I often refer to my job (polemically) as "confusing freshmen." And if so, then I earned my check tonight.

Some people just can't deal with the truth.

I realize I've been writing here much less than I should, so guilt has irked me into action (if only it worked for the dissertation). So here goes:

I'm getting back into the pace of the regular semester. Summer is kind of a lazy time, only teaching one class (which at the summer pace is actually more like two) and dawdling along with research. Now I'm back to four, and so I need to step up in order to both write and teach. I can't wait until the papers start rolling in, then I'll really have to find more time. I wish there were eight days in a week, so I could have another full day to procrastinate.

I lost my library carral at the end of the summer. I had to clean it out and return my key. It took them a whole month, but last week my renewal application was approved. When I got the key and spun up to the journals floor, I found that they had assigned me the exact same room. Thanks, fuckers.

My neighbor recently moved to Altanta. She had several cats, and needless to say it is hard to find an apartment that will allow one to have more than two pets. I told her (upon provocation from N.) that if she could not find a home for all of them, that I could take one. So, I have a cat. An adult female, creatively named 'Whitey.' I would have gone with 'Chairman Meow' if I had my choice, but so it is. So, I'm a pet owner. I have never had pet my entire adult life (although I'm somewhat used to cleaning after and feeding something that just lies around the house all day, from living with my ex).

When my neighbor moved, she took the pair of lawn flamingos with her. Now my gnome has lost all meaning: it's now an empty sign with no signifier: just like everything else in this elaborate post-modern joke.

I've been reading a lot of secondary material on the Tractatus, trying to find an interpretation I can endorse in the context of the dissertation. I was having trouble evaluating between disparate readings of the text, which just made me realize that I need to read the damn book again. Original scholarship is hard.

Next week I'll be beginning Descartes. No more Plato (thank Zeus!)

My on-again, off-again thing with N. is finally off for good. She finally decided explicitly what I am convinced she had decided implicitly several months ago: she does not want to date me. Which is cool--at least now I can stop spending all of my time fighting, and can start spending large amounts of time being lonely and depressed.

A new batch of grad students has matriculated. I hate it when they come in with egos. I paid my dues for six years to earn my ego--and they have to do the same, damn it!

I wrote up a handout last year and didn't quite edit it properly before I photcopied it to redistribute it. I realized that it contained grammatical/stylistic errors after I had already passed it out. Now I am forced with the question: leave it be, or re-edit it, photocopy and distribute version 2.0. Seems like 'no-win' here . . .

Every time I spend twenty minutes in the morning hunting for a space at USF, I pass dozens of empty "staff" spaces. It really pisses me off. A modest proposal: assign spaces based on need, not on heirarchy.

The Jets looked good week 1, but not so good week 2; although the fourth quarter of the game against the Pats almost made me believe. I enjoyed my week on top of the AFC East. Maybe we can do it again for a week next year.

Enough putting off. Back to work . . .

"How long have I given all I've got?
Here I stand
My days and nights now are solitude
I struggle on
I've paid my price

"All I had I gave

"So much still lingers inside my head
I've lost it all
No trace of tolerance I can find
An empty heart
I've paid my price

"All I had I gave

"Save all that you feel for me"

-Crowbar

"How long have I given all I've got?
Here I stand
My days and nights now are solitude
I struggle on
I've paid my price

"All I had I gave

"So much still lingers inside my head
I've lost it all
No trace of tolerance I can find
An empty heart
I've paid my price

"All I had I gave"

"Save all that you feel for me"

Vanity Fair this week is including (I kid you not) a twenty-two page photo spread of this damn child spawned by Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. The cult of celebrity at its finest: over-indulged, over-exposed, over the boundary of "journalism" and "taste" (if such things any longer exist!). The sad fact remains that millions are running to purchase the issue just to get a peek of cult-baby. Shit like this make me understand why people want to destroy this country.

BTW: for those who saw the photos on the news, doesn't it look like the baby is wearing a toupee?

And then there was football. And it was good.