On the Possible Shamness of Academic Conferences

Two hours earlier, I presented a paper called “On the Possible Shamness of Academic Conferences” in the beautiful, exoticized islands of the Philippines. I arrived at the conference just hours before the start of the program and after watching all the carbon emissions from the airplane I rode in going here (the experience reminded me of this. I am from the unknown island of Untied Dingcome.

Just after my presentation, I thought of the possible shamness of academic conferences, precisely the title of my paper. Before finally deciding to attend this conference, I had to think not twice but tries—that is, for grammatical purposes, I had to try to swallow my heart and think about the event as an opportunity to meet and listen to people, see a new place, secure a prestigious certificate, taste exotic food and pray that really meaningful conversations will transpire.

I guess I was rattled inside. This is when I resorted to reviewing encouraging messages from my senior classmates. These encouraging messages, ironically, talk about academic conferences in not-so-encouraging terms. That is what made these reminders lovely and spiriting for me!

(One described “a lot of [conferences as] sham” while another is more particularly indicting, using words like “self-serving academics” to refer to the london pips)

Empty Chairs


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Kurosawa and Apostol on Madness

In our cultural tomes, not a few times has madness been extolled, turned on its head, made majestic:

In “The Revolution According to Raymundo Mata,” the titular character said that “every city had the capacity for novelty if only you looked at it through foolish eyes.”

In “Ran,” this:


Damned these drawls, only made to be seen.

Now’s time to get crazy and know it

Chantal and Jean-Marc with Jesse and Celine with Franz and Odile, or, Kundera with Linklater and Godard

Jean-Marc: Everything changed when I met you. Not because my little jobs became more exciting. But because everything that happens around me I turn into fodder for our conversations.

Chantal: We could talk about other things!

Jean-Marc: Two people in love, alone, isolated from the world, that’s very beautiful. But what would they nourish their intimate talk with? However contemptible the world may be, they still need to be able to talk together.

Maybe before their fallout with their director, Celine and Jesse were able to have one last conversation, albeit a shorter one.

Chantal: They could be silent.

Jean-Marc: Like those two, at the next table?

Jean-Marc laughed.

Jean-Marc: Oh, no, no love can survive muteness.

But, via Godard, Franz, Odile and Arthur were able to survive muteness.

This first post for 2014 announces its being the first post this 2014

This first post for 2014 announces its being the first post this 2014.

This is the blog’s first post for 2014 which will announce that this post is the first post this 2014.

This is the blog’s first post this 2014 which just announced that this post is the first post of 2014.

This is ab out this which is about this.
This is about this which is about this.