Saturday, August 27, 2005

Kinaesthetics, Intensive Gatherings and Bodily Arts

T he body itself becomes a sundromos, an intensive gathering of forces (of desire, of vigorous practices, of musical sounds, of corporeal codes), trafficked through and by neurons, muscles and organs.  Entwined with the body in this way, rhetorical training thus exceeds the transmission of 'ideas,' rhetoric the bounds of 'words.' (Hawhee 160)

Yesterday I attended a Writing Program mini-seminar on the relationship between the writing center and athletics and the presence of student-athletes in writing courses. As a part of ongoing professional development, most writing teachers at SU attend two mini-seminars each semester.  The speaker--a graduate student in rhetoric at Arizona--brought many insights; he's been instrumental in launching a satellite writing center in the athletic department at UofA, and so the four-hour session was aptly named "Home Turf: Defining Access and Success for College Student-Athletes."  Early on, the conversation hinged on the spatial quality of athletic performance; for pre-reading, we looked at Hawhee's "Bodily Pedagogies: Rhetoric, Athletics, and the Sophists' Three Rs," from College English, Andrew Zimbalist's chapter "The Student as Athlete" from Unpaid Professionals, Wilfred Bailey's "Summary: Time Constraints, Or Why Most College Athletes Cannot Also Be Students," (College Sports, Inc.) and a few articles from ESPN.com on whistle-blowers. We also talked through perceptions of student-athlete privilege, so-called "problematic sports" of men's basketball and football (with no direct justification for crediting this commonplace to any particular institution, much less SU), and part-time faculty bearing added labor because of support measures (email check-ins from coaches, mid-semester progress reports, etc.) initiated from athletics.

I was generally in agreement with the speaker's take on several of these complicated problems, and I would like for these notes to reflect such a stance, as well as to support efforts at broader recognitions of the false and damaging commonplaces circulated about student-athletes--athletics as anti-intellectual, a contradiction to scholarly rigor, a kind of unfortunate burden on the institution's already-burdened, or a merely exploitative money-maker.  If anything is clear from yesterday's talk, it's that institutional situations are vastly different from region to region and from one governance level to another (NCAA, NAIA, DI-DIII, etc). Generalizations about student-athletes or athletics departments circulate with great frequency, but many of them plainly don't hold up here or there.

Kinesthetic literacy--or a kind of bodily/performative intelligence--came up early in the talk, but with twenty-five of us in attendance and so much conversation, we didn't have adequate chance to develop this line of thought.  Judging only by her article (I haven't read Bodily Arts yet), Hawhee's stuff, which examines the overlaps between the bodily and the rhetorical arts in the classical tradition, leads us to a question:  how might composition embrace kinesthetic literacy?  How might writing pedagogies account for the kinesthetic?  Citing Sirc's work on Pollock, she explains the approach of composition as "inhabiting, an immersive approach wherein the lines between (and definitions of) artist and work become less clear" (159).  It's a difficult question to answer, but I appreciate that Friday's speaker brought it up through references to Hawhee and (in turn) Sirc.

More from Hawhee:

"As locations of physical training--young boys learned and practiced running, jumping, wrestling, and boxing, for starters--the gymnasia were already important sites for the production of citizen subjects, and moreover, the production took place in a decidedly corporeal style.  From this spatial intermingling of practices there emerged a curious syncretism between athletics and rhetoric, a particular crossover in pedagogical practices and learning styles, a crossover that contributed to the development of rhetoric as a bodily art: an art learned, practiced, and performed by and with the body as well as the mind". (144)

I'm still thinking about two other issues from the session.  The first (-1-) concerns the idea that athletics departments take on attitudes of eligibility maintenance rather than embracing a spirit of intellectual rigor and excellence.  I'm snagged on excellence (and no, I haven't read Readings' U. in Ruins...all second-hand knowledge of it).  Here too, athletic programs involve a mix; it's knotted--the need-a-C-to-be-eligible power forward sits in class alongside the straight-As setter.  So maybe there is an ethic of grade survival (yeah, something like that), but it doesn't mean that anyone (coach, AD, etc.) in an athletic program wouldn't prefer to hold up a 3.9 average GPA for a program (rather than 2.4, say).  Still, it'd help to situationalize this...name names, point to this program or that one.

