Yes, yes, I know, Imaginary Reader, it's only the SECOND day of blogging and I've already fallen behind. Yes. Very aware. That said, for the time being, my spirit lives in California. So there.
For the most part, I spent my day
1) Waking up
2) Falling back asleep
3) Attempting to wake up periodically over about an hour and a half until it finally took
4) Working out
5) Reading the Great Gatsby
Admittedly, only 5 is at all interesting to anyone - myself included. Though I wasn't able to plow through the novel quite as quickly as before, that's probably a good thing, all told, because I picked up on sparkling little details I skimmed over entirely last time, and (much though I'd balk at labeling myself anything close to a New Critic), all the same I enjoy seeing details fit into the tapestry of larger ideas and narratives and neuroses that run deep through the novel.
Then, I was unproductive for about 5 hours, and went to see the Vagina Monologues. I really enjoyed the experience, even though some of that experience was more uncomfortable than enjoyable, simply because I understood going in that my feeling uncomfortable talking about all this (sexuality, pleasure, physicality) was in and of itself a way in which society is caging us - all of us, men included - from talking about sex as something more than a punch line or dirty and subversive. I want to feel less uncomfortable talking about sex, because I feel uncomfortable with the notion of being brainwashed into feeling uncomfortable to begin with.
Hope that you weren't uncomfortable enough to stop reading, O Imaginary Reader (though I suppose if I go to the trouble of imagining myself a reader, she or he would be diligent enough to finish what they started) and that all that disjointed ramble made more sense to you than it did me.
I feel like I've done my BEDA duty, so now I'm going to get to BED, right after I write my schedule of alllllllllll the things I laughably think I'm going to be able to accomplish tomorrow.
Until then, Imaginary Reader, I say adieu!
No...your spirit lives in Nevada. Where I am. :P And are we calling me a figment of your imagination AGAIN? I thought we established I'm older. :P I do beg to differ, Great Gatsby is not scintilating litetature by my standards, but I will admit I have an anti-classics thing. Interesting perspective re: society's treatment of sex.
ReplyDeleteYour disjointed rambles amuse me, though if I understood it, I don't think that counts as making sense. ;)
Twinnily Yours