Another session of Diplomacy tonight. There was a shortage of players, so three out of us four took two teams--Allan satisfied himself with France, and I took Germany and Austria-Hungary. I didn't acquit myself much better than last time, with Austria-Hungary falling to a relentless Turkish and Italian advance and even Germany being reduced to the approximate territory of the Electorate of Brandenburg. Still, I quite enjoyed myself, and i think I was improving--perhaps if I'd had Austria-Hungary expand much more energetically into the Balkans as Germany advanced into Scandinavia?
This reminds me of alternate histories. Diplomacy is an interesting simulation, but it falls short in several respects. The distribution of supply points comes to mind--Britain, Germany, France, and Italy all have the same number (3) of supply points, although Italy and perhaps also France should have fewer supply points that the remainder, while Russia's four points and the Ottoman Empire's three overrates their strength. The Balkan states and Portugal, though likely not the Scandinavian states, are given a power that perhaps outweights their real-life importance by their possession of a single supply point each. And there's also the location of supply points--I'd place Germany's two supply points apart from Berlin in the Ruhr and Silesia instead of Kiel and Munich, Austria-Hungary's Trieste supply point in Bohemia, Italy's Naples supply point in Trieste, and so on. Ah, but still, good fun. And I'm definitely interested in playing future PBEM games.
Allan's excited about his trip to Britain, to see that country and his girlfriend Christine. I wished him luck, of course. A pity that he had to pay extra to get the passport bureau to rush his passport to him, but at least he has it; it's certainly excellent ID, if nothing else. He recommended, again, that I read Allan Bloom's The Closing of the American Mind; Allan is doing his Honours project in part on Bloom, and I know enough about Bloom's writings to be intruiged.
It's ironic, then, that I'm reading Michel Foucault, who in so many ways is Bloom's antithesis and secret comrade. I've read volume 1 of Foucault's The History of Sexuality. I can't offer up a very detailed impression of it apart to admire his theoretical audacity and his historicism, but a quote lept out to my reader's eye:
"The nineteenth-century homosexual became a
personage, a past, a case history, and a childhood, in
addition to being a type of life, a life form, and a
morphology, with an indiscreet anatomy and possibly a
mysterious physiology. Nothing that went into his total
composition was unaffected by his sexuality. It was
everywhere present in him: at the root of all his actions
because it was their insidious and indefinitely active
principle; written immodestly on his face and body
because it was a secret that always gave itself away. It
was consubstantial with him, less a habitual sin than as
a singular nature." [FN1]
It interested me since this thesis lay at the root of my fears, after I realized in February and even before when I idly wondered, that my innate nature might be revealed to the wider public by some trait: physique, behaviour, something. I don't think it was, or is; enough people have told me that my vibe is nerdish if anything for me to feel approximately comfortable in this. I suppose that this fear of sudden revelation applies to anyone with a secret. Still, it interests me.
[FN1] Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, Volume 1: An Introduction. Trans. by Robert Hurley. 1990. New York: Vintage Books, 1978. p. 43.
This reminds me of alternate histories. Diplomacy is an interesting simulation, but it falls short in several respects. The distribution of supply points comes to mind--Britain, Germany, France, and Italy all have the same number (3) of supply points, although Italy and perhaps also France should have fewer supply points that the remainder, while Russia's four points and the Ottoman Empire's three overrates their strength. The Balkan states and Portugal, though likely not the Scandinavian states, are given a power that perhaps outweights their real-life importance by their possession of a single supply point each. And there's also the location of supply points--I'd place Germany's two supply points apart from Berlin in the Ruhr and Silesia instead of Kiel and Munich, Austria-Hungary's Trieste supply point in Bohemia, Italy's Naples supply point in Trieste, and so on. Ah, but still, good fun. And I'm definitely interested in playing future PBEM games.
Allan's excited about his trip to Britain, to see that country and his girlfriend Christine. I wished him luck, of course. A pity that he had to pay extra to get the passport bureau to rush his passport to him, but at least he has it; it's certainly excellent ID, if nothing else. He recommended, again, that I read Allan Bloom's The Closing of the American Mind; Allan is doing his Honours project in part on Bloom, and I know enough about Bloom's writings to be intruiged.
It's ironic, then, that I'm reading Michel Foucault, who in so many ways is Bloom's antithesis and secret comrade. I've read volume 1 of Foucault's The History of Sexuality. I can't offer up a very detailed impression of it apart to admire his theoretical audacity and his historicism, but a quote lept out to my reader's eye:
"The nineteenth-century homosexual became a
personage, a past, a case history, and a childhood, in
addition to being a type of life, a life form, and a
morphology, with an indiscreet anatomy and possibly a
mysterious physiology. Nothing that went into his total
composition was unaffected by his sexuality. It was
everywhere present in him: at the root of all his actions
because it was their insidious and indefinitely active
principle; written immodestly on his face and body
because it was a secret that always gave itself away. It
was consubstantial with him, less a habitual sin than as
a singular nature." [FN1]
It interested me since this thesis lay at the root of my fears, after I realized in February and even before when I idly wondered, that my innate nature might be revealed to the wider public by some trait: physique, behaviour, something. I don't think it was, or is; enough people have told me that my vibe is nerdish if anything for me to feel approximately comfortable in this. I suppose that this fear of sudden revelation applies to anyone with a secret. Still, it interests me.
[FN1] Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, Volume 1: An Introduction. Trans. by Robert Hurley. 1990. New York: Vintage Books, 1978. p. 43.
