10th week again.

I feel like I just wrote a post for 10th week... My god, that was three months ago. And yet it feels like everyday is 10th week at the U of C!

Everyone (including myself) has become a little flaky regarding social engagements, and so I had an unexpected afternoon free(ish) (really I should be studying, but what the hell - it's Memorial Day, I already had class and retrieved MANY sources from the Regenschtein, so I gave myself the afternoon off). As I was driving away from Hyde Park (having had NO luck whatsoever finding someone to goof off with) I saw Amber walking down the street. Feeling very much like a pimp, I pulled my car over to the side of the road, rolled down my window and said "jump in!". She jumped in, and within minutes we were cruising down Lakeshore Drive. Suddenly a gloomy, rainy day was full of interest - we went to Chinatown and had Dim Sum (a personal favorite - see previous posts), I bought a teacup (with dragons) and a fan (with flowers) and nearly got sick on dried pineapple. Between downpours, we scoured the shops looking for kitschy objects of amusement.

A totally frivolous and joyful (although expensive) day

To the man who said: "Can I walk under that umbrella with you two lovely ladies?" - I'm sorry I blew you off. It was pouring, and you were sleazy. I hope that you had the good sense to stay under that awning until it stopped raining.


I've found that, in addition to blogging more, I pick up a few strange habits when I'm stressed.

1- I will eat sugar-straight. Nothing is sweet enough for me: coffee, tea, and any other beverage gets AT LEAST a packet (I like the crunch). See: extra 10 pounds to be worked off this summer.

2- I spend considerably more time in coffeehouses. (Probably to avoid the apartment I don't have time to clean, and to procure liquid sugar: see #1)

3- I drive down random streets in search of... er... Gold? Antique stores? Coffeehouses? (see #2), ways to waste time?

4- I buy makeup (I don't have an explanation for this one, folks - it's just there)

5- I spend money like a drunken 14-year-old with her daddy's credit card (is it shiny? Yes? Then it's mine.)

6- I crave Taco Bell at 2:00am (punctually, within moments after they close)

7- I buy office supplies (I think that I think this makes me more productive - I think I'm wrong)

8- Mountain Dew

9- I carry around my paper materials as though they were some kind of talisman (my backpack weighs more every day, and yet - I can't take anything out)

10- I make lists.

Chai Rock.

Today was all paper. I have gotten to that stage where I think that my argument is shit and can see all the flaws. This is wonderful. This means I can fix the flaws. This stage is stage #, like, 12 in my paper-writing er... stages. It is immediately after stage #11 where I think that I know what I'm talking about but the whole idea is really nebulous and kinda not under my control. #13 (where I pray to get this week) is: it's been patched up so that I am not ashamed to show it around and now needs some serious stylistic editing.

It also needs a bit of a trim - 33 pages, Yipes! Fortunately for me, there is a lot of bullshit that can be removed. Unfortunately this means I have to wade in and do some hardcore shit shoveling. Bleah.

Today was also a day of coffeehouse madness. Allyson called me up after having decided that she was at the "coffeehouse stage" of writing (apparently her stages work differently from mine - I hope, for her sake, that she has an ice cream shop stage, or perhaps a dance club stage). So off we went - first to my favorite coffeehouse (which I shamelessly stole from Anne), and secondly to her coffeehouse (which she shamelessly stole from no one). There was cheese, there was chai, there were smoothies, there were couches, there was a mild electric shock - in all, both a productive and delicious experience.

Which leads me to another totally random conclusion - I need my own coffeehouse. I think that it is some kind of grad-student requirement that in a city as big as Chicago everyone have their own place. Clearly, as coffeehouse-having goes I am as a bum on the street corner, begging for a latte and wishing that I had a home of my very own. I am a fussy girl - not any old coffeehouse for me. It must be a cross between the elegant and the laid-back: big tables and couches are key. Hand chalked menus on the wall are a good sign, good sandwiches are a must - good soup is a bonus and good chai is absolutely necessary. I like hip and funky with an elegant flair - and no techno music (although 80's hits are welcome).


I picture it as a personals ad: - Struggling grad student seeks coffeehouse. I'm funky, you're hip - together we're elegant. Strong black mocha a must - lots of sugar. I like to spread out across big tables or on a couch. Maybe dinner? Maybe more? If interested mail me a flyer, and I can come over and get to know you better.