The second issue (-2-) concerns a paradox: the incommensurability of institutionally enforced amateurism and, on the other hand, what was yesterday called "infantilizing" support systems.  I'm leaving out a lot of details, but the discussion brought out a few concerns about emails to instructors (inquiring about class status or grades) and attendance-checkers as being anti-responsibility and an interference with self-advocacy.  And yet, that roles are systematically defined in such a way that student-athletes are subject to a kind of forced amateurism--rule-fixed laborers--justifies the related supports and insurances.  Yet more knotty stuff, but I was interested in the questions surrounding this issue: how do we learn to advocate for ourselves?  how does agency form and from where or under what conditions?  Notably, at least a few of the anecdotes shared during the session suggested instructor discomfort in the student-athlete's more nurturant network.  In other words, with student-athletes our primacy as (caring writing) instructors is set in tension with this other unfamiliar (except in myth) institutional force--coaches who may be the student-athlete's most trusted ally in the university system and related academic support staff who attempt (often with resulting consternation) to act as an intermediary wedge between the student-athlete and unkind/unaccommodating (or so-perceived) academic policies.

A few other reading notes from "Bodily Pedagogies":

Rhythm, repetition and response (145)

"the wrestler will acquire a bodily rhythm that enables a forgetting of directives." (149)

"What Isocrates articulates here is a pedagogy of association--a cultivation of habits and practices by placing oneself in relation to those who practice the arts one is pursuing; these arts were named earlier in the treatises as horsemanship, athletics, hunting, and philosophy, or study of discourse ([Isocrates] 45)" (153).

"In other words, the 'end result' of such a pedagogy is not a finished product, but a dispositional capacity for iteration--the ability to continually repeat, transform, and respond" (155).

Posted by at 9:00 PM | to Sport

Tuesday, August 9, 2005

Rubycon

Y esterday Ph. picked out cleats for the fall.  No slowing down in these; they won't allow it.  I've never seen shoes that made me feel so fast and so much like running just by looking at them.

On the subject of fast, he's got to muster a six minute mile in about two weeks.  To pep him up for it, I broke out one of the when-I-was-young parentals (that genre of uphill both ways; obscure, groan-summoning lore of self).  Told him that in college, guards had to break 5:30 and bigs had to make a mile under six minutes before we could move workouts indoors in the fall.  And lap three, lap three was my nemesis--the impossible leg of end's not quite in sight. (To say nothing of the heated debates about who was a guard and who was a big.  Imagine the enthusiasm of newly converted 6-2 power forwards.)  But like so many kids who hear the when-I-was-young parental, he rendered my wisdom inapplicable: "We're running it on a straight-away."  Hence, no lap three.  But still, that anyone as lumbering as me can hit 6:00 ought to be of some encouragement, don't you think?  And if only I'd had shoes this glimmering-fast...

Added: Observing that I'm blogging about his cleats, Ph. just leaned in to look.  Me: "Shiny, aren't they." Ph.: "I just cleaned them." (He had a summer league match last night.)

Posted by at 9:00 AM | to Sport

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Catch Up

R eturned to Syracuse and a load of work--for the courses I'm teaching online and for 760: Genre Theory.  I'm watching the Pistons-Spurs out of one eye, futzing with a CMap with the other, and feverishly making up for Friday and Saturday offline.  I can never predict the ratio between workload and blogging impulse; every time I predict a lull, I take it up a notch in this space--oddly. I say this because the days ahead appear to be solidly, solidly packed.

Here are a few photos from the camp: individually and in a slideshow.

I like this one the best.  It's a shot of A., a young pre-camper who traveled with her family from Oklahoma.  Two of the athlete/coaches from each sport were talking on the microphone during lunch on Friday.  When one of them asked the campers, "Are you having a good time?" (or something), nearly everyone shouted "Yeah!" emphatically.  Not A. (pictured here, in red).  She was grouching because her mom and dad wouldn't let her interrupt the speakers to get a picture.  Can't blame her; the microphone was inaudibly low, so there was all kinds of frolicking in the stands.  Waited until the speakers were done to get this shot.

