No man can play the fool so well as the wise maN

Just a minute ago, on the street: Complete Stranger approaches me (complete transcript):

CS: You already 18?
Me: Yes? (thinking: more like 28, but n/m)
CS: You already have your own appartment?
Me: Yes? (th: now tell me what you want already.)
CS: Have you already been visited by my Vodafone colleagues?
Me: No? (th: We're getting there...)
CS: But your telephone socket has been activated already?
Me: No? (th: WTF!)
CS: So you don't have telephone or internet?
Me: Yes, I do. (th: clueless bitch, tell me what you want!)
CS: So you are a customer of [insert Company name]?
Me: Yes. (th: I want to go home.)
CS: And how much do you pay them?
Me: No, thank you. [exit]

I was waiting for this. Sales talk. Apart from the fact that I don't like being bothered with nonsense like this AT ALL, I don't like complete strangers jumping in my way (friends might and are asked to!), thinking they have every right in this bloody world to occupy my time endlessly with rhetoricisms and manipulative questions. Really. How stupid do they think we are?

"You already 18?" Translation: "I want to sell you something but I get into trouble if you are underage." Alternatively: "You are so obviously over 18 that you just can't say >No.<This means you have to say >Yes<which is a good thing to get a successful sales talk started they tell us in school." Either way, only thing you (as an obviously adult person) can do is be impolite and ignore them or be sales talked (or pretend to be underage, even if you're 40 and the odd grey hair is already showing). I, as usual, am polite and answer truthfully. (Even if she wasn't polite at all. The polite thing to do would have been to say hello and introduce herself FIRST before ASKING whether I want to spend my time talking to her. Description of more context details wouldn't add to her professional appearance but I can't be bothered.)

"You already have your own apartment?" Translation: "If I need to talk to your mother instead I'll try to make an appointment with her via you right here and now." Alternatively: "You are so obviously an adult that [continue as above]." Generally: They are checking the ground to find out which rhetoricisms to throw at you.

"Have you been visited by my [insert company name] colleagues lately?" Translation: "We have an agreement amongst ourselves to not poach in our colleagues' preserves." Also: Checking the ground to find out which rhetoricisms to throw at you.

"But your..." Now THAT is stupid of her. This question and the way it was delivered practically implied that I SHOULD have been visited if my socket was activated. Remains the question: What has my telephone socket to do with them? OPTION A (premiss: "people are essentially good but make mistakes"): What she really wanted to know is whether I have telephone connection already, just the phrasing was somewhat off. But since this question is the next to be asked, this is unlikely. (Discussed below.)And then, the phrasing would be EXTREMELY far off. OPTION B (premiss: "I have no clue about telecommunication technology"): Vodafone as the company in question needs the telefone socket to be activated for some reason or another for whatever they are trying to sell to me to work. Would relate to the checking the ground phenomenon. But when I answer >No<the sales talk continues. So this doesn't make much sense. OPTION C (premiss: "people are bad and not to be trusted, and corporations are even worse"): Since Options A and B don't make much sense in the context, enter conspiracy. Since the socket was EXPLICITLY mentioned and asked about, (not the connection, the account, or whatever) it must mean something. If you believe in corporate conspiracies and a complete lack in (enforcing) data protection and privacy laws, then you could interpret this part as saying "If you have activated that socket, we should have your number." The order of the arguments is interesting in this regard:

- Vodafone was there? -> No.
- Socket? -> No.
- Connection? -> Yes.
- She figures this particular combination of facts means I am at company [enter name].

As we have seen, she starts with the assumption I might have been visited by etc, which beyond doubt means they are doing the doorstep sales bugging people thing again. Next is a mildly surprised question as to the activation status of that famous socket. Now, what do you make of this? My negative answer leads to a slightly more surprised, and more general question about my account status. This I affirm. Thing is, normally you would start asking GENERAL questions and then get more specific, rather than the other way around. I never had anything to do with Vodafone before, something that I'd like to keep that way, too. So why would she be surprised by the fact that I haven't been visited by her friends? And what do they have to do with my socket, activated or not. But then, you do hear alot about personal data being sold (quite illegally) all over the bloody place. Privacy scandals everywhere. Go figure.