Obviously too much time has been spent studying. I would also like to point out the fact that it is a travesty that I not only have to go to class tomorrow (isn't it a national holiday? Yep, but not for the U of C) but I have to come in early for an EXTRA SESSION at 8:00 in the morning.

Dear diary. (warning - this post is not witty or sarcastic, but in fact - rather sad)

Anyone who says that dreams aren't Freudian wish fulfillments is wrong. I have evidence.

Last night I left a voicemail for a friend that hasn't been speaking to me for the past 2 months. There was a fight, there was silence - I know what happened, but I just can't believe that it was something about which we couldn't come to some solution. I guess I was wrong. I will really miss her. She is funky and cool and all of the sane that I am not. She has these shining qualities: a devotion to her friends, a fiery personality, a levelheaded understanding of what must be done, and the ability to follow through. Clearly losing her as a friend is shameful, and I never should have let it get this far. Sadly irreparable (apparently), so what can I do but wish her well and hope that someday things change?

On to my dream - She called me - we talked, it was as if none of this had happened. We bitched about our mutual person we bitch about, complained about not getting to see one another, we chatted. It was nice. Then I woke up.

Clearly Freud has scored a point in my corner.

Bye Becky. I will miss you.

Yes, I'm better today.

Thank you all for your kind interest. I am much better today.

Although I have a feeling that this bitterness will linger through 11th week.

Worked on my paper today and actually got so frustrated with scrolling up and down on multiple Word documents that I printed them all out and attacked with scissors and tape. I now have a 7.5 foot long ribbon of paper which has to be re-converted into a word document. On the up side, I think that it actually now conveys something similar to a coherent argument (albeit with rather large gaps that need to be filled in with random historical content). This all comes from trying to conceptually expand an already written 10 page presentation / conference paper into a 20 page paper with the minimum amount of work possible (note: that approach fails - plan to do more work than if you started from scratch). This all occurred after I sat down in a coffeehouse to work and simply wrote across the top page "this makes no orginizational sense" [note to students: this is a bad sign].

It is, however, aesthetically pleasing to have this rope-o-paper lying across my floor. I can quite literally walk through my argument. I can cut and paste. I can doodle in the margins. I can create a game of hopscotch on the back. I can measure my apartment in paper-lengths. I can even wrap my paper around me as a protective cloak and pretend that I am some kind of Blithedale/folklore superhero here to protect the world from free-floting evil released by Jamesean magical narratives (this seriously makes sense if you read my paper - which indicates, perhaps, how inappropriate my topic is and how utterly hopeless my approach seems at the moment)

At least I have all weekend to work on this. After rendering ribbons to text tomorrow I will be poised (catlike) to pounce upon the gaps, bat around the transitions, rip apart irrelevant digressions, and generally drop useful historical knowledge into my argument. If this fails I will curl up in a ball and sleep.

So, the workshop results: 'Don't quit your day job'

Apparently my style of comic is the equivalent of the harlequin romance novel. Good looking girls and a fantasy plot = fluff. Basically I wish I hadn't gone. There was one point at which someone said something about my comic that actually made everyone else in the room make that "oooh" noise of sucking in breath because it was so inappropriately rude.

Spiegelman was not rude. He was very nice, very polite, and he gave me some good ideas about what to do with the apparently hopeless form that I have chosen for my comic.

I am about to do something that I never do: namely say something bad about someone using their actual name in my blog. If this is something of which you do not approve (and I can't really say I approve of it either, but I'm pissed) please skip this part and look for the next bold statement.

Note to: Tania Valerie Schrag (yes I use your real name). It is very rude to COLOR IN someone else's comic with HOT PINK MAGIC MARKER while ridiculing their work and then GIVE THAT COLORED COPY BACK TO THEM. I did not photocopy my art to be your coloring book (just a hint).

To use a metaphor, if my ego is a robin's egg, today its fragile blue shell was cracked open by an 8 year old and spread across the sidewalk so that he could see if it would fry in the sun.

Tonight I will be drinking. Didn't feel like going to the lecture. I hope, whoever is reading this (with the exception of Tania Valerie Schrag) that you had a better day than I did.

