Tuesday, November 16, 2004
, and she never woke up.
never a dull moment.
in Holland, things have gotten all weird and violent again. and it doesnt even have to do with cheese. the Muslim/Dutch divide is growing ever larger after Vincent Van Gogh's chubby grand-grand son made this film and got plenty of religious folk in a tiff. in fact, it ended in Theo Van Gogh being brutally murdered by a Morrocan extremist as a reaction for his criticisms of Islamic religion. identity--whether something constructed by religion or baseball--is something that necessitates discourse. (scratches chin...)it boils down to the idea that the transcendental abilities of art, especially when dealing with the urgent problem of the treatment of women in Middle Eastern countries, involve recontextualizing imagery, ideas and history into new ways of seeing ourselves. image is the reality by which we live. and, it is in my humble and latin-american opinion that "the joy of questioning", as Nietzsche once mumbled beneath his forest-like moustache, be welcomed in religious discourse. indeed, that it be required. not trying to step on any toes or ruffle anyone's ideology, but if something is to endure it must be willing to change. i was talking about cheese.
its sticky, i know. but, let's take critical theory out of its posh living room in English and Philosophy departments in the academy for once and thrust it into the streets and see if we can change some things. at least rustle a tree or something.
look up sometimes.
