x
schencka
I hate children and puppies.
Actually I don't. But that makes for a good entry title.

Last night I did some imbibing and such, on the community's dime. First, it was the English Department party, a festive event mixing a broad cross-section of pasty-white American progressives, with a couple Jews mixed in. Seriously, it's odd that so few non-upper-middle class culturally knowledgeable people aren't interested in A) writing, or B) reading. It's a de facto insularity.

So I wore my new $5 shirt I got at Twice-as-Nice, a black polyester form-fitting shirt, with my neck chain, so as to look part Mexican and part Italian -- the main purpose was to set myself off from the pasty white progressives, of which I am indissolubly one of.

It was a good party; I had three drinks, talked to some of the folks in the department that I know and am friendly with. I was struck by the absence of my friend Mike K., a reader of this blog, I think. There were some others that didn't show. I feel a lot more comfortable at events like that than I used to. I'm comfortable as a grad student; the whole bit doesn't cause me as much insecurity as it once did. ("Am I smart?" -- friends, do away with questions such as these; they are your enemy. Ernest Hemingway, Norman Mailer, Henry Miller and Stendhal didn't waste their time on such concerns.)

Muse of the night: Dylan: "But my love for her / has taken such a long time to die."

Then it was off to the "lesbian party," the particulars of which I had just enjoyed describing to my English colleagues. There's a couple having a commitment ceremony, apparently today, so a dyke-heavy (I use the term affectionately) "bachelor party" was put on. (The couple in question is an odd match; perhaps it's better that there won't be strict legal hindrances on their coupling.) So: free drinks, music, Jess smoking a bunch of cigarettes, home, sleep -- now to my interminable end of semester tasks: writing, grading.

This calls for a quickie poem, in dedication to passionate lesbians the world round:

I have imbibed
Of her sweet fruits,
Under shady trees
And darkest hours.

She doth keep me
Coming back.
 
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