What manner of men or gods are these?

I know that almost nobody but my mother-in-law has actually been awaiting this update so I will start by thanking her for my nook with an ode.

An ode to brand new nook:

Untapped trapper-keeper of knowledge made arcana,

You are the flower of the foundry--

though cast in plastic thou art,

Thine lithe form was lathed with love

Think you not it lamentable opium tea be no longer dispensable au Carefour

At least I am like to outlive tuberculosis

How romantic.

I love my digital reader because I can finally lift a copy of Infinite Jest without throwing my back out. This is my first attempt and thus far, I'm quite enjoying it. I'm also a bit flattered as I consummate the deed because an advisor on my graduation committee who gave notes on my senior project/novel remarked somewhat sheepishly that my meanderings reminded him--perhaps alarmingly--of Dave's opus.  Had I read it, he left unasked with all but his eyes.

No, but I had heard of it I assured him. I was as then, far too arrogant to read anything that might influence me and was vastly more aware of the 3 linoleum tiles that spanned the distance of our conversation. 

Tennis? Boarding-school? Drugs? That's my life too, I confirmed.

He laughed good-naturedly.  

With laurels like these, who needs goals?  Even still,  occasionally I reconsider revising. Fittingly, as a work it's much messier than any of the computer labs I composed it in. Nobody said it directly but upon scroll-through,  one notes it is all but unstructured, willfully obtuse and silly as a tired child.  Wittgenstein would have swept it unthinkingly into the gutter. (Tis the system.)

Obvs,  I still relish such, in my view, charming indulgences; hence le blog. 

Frankly, the more of his ouevre that I encounter, the easier it becomes to admit I don't write as well as Wallace. Know at least that the yarns I spin in secret are more honest than these  in their self effacement, not simply teaming with the cubits and chaos of this basic bitch showbiz stuff I figured out on certain acid trips or decided while editing my linkedin account.

In terms of my week, Chinese has been beating me like a redheaded step child. Mother may have coined that phrase. She would oft times look to my sister, [The redhead] as she invoked it, which I always felt added to the sincerity.

We did a pretty nifty activity a few days back where each of we six were given two strips of paper with a single phrase, respectively. The rest of the students had to listen and then create integrative statements based on whatever the reader could manage to pronounce.

We also had our site placement interview a couple days earlier and we did our best to dress professionally. For example, I wore a hair clip. It's hard to tell if we just threw in with the flee circus of data collection or they mean to actually let a comity preside over the decision. Such compromises bound up by the needs of so many often yield the same results as adding no input at all. But at least we feel apart of the process.

Friday was our final class with our, shall we say, practice students. I showed them the Adventure Time episode from season 3 where the cute king tries to make the guys bend to his will. 

Just why I showed them this is now strictly academic. 

I'm really hoping I'll have fewer mandatory working lunches with Sisyphus since George Bush is flying his mission accomplished banner over my two weeks of teaching. Yet it's far more likely that le zone vert is about to be Fallujahed by language training, vaccinations and certain unforeseeable addendums to the agenda. 

But in fairness, I think I'm going on a hike tomorrow. 

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