Oh so immature

Some of you in particular may appreciate this...
[stolen from a facebook group]

"Mrs Weasley returned from Diagon Alley around six o' clock, laden with books and carrying a long package wrapped in brown paper that Ron took from her with a moan of longing."

"What d'you mean, I'm not brave in bed?" said Harry, completely nonplussed.

There was no need to stick the wand in that hard,’ he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. ‘It hurt.’” (p. 64)

I’m his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be,’ said Snape curtly.” (p. 320)

“Lupin burst out laughing. ‘Sometimes you remind me a lot of James. He called it my ‘furry little problem’, in company.’”

"‘I dunno,’ said Harry. ‘Maybe it’s better when you do it yourself, I didn’t enjoy it much when Dumbledore took me along for the ride.’ ” (p. 355)”

"‘You see?’ Dumbledore said quietly, holding his wand a little higher. Harry saw a fissure in the cliff into which dark water was swirling.‘You will not object to getting a little wet?’‘No,’ said Harry.‘Then take off your Invisibility Cloak — there is no need for it now — and let us take the plunge.’ ” (p. 556)”

"...I know you did Mark Evans two nights ago --" "He was asking for it," snarled Dudley."

""I heard you last night," said Dudley breathlessly. "Talking in your sleep. Moaning."

He was on all fours again on Snape's office floor.

"Ah well...wand still in your jeans?"

"Manners, Potter," said Snape dangerously. "Now, I want you to close your eyes." Harry threw him a filthy look before doing as he was told. He did not like the idea of standing there with his eyes shut while Snape faced him, carrying a wand."

"There was a groan of bedsprings, and Harry's mattress descended a few inches as George sat down near his feet."So, got there yet?" said George eagerly."

"...screwing up her eyes each time with the same pained expression she had worn back in Harry's bedroom."

"Ron was lying sprawled on his back with his mouth wide open."

"Quite astonishing, the way you contrive to wriggle out of very tight holes."

"He's having a go at my mother!" Seamus yelled.

He was rather taller than Snape, who, Harry noticed, had balled his fist in the pocket of his cloak over what Harry was sure was the handle of his wand."

"Stand up and take out your wand, Potter."

"I thought not," said Snape, watching him closely. "You let me get in too far. You lost control."

"Ron wrenched the hangings apart, and Harry stared up at him in the moonlight, as he lay flat on his back."

"Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break," said George. "What do you mean, 'tried'?" said Ron quickly.

"Well, we'll soon find out, won't we?" said Snape smoothly. "Wand out, Potter." Harry moved into his usual position...

"But whether James really did take off Snape's pants, Harry never found out."

"...did things with a wand I've never seen before..."

"Snape eyed Harry, tracing his mouth with one long, thin finger as he did so."

"Well?" said Ron finally, looking up at Harry. "How was it?" Harry considered for a moment."Wet." He said truthfully.

"What did he do to you, Diddy?" Aunt Pentunia said in a quavering voice, now sponging sick from the front of Dudley's leather jacket. "Was it-- was it you-know-what, darling? Did he use-- his thing?"

"... every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again..."

"Your father on the other hand favored a mahogany wand. 11 inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration."

"He came last night, when you were in bed," said Mr. Weasley.

"He let out a long, slow breath and stared up at the brilliant blue sky. Every day this summer had been the same: the tension, the expectation, the temporary relief, and then mounting tension again...and always, growing more insistent all the time, the question of why nothing had happened yet."

"Anyway, its a nightmare of a year, the fifth," said George. "If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our peckers up somehow."

"Put that away, will you?" said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer. "Before Wormtail wets himself from excitement.""

"I see," said Uncle Vernon, looking from his white-faced wife to Harry and hitching up his trousers. He seemed to be swelling..."

"Ha ha ha, Harry, look at it--" said Ron, watching it disgorge its gaudy innards. "Harry, come and touch it, bet it's weird--"..."Harry, look what's happen--no--no, I don't like it--no, stop--stop--"

"One more lesson like that and I might just do a Weasley."