Posted by at 11:06 PM | to Sport

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

You Say Redundant, I Say Repetitive

T hird paragraph same as the second and very much like the first.  Oog.  That's how writing has gone today.  Did I mention that my writing today has been a steady murmurmur of sameness and similitude?  Over and over and over.  And over. (I'm giving it a rest, that writing.)

I'm drafting an essay for 711, the net-rhets course.  And I've been thinking about this project for a lo-o-ong time, so it should be easy.  Yeah?  I was shooting for five pages by tomorrow afternoon and, well, I've popped off damn near 1800 words.  All's fine?  Not so.  You see, the problem is that I've dashed 1000 words with a self-deprecating strikethrough effect. Crap.  Moving on...

The other string of writing: three imprecise loops saying the same thing again and again.  I'm not stuck; I can get stuff down.  Familiar stuff.  Stuff I've already written.

***

A fresh start:

On the subject of redundancy, I flipped back to a year-old entry.  April 27, 2004.  There, I tentatively hedged that I was pulling for the Detroit Pistons to ramble through the NBA Playoffs.  Why not?  Didn't jinx them last season.  I'm going with them again, with even greater conviction this year.  I'm a bit wary about the path likely to materialize: second round match-up against the Pacers followed by an Eastern Conference Finals match-up against the Heat.  I expect the Miami series to be close, and if Mourning continues to play well, who knows.  And out of the West, maybe Denver (long shot; more likely the Suns, I suppose).  Although I haven't seen the Suns or the Sonics play this year.  Plus, the Spurs are slamming Denver right now, which'll even that series 1-1.

***

Third paragraph same as the second and very much like the first.  Oog.  That's how writing has gone today.  Did I mention that my writing today has been a steady drone of sameness and similitude?  Over and over and over.  And over. (I'm giving it a rest, that writing.)

I'm drafting an essay for 711, the net-rhets course.  And I've been thinking about this project for a lo-o-ong time, so it should be easy.  Yeah?  I was shooting for five pages by tomorrow afternoon and, well, I've popped off closet to 1800 words.  All's fine?  No.  You see, the problem is that I've dashed 1000 words with a self-deprecating strikethrough effect. Moving along...

The other bit of writing: three imprecise loops saying the same thing again and again.  I'm not stuck; I can get stuff down.  Familiar stuff.  See what I mean?

Posted by at 10:36 PM | to Sport

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

L.A. Crosse

F irst lacrosse event of the spring drew us out to the NHS fields late this afternoon.  Ph.'s team--in the white jerseys (he's no. 3, mid-pile here)--lost the scrimmage, 7-6.  I'm not always sure what's going on out there: several faintly familiar rules rolled into one--slashing, penalty boxes, face-offs, out-of-bounds, spacing and ball reversal.  Really I have no clue.  But Ph. insists that it's fun, and he managed to net a goal this afternoon, so I guess that's notable.  I put a few other pics in a slideshow for you diehards.

Added:  Just learned over dinner that Ph. went without wearing the sports goggles or glasses he needs to...erm...see the ball clearly.

Posted by at 7:34 PM | to Sport

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Syracuse Regional

M ore at Flickr.

So it'll be Badgers-Tarheels in the regional final at the Carrier Dome tomorrow afternoon.  Last night's games were well worth the walk to campus.  The Wisconsin-N.C. State game was unfortunately discoherent, the first half favoring the Wolfpack and the second dominated by the Badgers.  N.C. State fell apart in the second half; couldn't make a shot, couldn't defend.  By the end of the game, the regular, varied dances and waves by the Wisconsin contingent got me thinking that Badger fans are like a cult.  I offer this only provisionally and with a quasi-affectionate ambivalence toward Wisconsin sports, of course.  They sang through bizarr-o chants and cheers, though--stuff nobody who decided to be a Badger fan for just one day would ever figure out in the two hours of a single game.

And almost everyone walked away from the Villanova-UNC game with the sense that the officials intervened excessively in the last two minutes.  At least two calls (the foul shot lane violation and the travel) could have gone either way, and both calls went against Nova for plays that would have favored them.  The Tarheels looked like they'd regressed into the lackluster style they showed in the ACC Tournament--lots of talent, but no spark, no sense of urgency, no intensity.  So they make great plays to bail themselves out, squeak by.  Plus, we were sitting at the border between local Villanova/Big East fans and UNC fans, so there was lots of antagonistic banter reduced to jeering reduced to blathering idiocy. Contributing factor could have been the four pints of JD and Captain Morgan's smuggled by the four hoops fans to my right.