End of bitter rant.

damnation, earwax, and penny loafers

Today I was a ninja. I would like to say that this means I was clad head to toe in black, went on a secret mission, and got to use really interesting weaponry and stealth to kick ass. Instead it means that I turned off my cell phone, didn't tell anyone where I was going, and hid in the library all day.

I did wear black!

In any case, today was a day of: paper writing, vain expostulations to the gods of sleep deprivation, and McDonald's coffee. More paper writing to follow this week, as well as reading that I will probably forget to do, massive copying of paper for the comic book workshop, writing of journal articles and an abstract, and general end of quarter nonsense.

Wow, my life is just so damn FUN!

Justifications

(1) I studied for three hours (although I got nothing done)
Thus: I deserve to take the rest of the night off

(2) I will work really hard this weekend
Thus: I don't have to work on my papers tonight

(3) It is raining
Thus: I don't have to run

(4) It is 9pm
Thus: There is no reason to start working because I will only get 2 hours in before I go to sleep so I should just watch LOTR again instead

(5) It is late in the quarter
Thus: I deserve to eat x (where x includes, but is not limited to: Oatmeal Cream Pies, Mountain Dew, Pizza, Chilis, Sixlets, Butter, Iced Chai Latte, Fig Newtons)

(6) I have to write my paper
Thus: I don't have to do my reading: see (2)

(7) I have an outline written
Thus: My paper will really only take 2 hours to put together so: see (2)

(8) I'm whiny
Thus: I don't have to have any social interaction whatever

(9) I'm grumpy
Thus: I can wear jammies to class

(10) 1-10
Thus: I can blog instead of working.

"Justification and self-delusion measures in place, system functioning normal"
"apathy?" ....
"rising and holding at 98%"
"digression?" ....
"occurring at a frequency of once every 68 seconds"
"depression?" ....
"holding steady at 76.25%"
"interest?" ....
"that's at 0% Captain"
“bitterness?” ….
“my God! It’s at 100%! Open the valve!”
“will she hold?” ….
“I don’t know, Captain – parts of the vessel might enucleate, sir.”
"what about weapons? Do we have weapons?" ....
"tongue barbed and forked and ready for wit, sir"

"full speed ahead, baby"

Oh man - 9th week.

I looked back at my blog the other day -- winding my way through the archives and charting (as if on a line graph - I'm thinking a little wiggly red line here) my moods as the quarters go on. The little red line goes up once the quarter is over, but previous to that it acts as if it were a positively accurate depiction of the crash of 1929. I'm fairly sure that much more of this will give me irreversible facial tics.

I fled to Madison this weekend - and it was good despite the Tornado Warning

(note the capitalization - in my childhood, Tornadoes were something of a terror. I have vivid memories of packing up my pictures, a pillow, and a bunch of my random "valuables" (think plastic rings and teddy bears here) and heading into the basement to spend a dreary evening listening to the hail on the roof, and watching the sky turn green. There are also inexplicable memories of sitting huddled by the wall-o-jeans at Shopko in the middle of my retail-clerk days while sirens blared overhead and the parking lot was coated in a rather rocky layer of hailstones. More traumatic memories of the time that I actually SAW a tornado forming while I WAS DRIVING TOWARDS IT also creep into my memories at these moments - ahhhh life in Wisconsin.)

In any case, a good time was had - and my boyfriend and I found out just why one shouldn't mix vodkatinis and cheeseburgers with pokey stix. Oh hangover.

I am currently sitting in the hematology lab of his med school thinking about the papers that I have to write this week and wishing that, like the UW Madison undergrads, I were on summer break. Oh - no summer break for you, KT - it's intensive summer LATIN! YAY! I could just enucleate for joy (I have on semi-fair authority that this means to have one's eyes pop out of one's head - med-school nomenclature is so amusing). In any case, much twitching and freaking out will occur this week - followed by brief moments of intoxication and impotent violent head / keyboard interaction. I will attempt to chronicle the path of pain, but frankly, I'm not sure that my keyboard will be in working order. If not - know that you are all in my thoughts this last week - and that Oatmeal Cream Pies, Mountain Dew, Dim Sum, and the pleasure of exploding Peeps in the microwave are surely reasons to live.

Bad Student! Back to Work!

