burnt

Music: Harold Budd: Abandoned Cities (1982)

I'm happy to report that this morning I finished a complete draft of my review essay, "Speech is Dead; Long Live Speech." I read and reviewed the final book on synthetic and recorded voices by Nass and Brave. It's a fascinating book, although their constant summaries about how to make more money through design is off-putting. They summarize a bunch of research that shows how voices are processed by fetuses in the womb, and then how gender is the first "language-based" binary in the brain. It's interesting that some of this empirical research comports with some Lacanian views on sexuation. At least in respect to gender, psychoanalytic folks are on the same page as brain-research folks on the notion of "primary identification."

I also concluded the essay with a brief analysis of the film White Noise, which is on EVP, which I compare to my academic field's ambivalence over the term "speech." That was fun to write, because some of the arguments offered for dropping speech and replacing it with communication are so motivated by inferiority and a lack of publicity. Ironically, the field so determined to rid itself of speech complained that it had no voice. Oh well. Nevertheless, I've decided not to share any more of the essay, so eager readers (all two of you) will just have to wait.

Speaking of waiting, school approaches swiftly like a ravenous madman. With two months of home repairs, teaching, and writing for a couple of weeks, I must admit I'm worn out. The shrink insisted I go away for a few days to someplace else to "recharge [my] batteries" before school begins in a couple of weeks. I've been scratching my brain about somewhere to go, and even entertained joining Eric in Maine for a while until he revealed there is going to be a kind of family reunion (I don't want to intrude on that)---so perhaps next summer. Maybe if Christopher is back from his European rambling I can hang out in College Station? Or, I thought perhaps I might just kill the Tubes, play video games and cook for three days, and top it off with a professional massage?

I dunno. Traveling is stressful to me too. I just feel sort of wanting, needy for something I cannot quite name.

Today I will try to finish prepping for courses by getting packets together. Tonight there is a degree at the lodge, which I'll try to make, which will be a welcome diversion from academese for a while.

Speaking of burning out, Brooke and I saw Danny Boyle's newest, Sunshine, on Saturday night. We both liked it. As a Sci-Fi junky it did hit all the right buttons (cool gadgets, cold ships, neat space shots). I don't want to ruin the film by relating the entire plot, but basically, it's a crew trying to restart the sun with a big fat bomb. It is a synthesis of Event Horizon and 2001: A Space Odyssey, with plot elements from each, and a little bit of Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd ("Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun," you know).

Once everyone who is going to see it has seen it, I'd be interested in blogging about two elements of the film: (1) the ending and the question of spirituality; and (2) the way in which Boyle features Cillian Murphy as the eye candy. Unquestionably Cillian is a beautiful man—and, I must admit he's replaced Johnny Depp as my top choice of sleep-with-another-man list. Sorry Johnny, you've dipped too much in that Keith Richards look too long. Anyway, Boyle really goes to town with shots of Murphy's face and feminine body, staging shots that clearly shift the gaze into deliberate homoerotic territory. I'm reminded here of Brookey and Westerfelhaus' essay on Fight Club . . . what Boyle does not do is shy away from homoeroticism. It will be interesting to see what the "special features" of the DVD are, and how Boyle situates the film's gazes.

Finally, speaking of eye-candy, Mirko reports that a new German band has debuted that seeks to replace the eurohomo success of Tokio Hotel. Move over Kaulitz twins, here comes Cinema Bizarre!