks. It was a sunny morning and hyde park was full of runners, bikers and groups playing football(soccer). we consulted the sign near an entrance and discovered speakers corner was located on the far side of the park. The corner is offical and has maintained this tradition of public speech from those days long before radio, television and the computer. we now have more efficent means of mass communicating, but i suppose the idea of public dialoge does have its allure.
Although i was the only person talking to patrick, he maintained his stoic posture standing atop his chair. looking down, he explained that i should talk to jesus if i wanted to fullfill my purpose in life; to prepare for life after death. For 16 years Patrick has been standing on his chair in hyde park every sunday and i imagine hes talked to a lot people. however i doubt as many people have disagreed with him as with the older woman who was speaking not far away. her fanatical shouts encouraged a crowd of disagreeable spectators to descend into her vicinity. This elderly white haired woman straightforwardly criticized...pretty much everyone but herself. The logical progression was difficult to follow but her main point was that if you aren't from pure english heritage you should stay out of england. immigrants from europe are terrible people, from the middle east are terrorists, and americans are going to hell for giving up and leaving england. she didnt' want anyone to come back either. Hecklers moved in roving groups from one speaker to the next attacking them and debating with them. one particulary obnoxious english man fancied himself quite witty so continuously made loud irrelevant remarks over his shoulder to the rest of the crowd who laughed along. i have no doubt he did this every week.
i can't explain how random the crowds were. half of them very serious and the other half there for pure entertainment. cheaper than a movie. one man dressed in peculiar garb and jamacian flag pronounced 'the black man' as the master race who would soon take over the world. Another, went by the name of Mr. Satan, read insulting jokes and complained about women. An old man stood on his chair in the center of this disarray and sung hymn songs. have you ever wondered where the guy who carries the sign, 'the end is coming' spends his sunday mornings? those passing through the park stop at each speaker for a few moments and move on or stay to debate, sometimes recording the debates, but it seems mostly to be entertained by the outspoken individual who feels the necessity to tell the world whats on their mind. free speech is a beautiful thing.

todaisymonday

A new post, though weighing heavily on my mind (as these important matters do), has elluded my every attempt at creation. there seems to be so much going on that i can't bring any sort of coherence to the chaos of thoughts that need to be organized and broadcast to my few but faithful readers. i just need to transform these explosions into words. its therapy and fullfilling for myself, as well as hopefully informative or at the very least (or the very most) entertaining for the reader. so begins my short rant on life in leeds; perspective from ryan.

Second semester classes began last week, Shakespeare, history of modern philosophy and philosophy of language. i'm reading othello and Leibniz and can not yet explain philosophy of language. its difficult and somewhat embarrassing not being able to describe, beyond reiterating the title, a course one is currently enrolled in. "well you see, its the philosophy of language, so you know language and the philosophy and study of it and um...well i'll tell you in a few weeks." after all thats why i'm taking the course. and hopefully i'll soon be able to explain more, or possibly not. The other main second semester difficulty i have encountered is that of sarcasm. meeting new people and getting to know those whom i informally and shortly met in the first semester the question of sarcastic etiquette has been prominent. i've just recently come to understand, through some awkward moments, that not everyone i meet has the same inherit sarcasm which i believe i demonstrate a bit too freely at times. i merely mention this as a warning to those yet ignorant of this problem. it seems that sarcasm can be misunderstood, misinterpreted and misconstrued as offensive. bluntly, strangers may find their sarcastic acquaintence obnoxious, cynical, complaining, depressing and even to be a terrible person. i have discovered the importance, in the occurance of cringing faces or casting remarks, to highlight the previous statement as a joke, or plainly, sarcasm. in the interest of humanity as a whole, you have now been notified of this phenomenon.