"...which left Harry free to sit down on the grass between the beech and the bushes and watch the foursome under the tree."

"Kreacher was disappearing through the door to the hall, looking back at them malevolently as he hitched up his loincloth..."

"Harry's heart began to pump very fast indeed. Defence against external penetration?"

"...She pressed hard on the top of his head. "Doesnt it ever lie flat?" she said desperately. Harry shook his head."

"Panting, Harry fell forwards over the hydrangea bush, straightened up and stared around. There were several faces peering trough various nearby windows. Harry stuffed his wand hastily back into his jeans and tried to look innocent."

""We're not going to use magic," Ron ejaculated loudly."

"I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter," said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes. "Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us...shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?"

“Well-- it’s just that you seem to be labouring under the delusion that I am going to-- what is the phrase?-- come quietly. I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius.”

"Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in Fred's hand."

"Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised..."

"...the handle's made of Spanish oak with anti-jinx varnish and in-built vibration controls..."

"Who?" said Harry quickly."Ginny Weasley, " said Katie.Harry gaped at her."Yeah, I know," said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm. "But she's pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course," she said, throwing him a very dirty look, "but as we can't have you..."

"I was sure if he realized that our relationship was - or ever had been - closer then that of headmaster and pupil..."

"A couple of weeks after his dream of Rookwood, Harry was to be found, yet again, kneeling on the floor of Snape's office..."

... his right, Malfoy's arm extended, too, reaching, groping... It was over in two, breathless, desperate, windswept seconds- Harry's fingers closed around the... ball...

"Both Sirius and Snape lowered their wands... the unexpected entrance of so many witnesses seemed to have brought them to their senses... "But what's going on?" asked Mr. Weasley. "Nothing, Arthur," said Sirius, who was breathing heavily as though he had just run a long distance."

""You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself buying her first wand. 10 and a quarter inches long! Swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.""

Something that's new...

...is having my mother come to me to talk about her marriage difficulties. Sort of a weird position to be in. But it made me feel like an adult, and glad to be her friend. It's nice to see the real her, and to hear her perspective on the dynamics I've been observing all these years.

Katherine's Cultural Revolution

(which will not involve the lynching of authority figures, iconoclasm or book-burning of any kind)

The two central principles of the modernists, according to Peter Gay in his study of modernist art, were/are ‘the lure of heresy that impelled their action as they confronted conventional sensibilities’ and a commitment to ‘principled self-scrutiny’. Or, put another way, "the desire to challenge the cultural establishment (Ezra Pound’s ‘make it new’) and to give expression to hitherto unencountered depths of the self" (Tim Black, same article).

The lure of heresy. Feels familiar. And, being a good product of my times, and clearly under the spell of this whole outlook, my reaction upon being faced with that fact is: well I'm not going to be like that, just because everyone else is.

A little paradoxical I know. But anyhow I shall explore that sentiment for a moment and see where it takes me.

A Proposition, addressed to Myself: Supposing, then, that you were to declare 'enough' regarding this whole modernist endeavour. That is, supposing you were to refuse to have your creativity hemmed in and cut off at the knees again and again by the thought that artistic endeavour is worthless if it's not doing something new. How would that be?

It's a bit like capitalism in a funny sort of a way, with its dependence on growth and progress, blithely ignoring the fact that such a system requires infinite resources which are simply not available. It feels a bit like that, this expectation to always be at the cutting edge. What happens when everything's been said, and we seem to have run out of layers of humanity to explore? The whole project falls in on itself - which we've seen occur in the last century, with the cutting edge being the courage to face nothingness, do nothing clever, and say absolutely nothing. Which is why postmodernism is still modernism - just the tail end of it. But what the hell comes after that?

It seems to all be a product of sheer boredom, and the restless quest for novelty, which comes from being spoilt. Too much free time, over-exposure (thanks to cheap printing, then recorded music, then the internet, then ipods...), over-indulgence, until we get blasé about everything and can no longer enjoy it, and then have to explore some more obscure genre and buy a bunch more CDs.