"No telephone or internet?" First thing she thinks of when hearing about my poor unused socket. Going from the very specific to the very general is quite a popular reasoning strategy, but is logically rather useless. The greater the gap between the general and the specific, the more useless the conclusion. Point proven by my answer. Problem she wouldn't have had, had she started with the general. Also, on likeliness, I think these days the conclusion that I'm customer at a company not needing poor socket would be more likely than the conclusion that I don't have telephone et al. Another argumentative fail. Even more so since the next statement proves that she knows said company ignoring innocent sockets.

"And how much do you etc?" Of course, a look at the corporate homepage of my provider would answer that. And never believe they don't know. No company today does not watch and analyse their competition. And of course, it is easy to give their salespeople ready-to-swallow arguments whatever your answer to this question would be. No need for me to give away (potentially) sensitive financial data of myself, which then - by simple comparison with my provider's package prices - tells them alot about me. No, thank you. Besides, it is particularly IMPOLITE and BAD STYLE to ask strangers for info on their finances. FAIL!

Strategically, of course, she wasn't thinking about politeness issues (or about the fact that I quite obviously didn't want to talk to her at all), she was trying another rhetoricism (or attempting to pave the way for the next) because, necessarily, the package she would have tried to sell to me in the end would be AGES BETTER than whatever my company is selling me. Which, of course, is only half true, if even.

And, most importantly, my telephone bill isn't going to serve her paycheck -- ever. Not least for politeness issues. I do tend to take these things rather seriously.

Let me breathe! every thought
Like a wave, breaking
At my feet
Makes me stumble
Towards the sea

Let me scream! your silence
Like frozen fire, burning
On my torn skin
Reflecting vivid scars
Beneath your hide

Let me run! another face
Like a tear of the ocean
Of dreams we had
Crossing reason
As we went

Let me live! your footsteps fading
Like the soft tune
Of our favorite song
Dying memories
Of no mercy

I run about the flat like the proverbial tiger in a cage. I want to get out, enjoy the sunshine and the cool breeze of this bright July day. I’d like to go on a hike through the woods with you, or maybe ride the bike along the river into the countryside. It doesn’t really matter. I want to do something. Outside. With you. But it’s no use even asking when you’re working. I can already hear the dismay in your voice as you explain what I already know. And I know it is only a matter of time until you’ll become annoyed by my restlessness and ask me, please, find a book to read, a game to play, a puzzle to do, whatever. Stop going on my nerves. I’m trying to work, don’t you see?

From the first day it has been like that. Understand me! Not a question, but a request. Even before, when I was still wondering if you were the least bit interested... and I was wondering! Sometimes you were positively flirtatious, suggesting things I didn’t even know what they were. I knew there was sympathy, even chemistry... or was it just me? Were you only playing games? Because – whenever I took a step forward, gave my hope some room in my heart, it seemed to me that I crossed some invisible line – you’d draw back, become aloof again, avoid me, ignore me. Go back to square one. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. You dictated the rules, the pace, and who won what when.

I felt like I had finally won when we shared our first glass of wine, our first night out, and then, at last, our first kiss. Of course, it wasn’t as straightforward as that. It never was with you. After each of these small victories you made sure I knew that I was at your mercy, that, after all, it was your generosity that allowed me to be where I was. And that it was well within your power to put me in my place again, if necessary. It was you who held the cards to send me straight to jail, and you knew how to play them, too.

Just think of how all this started. After what seemed to me like years of playing hide and seek, and being rather tired out by your game, I finally decided to make that next step. I no longer cared that reason said it was no good moment to make a pass. I had finally realized there never would be a good moment. And I wanted to know just where I stood and where we were headed. I didn’t even try and find an excuse for meeting with you, so you wouldn’t have an excuse to pretend not to know what this was about. I wanted you to know that this was a romantic date. Open ending.

Rather surprisingly, you accepted. For days I was floating ten feet above solid ground; I felt I had achieved a decisive victory in that psychological war you forced me to fight. I had put all my cards on the table, and thought my Full House won over your Pair of Aces. You smiled, waited for me to reach for my prize, and only then revealed the rest of your hand – two more Aces and a King.

On our first date you were remarkably nice, given the coldness you had displayed towards me only days before. You even insisted on paying the bill. But I paid a much greater price. I gave my heart away – fully, unconditionally. You took it with an air of understanding and gratitude, and went home – alone. I didn’t hear from you for almost two weeks. When you finally called, you didn’t feel the need to explain or apologize for your extended silence. Instead, it was me who was to answer questions. What did you do, did you miss me, you really didn’t look at all those cute guys? I was too crushed to point out that it was you who should defend yourself.

