Friday, February 24, 2006

A little gender theory

It's four o' clock in the morning. Have I studied? No, not really.

I spent an hour on the treadmill today; when I got my gait just right, I could read my Neurobiology notes at the same time. I have a test on Monday.
Falling...slowly...back...in.
But by now this is all so boring, so mundane. In the mirror I can see my vertebrae slowly emerging...
and it's at once exhilarating and terrifying.

A kid (allegedly) got stabbed on the Cornell campus a few nights ago. What's alleged, though? Alleged that he was stabbed, or alleged that a young man named Poffenbarger did the stabbing? It (allegedly) happened right down the street from my house, in fact; I can see the crime scene from the front porch. There's talk that it was racially motivated; that the assailant got drunk and was thrown out of a frat party for using racial slurs (and he must have been pretty disruptive, because it's not easy to get kicked out of a frat party...at least the few I've been to). He kept it up as he walked across West Campus, and at some point a visiting student (who just happened to be African-American) ended up getting stabbed. And as interesting as the race issue is--I am not playing it down in the slightest--there's also the general underlying issue of displaced, free-floating male aggression.
Not all men are this way, but our culture perpetuates the myth that a real man's man occupies his time with monosyllabic activities like: eat. drink. fuck. sleep. play. The advertisers and patriarchal society force feed men messages just like they prey on women. What should we eat?, men ask. Red meat, of course. Drink? Beer. Or maybe Gatorade after a game; just make sure you stay away from wine, as sybarism is the leading cause of homosexuality (besides actual anal sex and the catchall category "Living in California.") Fuck? Women. As many women as possible, whether they actually want it or not (of course they want it...who wouldn't want to be with The Man?) . Sleep in your Calvin Klein boxer-briefs, next to the woman who's passed out next to you but whose name you don't quite remember because DAMN you were drunk last night. And play--football, baseball, basketball, Grand Theft Auto. And celebrate the fact that you are the pawn of the American Advertising Association.

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