Posted by at 12:58 PM | to Sport

Friday, March 25, 2005

Good to Better Friday

I have no idea what I did to deserve it, but I just lucked into a single ticket to the games at the Carrier Dome later tonight: NC State vs. Wisconsin and UNC vs. Villanova.  For my brackets, I need both teams from North Carolina to win.  But I wouldn't go away unhappy if I witnessed 'Nova showing up Roy Williams and crew.  If you're watching at home, I'll be under the basket, sixth row in section 113.

Posted by at 1:40 PM | to Sport

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Madder Than Ever

W as last year (a second-to-last finish) a fluke?  Join the bracket to find out.   

Yahoo! Tournament Pick'em
Group: Bloggers' Mad Dance II (ID# 1766 for Yahoo! only)
Password: ewm
Set your picks after bracket assignments on March 13. Sign up before the start of round one March 17.

I've set up a tournament group at Yahoo! (men's tourney). You are invited to join the Bloggers' Mad Dance II (ID# 1766 for Yahoo! only). It's all free, no $ involved. The password is ewm. Shoot me an email if you have any questions: dmueller at earthwidemoth dot com. All are welcome, bloggers and non-bloggers alike. The group will hold 50 people. At stake, pride and infamy, all of which went the way of the pool's last winner, dr. fabulous, a year ago. 

For whatever it's worth, I set up a women's tourney bracket last year and it fizzled with just two sign-ups, so I'm not bothering this year.  Build one of your own and let me know about it, though, and I'll throw a set of picks in the mix.

Posted by at 8:09 AM | to Sport

Sunday, March 13, 2005

65 Minus 64

P enciled in a ghost bracket; eerie how many higher seeds I was compelled to choose.  I've read up on the competition (Hey you, blogosphere, how come you're not signing up for the bracket posted here!?...still time to join, but we're going ahead with it no matter what). 

Mulling over these:
UAB vs. LSU in an 11 v. 6.  Haven't watched LSU play this season.  UAB gets after it.
Advancing No. 12s: ODU or UWM.  I expect G. Washington and Ga. Tech to be a game.
Solid 10-seeds: Iowa and NC State.  Two-seeds Kentucky and UConn, get loose, get ready.
Washington Huskies a No. 1 seed?  First purple-wearing No. 1 since ???.  Can't see 'em getting past Ga. Tech or Louisville.
Maybe Texas Tech'll beat Gonzaga, second round.  Maybe.
UNC was unbelievably flat against Clemson and Ga. Tech in the ACC Tourney.  And never been impressed with Carolina's coach.
Play-in game: Oakland edges Alabama A&M.  Or not.
Not much feeling about the final four yet.  Probably better sleep on it.  I don't think Illinois or Washington will make it to St. Louis, and I don't want Duke to get there.

Posted by at 10:22 PM | to Sport

Sunday, March 6, 2005

Entanglement

N ot because I picked up a book by this name at B&N yesterday afternoon, using up the last few bucks from a gift card given to me several months ago as a going away present from my athletics gig back in KC, and not because Ph. was materially doppel-ed in his indoor soccer match early this afternoon, although no. 2 did deliver both goals in a 2-1 win in this the second match of the season, and not because last night's restaurant manager rudely dimmed the lights while I stood and read chs. 1 and 2 with the when-will-it-flicker-and-buzz-a-table's-ready disc inert in my right hand, waiting for D. to return from the store where she was buying miniature wire glasses and a tiny straw hat for performing a puppet reading the one about the old lady and the fly-spider-bird-cat-dog-cow-horse, but instead, entanglement because the camera, which wouldn't produce many quality shots through the soccer netting and plexiglass, groped this one of Ph. divided and multiplied, and also because I keep thinking about this: simply-simply "a phenomenon in which two [or more?] entities are inexorably linked no matter how far away from each other they may be" (1).

