crime, punishment, and murderers

All of my close friends know that I am really interested in murders. It's not the gory aspects of murder that I like, but rather a more detached, intellectual, psychological aspect that fascinates me. How can a person get so detached from life and humanity that they are able to actually take the life from another human being? It boggles my mind to see the psychological deterioration of some murderers - and it's even more boggling when the people appear to be actually sane.

Such was my experience when reading "Crime and Punishment" this summer. It was fascinating to see the psychological workings of not only the protagonist, Raskolnikov, but also of Dostoevsky himself! irst of all, it is interesting to see how Raskilnikov truly believes that he is justified in murdering the old pawn broker with an axe - nay, he feels as if he has actually done a good deed by killing the old woman!

And...the crazy thing is...Dostoevsky writes in a way that the reader can actually sympathize and understand where Raskilnikov is coming from! It's such a strange psychological twist of events. You hardly seem to know if you should detest the murderer or give him a big hug (and obviously, Sonia doesn't know how to treat him either).

I loved the reoccuring theme of death in the novel, and how death was treated differently each time. For example, you first have the murder of the old woman, which is presented in a cold, heartless, unattached manner. Then you have Marmeladov, the drunkard who gets run over by a carriage. We witness his scene on his deathbed, with people crying and candles burning. We also read the death of a madwoman, Katerina Marmeladov, who dies of consumption with her "certificate of honor" by her side. Svidrigailov (who also was suspected of multiple murders) commits suicide after Dunya tells him that she can never love him. Each death is treated differently, and each death appears to have more meaning and substance because of the different identifications that the reader has with the character.

I found the book to be fascinating. And I loved the ending.

things that have been done in New York

I have decided to record thus far the things that J and I have done in New York (in no particular order). I suppose this is more for my sake than anyone else's, but perhaps people will find it interesting:

1 - Went to the Met (saw Egyptian, Greek, Etruscan, Roman, Byzantine, Medieval and European Pre-Renaissance)
2 - Went to the Whitney (Psychedelic Art of the 60's exhibition)
3 - Went to the Met (again because Baroque - Modern art was closed the first time we went)). We avoided the American art section like the plague.
4 - Won front row seats for a performance of "Wicked"
5 - Read "Uncle Tom's Cabin" (M)
6 - Read "Pamela" (M)
7 - Discovered the entrails of the New York Public Library and learned about the inadequacy of the 17 year old workers that pull books for patrons (M)
8 - Planned to go to The Cloisters (branch of the Met) multiple times, but always got distracted
9 - Worked on free lance design projects for Andrew Maxfield (J)
10 - Grew a beard (J - obviously)
11 - Visited a really amazing rock 'n roll photo gallery with pics of Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, Beatles, etc.
12 - Ate the worst food in the world at a cheap diner (you really "get what you pay for" in NY)
13 - Ate lunch in Central Park
14 - Watched the NY Philharmonic play a free concert in Prospect Park (Brooklyn)
15 - Watched the NY Philharmonic play a free concert in Central Park
16 - Went to the Brooklyn Art Museum (where Judy Chicago's "Dinner Party" is found, as well as a LUCE Foundation Center)
17 - Went to the MOMA (Richard Serra exhibition and permanent collection)
18 - Went to Guggenheim Museum
19 - Ate dinner at N's and SJ's. Twice.
20 - Saw "Ratatouille" in an old, vintage movie theatre
21 - Visited Times Square and didn't like it (too many people)
22 - Shopped (M shopped while J waited)
23 - Took a ferry to Statton Island (and passed the Statue of Liberty on the way)
24- Worked as a receptionist for Bank of America's corporate offices (M)
25 - Watched 4th of July fireworks on the roof of Keenan and Koseli's apartment
26 - Received a visit in our studio aparment from a cuccaracha.
27 - Stubbed/ripped up big toe on sharp Brooklyn concrete (M)

Those are all of the things I can think of at present. As you can see, we've been rather busy.

subway platform doldrums

I have decided that the subway platforms are the doldrums. At least, they will probably be the closest thing to doldrums that I will ever experience, since I don’t plan on living a sea faring life or finding doldrums simulacra at Disneyland in my lifetime (despite how successful Pirates of the Caribbean 3 may be).

I will explain my reasoning:

First of all, you immediately enter a world of stasis when you step onto the subway platform. It is likely that your train has not come, and there are always the same people that seem to be standing on the platform, as if they have always been there. There are the same puddles of urine, the same pieces of trash along the track, and the same pieces of blackened chewing gum that are making a pointillist composition on the floor. Stasis. Nothing changes.

The smell of the subway platform always seems the same as well. I can’t quite make it out – it's body odor without the odor. Just body. Humid body.

But it isn’t just the smell of the air, it’s the air itself that contributes to the platform doldrums. The air doesn’t move. It’s rather phenomenal – you can try and fan yourself desperately with your hand, and you still won’t feel a thing. J and I tried it last night. Maybe there is some molecular change in the air when it gets to over 120 degrees underground (that’s another thing, it is always hot on the platform too); the air suddenly becomes physically heavier and sluggish, deciding to resist any type of movement whatsoever. If there was such a thing as “couch potato air,” this would be it.

And then…the train arrives. Oh wait, it’s the train for the other side of the platform. This is the moment where the air begins to stir slightly, as the train whisks by, but wait…it’s gone. Doldrums again. Stasis.

When your train finally does arrive, and the car doors swing open, it is as if fresh life has once again come. My lungs always crave the cool, air conditioned air that bursts out of the subway doors. My sails fill, and all of the sudden I can move again. Everyone else begins to move too. “Everyone” includes all of miniskirt clad women who immediately spring into action, trying to avoid the skirt-effect that Marilyn Monroe had with sweeping subway air in The Seven Year Itch.

As I step onto the train, I often have been thinking of Milo from The Phantom Tollbooth, when he finally gets out of the Doldrums, leaves the Lethargians and moves on with his adventures. It is as if life has started up again. And oh, the air conditioning is glorious.

anonymity

I decided today that I would start a blog. Reading Z's blog has made me really think about all of the interesting things that I have to say. At least, I think that they are interesting. Maybe someone else would think the things I have to say are boring/strange/silly. And maybe they are.

I think that I will like the somewhat anonymity of writing on a blog.

Actually, ever since arriving in NYC, I've been thinking a lot about anonymity. There is a certain amount of responsibility that is revoked (or perhaps never was extant?) by being in a large crowd. Somehow, as an anonymous member of a crowd, people act like they can do whatever they want. Especially litter. I think it's really phenomenal that people escape the responsibility of throwing things away when there are 10+ people around (even if a trash can is two feet away). It boggles my mind.

However, I can't help but admit that the other day I prided myself on becoming a New Yorker, reveling in anonymity in my own little way. I was actually able to use a bathroom facility with someone else in a nearby stall - which I have to admit, is often hard for me to do. I hate having to hide in the stall, sitting and waiting for the stranger to wash their hands and exit. It's especially tedious if the woman stops to fix her makeup in the mirror before leaving. Anyhow, the other day, in the NYPL, I just didn't care. I knew that the person would never see me again and honestly, it doesn't really matter.

So, I guess I have experienced some freedom through anonymity here in NYC too, in a strange and silly way.