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.
 
Calendar

March 2017
1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031

January 2017
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031

December 2016
123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031


Older

Recent Visitors

March 28th
google

March 27th
ontheway
google

March 26th
google

March 25th
commntyblackman
google

March 24th
google

March 23rd
google

March 22nd
google

March 21st
almost23
google

March 20th
google

March 19th
google
Spread Firefox