Now I’m a prisoner again. I know I cannot voice my fears, my feelings, my thoughts. How could I tell you I still doubt your motivations after all this time? How can I still be afraid that you are only playing games with me? How can I trust you if you never consider my point of view? I want someone to rely on – how can I tell you that I’m not sure whether you are that someone? You never complained, though, did you? True, I didn’t. How could I? I knew from the beginning who set the rules. And – what’s more – I played by them. I was nice, understanding, optimistic. You talked, I listened. You made plans, I followed through with them. You chose to abandon me, I stood back and hoped for more.

Through the picture-frame of the window, I watch the light summer breeze play with the sunlight. The wind always rearranging the branches and leaves of the trees, trying to block out the light. Somehow, miraculously, it still finds its way around, down into my window, my eyes, my heart. There is nothing that could stop it.

Except the rotation of the Earth. Despite the blazing sun outside, I feel like night has already fallen. The darkness of the room – my cell – surrounds me like fire. I feel the stifling heat suffocating me, the flames disfiguring me, devouring my skin and flesh, until finally I’m no more than a small heap of ashes. Move on! Still, I’m reluctant to leave you behind.

I turn away from the window, trying to escape from my thoughts. I watch you shuffling papers, leafing through books, pretending to work. You’re ignoring me on purpose. I can tell the difference by now. The clenched muscles of your face give you a determined expression that is not there when you’re simply lost in your work. Absent are the fleeting glances and the odd smile that I’m used to. Instead, a look of disgust – hatred even – comes over your face whenever I move, make a sound, or otherwise attract your attention. ‘Can’t you find yourself something to do? I’m trying to work here, don’t you see?’

I prepare to leave. It’s no use, now. You’re not going to put your papers aside for me. You’re not going to break with your habits and consider my wants and needs for a change. You’re not, and you probably never will. It’s me who is supposed to hold the pieces together. Now I’m supposed to get out of your sight. Work! As if you had put down a line during the past hour. Leave me alone. If that’s what you want. I’m preparing to leave.

I wonder if you are aware of it. Probably not. I guess you thought I’d put up with your moods forever. If you can call them moods. To me they seem more like a well thought-through plan to keep me in suspense at all times, so I wouldn’t ask questions or – worse – decide to have a mind of my own. You wouldn’t want a man with a mind of his own. What you want is a toy to play with when you’re in the mood, and to put aside if you’re not. A convenient arrangement for you. Buy a doll. At least they don’t have feelings. And they never want to talk.

I wanted to talk. I didn’t want it to end – much less end like that. But what more can I do? I tried to talk to you seriously – you’d make fun of me. I tried to hint at what was going wrong – you’d choose to ignore me completely. I resigned and tried to be content with what I had. I felt like a caged animal, a pet with his claws cut and his teeth drawn.

...says the professor: after ruling that I could do either the Toby Litt project or the literary culture one. Very good since those were my preferred topics anyway. So which is it?

Preference – 10 pts. max.

Both topics were on my original ‘Want!' list and consequently get maximum points from me: 5 of 5. The professor professed to prefer the literary culture one: five more points.

Sharpe/ Spark: 10/10
Litt: 5/10

Time and Effort – 10 pts. max.

Quite comprehensibly, the combing through two books takes a lot longer than reading and re-reading a short story. Also, the S&S paper is designed as a mainly analytical one, and that takes more time and effort than a half-and-half analytical and research paper (half consumerism as a concept, half presentation of same concept in the story). Since the time for my final thesis is already running and I don’t really have too much time for this paper, time and effort requirements have to be a factor in the decision making process. 9/10 points for Litt, 3/10 for the literary culture.

Sharpe/ Spark: 13/20
Litt: 14/20

Literature on the Topic – 20 pts. max.

For the consumerism topic: an online research of the university’s library catalogue yielded five potentially useful books already, all of them recent enough. The newest is from 2009. Considering that I tend to think up topics for which literature is either non-existent or not available (apart from actually importing remarkably expensive books from university publishers overseas), not a bad result. Zero results from the article database though. Add innumerable online sources and you have 15 of 20 points.
Literary culture and Publishing: nothing remotely relevant yet at the library. Searching for publishing yields everything from numerous analyses of the radio to numerous books on veterinary medicine and nutrition. No books on the literary industry as far as I can see. Searching for literary culture, or literature, or any other term I can come up with, shows little other than that academic interest in the publishing practices of (English) literature stops at the time Queen Victoria died – at the latest, and as far as it ever existed. Or shows that the library policy is to ignore this field of study.
Judging from the following google research, this doesn’t seem to be the case. Relevant results are few and far between. If any of you have information or recommendations on this topic, I’m interested to hear them. So far, two of twenty, and only because it is meant to be a mainly analytical paper anyway.

