Dreaded but not unexpected - I’m sick again this weekend, thanks to a nasty little something that has descended upon both Chris and myself. I was going to spend most of the weekend at home writing an epistemology paper anyway, but epistemology papers are easier to write when one isn’t stuffed to the gills with Tylenol Cold. At least I bought extra boxes of tissues and a gigantic bag of Halls the last time around. With luck this isn’t anything more than a cold - so far I’m achey and exhausted, with the head and throat doing their usual thing, but no fever yet. (Incidentally, if anyone would like to swap immune systems, you know where to reach me.)
Chris and I went to see Kill Bill last night. We arrived early enough to get bowls of hyper-deliciousness at Yoshinoya, and also to wade through the people lined up two hours in advance to see the Matrix, and also to wade through the people coming out of Matrix showings who told us not to waste our money on the Matrix. As for Kill Bill, we enjoyed it more than normal people ought to enjoy something that ends with so many miscellaneous limbs lying around, but then we’ve never claimed to be normal people. There was one vexing period when a particular asshole’s cell phone rang incessantly, but went unattended. About half an hour later, it rang again - and the dickhead actually answered it and held a conversation while the rest of us are trying to watch Uma Thurman slice up guys in black suits. More than one person suggested that he shut the fuck up, which he eventually did, but not before a good five minutes had passed.
But at least we didn’t go see the Matrix.
Brian Weatherson has a nice breakdown of the positions listed in the latest Jobs for Philosophers (yes, there exist a few of these rare beasts). It seems weird to me to lump logic and epistemology in with metaphysics, but that’s probably only because NYU’s department has always afforded each its own category. (Or branch, or whatever: the four of them being metaphysics, epistemology, logic, and ethics.) Even with Weatherson’s especially large metaphysics category, however, the raw number of jobs in ethics still comes out ahead - which isn’t surprising. Ethical and nonethical people alike love ethics, for whatever reason.
On a (probably) unrelated note, I was asked out by a homeless guy today. He wasn’t the crazy kind of homeless guy - or at least he wasn’t obviously the crazy kind of homeless guy - so it wasn’t intimidating or anything like that, so I guess I should be flattered. (Maybe.) He said he’d never gone out with a girl who was good at math.
It’s one thing when you sleep through your alarm and wake up just as your first class is ending, but it’s quite another when you step outside on the God-damned third of November and it’s just shy of eighty degrees Farenheit. Thanksgiving is in three weeks and it’s fucking eighty degrees out: no good can come of this.
It’s been suggested that my weblog has lost its delightfully hip and edgy quality: between grad school this and stable relationship that, it’s like I’m getting old or something. I mean, shit, my hair has been something approximating a natural color for over a year now. To these accuastions I can only respond with shame and repentance, and a promise that I’ll try to do better. Believe me, I miss those crazy pink hair days as much as you do (although it’s sort of nice to be able to ride the subway in peace).
So here’s my proposal: I think I should relaunch Caoine as a new, more extreme weblog. An X-TREME BLOG, in fact. I could write about skateboarding, and big pants, and strangely-colored sodas. (Speaking of which, apparently there’s a movement to bring back Surge.) I should probably start creating bad electronic music and buy more things that are blacklight reactive, too. But hold on - I guess I was just supposed to be more edgy, not more of a raver. I’m sorry. But I’m sure if you liked me as the weird goth chick fresh out of high school, you’ll like me even more as the not-very-goth blond chick with a shiny new BA in philosophy. Right?
I hope you all had a very happy Halloween, my little buckeroos and buckerettes. I certainly did - which is one of the reasons I didn’t get around to posting yesterday. While I missed most of the parade, I did catch the tail end as I was arriving in Manhattan to have pre-club drinks with Chris and Al and a couple of his friends - the one night of the year I can walk down 14th St in a corset without being reminded that it’s either a little early (or a little late) for Halloween. We stopped in at the 10th St Lounge for a bit until it got too crowded, then headed to the Halloween Sundown thing at Flamingo, which was actually much better than I expected. Flamingo always reminds me a little bit of the Pyramid (in a good way). Last night the music was a little older and a little gother than it usually is - which was fine with me - and there was a healthy dose of the stuff that was overplayed when I first moved to NYC but that has generally disappeared since then. Although I didn’t participate in the costume contest, there was a surprisingly convincing Trinity and an adorable Leeloo among the usual Evil Clowns and Evil Brides.
At some point - this is where my memory of things gets a little fuzzy around the edges - we moved to the Masquerade thing at Likwed, which was okay. The music was good, but I find the whole cybergoth thing a little tiresome, especially when it’s packed into a space that’s actually smaller than Flamingo (not counting the smoking room). We all got drunk and tired and sore enough to head out and into various cabs eventually, and I still haven’t completely freed myself of all that infernal eyeliner, but on the whole it was one of my better Halloweens.
