No Chaser

Bad bad blogger

This is an official protest against Clonk (TM), the fascist, who refuses to put a commenting function on his/her blog. And he/she calls me Napoleonic. I cry bull-shit.

posted by: NoChaser at March 29, 2005 21:01 | link | comments (2) |

Bastard

I just finished reading Dorothy Allison's Bastard Out of Carolina. In case you don't know, it is about a young girl who is molested, raped, and beaten by her step-father. I had avoided it for years because I thought the material was too close and would thus be too painful to read. As I read it though, I felt strangely comforted.

I've reviewed the issues in my head for years, trying to explain the problems in the ways psychologists and sociologists have learned to understand abuse. There are standard characteristics of the abuser: having been abused themselves, feeling rejected and powerless, projecting their own self-hatred and inadequacy. The victims, for their part, can be expected to experience a predictable set of feelings, reminiscent of Kubler-Ross' stages of death: denial, self-blame, shame, fear, anger, forgiveness. Quite often, the adults in the situation, usually mother and father, often blame the victim by seeing her as sexually precocious or incorrigible. Just as often, a mother does not protect her child from the abuse, for a variety of reasons: she doesn't want to be abused herself, she doesn't want the man to leave, she can't afford the man to leave.

Allison covers all this ground in her novel, smoothly and firmly, trying to understand but making no excuses, making the emotional pain as raw and real as the situations she describes. But, the book is ultimately a meditation on anger and its uses. Anger is a defense mechanism. It tells people, stay the fuck away from me. It makes you feel safe, unlike the fear that usually sparks anger. It enables self-assertion and self-protection. Bone learns from her violent family the power of anger to protect her from the people in her life who view her as "trash." She feels an intense pride in her uncles' reputation as people you do not want to cross, and she slowly builds her own wall of anger to protect herself.

Throughout the novel, we expect Bone, with her angry visions of conflagration, to light her stepfather on fire and burn the bastard to death. This, however, is not the ending we get because anger is also alienating and provocative of more anger. Bone's anger causes a self-isolation and loss of adult protection, and in the final battle with Daddy Glen, her furious attempts to defend herself lead only to his most violent attacks yet. In the end, Bone is left alone on the porch of her solitary aunt; her abandonment is not the justice we hope for, but it is real. Abuse happens when a child is emotionally and/or physically abandoned, and Allison portrays perfectly how this happens.

Still, the ending is not hopeless. Bone's anger does protect her, from shame and self-loathing, as she refuses to take the blame for her abuse and fights back as hard as she can; what's more, her anger provides her a fierce, persevering independence and pride that lets you know she won't take mistreatment from anyone again.

posted by: NoChaser at March 28, 2005 09:29 | link | comments |

Food Memory

My family went out last night for my mother's birthday, and when we go out, I often have a question to ask everyone. For this, Brother S calls me, "The Instigator." Last night my question was inspired by a recent post on Bakerina: What is your earliest food memory?

Brother D remembered push-up pops and cream of wheat, and then the banana being pushed through the baby food mill and thinking excitedly, "Mmmm! Banana!" He really did love bananas. Mom remembered family picnics less than fondly, but then she recalled cherry picking: "I was too small to pick the cherries, but I would sit on the ground and eat the ones on the ground." Brother S remembered mom switching from baking bread to buying Oroweat Branola, which sparked a conversation about Grandma's coffee cake and fresh hot bread with butter. Brother S also talked about being teased for his picky eating, something that hasn't completely gone I'm sorry to say; it's tough being him in a family of food fiends.

Mom and Brother D remembered Brother S always leaving the table for the bathroom a few minutes after dinner started. "He never sat still, so it was only when he sat down to eat that he'd realize he needed to go to the bathroom." I had completely forgotten about this. He would sing made-up songs in the bathroom, which was down the hall from the dining room, so we could hear him singing, and we'd all laugh.

Mr. recalled meals with his father and dad bringing home a lot of fish. He remembered one night waking up and hearing noise in the kitchen. When he got there, dad was in his underwear eating a peanut butter and butter sandwich. In a few minutes, Mr. was sitting in his underwear doing the same. Another memory involves dad BBQ-ing and wearing a knife in a scabbard at his waist, so Mr. goes and puts on a plastic holster with a plastic Tarzan knife, and they eat whatever meat was on the grill. I should add that most of his food memories are from times with his father. Eating big steaks while camping. Dad's recipes for "fire cabbage" (raw cabbage and grated raw onion) and "little greasers" (ground beef mixed with ketchup and grated onions, formed into patties, and broiled on bread).

My earliest food memory is a very pleasant one. My parents had a good friend, Koz, who went diving for abalone. We lived in Pasadena, and I remember the kitchen of this house better than any other part of it. It had arched doorways and was a long room, with an eating area and fridge on the right and the stove, oven, sink, and counters on the left. At the end of the kitchen was the door to the backyard. In the evenings, the setting sun would shine in and light up the whole room in warm honey. It was on an evening like this that Koz, his girlfriend Joan, my parents, and I sat around our table, orange fondue pot in the middle, and ate fresh abalone by skewering the raw chunks and dipping them into the hot oil.