After Dim Sum madness, Saturday was spent making an accessory computer chip and LED encrusted glove to go with the cyborg eyepiece that I made for Halloween (why it struck me at 7:00 at night to rip down computer parts for a flashing glove I will never know. If you know me, you know about my interest in shiny things, my packrat nature, and my Macgyver tendencies - all of these conspire to give me impulses to make strange and useless things late at night. This is just part of what it means to be KT)

In any case - Saturday, although fun, was a total bust for studying.

Sunday was a trip to the Milwaukee Public Museum to see (I'm not kidding) the new exhibit on ancient Egyptian tombs: "The Quest For Immortality". There was this box lunch, and a lecture, and tickets to the museum, and tickets to the show, and an IMAX movie. It was - er... educational. This was my mom's choice for her mothers' day gift, so I can't really say anything bad about it.

The food was good. Yes, the food was quite good.
And, um, I got some black cat earrings.
And, um, I got to spend quality time with my family.
And, um, Scott and I got to make fun of the self-guided audio tour, so that was cool.

Yeah.

In any case - Sunday, although educational, was again a total bust for studying.

Now it's Monday, and I just spent the entire day shopping for shoes and jammies, and I really don't want to study. Perhaps if I read these few articles I can justify my Monday - yes... that's what I'll do...

wish me luck!

Sumthin good.

Dim Sum today - my GOD. The things that I have been missing here in Chicago continue to astound me. Jett and Kerri were kind enough to steer me towards a huge red building, up the stairs, and place food on my plate (often with the words "try it, you'll like it"). They are fantastic for doing this, as I have now achieved food transcendence and must leave the mortal plain to commune with the gods of shrimp dumplings. You will see the halo around my head as I walk amongst you - for I am now one of Those Enlightened by Dim Sum Goodness.

And LO! I said that is was good - and by golly, it was gooood.

We had these shrimp things and these pork things, and these shrimp things with rice and these pork things with rice, and these egg things with pork and these egg things with custard and this tea - obviously, I have no idea what I ate - but I have been told that there were no chicken feet involved. My stomach, however, does not care for nomenclature; it is merely singing odes to the Dim Sum gods.

We also took in the kitschy and not-so-kitschy parts of Chinatown, perused a Chinese grocery store (where one with an adventurous palate can buy an entire dried octopus), sampled the glories of dried mint plums (seriously good), and in general laughed, ate, and had a rollicking good time. Be warned about the bubble tea: there’s really nothing quite like sucking a huge bolus of black tapioca up an impossibly large straw to put one off after lunch.

I also, for the first time in my life, rode on the L-train.
Now I know you're all: "WHAT?!"
and I'm like: "SO?!"
and you're like: "THAT'S FUCKING UNBELIEVABLE?!"
and I'm like: "LIKE, RIGHT, YEAH?"

enough of that
- so yes, I have avoided riding the trains - but I will have to take them more often because it's like a ride at Disney World. There's this little voice that tells you where to get on and off, there's shiny metal cars riding on impossibly confusing tracks, there's the chance of being killed by your fellow passengers - and the downtown stations on the red line SERIOUSLY look like the ones out of The Matrix. All of this amuses me to no end. If they could only get the cars to go a little faster and install blacklights, this would be an awesome ride. I have visions of "Non Party" and "Party" trains, on which one sells alcohol and there is pole-dancing. Clearly the allergy medicine is getting to my brain.


In any case: Dim Sum $16, Rock sugar $1.50, Train ride $3.50, Getting to go to Chinatown with two cool people - Priceless.

There are some things that money can't buy - for everything else, there’s student loans.

Stop ME!

Over the past few weeks, I was convinced that I didn’t have enough source material to make up an archive for my “U.S. Historical Novel” seminar paper. Because of this, I spent the last week or two photocopying, toting books home, and generally being paranoid about my bibliography. In an attempt to position myself within the framework of my paper (and to fulfill a requirement, and to procrastinate) I typed up my bibliography and a brief outline today…

I have 59 sources for my paper. This is too many. Many of these are anthologies. Many of these are only marginally relevant. My outline alone takes up 4 pages single-spaced. Clearly there is something wrong here. On the bright side - there are major parts of my outline that have already been written (thanks to my presentation), and other parts, which are partially written in technical jargon, and thus sound pretty cool as-is.

