Tuesday, November 30, 2004

 

Fucking Crazy

I'm fucking crazy, fucking like crazy, take your pick. I promise I'll get back to the talking about my work business of yesterday (because it sort of relates, and I do want to talk about it) this afternoon or tomorrow, but for now, there are more pressing matters. Namely, that I went over to Freud's last night (he's freaking out about something that he's "mulling over" and doesn't yet want to talk about, but he asked me to come over because his life sucked last night, and I went over because I was freaking out about this presentation today and thought it would be good to focus on somebody else's fucked-up-ness instead of on the fucked-up-ness of my research).

How do I tell what happened? How can I articulate in my current state the current state of affairs?

Oh my. Oh my my. I am an irresponsible, crazy, crazy professor. Must go get ready to explain what pleasure has to do with novelistic aesthetics to a bunch of people who a. have not read the book that I'm talking about and b. probably have no familiarity with the theory that I'm using.

[Edited to add: Well, the bullets above are a new addition, but also my talk went fan-fucking-tastic! I have not been on this kind of a crazy research no-sleep high since a conference back in 1999 where I stayed up until 4 AM behaving in a manner not unlike the manner in which I behaved last night and had to present a paper at an 8 AM panel. Perhaps irresponsible fucking is actually good for my work? Must go smoke cigarettes and drink more caffeine in order to stay awake to grade and prep.]


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