Koz loved coming over to eat my mom's chocolate chip cookies . . . with beer, Coors I believe. He insisted that it was the most delicious thing going. My mom uses the Toll House recipe but uses salted butter and salt and always includes walnuts. I finally tried this combo out when I was in my twenties, and damn if it wasn't completely delicious. They're particularly tasty with a stout or porter. Try it, you'll like it!

posted by: NoChaser at March 25, 2005 08:25 | link | comments (3) |

Keep that feeding tube out of my neck please.

posted by: NoChaser at March 23, 2005 09:27 | link | comments |

Chatty

So I had a wonderful week in San Francisco full of great conversation, delicious food, and splendid walks. What I appreciated most was talking to several people I love and trust about the heavy stuff cluttering my brain these days. Do I want to move away from academic writing? Do I want to have more creative outlets in my life? Do I want to keep teaching or do I want to move toward administration or something else related? What will excite and challenge me now? Will I survive this move to the midwest? It was nice to talk through these ideas with such a diverse group of people, with very different ideas about the nature of these questions and paths, but who all know me well enough to ask the right questions.

Generally, I'm not someone who talks about myself a lot. I always figure I'm boring people. So when I do have time to spend with good friends -- with whom I feel fine just yammering on about what's on my mind and listening to them do the same -- I relish it. It helps me process a lot of mental dross, especially having a few different folks providing feedback. I think this is related to what Fife was referring to in "Conversational States" when he complained about the inadequacies of electronic communication and the lack of face-time with friends. It *is* pretty lousy the way we all become separated, following our careers or wanderlust or escaping high prices, urban sprawl, and cultural fatigue.

I deeply love and value my close friends, and while I respect our boundaries, I like to push at those and propel the relationship in new directions. One of the things I noticed this time that I really enjoyed was how open everyone was to those nudges, even when they were hard to listen to or respond to. I so appreciate that, and I appreciate when they push me as well. I think that kind of trust, knowing that this nudge will not damage either person or the relationship, is key to a lasting and dynamic friendship.

posted by: NoChaser at March 22, 2005 15:18 | link | comments (1) |

Dum-de-doo

I spent all day working on writing my column, and sent it off finally. Okay, I didn't spend all day doing that because I was also doing laundry in preparation for my trip to San Francisco! Yay! I'm going for a conference, but as many academics do, I am also using it as a time to visit some people who now live far away from me, including my dissertation group. And, if you haven't experienced this yourself, let me tell you, a dissertation writing group is a bonding experience, so I am excited to see these super women. And, being a Californian, I also happen to have old good friends in town who I also get to visit. Should be loads of fun.

In order to make the transition smoother for Mr., who misses me terribly on these occasions when I run off for a week (no really, he does), I made some tasty food today. For lunch, we had steamed asparagus with lemon vinaigrette (which had no vinegar, so I guess I should call it "lemonette"), bread, and baked eggs with carmelized onions and gruyère. I also made him drink some red wine at lunch, anodyne for writing in the afternoon.

For dinner, we had red lentil dal and curried cauliflower, peas, and garbanzos. A friend stopped by while I was cooking, and I was so busy listening to her funny stories, that I threw the garbanzos in without thinking . . . I already had the dal going. Ah well, lots of protein in that meal. Now the house smells of curry, and we are feeling well-fed. It's time perhaps to rest and spend quality time with the hounds, one of whom is currently snoring on Mr.'s lap.

posted by: NoChaser at March 14, 2005 19:55 | link | comments (1) |

Andy Goldsworthy

Last night we watched Rivers & Tides about land artist Andy Goldsworthy. It is a well-made documentary with beautiful footage and a nice soundtrack by Fred Frith (who apparently has a documentary, Step Across the Border, all to himself which I should probably check out next).

So, Rivers and Tides has exactly what one wants in a documentary about an artist whose work makes you say "Now, how did he do that?": lots of footage of the artist at work, things being constructed, things falling apart, things coming to fruition. The filmmakers make excellent use of shots and pacing that mimic Goldsworthy's own rhythms and delicacy. We see his disappointed but shockingly calm response to different pieces falling apart. And we hear him explain how it feels different than completed pieces taken by the sea.

Like many artists, he has difficulty verbalizing his process, his ideas, his feelings, but that is why we have the art. And, really, what he says is right on. He uses the language of his own mind as far as it goes, and then trails off, leaving the art to speak for itself.

One of my favorite moments in the film shows him sitting at the breakfast table surrounded by wiggling children, some mugging for the cameras. Goldsworthy is far away, somewhere in his mind, drawn back only reluctantly in a later cut by what I think is a daughter's loose tooth. While Mr. NC responded to this scene saying, "Oh those poor kids," my response was, "I know exactly how that feels. I'm just like that when I'm working." I love that feeling. Later in the film, Goldsworthy says he is really energized and inspired by some social interaction, but admits, "Yes, I think people drain me." And, I think this is true for me when I am working too. I just want to work and think and not be bothered.

posted by: NoChaser at March 10, 2005 07:56 | link | comments (1) |

Bike riding

Me old buddy Fife has posted about the joys of bike-riding, and he evokes this response . . .