The problem with this is that although I have created an archive, it is only supposed to be a 20-page paper. Again, clearly something is wrong here. I will stop going to the library. I will simply write. I will - er... try and explain why I have so may damn anthologies (I am worried that if I start excerpting stories and citing them separately, I will have well over 100 sources.) Not Good. Not Good AT ALL.

Hopefully my professor (if I ever get to talk to her) will have helpful things to say about my argument and its presentation.- If not, I can always build a shrine to the paper gods and sacrifice a copy of the Norton Anthology of American Literature Vol. I. (for some reason this seems to please them much more than early British Fiction - go figure) in hopes that they will present me with the cognition necessary for an A-.

Clearly I am off my rocker, out the door, and staggering towards the swamp of incomprehensibility. Should you happen to meet me on the way, will you just turn me around and give me a push towards home?

Allergies

I have never been a person to be laid low by allergies, but this week has been hell.

I don't know what the heck kind of mutated spores of alien sneezing dust and demented tree pollen has been kicked up by the charming May showers of late, but I am feelin' the pain. Oh man. Never before have so many trees died to service my nasal passages.

Sorry to be such a pessimist, but this week has really been quite lousy. Monday was, er, Mondaylike - and as such prompted my detainment in Hyde Park far past my normal hour so that I could talk to my professor.

Tuesday was better, with a delightful dinner at The Snail (which has damn fine ginger chicken) but I don't know if it was the weather or what, but I was starting to feel a little under said meteorological disturbances, and so an evening in the park prompted (I believe) this dual cold / allergies and general attendant exhaustion and grumpiness.

I knew that it was bad on Wednesday when people walked up to me and just gave me hugs instead of asking how I was doing. They all think that it is my papers (which, I can't say are weighing Lightly on my mind), and frankly the studying hasn't been doing me much good.

Today was another all-day studyfest at the Northwestern library (paralleled by yesterday's all-day archivefest at the Regenstein [and I might add for the edification of people inclined to find microfiches there - don't bother - it is a hopeless mess in the microform room]. I read for my classes next week, I experienced the joys of writing an outline, and I labored over my bibliography.

-- also a minor note of note: Everyone, calm down. I feel as though I have been repeating this over and over to everyone so I might as well say it here. All of the drama, all of the problems, all of the stress is merely the friction caused when everyone is hanging by these little threads of rope at the end of the spring quarter. We are all tired, we are all fried, we all have the summer itch of warm days pressing against our detention in the library, we have all been on the gossip mill for entirely too long, this weather is surely enough to unhinge one's mind, and tempers at the end of the quarter are bound to flare. In short -- for your own sanity and that of those around you, let everything go. Don't take offense - as no offense is meant. Don't spread the gossip - as the gossip will only hurt feelings. Don't worry about your papers - you have them well in hand (and if not, the emptiness of summer beckons). Take your books outside, sit down in the sunshine, free your mind from all of the drama, and finish your work. Then stride into the summer leaving all of this behind you so that you can come back refreshed, consolidated, and with a lot more rope underneath you.

This isn't to be pretentious - I certainly need to take my own advice. Just know that you are all rock stars. I have never before been surrounded by so many intelligent and fucking astounding people in my life. Every single person in this program has a flicker, a shine of wonder that (when polished) will turn out to be light in these dark days of scholarship. I mean it. You people rock.

Ok, folks - I have an admission to make. This weekend was the first time ever that I became drunk enough to be sick. I know, I know, you're all saying "KT, you're like - 25, that's rather pathetic". Pathetic in a dual way, my friends, pathetic in a dual way: (1) I should know better by now and (2) I should have had this experience when I was 18 and left it behind me. This is all part of my delayed aging process due to utter geekieness in high school and undergrad. By my personal estimate I am 19 years old, slowly moving up on the 20 mark. This all just goes to show you that school is bad for your social health.

In any case, multiple parties this weekend interspersed with 12 hour study sessions (yay folklore). There was a very laid back and charming "gathering" of people from Northwestern to which I was invited on Friday night at somewhere called The Hopleaf. They make good White Russians there, and everything would have been just fine if we hadn't started shots of tequila. Needless to say, this was my evening of drunken stupor (paralleled interestingly by the drunken rambunctiousness of my Chicago friends post-tequila at the second party at Stephanie's). Speaking of which - I have to say, this was probably the best party of the year. There was plenty of DELICIOUS food, margaritas, sangria, tequila, salsa, guacamole (My GOD the guacamole) - in short - everything to make an evening worthwhile. And all of this was as nothing compared to the coolness of the people there (many from U of C and many from elsewhere).

