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Nov. 8th, 2006 10:15 pmMy two--no, three--most basic instincts are at war. My competitive drive, my fear of radically new things, and my burning desire to read Perfume all are in dire conflict. There was a point tonight where the thought of flying to Tennessee and competing for the first time in a being-learned context, in a foreign setting, made me nauseated and headachey at once. That mostly disappeared though, washed away in the tsunami of mon dieu, je suis trés fatiguée! I don't want to go to Tennessee. That probably means that it's good for me to go.
I bought food for the trip, since it will apparently be in short supply. I have already broken into that bag of dried pineapple, to soothe my nerves with food, which is terrible. It's addicting. Dried pineapple, dried mango, dried mango-flavored pineapple... I don't know what I would do without food. The immediacy of taste is a wonderful thing, because it puts all else into perspective. What are abstract fears, in the face of tongue and taste and texture? Suskind describes Grenouille's frustration with the vocabulary of scent, because it is so limited. We have the same--sweet, sour, bitter, salty, and metaphors, because the only way to get around the limit of precise words is to compare it to something familiar and similar. Like chicken. I need to put this pineapple away. It did make me feel better, though.
So now I'm writing up two potential cross examinations at the last minute, and let me tell you, Chief Julian Polson is a bugger to pin down. Please, God, let me be allowed to enter evidence in on cross examination. I've been paging frantically through the evidence files for the last half hour, from letter to PCPD regulations and then to another affadavit, trying to figure out who exactly is responsible for investigating reports of officer misconduct, all for one question. And then, you know, how do I prove it if the witness lies, and the proof exists in evidence which has not been entered? So we would have to be able to enter evidence on cross. It makes no sense otherwise.
I bought food for the trip, since it will apparently be in short supply. I have already broken into that bag of dried pineapple, to soothe my nerves with food, which is terrible. It's addicting. Dried pineapple, dried mango, dried mango-flavored pineapple... I don't know what I would do without food. The immediacy of taste is a wonderful thing, because it puts all else into perspective. What are abstract fears, in the face of tongue and taste and texture? Suskind describes Grenouille's frustration with the vocabulary of scent, because it is so limited. We have the same--sweet, sour, bitter, salty, and metaphors, because the only way to get around the limit of precise words is to compare it to something familiar and similar. Like chicken. I need to put this pineapple away. It did make me feel better, though.
So now I'm writing up two potential cross examinations at the last minute, and let me tell you, Chief Julian Polson is a bugger to pin down. Please, God, let me be allowed to enter evidence in on cross examination. I've been paging frantically through the evidence files for the last half hour, from letter to PCPD regulations and then to another affadavit, trying to figure out who exactly is responsible for investigating reports of officer misconduct, all for one question. And then, you know, how do I prove it if the witness lies, and the proof exists in evidence which has not been entered? So we would have to be able to enter evidence on cross. It makes no sense otherwise.