Posted by at 10:33 PM | to Sport

Saturday, February 26, 2005

On Chaney Sending in Ingram

A lrighty.  So that last entry about perl/M.Pearl was a bottom-scraper EWM.  Then let me say something about Temple Owls' coach John Chaney.  "If you're going to use a foul, make it count."  He crossed a line; it's not excusable. Fine.  Went too far by coaching 6-8, 250-pound Nehemiah Ingram to impact the loss against St. Joseph's by going in there and stopping somebody. "I don't care if you foul out.  You can't let him look like an All-American on us.  He's kicking our ass.  I want somebody who will play defense.  I want somebody to stop somebody.  You've got just a few minutes to leave a mark."  So I agree that it's terribly unfortunate that senior John Bryant of St. Joe's suffered a broken arm, and I didn't even see the play, which means I'm just spouting off about some stuff I know barely anything about.  But my point is less to defend Chaney or Ingram than it is call out the resulting spike of oh-my-goodnesses aimed at college basketball, as if it's not a contact sport, as if coaches don't commonly urge players to play physically, as if intentional fouls are never coached. 

Pat Forde's column is especially exemplary in this regard:

I watched one recent college practice that included very matter-of-fact coaching orders to "stand up" all cutters coming through the lane. Translated, that's a forearm shiver to the chest, or higher. It's such a common off-the-ball practice today that officials almost never call it a foul.

Impede progress of a lane-cutting player?  That should be a foul?  How in heck are you supposed to play post defense, Pat?  What is post defense if it doesn't involve a heckuva lot of wrangling for position, especially between the colossus bodies of forwards and centers?  So that's all.  Chaney messed up.  Ingram went too far.  And five fouls in four minutes, including an arm-breaker gives it away.  But coaches urge extra-physical play all the time (shoot, SU's Hakeem Warrick has been getting stood up, pulled down, wrestled all season), and it goes by mostly unnoticed--un-addressed by officials, little mentioned by reporters, and unflagged as proof of up-trend of violence in sport.  In short, the "stand up" method observed by Forde was inconsequential until it was translatable to a grander association with Ingram. 

Posted by at 4:50 PM | to Sport

Thursday, February 3, 2005

Forming with Small Hands

I 've been meaning to weave three disparate threads together, triple helix style; they converged--blink!--for an instant while I was reading the other day, and it seemed like more than another drill.  Who's running this time?  Ann Berthoff, Steve Berlin Johnson, and one more (Coach: I don't care who goes, dammit.  Fill in the lines.)  First, I've got to tell you a bit about the weave:

In college, we'd run a lot of early morning practices--stretched and ready by 6 a.m.  We shared one small gym among several sports, so folks took turns getting the prime 3-5 afternoon slot.  Until volleyball season ended, basketballers worked out in the morning.  I won't go too far into the context of practices or the conditions in the gym.  Think of a box with three outer walls aligning tightly with the out of bounds line, a tight 88' court (right...88) where the temperature inside matched whatever was outside, at least until the hot-water heat system kicked in (6:30 or 6:45). 

Unsurprisingly, we ran a lot of drills, especially early in the season and throughout the preseason months leading up to a first game sometime in early November.  With just two baskets, practices tested the limits of simultaneous activity.  For everyone to be involved, we often worked through stations, did a lot of ball work, agility circuits, speed and quickness, heavy ball and weight vests--rituals that could be performed without a hoop.  Shooting time was spare; forcing those who cared enough to work on their jumpers into a separate, custom slot squeezed by all other practices.  Half hour wherever it would fit. 

The weave is a common basketball drill; the commonest (all that bullshit "gym time" just jacking up shots, that's not making you a better player). The conditions of the drill: three lines beginning with regular spacing, pass, go behind, pass, go behind, pass, go behind.  The trivium advances the length of the court through a braided pattern; players ex through the middle of the court, but otherwise they push into one outer lane or the other outer lane--broad S-ing-curves the length of the court.  Strike a 45-degree slant from the hash mark, and punctuate with a simple lay-up.  Then back again.