There was also dancing. I think I sprained my ass shaking my hips so much.

In any case… Today was a charming afternoon with my parents wandering around Chicago and generally hitting all of the delicious, enchanting, exciting, odd, and fun places between Evanston and boystown. A good time was had by all, and now I can always entice them back down here with promises of ice-cream from the Marble Slab Creamery.

Good weekend--- Goooood weekend.

Soon to be obliterated by the horrors of the last three weeks of paper push

But for now... life is good.

I would just like to inform (for all of those interested) that I got accepted into the Art Spiegelman workshop!

I am on my way to having people give a damn about my comic book art!

ROCK!

This was the most entertaining thing that I heard today

While chatting on the phone with a person from my department - she, in a fit of utter exasperation, described her experiences in class with her professor as follows:

"It's like he has his eyes closed and he has this stick, this stick of, I dunno, interpretation or whatever, and he's swinging it this way and missing and that way and missing trying to hit at this idea and the whole class is sitting there looking at him and saying THERE IS NO PIÑATA! THERE IS NO PIÑATA!"

If you knew of whom was talking this would be 10 times funnier. Not only is it the aporia-de-piñata (which somehow I am picturing as a little festive pony made entirely of scraps of theoretical jargon [perhaps Barthes and a little Derrida]) that is so enchanting, but the dual interpretation of stick (which if you all have read Jett's blog you understand perfectly well). Since I am an English student, I can't help the dual read or the following commentary:

This has also got to be one of the most depressing reads of the grad student condition, i.e. we not only have to watch someone impotently swing a metaphorical stick at a metaphorical piñata that is not there, but note - WE DON'T EVEN GET TO PLAY, WE HAVE TO SIMPLY WATCH!

A little too bitter a picture for my current sentiments, but perhaps as the quarter moves along I will fall into the well-worn channel of black bile that flows through the department in 10th week.

Swish...
Swish...
Swish...

Two postings in a DAY!

New Car Suggestions

Ford Subaltern: This car is unlike every other car. Unique in its otherness, and yet nearly impossible to notice when collected with other cars. For the person who wants a car that is different yet utterly unnoticeable, the Subaltern is perfect choice. Now with life-like speech responses instead of dimly-lit warning lights.

Ford Abject: This car is entirely upholstered in the finest milk-skin and comes complete with fingernail and toenail clippings in every ashtray and convenient jets that spray chilled bodily fluids on the passengers at random intervals.

Nissan Hermeneutic: This car drives itself, and you must program into the onboard computer a system of meaning for the various signs it will encounter. Thus a given “stop” sign can for the hermeneutic signify “merge left” which our precision engineering will execute with exacting detail.

John Deere Deconstruction: This vehicle starts out simply grand, but as it begins to move, the manifold possible uses for each part begin to come into conflict and eventually outright contradiction with one another resulting in the systematic shedding of essential parts by the roadside. Comes complete with replacement parts, tautologies, and scrabble pieces for making up your own words to codify your frustration.

Chrysler Aura: This is a one of a kind vehicle, meticulously handcrafted by the finest Swiss watchmakers, painters and mechanics (on display at the Smithsonian behind bulletproof glass) now mechanically reproduced so that everyone can own their very own car just as unique as the original. This car cannot be driven unless surrounded by the appropriate scenery, cannot be approached or started without due reverence, and always loses a certain something when we try to put it on the assembly line. You have to see it in person to believe it.

Toyota Instantiation: This car is utterly remarkable. Its body is made entirely of a flexible plastic material coated with our patented color changing paint. With just a twist of a dial your Instantiation can be a Jaguar, a Cadillac, a Humvee, or a Dodge Caravan. Instantiatie your vehicular dreams with this vehicle – all vehicles.