Here on the island of England, I have found the amount of time i spend sitting in cafe's drinking coffee with a book, newspaper, or pad and pen on the table in front of me to be quite wonderful. the life of a student isnt' so terrible. The newspaper generally confronts me with a number of conflicting and entertaining thoughts which i too rarely ever carry beyond the close of those smudgy gray pages, but some do deserve mentioning. the worlds pending doom is a general topic in the news. global warming and waste alongside britains prisions overflowing and violence in lebanon, violence everywhere. however there are articles which inspire hope. Barack Obama http://www.barackobama.com/ has announced he will run for president of the United States, and my mother sent me an email about a book called, "The Last Messages", published in Finland, which is written entirely in text messages and i think it sounds fantastic and i learned about the life of Jean-Francois Deniau, although it was his obituary, he sounded like a neat guy. I began these newspaper mumblings however, to discuss my thoughts on the feverish upcoming presidential election, a topic which has been highlighted quite often in the english news. Although my intentions and subject of contempt may be all too clear, i will attempt to harness my argument into a universal code which i believe should be an ideal embraced by all who plan to connect themselves in any which way with electing/promoting/judging, of any human being.
My proposal is a simple one: Evalute your subject upon the basis of their particular personal character, but most importantly the ideas they express which stem from this. It is abhorent to think that illogical marketing of race, gender, lineage and other such necessary conditions of life should hold any prevelance over the mind of the person who stands before you. Allowing this marketing to sway a decision, be it to the negative, or just as bad, towards the positive, is illogical, unnecessary, and ignorant. I say, let ideas govern our decision making, let positive empirical evidence of these ideas functioning and in practice govern our decision making. Do not let the person stand before their ideas. ignore everything but ideas and practice. simply. my thoughts in universal language.


-the tale of plastic pete-

Winter months marked
by banners in the trees
windy weather gladly proclaims
from tops of bare brown branches
our desolate earthly disease
plastic tangled between sticks
where summer months
sprout bright green leaves
we hang our trash
in modern martyr fashion
to flutter in the breeze.

january retrospect

The sirens that have been wailing all night and into the day, the 92 mph (maybe kilometers, but real fast) winds, and a bit of a cold make today a fine day to stay indoors. its half past three and already the sun has begun its descent; unless of course i'm mistaken and the darkened dismal color of the sky is only an effect of intense cloud cover and strong bellowing gales. my Exams are finished. I now have until monday to contemplate my own thoughts, a majorty of which, by now are all tied up and tangled with thoughts from lectures so the two are at times indistinguishable. For better or for worse. my first semester in England has officially come to an end, christmas and new years passed. january is nearly over already. students that were only here for the semester look forward to home and are sad to leave. others look forward to a new semester, and I, to warmer weather as well.

In the midst of studying for my epistemology exam, justfied true beliefs, gettier paradoxes, contextualism and more of the same, i began to enjoy myself and even took a moment to write a short essay I have entitled, 'Why I Like School'. Its silly and deceptive and very honest and exagerated and entirely true.

Why I Like School...

My experience as a student has shown me that as the semester progresses so does the confusion. Books pile higher in haphazard pyramids, no longer time, or just a lack of desire, to put them neatly lined up back on the shelf. Papers become crumpled between books and margins are scribbled full of thoughts on lectures and mostly thoughts far from lectures. All semester you read and study and discuss and generally become terribly confused and frustrated. There are those rare moments of inter-semester epiphany and joy, but it gets better than that. The enjoyment truly comes at the end when studying for finals and you look back at the blazed trail of confusion and fashion it all together into comprehensible personal understanding. You look back at W.H. Auden and realize the poet you didnt' enjoy at all during the business of seminar is fantastic. And maybe, when its all said and done you forget some of the facts and theories and key historic figures who made little impact anyway. However, if all goes well, you carry away some new ideas and you've formed a center of understanding from which you can continue onwards. And this is wonderful.

When I discover where we go from there i'll be on to something.

holiday

Christmas in Amsterdam. with kyle and anna, staying in the Bed and Coffee which didn't entirly live up to its fantastic name; even if they did provide a bed and coffee, they also managed to decorate our room with disco balls, pyschadelic light fixtures, and colorful paintings of pigs. the Brussels light show gave christmas eve some true spirit and glorious grid stamped fried dough dusted in powdered sugar or dripping with chocolate; the belgium waffel steaming just in spite of the cold december, well its really good.

bicycles bicycles bicycles. our first hours in amsterdam i was sure we were in danger of bicylce gang attacks. it just turns out that everyone rides bikes. i'm not sure it can even be explained, I wouldn't believe it unless I saw it.


Van Gogh, wooden clogs, red light district, bicycles, canals, coffee shops, rembrant, utreicht, brussels, waffels, squares, trams, bicycles, trains, directions in dutch, intermission in the movie theater, postcards, holiday.





a very different christmas, away from home.

*pictures compliments of anna and her camera.