I totally miss P-land where I rode my bike everywhere. I love my vanilla and cabernet KHS cruiser. I bought it off of a guy who had totally customized it for himself with great goodies, including an awesome Brooks seat which is the most comfortable seat going. I would see the former owner around P-land, and he would just nod as if to say, "Yeah, man, that's a sweet bike."

Here, in Sea-land, I'm terrified to ride because of 1) no bike lanes, 2) aggressive drivers, and I admit . . . 3) hills galore. Mr. NC, for his part, rides everywhere bravely, stoutly, indefatigably. And, everyday, I fear he will be run over or have a nasty crash. He can be a bit incautious.

We are both big winter weather wimps though. Man, it just freaking sucks riding in the rain, especially if you wear glasses. And, you get so so so cold going so fast through the wind and rain with no real protection. Bbbbbrrr . . . I'm shivering just thinking about it.

One thing that is in the pro column of my ongoing attitude-adjusting list about our imminent move to the midwest is that the roads are flat! In fact, the prairie is pretty much defined by its utter flatitude. So, I will be pleased to be there since it means I will be back on the bike!

posted by: NoChaser at March 08, 2005 19:33 | link | comments (3) |

Oh my god! I want a hedgehog! I wonder if they get along with chihuahuas?

Trevor, Profgrrrl's little buddy, is soooo cute!!! (Via Bitch, Ph.D.)

Here's the thing, I have this lifelong dream of maintaining an animal sanctuary. I would live somewhere fairly rural (but very close to a city or I will die of cultural asphyxiation) and have enough land (and money of course) to take in and rescue hurt or abandoned or neglected animals. I realize this is not at all an original fantasy, but maybe it's more unusual that I have nourished it since I was around eight, and still think I might do it someday. So, I see Trevor, and I think, "God! I wish I had my animal sanctuary!" and hedgehog is immediately added to imagined list of residents.

Damn, he's cute!

Edited to add: Oh my god, I mistyped Bitch's URL, and hit this instead!

posted by: NoChaser at March 04, 2005 12:27 | link | comments (2) |

Plastination

So, a friend of mine and I were talking about Zhu Yu's Eating People, a performance art piece that features a man eating a deep-fried fetus. Everyone I've talked to about it has a remarkably strong visceral reaction to the photos of the performance, so strong that is almost overwhelms the desire to analyze the piece. I don't like babies, I love the cannibalizing scene in Cook, Thief, and I even admit to finding the idea of the project gross but kind of funny in a very dark way. Nevertheless, actually seeing it freaked me out. Because, here's the deal: we can deep-fry a chicken, but a human? Desecration. Dipika Nath can tell you that sacralizing the human is done at the expense of the non-human, and the "non-human" in various scenarios can be a woman, a raced "other," or a friendly little chicken. Whether he meant to or not, Zhu Yu was fighting against the dominative sacralizing of the human body.

Well, then, what are we to think about Plastination, a relatively new technique of plasticizing (dead) human bodies? Does it have the same effect?

A medical scientist named Gunther von Hagens developed Plastination "as a groundbreaking technology for preserving anatomical specimens with reactive polymers," ostensibly for improved anatomy education. Basically, he takes real human bodies and dissects, flays, and poses them in various ways. Then, he replaces the body fluids with acetone, replaces the acetone with polymer, then gives them a nice polymer bath. When I saw the images of the plastinated bodies, I felt much the same as I did upon seeing the deep-fried fetus on a platter. Total horror movie scenario right?

Well, not exactly. Von Hagens has created two major exhibits of this work, which are incredibly popular; so popular in fact that the California Science Museum has extended their operating hours to handle the crowds beating the doors down to see the exhibit. And, then of course, there's also great support for it in terms of the estimated 6300 people who have been donating their bodies to the cause for the last fifteen years. If you're keen, you can donate too if you'd like.

So back to my initial question, which is, does Plastination have the same de-sacralizing effect that Eating People has? Well, first, there's no cannibalism, so that changes things a bit. And, then, they're displayed in natural history and science museums, which may have the effect of re-inscribing the value of the human body. What if this was an art project instead? Would there be as much interest? Wouldn't the interest be among different groups? As it stands, the exhibits are targeted at science classes and families. If Plastination was in an art museum, it'd be called "Plasti-Nation" rather than "BodyWorks." They'd be keeping the kids and families (and funding) away with warnings like those we've seen for work by Robert Mapplethorpe even though his most shocking fist-fucking photographs are nowhere near as freaky as Plastinated bodies. If it was in an art museum, many more ethical questions would be raised than those being raised about the BodyWorks science exhibits. And why this difference? Probably because as "art" it would challenge the sacralization of the human body to an extent that "science" can't. Frankly, I wish it was being treated as "art" and I'll continue to look at it that way; it's a challenge we all need.

posted by: NoChaser at March 02, 2005 18:08 | link | comments (5) |