kerouac says

i was a tireless advocate of condoms in schools, once upon a time. maybe not tireless. but certainly energetic.

and it's not that i've changed my mind; i've just sort of moved on to other causes. but still, i confess i was a little peeved that the women's restroom in the graduate research library has a condom machine but not a tampon machine.

i mean.

that just doesn't help me out at all.

tubby and tired, unsuccessful and unmotivated.

this is not the whole or actual story of whole and actual me, but i feel like it's the blurb on my current book jacket. not that i have a book jacket.

i know, mediation and love and positive action and whatever, but today i'd just be happy if i didn't want to eat toast and watch tee vee so much.

so, one of the first pieces of academic argot i picked up was the habit of referring to any given written work by the name of its author, preceded by the definite article. i mean, assuming you're in a group of people who are all familiar with the piece. if we're reading something by judith butler, someone will inevitably say, "what i found interesting in the butler was [blah blah yadda my butt whatever]." not so terribly jargony, but a habit i found oddly pleasant; there's something about that the that makes the reading sound like crafted object, something you put under a strong light and then examine from all sides. it's very professory, and i'm certainly not above the pose.

except yesterday Famous PostHumanist used the following subordinate clause in discussion regarding the theorist i posted about earlier:

"reading the weiner, i found . . ."





reading the weiner.



i'm twelve.

i have been reading about norbert wiener.

the most important thing about norbert wiener is that he founded cybernetics, without which star trek would be a lot less fun.

also important is that there is a prize named after him. the wiener prize. i am making a lot of jokes about the wiener prize at home, because the seminar of a famous author may not be the place to make them. i recall the moment that marked the beginning of the decline of my relationship with a prestigious NYU faculty member, a moment in which i could not not giggle when he said "horkheimer" three times in one sentence.

i mean, come on. hork? heimer?

want what you have, want what you have, want what you have.


especially if you what you have is a feast.