Will wonders never cease? Or will the coincidences never end? Just read an essay titled ["Speaking Parts: Silence, language, and the Postcolonial Faggot"] by [Lawrence Chua]. In it, Chua makes a coherent argument about language and silence, the kind I was blindly grasping for [earlier]. Language and literacy are the groundwork for empowerment because the social world in which we live is expressed through that language. For Chua, language is the means by which one can combat ideologies that threaten to oppress, to silence, to erase. And yet, he recognizes that while these dominant ideologies often function through "silence"--they are so pervasive as to work tacitly in the very fabric of how we interact--silence is also the space of resistance. It is where people who are elided by dominant narratives exist. It is finally the place where someone like Chua gathers himself, "thinking of new ways to overthrow you."

I came across this essay while looking into Lawrence Chua's work. I am researching material to write a paper on modes of exchange in his novel [Gold by the Inch] for one of my classes. If you have any insights, [drop me a line]!

What happens when [the baby] takes a picture of himself? It's too bad for my loved ones that I have a [Joycam] and access to a scanner at work. Look how they [cringe] under my power! Yes, it sure does give me joy. More pictures to come . . .

Had a nightmare last night. Can't remember what it was about exactly, but I do remember thinking how much like [Children of the Corn] it was. The weirdest thing is that I've never seen that movie. Then I was thinking that maybe it was because in the past couple of days, I read somewhere that [Nicholas Brendon], the actor who plays [Xander Harris] on [Buffy the Vampire Slayer], was in a Children of the Corn movie. But still, having a nightmare that reminded me of being chased through cornfields by sickle-wielding, adult-killing cultist children . . . where did that come from?

Coincidences? Shortly after I [posted] yesterday about The Trouble with Normal, I was eating lunch and watching TV when I heard mention of two new shows with "normal" in the title. One is called, oddly enough, [The Trouble with Normal]. The other is called [Normal, Ohio]. Neither seems particularly interesting, though. The Trouble with Normal seems to be yet another sitcom about neurotic urbanites who are "weird" in a way that reinforces the normality of other people. Normal, Ohio stars [John Goodman] as a gay dad. I'm a little troubled by reviews I've read that characterize this gay dad as a "normal" Midwesterner who just "happens" to be gay. . .

You know, I have a very anxious relationship to language. Stuff we talked about in [class] last night and also my comment below about the "well-written" The New Republic has gotten me thinking again about articulateness and what that means socially. I have a hard time expressing my thoughts in words, but especially verbally in impromptu conversation. As a result, I know that I have a tendency to romanticize alternate (i.e. non-verbal, visual, or silent) expressions of meaning. I especially like silences. Can meaning reside in [lacunae] or caesuras?

This past spring in my [writing workshop], I wrote a short piece on [silence]. I think that there is a lot to be said about what isn't said. I'm reminded of the character Mala/Pohpoh in my favorite book, [Cereus Blooms at Night] by Shani Mootoo, a woman (Mala, not Shani) who gave up speech and social contact when the world seemed to have abandoned her in the clutches of an abusive father. For her, meaning resides finally outside the realm of human language in the realm of physical existence.

In any case, language is the currency of thought in most social contexts. But should being articulate, being able to express coherent thoughts, be the only measure of persuasiveness? If we can't put something into words, is it not worth thinking or doing? How else would we communicate, if not with words? I don't know . . . Even more strange, given my intimidation by words, is why I've decided to pursue a graduate degree in [English] or why I want to be a writer.

So how 'bout them [presidential debates] last night?

Bush's line on crime frighteningly reminds me so much of [Gary Becker's] thinking. Basically: criminals commit horrendous crimes of murder, rape, and robbery because they do not fear the legal consequences. If that's the case, wouldn't it be logical to make the death penalty a universal punishment for all crimes? As long as there is strict enforcement of such a law, then this should be the best way to deter crime. All I can say is whatever.

So how about the little bit about [hate crimes] and homosexual rights? I am so fed up with this catch-phrase "special rights" (reminds me of the "pro-life" of anti-abortionists) in referring to gay rights. What makes hate crime protection a special right? I don't believe that the worth of hate crime legislation is exactly in increasing punishment, but that there is something added in recognizing on a legal and social level crimes motivated by biases against differing race, ethnicity, religion, sex, gender, and sexual orientation. People like Bush consider such recognition "special rights" and hand-waving precisely because they refuse to believe that there is real prejudice on a social-structural level that is reflected in personal biases. The murderers of [James Byrd, Jr.] and [Matthew Shepard] did not act alone. Systems of racial and sexual/queer discrimination drove the murderers to their hatred as much as they themselves were responsible for their actions. This kind of thinking does not mean that I believe responsibility lies outside of the individual murderers, but that there is also responsibility for hate on a larger social scale. It is this level of hate that I believe hate crime legislation should and could combat.

