jenniferamur.wordpress.com
Southeastward | turk'd
https://jenniferamur.wordpress.com/2009/10/04/southeastward
A chronicle of goings-on, for the sake of remembering the good ones. Are you so amazed that two posts came within a 30-day period? Tomorrow, I head to Turkey’s Southeast, the part of the country that borders Iraq and Syria, land of the PKK. And the ever-popular cocktail topic, the Kurds. My first stop on the Hurriyet human rights train. Written by Jenn Amur. October 4, 2009 at 8:29 pm. In the beginning, there was Diyarbakır. Subscribe to comments with RSS. October 5, 2009 at 2:28 am. I need to to thank y...
theageofnoise.blogspot.com
The Age of Noise: June 2009
http://theageofnoise.blogspot.com/2009_06_01_archive.html
The Age of Noise. Tuesday, June 2, 2009. Yes, this is the joke of life, the big one: you’re not always fully alive, just like poems and paintings are not always beautiful, the bars not always full, friends not always in touch. When you go climbing out of your bedroom Rachmaninov is not always there, kneading aloft to the sunrise, cartwheeling round with the beat. There are extraordinary periods of time where we simply cease to be. alive. And yet there we are. And then it’s gone. Almost sounds like a novel.
theageofnoise.blogspot.com
The Age of Noise: April 2008
http://theageofnoise.blogspot.com/2008_04_01_archive.html
The Age of Noise. Sunday, April 20, 2008. Signs that you might not be standing on a giant pool of lava. The next time the English Department decides that they're going to play departmental politics with the capstone thesis of one of their hardest-working seniors, they should make sure that over the last 12 months the senior hasn't been doing more to make life easier for key tenured faculty than the English Department has. Thursday, April 17, 2008. Signs that you might be standing on a giant pool of lava.
theageofnoise.blogspot.com
The Age of Noise: Labor for glory
http://theageofnoise.blogspot.com/2009/05/labor-for-glory.html
The Age of Noise. Wednesday, May 27, 2009. On a recent trip out to Nevada I was standing on the shoulder of a remote desert highway at two o’clock in the morning, quiet along the rutted edge of sun-crozzled pavement thrust amongst a black silence of sagebrush and Joshua trees. Nothing moving and nothing lit, not even a rind of the moon. A collection of nothings, in fact: no cars; no planes; no radios. No phone service. No insects or birds or rustling fauna. Not even a gentle breath of wind. Someday we di...
theageofnoise.blogspot.com
The Age of Noise: The ballad of El Burrito
http://theageofnoise.blogspot.com/2008/07/el-burrito.html
The Age of Noise. Saturday, July 19, 2008. The ballad of El Burrito. In the beginning, my dad never actually intended to become a photographer. He went to UMKC in the late 60s/early 70s and got his degree in English (! And economics before becoming a traveling salesman. He got his start when he shot a few polaroids at a wedding, more out of curiosity than anything. When he started his business my grandfather told him that he'd never make money taking pictures; he told him that he should get a "real" job.
theageofnoise.blogspot.com
The Age of Noise: What it means to be a writer
http://theageofnoise.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-it-means-to-be-writer.html
The Age of Noise. Saturday, September 27, 2008. What it means to be a writer. The problem was that, in our heads, we’re all geniuses. We are all the stars of our own lives, as David Foster Wallace had once noted; the most important person to ever exist. We’re all cologned with some slight expectation of greatness. So I sat on my little bench in Chicago penning the obituary for my own glory. Good. Nice to get that out of the way. Let’s talk about writing as a tool for survival. When David Foster Wallace d...
theageofnoise.blogspot.com
The Age of Noise: May 2009
http://theageofnoise.blogspot.com/2009_05_01_archive.html
The Age of Noise. Saturday, May 30, 2009. Back to the desert. Silence, darkness, the earth immobilized beneath a gentle wheel of stars. Existence’s sensory deprivation chamber, the radical nudity of the geography like some cosmic conspiracy for solitude. You stood there and breathed uneasily and wondered if you would ever feel this significant again. If only we could stop thinking, being. We could live forever. And yet the question still remains, always remains: Now what? It's all so very important.
theageofnoise.blogspot.com
The Age of Noise: The last great courtroom of desire
http://theageofnoise.blogspot.com/2009/06/last-great-courtroom-of-desire.html
The Age of Noise. Monday, June 1, 2009. The last great courtroom of desire. Chicago, late summer. I thought I’d go to watch the money race out of my wallet. (What an economical oddity this city is: everything costs twenty dollars when it comes with a beer.) Cermak, Quincy, Divison, and the blithe bohemia of Wicker blight—and yet—Chicago’s a gas, but you just can’t quit the air that breathes you. The night, the night, and summer’s fear of fall. The last great courtroom of desire. But to quote Proust—...
theageofnoise.blogspot.com
The Age of Noise: May 2008
http://theageofnoise.blogspot.com/2008_05_01_archive.html
The Age of Noise. Saturday, May 10, 2008. Some lives seem distinctly more literary- textual- than others. I don't feel like I'm living a literary life- rather, a life defined by literature- because books rarely surprise me or take hold of me the way that I sense that they do for other writers. History. The Long Winters' bizarre first two albums supplied the texture to the weird malaise that was my senior year of high school. Charles Mingus' The Black Saint and The Sinner Lady. Thursday, May 8, 2008.
theageofnoise.blogspot.com
The Age of Noise: July 2008
http://theageofnoise.blogspot.com/2008_07_01_archive.html
The Age of Noise. Saturday, July 19, 2008. The ballad of El Burrito. In the beginning, my dad never actually intended to become a photographer. He went to UMKC in the late 60s/early 70s and got his degree in English (! And economics before becoming a traveling salesman. He got his start when he shot a few polaroids at a wedding, more out of curiosity than anything. When he started his business my grandfather told him that he'd never make money taking pictures; he told him that he should get a "real" job.
