Middle of my long long day in the archive yesterday. Was told by a knowing-looking student that I could get a really good and strong cup of coffee at a funky cafe in the unrenovated basement of the U of Chicago Divinity School, and here I found an NCAA tourney-like bracket for gods and godly figures, presented on a chalkboard behind the counter. The Final Four: Buddha defeats David, Obama beats Moses. Final goes to Buddha. The whole place was swarming with divinity students. They were hepped up on the java, which really was as good as I'd heard.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
divinity school does March madness
Middle of my long long day in the archive yesterday. Was told by a knowing-looking student that I could get a really good and strong cup of coffee at a funky cafe in the unrenovated basement of the U of Chicago Divinity School, and here I found an NCAA tourney-like bracket for gods and godly figures, presented on a chalkboard behind the counter. The Final Four: Buddha defeats David, Obama beats Moses. Final goes to Buddha. The whole place was swarming with divinity students. They were hepped up on the java, which really was as good as I'd heard.
"I teach horizontally, meaning that while I might begin with a fixed idea of what I'm going to teach that day, I let it drift rhizomatically way off topic, often pulling it back when it gets too far. I rely on non-fixed materials to teach this way; the whole world is at my fingertips. Should I go off on a tangent about John and Rauschenberg and their love relationship as expressed in Rauschenberg's bed, an image of that bed is always a click away. From there, we can head anywhere into the non-fixed universe, be it film, text or sound. And of course, that always takes us elsewhere. As Cage says, 'We are getting nowhere fast.'" 
that anyone has yet got the imaginative measure of that terrifying day six years ago. Certainly our Tolstoy has not crawled out of the rubble. The closest we have, Don DeLillo, succeeded as an essayist-journalist ("In the Ruins of the Future: Reflections on Terror and Loss in the Shadow of September,” Harper’s, December 2001) but, to my mind, failed as a novelist ("Falling Man"). One reason, perhaps, is that the remembered emotion was instantly buried under a pile of cultural junk.' - Tod Gitlin in his review of Susan Faludi's The Terror Dream (written for 