Well. Supposing, then, that you were to free yourself from these expectations in both your production and consumption of art as well as in economics, and in both spheres cultivate instead a vibrant capacity to enjoy whatever is available without always seeking more. How would that be?

Well, in a lot of ways it wouldn't be that different to what you're already doing, in fact, at least in terms of consumption. These have been the basic reasons behind your decision not to buy an iPod, or even a decent stereo - you haven't wanted to get sick of your favourite music too quickly. You've never watched much TV, even the good stuff, partly for the same reason, and have tried to keep alive the ability to simply enjoy-or-not-enjoy books, films, live concerts, art - instead of always scrutinising and evaluating them. Fortunately you've been aided by lack of funds in all this. Long may that continue.

But when it comes to your own creative impulses, this would be a revolution indeed. You could cast off your embarrassment at the fact that you can't seem to come up with anything groundbreaking, and thus be free to create what you are capable of, and learn to find your voice. You could stop thinking about your contribution to the global artistic project, and simply create in order to embelish the present, not to impress posterity; for your own enjoyment and that of your friends, not to amaze the whole world. That would be nice. Perhaps you could even give yourself a holiday from 'principled self-scrutiny' for a while, and see how you like it. Imagine that.

* * *

I guess it's no wonder I've been so captivated by folk music. Now all I need is to discover the local scene. It's a very personal thing, after all, and more at home in a live setting where you can see the artist's facial expressions and say hi and thankyou afterwards.

And there you have it. I seem to have come full circle, and created a new kind of pretentiousness for myself to strive after :P There's just no getting away from it. I think I am losing coherency here. Stop.

The Scientific Study of Literature?

This article may not be of much interest to most of you, though those of you interested in biblical scholarship might find it a welcome debate, but anyhow it got my imagination going.

Jonathan Gottschall, an American teacher of English, proposes that literary study is on the decline because it's left itself too open to unbridled speculation along postmodern lines. Its future lies in a better interaction with the sciences, and even scientific method (shock horror).

"If ideas like "the beauty myth" or "the death of the author" arise from loose theorizing and defunct models of human psychology, how have they managed to thrive for decades in the world's top literature departments? The answer lies partly in our standards of evidence: Instead of forcing professors to rigorously test their big ideas, as scientific methods do, literary methods encourage us merely to collect and highlight evidence that seems to confirm them. The result of this laxity, as Berkeley's Frederick Crews points out, is that "our bogus experiments succeed every time." And since it is so hard to be wrong in literary studies, it is equally hard to be right. So books and papers pile up but, more often than not, genuine advances in knowledge do not. To fix this problem, literary scholars need to develop more rigorous ways of testing their ideas, demand a higher standard of proof from their colleagues, and be willing to discard the theories that fail."

Some of the preliminary applications of this idea that he discusses seem rather limited - almost embarrassing in fact - but still I can sort of see why I so quickly got sick of literary study: I think it was largely because I was allowed to be intellectually lazy. The same goes for philosophy in some ways. While I knew my scholarship was lazy (highly stimulating in a personal sense but not particularly rigorous), there was no particular incentive to make it otherwise, because personal engagement is what is valued in those fields. At least as an undergrad.

Postmodernism sucks. This makes me want to go back and do my degree again.

Or maybe the humanities are best left as an unfettered intellectual playground?

Gigsy-wigsy. Isn't it, you know. Marvellous.

My sister and I plan to go and see these guys play at the Dux on Friday, around 8:30 I think. I am ever-so-slightly acquainted with James, the bass/piano player (I work with his father), and have heard him play some stuff with a couple of mates before - could be quite good. His girlfriend Jessie is a folk singer and I think she's doing a set too. Free gig.

Anyone keen? Meet us there if you are coz we'll be coming from the other side of town. I'm not entirely sure which room they're playing in but shouldn't be too hard to figure out.

James and Jessie also do a combined set, which they're performing at the Wunderbar in Lyttelton on Wednesday (see ad on the link above). Could also be fun - I'll probably go if anyone cares to join me.