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.
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.
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