Ford Panopticon: Rebuilt from our Crown Victoria body, the Panopticon has a glass roof, opaque dividers between the passengers, no windows, and the driver rides on an aerial platform from which he can observe the inhabitants of his car without being observed. The perfect car for soccer moms sick of fights in the backseat and Mafiosos who prefer to keep an eye on their associates (note: has been known to unsettle small children)

Infinity Aporia: Look at the trees, aren’t they beautiful? And those stars, aren’t they grand? Look around you and experience the wonderfulness and fullness of the world around you – the life bubbling out of every surface. All of these myriad things are not the Infinity Aporia.

Schwinn Liminal: The narrowest car on the market, the Liminal exists on the boundary between bike and car. With a completely permeable exterior wall and an interior that is constructed with an optical illusion to make it seem as though it is no more than three inches wide, the Schwinn Liminal can be parked anywhere. It fits perfectly on lot lines, doorways, and both inside and outside of the garage (at the same time!)

Cadillac Cathexis: You will love this car. It will remind you of your mother’s warm embrace when you sit on our leather seats. It will remind you of your first kiss when you touch up your lipstick in your rearview mirror. It will remind you of the man that got away when you bang your head impotently on the steering wheel in a traffic jam. This car is covered entirely in a fine polyester mesh that attaches to your clothing and keeps you near it at all times. In fact, in our special Meloncholia Edition there is a syringe in the glove box with a bit of the steering wheel inside so that you can take the Cathexis with you wherever you go.

My surreal life.

Things that happened today to make my life just a little more surreal:

Forgetting and leaving the hazards on in my car for the entire day - it was just sitting there, blinking at passerbys, being forlorn and all hazardous ( a sort of entirely benign hazard, or non-hazard hazard if you will)

Singing along in the Divinity school to "Memory" played by a slightly tipsy Jett. (This was especially bad – my singing was not good, the song was not in my range, and well – it’s a horrible song (although Jett is an amazing piano player!))

Realizing that I had written on my hand (as various reminders): Burn Chicago Class 2:00 Email Dragon Prescription Bibliography. I am assuming that with these words, in vaguely this formation, my life could be construed as far more interesting than it really is.

Strawberries dressed up in tuxedos of chocolate

Being told by my professor that women who smoke cigars are hot.

Actually coming up with a hand gesture for "vagina dentata"

Getting a prescription refilled and getting (seriously) 1 pill - just one rattling around in the bottle, lonely for his 29 friends

My inexplicable need to demonstrate the "cool guy walk" as I was walking with Ben today; yes, I have studied this. (Ben, looking back, I'm sorry if that was in any way insulting - I think you have a very nice walk)

Amusing discussions of the childbearing qualities of relative hips.

Additionally, noticing that the Medici is decorated almost entirely with crotches in statue or picture form. (odd)

Hearing Lubna's succinct dissection of the irritating vague ugliness of Michelle on "Full House": "They all had to service her cuteness but really, nobody's buying what you're selling, girls."

In a five minute period
-Seeing a woman let her dog jump up into a raised planter of tulips to relieve himself

-Seeing two women outside of the cosmetology school with a pair of life-size plastic mannequin heads resting on their backpacks - eyes open, staring at the night sky

-Running into 2 Buddhist monks complete with robes and sandals

-Running into a woman in a chainmail (scalemail) skirt

From all of this I conclude that X, where X is the instantiation of my alterity, coupled with a heterotopia of liminality that occurs when the trialectics of space are occupied with the subaltern’s orality. X being the variable in question implies with the implication of an epistemological certainty of copresence and emergence in the inscribed legibility of the “real” where the embodiment of the signifier “body” is manifest, the exemplarity of melancholia. This specialized implication of X becomes an affectual cathexis of historicity, indicating the supervalent delaminatied excess of the vernacular dialectic (here X as trialectic and –X as exemplar of modernity). Bzzzt… Fizz. Pop. Brain malfunction: Abort Retry Fail?

So today was strange, in those little subtle strange ways that make you feel as though you must be on TV, or that some higher being is really getting a kick out of watching you, or that perhaps you are meant in the future to write a novel about just these sorts of things.

Or perhaps not.

I know that I have been remiss in my posting, and I will endeavor (now that I know that people actually read these incoherent ramblings) to post with greater regularity. Of course, I generally post when I think that I have something coherent to say, and frankly, more regular posting may lead to more incoherence – but that’s the chance you take.