The weave is a hands drill (but not just a hands drill).  Don't let the ball hit the floor (again and again, voice and echo in escalating rejoinders). Except on the bounce pass leading the lay-up, the ball can't touch.  When the ball touched the floor (cause: fumble), the trio would return to the beginning and start again, continuing until they worked the pattern quasi-algorithmically.  A once and back was easy; down and back twice, tougher.  Three trips?  So the condition of flawless execution and return trips stretched as far as was needed to exceed the lowest threshold for physical or mental fatigue by one among the group of three.  Key: seek a strong group for the run--good hands, reliable finishers.  If you run with an unreliable finisher, pace so the lay-up goes to somebody who will score it.  Every time.  Make plays easy for those around you.

Berthoff, who, when I was reading this week, said this: 

That's why it's useful, I think, to keep in mind that a paragraph gathers like a hand.  Note that the gathering hand operates in different ways: the hand that holds a couple of eggs or tennis balls works differently from the hand that holds a bridle or a motorbike handle.  When you measure out spaghetti by the handful, scoop up water by the handful, hold a load of books on your hip, knead bread, shape a stack of papers, build a sand castle, your hands move in different planes and with different motions, according to the nature of the material being gathered.  But in any case, the hand can gather because of the opposable thumb. (The thumb of the human hand can be brought into opposition with the fingers.) A paragraph gathers by opposing a concept and the elements that develop and substantiate it.  The kind of gathering a paragraph makes is thus dependent on the kinds of elements and the way in which they have been gathered. (Making of Meaning 6)

But we're gathering a basketball.  (Can you catch the ball? Make your hands big. Squeeze the ball when you catch it.) Clean pass, clean catch.  Collect the ball. Keep it simple.  Refrain from the flashy. Work together. One drop and all three reset for another try.  Worst case.  Get out of my gym.

I didn't really need a metaphor...

Steve Berlin Johnson on "Tools for Thought" and DevonThink, in his NYT article, tells us about a gather-minded text-search app that can intuit the lexical resemblances associating in a sampling of documents. 

No doubt some will say that these tools remind them of the way they use Google already, and the comparison is apt. (One of the new applications that came out last year was Google Desktop -- using the search engine's tools to filter through your personal files.) But there's a fundamental difference between searching a universe of documents created by strangers and searching your own personal library. When you're freewheeling through ideas that you yourself have collated -- particularly when you'd long ago forgotten about them -- there's something about the experience that seems uncannily like freewheeling through the corridors of your own memory. It feels like thinking. (Johnson)

I didn't really need a metaphor to extend my sense of the ways gathering and collecting and forming have changed.  But this one took me, induced me to "freewheeling through the corridors of [my] own memory."  Metaphors, I was reminded, when I tried to open a little bit of this up, are only useful to the extent that they give us expanded understandings of the relationships between things (and concepts?).  They are neither inherently true nor false; metaphors merely serve us more or less well depending on how they compel us, perhaps idiosyncratically, to think differently, with new understanding (not only my ideas, exactly...comes from a talk in the 720 course this week). I guess I'll stop here.

Posted by at 10:29 PM | to Sport

Thursday, December 30, 2004

Tig-Zag

C huckle to myself every time I hear the story about Paige Arena--the new multi-million dollar basketball arena for the Mizzou-rah Tigers.  Casters on ESPN2--calling Gonzaga and Missouri hoops contest--just recapped: 25 million dollars and naming rights from the parents of a 22-year old co-ed at Southern Cal who--allegedly--doled out several thousand dollars over three years for various academic "$upport."  Notwithstanding that 25 million buys an abundance of fog-iveness in middle Missouri--a low-lying region in the topography of roundball dignity--objections to the naming of the facility prompted officials to switch to something more mundane, like Missouri Gym or Missouri Fieldhouse or whatever it's called now.

Ph. and I picked up groceries at Price Chopper yesterday afternoon (D. and I usually alternate weeks, but she covered throughout the busy stretch of the semester; consequently, I'm on a pay-back streak).  Now that we've returned from a few days in Michigan--Detroit up to Isabella Co. and back--the cupboards are bare.  After dropping off Super Size Me at the movie rental place, we made our way through PC.  PC patrons tend to be pushy, determined, oblivious to others.  It's a busy place.  The trip is a mad, mad, dash and swerve--weave around the slow-movers and dodge those carting more vigorously than we.  And the checkout staff, usually they're ambivalent, slow, and uncareful with the sack-work.  Bag of sugar on the eggs, not that I complain.  But yesterday's checkout was the most inspiring interaction I've ever experienced in my days as a grocery shopper.  Checker scanned the items, bagged them carefully (crushables, light stuff and so on, appropriately together), and loaded the cart with the bags with more grace and efficiency than anyone I've ever seen.  Ninety bucks worth of stuff (c'mon, we had nothing at all to eat at home), and this guy managed it all without pause. A checkout lane performance like none before.       

