- I wonder if I’ll ever be able to write these posts on Sunday again. Hmmmm. Food for thought. It feels weird to write “this week” when really it was “last week,” but oh well. I’m sure we’ll pull through this one.
- Speaking of pulling through, at the risk of sounding sentimental [and potentially of shit], I have to say that after writing that “I’m in a funk and can’t get out of it” post and reading your comments about it, I found myself in a remarkably better mood. I know writing is “therapeutic” (I hate saying things like “therapeutic”), but I really think it’s the combination of letting it out and reading you people. Lately I haven’t had time to respond to many comments, but I read each one, carefully, and when I have more time I will be responding more again.
- I have no time. Ever. This is the middle of the semester, when I feel my own death approaching, slowly, angrily, in the form of research and writing and students who won’t turn shit in. Or turn it in but do so in this ridiculously half-assed manner and I wanna punch ‘em.
- Which reminds me, I mentioned the movie Fight Club to a class of freshman. I quoted “you are not your fucking khakis” – it was relevant I swear – and they all looked at me like I was from some other planet. THEY DIDN’T KNOW WHAT IT IS. I felt old and appalled at the same time. So powerless. I mean how is a person to sit with the idea that subsequent generations may not know Mr. Tyler Durden? How people? WHY?
- And the worst part is they think I’m so old they couldn’t trust me that it’s fucking cool. So I showed them excerpts on YouTube.
- After they saw Brad shirtless with blood dripping out his nose, they were convinced.
- I think we may need to watch it. That would probably be the only shit they learn all semester. Or at least, the most valuable.
- Yesterday I took Mac to Monterey for his birthday to get his tattoo worked on. While there, I somehow got another tattoo (small one on my wrist). The kids were with my mom, meaning Mac and I spent a day together. The two of us. Alone. Walked along the coastline, ate clam chowder and shrimp cocktail, watched each other get stabbed with ink-dipped needles. ALL VERY ROMANTIC I assure you.
- But, we came back to a very, very sick boy. Strep throat. So sad. And now, I’m sure, the whole family will get it, and I’ll be back in the funk just as soon as I got out.
- Nah, there are antibiotics for that kind of funk.
And for the other kind?
Let’s make this week suck less than last…mmmkay?
And enjoy this…