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schencka
In My Restless Summer

Summer, it seems, never ends in this Devil-begotten land. Not that it's that horrible. It's just that our dog Ellie is currently unsuccessfully cooling herself off by wagging her tongue. I ran with her because it's good to let her dissipate her energy, so to speak.

And yes, Jess did find work. Ah, it's just a beginning, though. I told her that I shouldn't be forgiven, yet, for being a "shit" before. But I reacted as I did, and I can't backtrack on it. It's okay for things to be a little stressful. Makes 'me (the times) more real.

Well, I think I just slept through my famous dark night of the soul. I had planned on letting the stress of my first graduate school paper work me into a faith-based rage (er, well, that is inaccurate; more like a "Jesus Christ, I could just be working some 40-hour a week job and not have the expectation of thinking--that kind of faith). But now I got the idea that I am going to put into action: I'm going to read Derrida's Of Grammatology in terms of an authorial narrative. Derrida and Nietzsche are buddies, as it were, in the narratalogical sense. Further explanation and critiques from Eric Hayot (theory guy at UofA) later.

So, what we have seen here, is just a beginning.

God bless 'em, Adam

No profanes - sacred
 
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