Then today, at the Salvation Army store, I lucked into an old Tower tripod for just under five bucks.  Came with a free bottle of Mountain Dew Pitch Black.  Feel guilty having such fortune. Only, what is Mountain Dew Pitch Black, exactly? And what do I need a Tower tripod for, exactly?

Lately I'm busying myself with a course re-dev--a fancy-making and conversion into eCollege.  Was supposed to have a crack at it last summer, but old U.'s schedule unraveled, and so I told them I'd get to it only after the early-December furor.  Means now. And I am getting to it--between today and Monday.  Also committing to plans for a section of WRT205 this spring, pouring through possible combos of readings and assignments.  Loosen-tighten-loosen while down-time affords me that luxury.  Snapped up a Linksys router w/ wireless for our apartment the other day, too.  The wired access and wifi came together easily, but the file sharing required more finesse.  Firewalls were taking turns heading off CMD line pings, but finally I got it going.  It'll be nice having added in-apt mobility.

Posted by at 9:27 PM | to Sport

Saturday, November 27, 2004

SU has football?

B een such a busy semester, I had no idea (well, except that I've enjoyed working with a few members of the team in 105). Explanation: neither my BA or MA alma maters field football squads. Turns out the Orange pounded Boston College today, 43-17 (hooray!)  Should've beat Temple, but, nonetheless, we earned a quarter-slice of the prestigious Big East title. The radio voices around town are flapping about a BCS bid. Since Nebraska was woeful this fall, we might have a shot at the Houston Bowl. 

The lesser Orange-surprise today: on the hardwood, the No. 5 basketballers roughed up the Siena Saints by 22 points; moved to 5-0.

Posted by at 5:53 PM | to Sport

Friday, October 22, 2004

Spectral Season

D . and I drove over to Marcellus this afternoon to take in one of Ph.'s last soccer matches of the fall.  I can't overstate the value of getting off campus, winding through the CNY countryside this time of year.  Several amazing scapes surround on Syracuse's edges; we turned off at Marcellus Falls just before arriving at the field.  I probably won't be able to take in either of the last two matches (next week), and I still hadn't snapped any pics this season, so we had several good reasons to make the 30 minute drive. 

The digital camera's been on the shelf all fall.  I've used it intermittently--wacky in-house blogabilia, but nothing like I was doing a year ago when chronicling these fellas (#4 nationally, wtg E. et al.) was my mainstay.  So I dusted of the electra-kodachrome, shuttered a few moments from today's match.  Below, two of my favorites.  More photoshere.

Posted by at 8:32 PM | to Sport

Sunday, September 26, 2004

Lose and Lose and

P hiladelphia Eagles (3-0) def. Detroit Lions (2-1), 30-13

But I didn't watch much because, instead, I was piling word by carefully chosen word through a summary of the last chapter from The Order of Things for class tomorrow night. I'll post it in the extended entry area since I wouldn't want to misrepresent this as a academic blog exactly.  Not yet.  Plus, the summary is terminologically hip-boots marshy; it gets by on borrowed terms, awkwardly jumbled, squishy.  But it'll do the trick, I think, and I was just so Fouc-ing relieved to be at the end of The Order of Things that a bit of disorderliness was due.  Seriously, though, I hope we will sort out whether F.'s rhetoric as epistemic tags him as a sophist (au wisdom) or a skeptic (au infinite regress)...or neither.  Both?

***

When I clicked on the slogan generator this morning, it brought up "Too Orangey For Braddock Essays."  A'right!  However, I'd never heard the slogan.  Found it gets play in this fun advertisement (mpg, 4.2mb) for Kia-ora.  Is it orange soda?  

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Eating baked potatoes for tonight's meal when Andy Rooney came on the tube.  I haven't watched 60 Minutes in a long time, and tonight, having