Sharpe/ Spark: 15/40
Litt: 29/40

Structure and Page Number – 20 pts. max.

Let’s see what we could do with the topic practically. Should be no more than ten pages (yikes) and still convincing rather than superficial. A provisional ToC might help:

S&S:
- Introduction – 1 page
- Muriel Spark and the Author = 5 pages
Rowland Mahler: the Failed ‘Wunderkind’
Chris Wiley: the Potential Bestselling Author
The Blurring of Both
- Tom Sharpe and the Publishing Industry = 5 pages
Authors and Agents
Publishers’ Principles
The Public
- Literary Culture, Satire, and the Status Quo – 2 pages
- Conclusion – 1 page

Litt:
- Introduction – 1 page
- Consumerism: Term and Concept – 4 pages
Term
Concept
- Consumerism in ‘It Could Have Been Me and It Was’ – 4 pages
Presentation
Criticism
- Conclusion – 1 page

As we can see, even though I counted rather optimistically, I end up with 14 pages for the structure of the Literary Culture paper. I might end up with ten if I cut it down drastically or keep it very short, but I wouldn’t want to find out halfway through that I run out of space. Since I like the topic and the structure, and this paper is losing out anyway: ten of twenty points.
On the other hand, the Consumerism structure stays within the page limits, and appeals to my aesthetic sense by being almost symmetrically balanced. Let’s see if we can keep this feature up. 18 of 20 points.

Sharpe/ Spark: 25/60
Litt: 47/60

Well, easy win for the Consumerism paper. Now, I only need to fill in the content, and fill in the professor on my decision. Which I will do. See you around.

Leseempfehlung für die promovierenden Dissertateure/Innen unter meinen FreundInnen und interessierten LeserInnen.

They say that I’m the Devil
And tell you nought but lies.
I say I tell you nought but truth
That deep within you lies.

They say that I'm a traitor
Who knows not right from wrong.
I say that those who I convince
Have substance of their own.

They say that I'm a serpent;
And double-tongued do preach.
I say I am the soul of man;
And for release I reach.

So there’s this paper I’m supposed to write and I just can’t make up my mind as to what it’s going to be about. The prerequisites are thus: Pick a book of own choice and write about the cultural background. Topic can be whatever as long as it fits the book.

This is general enough to be a problem. A reasonably short glimpse in the direction of the bookshelves from about ten feet away resulted in the following list of possible victims:

Muriel Spark: The Finishing School
Muriel Spark: A Far Cry From Kensington
Tom Sharpe: The Great Pursuit
Willy Russell: Blood Brothers
Peter Mayle: Encore Provence
Toby Litt: Adventures in Capitalism
Max Barry: Jennifer Government
Anthony Horowitz: I Know What You Did Last Wednesday

I just noticed the remarkable, slightly out-of-proportion number of satirical titles on this list. Should I be worried?

Let’s see if we can narrow it down a bit:

Peter Mayle – Encore Provence

Hilarious (non-)fictitious short stories (hard to tell) about a Brit’s life in Southern France. Now, we all know the mutual scepticism and stereotypes the Brits and the French are still maintaining. This is, then, what Mayle illustrates perfectly in his book. Consequently, it would be a great starting point for a paper on British-French relations at the end of the 20th century. So where’s the problem? The professor made clear he doesn’t want to read another book for my paper, and I’m positively sure he hasn’t read this.

Status: Might ask. Keep it down to one short story, and I might still get him to read it. Maybe.

Max Barry – Jennifer Government

The same holds true for this interesting dystopic satire on extreme, out-of-control capitalism by the Australian Max Barry. No chance he has read this, and since it is a novel, no chance to get him to read it. But you might do. Despite the strange title (referring to the ‘fact’ that in his future society all people take on the name of their current employer as a surname, out of gratitude to have a job, presumably) and the rather inconsequent ending (no spoiler here), it is still very much commendable.

Status: No bloody chance. Cross it out.

