(9:27 PM) | Adam Kotsko:

Substitution

1. I caught the Metra train to Hyde Park. ($4.10)
   
   
2. I went to CTS to drop off my Derrida paper and a copy of the untranslated portions of Donner la mort to Ted Jennings; we discussed various matters, including his book on Derrida and Paul (hopefully forthcoming from the Cultural Memory in the Present Series, though I hate to jink it), his opinion that I should become the equivalent of a debtor nation by pursuing a PhD at CTS, politics, Hardt and Negri, etc. ($2.70 for the copies)
   
   
3. I went to the Seminary Co-op bookstore, where I purchased Judith Butler's book on Hegel, Subjects of Desire, and Cesare Casarino's Modernity at Sea -- the former out of a combined desire to read a book on Hegel that à Gauche has not yet read and to deepen my already considerable bond with the lesbian community, the latter because I really like Melville and wanted to read some fucked-up comp-lit style discussion of his work. I wanted to pick up Schmitt's Political Theology, but they didn't have it. ($42.00)
   
   
4. I went to Medici and had a slice of pizza. ($2.50)
   
   
5. I got on the Metra to go to Randolph, where I met up with a student from McCormick who has been in several of Ted's classes with me. We discussed Derrida and related matters. Every time I mentioned something about my life, he said, "Yeah, Ted told me about that," which became curiouser and curiouser -- I always assume that people don't talk about me unless I'm actually there, because I'm uninteresting. I'm not kidding or trying to be falsely modest. ($2.10)
   
   
6. I spent a while at the Art Institute of Chicago, focussing mainly on 20th century works, with occasional forays into Impressionism. I like the Balthus pieces they have on display, as well as the one Beckmann. A post of art criticism is forthcoming; it will be my first attempt at the genre.
   
   While I was actually in the museum, however, I reflected on how wonderful it was to be there by myself. I didn't have to talk to anyone and especially didn't have to instruct anyone (many times, people who go to the museum with me have the few, mistaken or not, that I know a lot more about art than they do -- whether or not it's actually true, it winds up putting me in the position of tour guide). I could let my thoughts roam freely, stand in front of a painting for ten minutes without having to explain why, hang around in the same part of the museum the whole time without anyone asking me if we could go see the Chinese stuff or the armor.
   
   It was interesting to watch people, too. I mainly watched the young women, whose name was Legion and who were about 20 times more attractive than the kind of girls I usually picture spending a lot of time in an art museum on a summer afternoon, but there are just so many different kinds of people in there -- my favorite were the three or four young men who systematically walked up to every sexually suggestive painting and laughed out loud. They were there to please their girlfriends, and damn it, they were going to enjoy themselves if it killed them. (Free)
   
   
7. I went to the Border's at Watertower Place to kill some time until the Museum of Contemporary Art started their free period. There, I purchased Hardt and Negri's Multitude, which was mysteriously absent from the Co-op. It was hardcover, but I think that Mike and Toni deserve the extra royalties. Between Border's and the Co-op, I also considered buying a minimum of six other books, all of which I need to read (Deleuze, Difference and Repetition; Derrida, Spectres of Marx; Arendt, Origins of Totalitarianism; Jung, Basic Writings; Lacan, Écrits; Negri, Insurgencies; Lyotard, The Confession of Augustine; there were others). ($28.00)
   
   
8. I visited the Museum of Contemporary Art. I feel like a philistine, but nothing really caught my eye. I felt like everyone was trying too hard. I mean, if your artwork requires a major theoretical investment in order to be understood, why not cut to the chase and do theory? Are you really "exploring the way people relate to the spaces in which they work" or whatever the fuck? Or are you doing art? I think there's a difference, just like there's a difference between exploring the family structures of late capitalism and writing a novel. If I ever saw a novel that had a theoretical preface, especially one containing the word "postmodern," I'd throw it in the trash. You have to earn your fucking theory by doing art! You have to earn your right to say your exploring whatever vague thing by actually doing it before declaring that you're doing it! This is what happens to art when it all takes place in graduate programs; the universitization of knowledge continues apace. [UPDATE: In response to Cap'n Pete's comments, I realize that I was too hasty -- I really enjoyed their small exhibit of Anna Jóelsdóttir, which was not notably universitized.] (Free)
   
   
9. I stopped in at Virgin "Megastore" and purchased f#a# by Godspeed You Black Emperor! I paid cash because I was sick of using my credit card. ($18.00)
   
   
10. I realized that as a result of paying cash, I didn't have enough cash on hand for a train ticket home. I went to an ATM, where I had to pay a fee. ($2.00)
    
    
11. At this point, I was pretty hungry, so I stopped in Subway and had a hearty meal. A woman in town with her daughter asked me if it was too far to walk to the Metra station from Subway, which was located at approximately Roosevelt and Michigan. Since I had walked nearly all the way back and forth from the train station to Lake Shore Drive, I thought it was a ridiculous question; I said, "No, it's not far, I'm planning on walking there myself once I'm done." She was unconvinced; she wanted directions. There really weren't directions to give -- go that way until you see it. Was I sure it wasn't too far? YES. Let me drink my pink lemonade in peace! ($7.00)
    
    
12. I finally made my way back to the train station. During the wait, I removed all price tags and plastic wrappings from my purchases. As an ascetical Roman Catholic, I frown upon consumerism, but I have to admit -- buying things feels pretty good, even in the case of a CD I could easily have gotten for free through Robb's mediation. It's kind of like how people frown upon imagining you're with someone else when you're having sex -- I've discussed this with someone, and we both agreed that it's actually pretty nice.
    
    During the entire train ride, both ways, I read Žižek's For they know not what they do, from back when he was actually trying. I am enjoying it. I skipped the preface to the second edition -- when I scanned it and saw a reference to Chesterton, I knew it would be classic "late Žižek," and I think I've had about enough of that bullshit for the moment. Of course, one must ask -- is not the bullshit of the "late Žižek" only the working out of the fundamental deadlock around which Žižek's project rotates? Is it not the case that the so-called "decadence" of the later hackwork is in fact always already present in the "real theory" that characterizes his earlier books? In other words, is it not the case that everything that's annoying about the late Žižek is already present in the early Žižek, only in the early works it still seems fresh and new and is off-set by his startling theoretical insights (which can be summarized in the sentence: "Everyone's wrong about Hegel!")? ($4.10)

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