ON ACCEPTING THE FRENCH IDEA OF GENIUS:

Dear pals,

Long time no write. Ah, the LJ grows smaller and smaller. I should keep up, I know. What a semester; it is eating my brain and time. I am trying a few new experimental papers this semester and it is taking more time than expected. Also, 80 101 students will never, ever be easy for me. I have changed my grading rubric/grade sheet to make it more teacher friendly, but it still takes too long to grade these papers. That and I'm having trouble getting started. A pile of 80 papers in brightly colored folders has been staring at me for a week. I haven't looked at one. I am finding all sorts of excuses for putting them off.

Some of my favorites:

1. Sex (why not?)- the 13th was our 8th wedding anniversary. I assume the traditional gift for the 8th is something like, um, humping. Unfortunately we had a reading that night at school and saved our anniversaring until later in the week. Our lovely roommate even went out of town for the night so he wouldn't have to hear it...he's squeamish. The sux, however, is that because I have to have a little procedure (minor) done in the next month, we have to be superprecotious about the baby making, so...well, we went through the free condoms from last years HIV awareness day, and I had to go buy some. I got the fancy variety pack.

2. I'm researching (why not?)- yes, my recent crush on Carl Sagan is actually part of a researching push. Why Carl Sagan? Well, because I like his voice and he says things that make me want to squee like "We're all part of the cosmic ocean." And "everything is composed of starstuff." He did a special on Mars called "Blues for a Red Planet" and it killed me...killed me. I may actually be dead.

3. Too many interesting things in the world- television, books, sunshine, apples, dogs, good smells.

4. Too many thoughts to think- about things like frailty and affection and dreamt selves.

5. Too many dreams (speaking of dreams)- I know, I know, "This never happened." I went to SF to meet erraticrabbit who had suddenly and unexpectedly decided she was a lesbian, and felt like marching in a parade. I was there as pretend girlfriend to ward off unwanted advances from fellow marchers. Why me, I thought? Then someone in the crowd came up to me and said "You're a pretty boy. Don't you know it? I bet you pass as a woman all the time." And I thought, "What?!!!!" Hmmmm. Later in this very divergant dream, I was teaching Dave to dance in an abandoned underground movie theater in France. And we talked about frailty, I said, "Sometimes we should show our weakenesses to the people we love, how else will they ever get the chance to prove love to us? When else can they take care of us? Maybe being confident, and being able to handle things on our own is sometimes cruel? It must be." I agree with dream me, no matter what gender dream me might be; strength is lovely, but we show it to everyone--weakness, on the otherhand, only a few are priviledged to see, and far fewer are permitted to touch/heal. I should remember that.

6. I got a chapbook, woot! I'm in celebration mode. Fuck it! And I received my book blurb...which is strangely gorgeous. The chapbook is entitled "Ritual no.3: For the Exorcism of Ghosts." And the judge, Kwame Dawes, said some very nice things about my work. He said the poems were erotic (in the greek sense), obsessed with death, and still funny. I think they are funny. Oh, we're all hilariously tragic.

7. It's fucking cold. I moved to get away from the fucking cold and my fingers are freezing. I've noticed that when my hands are cold my typing is much worse. What's with that? My hands are really cold right now, and it is taking much longer to type this than is necessary.

8. I don't need pampering, but here's what I want: tea, a massage, (that's a good start), warm loveliness, maybe a sauna, a swim, someone to wash my hair, acupuncture, hot towels, sushi, a pedicure, TIME. Why do some people get these things? I am a small boyish girl with a pile of papers looming in my future, with a ton of things I both need and want to do. SOmewhere someone without a thought in their head has their desires handed to them, all those things I want, unearned (although I have not earned them either), unappreciated (that I would do, I would appreciate the fuck out of them), and why? Because they are born into something? Fate? Karma? Maybe. Because suffering causes thought and art and beauty? Maybe. If so, let me be shallow and undeserving for a day. Just a day. Ah, who am I kidding? If I had time and money to do these things I wouldn't, because I'd feel guilty. Guilt is the foundational emotion of all of my comings and goings. Without guilt, I would not be me. Without guilt, I wouldn't fret over the 8 bucks I just spent to finish my halloween costume. Or worry over the fact that tonight is leftover night. And that, my pals, just would not be me.

Love,
M

P.S. Happy Wedding, CareyG! (no more CareyD for you)
P.P.S. Congrats, Ms. Dragon, you are landed gentry. I'm proud of you.
P.P.P.S. Rabbit, I miss you. I have presents.
P.P.P.P.S. Vick, I miss you too. I have presents.
P.P.P.P.P.S. Everyone else, I think of you too. It's just starting to feel like fall here, and you know fall=nostagia.

I cannot tell you how much JPL and I love escape games, especially minoto's escape games.

Today's game, called "Alien Child" gave me this message at the end:

Stray child's space alien
It got on UFO. It returned to whereabouts.
The word was not able to be understood so much.
I thought that it had said at the end, Goodbye.
Coming some time to the earth to play is good.

How great is that?
That's fucking poetry.
"The word was not able to be understood so much."

Oh, is it ever, Alien Child? Is it ever?

Oh, Monica, Thank you!


I may in fact be dead with loveliness:



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