My Mountain Man & Proust

I might be in love with this man who might be homeless. He was on the train today. Back when Pause Cafe was open, he used to stop in for the bathroom, which is why I think he might be homeless. He is also kind of dirty but this may be because he is a Mountain Man.

Mountain Man looks like a mountain. His long gray-streaked hair and beard cascade into his giant shoulders cloaked in flannels. Somehow, though, despite his Western ruggedness, he reminds me of some ancient king -- grizzled wisdom and large glassy eyes.


My vague and almost gut-reaction association reminded me of Swann in Proust's In Search of Lost Time. Proust often likens characters to figures in art -- a means of accessing both the person and the historical figure represented. I am not sure how exactly this "accessing" works. It is a kind of lie.

Swann, for example, begins to fall in love with Odette (even though he is not initially attracted to her & thinks she is rather stupid) after he likens her to Botticelli's rendering of Zephora.

This comparison seems to infuse Odette with all the painting's grace and beauty. It is a means for Swann to "understand" her -- or perhaps a better word is "possess" -- even as he makes her what she is not.

Proust can be depressing when he writes about desire. It may seem that the object of desire is never truly "real," so laden with associations. For when the object is seen in reality, the need to understand/possess vanishes.

At the same time, a peculiar and rich satisfaction comes out of associating real people with figures in art. I think it stems from nostalgia for a past that wasn't actually yours. Vague emotions attach themselves to ancient Greece, to the Renaissance, etc., and together they elevate the object of desire.

I agree with Proust to a certain extent, but I'm not depressed about this. When these associations attach themselves to people around us, it makes our experience of the world more complex and interesting. This is not to say that people as they "really are" are neither -- not at all -- but I like the idea of our surroundings being linked to the past, to art, to personal memory. I think desire, in this sense, may not give us a means of truly understanding another person, not in & of itself. But it does create an interesting triad between oneself, the object of desire, and the artwork, connected by different threads of longing.

Tutoring Update: In Which Things Get Really Real

Heading over to Laith and Aseel's apartment in a couple of hours, and I have to admit, part of me dreads it. As much as I care about their family, and about the subject matter they're learning, my visits are becoming increasingly emotionally difficult.

The way the refugee process works - at least, through World Relief, the organization that's been helping them - is that their family receives money for their first three months in the U.S. After that, they're on their own. World Relief helped Laith find a job, but the results are far less than what they'd hoped for.

The job is in a factory near O'Hare airport. From what I've gathered, Laith packages vegetables and food products for four hours a day - not even a full-time job. Half his day is spent commuting: A trip that would take half an hour by car turns into a 2.5-hour journey by public transport, two buses and a train. He leaves around 5 a.m. and is home by 3.

Last week when I arrived at 3:30, Laith was too tired for any lesson. I talked with Aseel, who was very frustrated - "This is not a good job," she kept repeating while the three children ran around screaming, more feral than usual. So we didn't get much done.

So what I'm concerned about, going forward, is how to achieve these things:
- how to have a productive session when Laith is burnt out from work
- how to work with information toward an actual goal - not just various rules of language, but how they can actually be used
- how to wade through my own discomfort about their situation, keeping a motivated spirit

Ok, let's do it.