As for the stuff about same-sex marriage, blah, I say! How can Bush even argue that he "respects" others and believes that everyone should have the "same" rights, not "special" rights, but then insist that marriage should be confined to the union of a man and a woman? A woman and a woman or a man and a man cannot therefore have the "same" rights of marriage--the legal recognition, privileges of hospital visitation in emergencies, rights to joint-custody of children, tax breaks, etc. (I shouldn't be lenient on Gore here since he believes the same thing.) But that's all besides the point. In most debates over same-sex marriage, people refuse to acknowledge that there is something "special" in the way the married heterosexual reproductive couple is treated. That's why I was particularly happy a few months ago to come across the work of [Michael Warner], in particular, his book [The Trouble with Normal]. In a chapter titled, "Beyond Gay Marriage," Warner takes to task the drive towards obtaining married-status for same-sex couples by national gay rights organizations. His argument is not so much in wanting to deny the benefits of marriage to same-sex couples, but in a questioning of why those benefits should belong solely to couples, the nuclear family unit, and variations thereof. This is why I love [queerness].

Of interest also is Martha Nussbaum's ["Experiments in Living"], a review of Warner's The Trouble with Normal in the well-written conservative publication, The New Republic. I haven't gotten through the whole thing yet, but it's interesting to see how Nussbaum abstracts a politics of libertarianism from Warner's work. I guess we all see what we want to see.

I love this weather: cold just to the point of producing overnight frost on green stuff, but still sunny during the day, blue skies with beautiful, puffy clouds sailing by. It reminds me of winter where I grew up, I suppose. And I associate those winters with a warm house, a warm bed, reading under the covers, a simpler life . . . a time when I didn't think about what my life should (or could) be, a time when I didn't allow myself to think about desire (yes, repression is the defining theme of my [consciousness]) . . .

But I suppose there is no [going back], is there?

I love the baby!

[Buffy] tonight!

How well I can waste time. If this is my [superpower], can I get a refund?

Yes Mommy, we blog.

Right. So I did more than just watch movies while I was in New York. But not much more. I spent a lot of time talking to my sister about things (such as the two movies we saw and our family). I also met up with my circle of friends from [the past]. It was a bit trying for me, though, because I had to meet up with large groups of people for dinners given the little time I had. I don't do well in big group situations (big group=more than 2 other people). I also have a hard time dealing with the noise in restaurants.

Saturday night I had a yummy dinner at a Korean restaurant called [Do Hwa] down by 7th Ave. and Carmine St. Must remember to get the red snapper entree there again in the future . . .

Brooklyn, New York. Home? I barely lived there longer than I've lived in [Durham, North Carolina] so far. But why does it feel so much more intimate?

Vacation in the City allowed me the luxury of walking around Manhattan and Brooklyn like I used to do. It's a sad indication of how little I move without the aid of motorized vehicles these days when I woke up last Friday sore from walking around Manhattan. I am happy and refreshed from my visit, though, despite the grime that seeps into my skin and up my nose when I spend a lot of time in the streets. I am especially glad to have spent time with my sister who came down from Providence, RI, and my friend [FUZZY] who lives near where I used to live.

Thursday afternoon I flew into JFK airport, ["Where America Greets the World"], and then hopped on the A train to meet my sister at her hotel on 58th Street. She was staying at the Hudson Hotel, a newly opened hotel at 9th Ave. The hotel is very stylish and swarms of young, black-sweatered men act as doormen/porters/helpful staff.

I saw on Thursday [Dancer in the Dark], the musical directed by [Lars von Trier]. Like his [Breaking the Waves], Dancer in the Dark very skillfully and subtley emptied me of hopeful optimism and plunged me into bleakness. Is it fair that the movies I like, the ones I find to be the most stunning and viscerally affecting, are also ones I cannot bear to watch? Dancer in the Dark was for me a critical meditation on the tragic flaw of believing in the American Dream. The systems of the economy, cultural concerns, red-baiting, and gender-power differentials all work against Selma, the individual struggling for the Dream in her own, quiet way. [Björk], in the role of Selma, was amazing, drawing upon her unique voice to give her character a certain whimsy that made her tragedy all the more unbearable.

In any case, I was glad to have seen Dancer in the Dark. The next day, I saw [Yi Yi], a film by Edward Yang which has received much praise and coverage, appearing earlier at the [New York Film Festival] (as had Dancer in the Dark). This movie made me cringe as well, but for different reasons. It's not a film that I particularly like, at least not its intentions. As a movie of a middle-class Taiwanese family, it explored certain tensions of middle-class "comfort" and mid-life crises, but took an amazingly uncritical perspective on the way money works in the family's life or the way the sexes interact. Formally and structurally, though, the narrative was beautifully woven.