Muriel Spark – A Far Cry From Kensington

On the other hand, he’d probably love it if I was to write about Spark. But then, with this book, great as it may be, I cannot quite see the topic to the book right now. Apart from ‘Life in Britain in the 1950s’. No idea. I wasn’t even alive then.

Status: Cool book, but still, no. Maybe another Spark book?

Muriel Spark – The Finishing School

Now, this one is one of my favorite books ever. I actually read it three times in only 24 hours. Just couldn’t believe it. Amazing writing, hilarious satire, interestingly structured. Go read this book.
May be a good starting point for a paper on literary pretentiousness or something. Hmmm...

Status: Thinking...

Willy Russell – Blood Brothers

I’m pretty sure you have heard of this one. Two kids, twins who were separated at birth in a rather shady arrangement, become friends (and subsequently ‘blood brothers’) as kids, and fierce enemies as adults. Class divisions, would make a good topic I suspect.

Status: Gotta read again, has been years since.

Tom Sharpe – The Great Pursuit

Another satire on the literary world, this time we are shown the publisher’s side (rather than the authorial end of the game, as in The Finishing School). It’s the story of Frensic, a literary agent who knows what a ‘quality novel’ is, and that the opposite sells. Unfortunately, he has a leftover writer, Piper, from back when he still believed in good literature, and can’t get rid of him (and his ‘pretentious’ writing). Then an anonymous manuscript arrives at his office which is so remarkably bad that it has to be a potential bestseller. Now, he only needs a name to put on the cover, and since the true author doesn’t want to disclose themselves, he engages Piper to pose as the author. All problems solved, thinks he. Yet, the trouble is only about to begin... Highly recommended read.

Status: Might want to write about the literary culture as portrayed by the Spark book and this one... sounds good to me. (Let’s see what the professor thinks.)

Toby Litt – Adventures in Capitalism

If you are into fun and easily digestible stories about life in Capitalism, read this book. Litt’s debut is a collection of short stories on an admirable diversity of topics from contemporary life – from advertising to the internet, with great names like Kipling, Holmes and Foucault thrown in. He is sometimes sarcastic, sometimes cynical, but always fun to read. Do.
As I am particularly fond of the first (It could have been me and it was) and the last story (When I met Michel Foucault), I could see me writing on either advertising or... Michel Foucault. And the criticism of either in the stories. Something like that.

Status: Sounds good to me.

Anthony Horowitz – I Know What You Did Last Wednesday

A very short and very funny parody on detective novels. Nick, the kid brother of the ‘detective’ Tim Diamond, narrates their trip to a class reunion in Scotland. One former classmate after the other is killed on the island, and there’s no boat to get away. While Tim plays the detective again – and fails again – Nick has to save his behind more than once. In spite of the parody, it is also an interesting psychogram of the murderer, who controls the plot every step of the way till the end; and, as we are to find out, (Spoiler?) feels generally f***ed by people in general and the people he killed in particular. Now that would be a nice topic, but too farfetched, I’m afraid. (Besides, the professor won’t have read the book, most probably, either.)

Status: No.

Down to two probable and two possible topics. That’s a good basis for negotiations, I would think:

Want:
‘Consumerism in Toby Litt’s It Could Have Been Me and It Was.’
‘Literary Culture as Portrayed by M. Spark: The Finishing School and T. Sharpe: The Great Pursuit.’

Maybe:
‘British and French Stereotypes in P. Mayle’s Second Impressions and In Search of the Perfect Corkscrew.’

If Everything Else Fails:
‘Class Divisions in Willy Russell’s Blood Brothers.’

Gotta write an email.

In the pale orange light of the early morning
Of a city, asleep in its forceful rhythm,
The sun is the first to rise today,
Sending her arms to warm and wake up.

And while the city folk follow her call,
completely ignorant of her colorful play,
I’m still awake, listening to the drum beat,
And I wonder, does she hear it too?

Now that her sleepy beauty has gone,
Given in to the cruelty of her powerful self,
The piercing noises, voices of the day,
Enter my room through the closed window.

The cool gray-and-blue makes me shiver.
I want to retreat to the darkness of my room.
The show is over, the curtains are falling.
I’ll see you tomorrow; for now, Good Night.

Bei einem geselligen Zusammensein mit Alkohol:
Ich: „Wer fährt denn eigentlich zurück?“
Er (matter-of-factly): „Na, entweder du oder ich oder der Taxifahrer.“

Schlaft schön.

*zzzz*