May 2007

The tale of one my classes, taken primarily to satisfy distribution requirements. I was at least somewhat interested in the subject matter, and learned some cool stuff. But let’s not get it twisted. I wouldn’t have spent a class on this unless otherwise motivated…my time is a commodity, and i try to be careful with it.

Anyhow. Midterm grade, after trying to take the midterm while having a panic attack:


Final grade, after given the chance along with the rest of the class to double the final exam:


Wtf? It makes sense. I wrote a pretty decent paper, and I was much better prepped for the final. And i think the prof might have learned the hard way about what kind of material students could be reasonably expected to retain. Chapter numbers…not one of them, for instance.

Seriously. If you are a professor or teacher…it is a trick question to ask what the theme of chapter nine was in an anthology. I didn’t read them in order…and was reduced to deductive guessing. Oddly, I did fairly well on the multiple choice section of the midterm (I have seriously uncanny, possibly unholy abilities to read multiple choice exams for clues) but bombed out the identifications because I had no idea how long to write them. I could have asked…but…

Panic attacks have a funny way of having deleterious effects on academic performance.

Regard me as being glad that things worked out.



Morris was building this hard little god inside.

Sadly, I can’t pass this one off as my own. I’m hosting it here because it’s no longer at the website for the House of Mercy…but I assume that that’s oversight. And since I have a copy, y’all get to hear it. The author and voice on the tape is Russell Rathbun, a mentor and friend, and a damn quick wit.

Morris’ Hard Little God is about a man who has begun to starve, very quietly. And it is a sermon that very uniquely indicts me of all my sin, and begins to point towards grace.

At the very end, the sermon trails off…and I wish the recording went further. The ending was originally the words of institution, and the distribution of the bread and the wine:

On the night our Lord Jesus was betrayed, he took bread, and having given thanks, he blessed it, saying:

Take, eat, this is my body which is broken for you. Whenever you do this, do so in remembrance of me.

And after supper, he took the cup, and gave thanks. And he blessed it, saying:

Take, drink, this is my blood of the New Covenant, which is shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins. Whenever you do this, do so in remembrance of me.

I still remember that day. I have felt hungry ever since.

This is for gary, who is loving the world into a crisis of change.


As we passed the White House, i says to the SO, I says…

“He’s not there, is he?”


“No reason to waste a perfectly good middle finger disrespecting a building then, is there?”

Well, do you know which way Crawford is?

And thus concludes a piece of sly theater.

We’re in DC for the weekend, after driving down this morning at the crack ass of dawn. Some traffic, but not fatal. The other way looked mean through Baltimore, so i hope that will be reversed. I shall be slightly concerned about the condition of the Jersey Turnpike, as well. But no matter. I shall be at the National Cathedral for Pentecost, and hanging out in the city for a good part of the day. Had an excellent dinner with my great uncle and aunt, and looking forward to a fun weekend.

It’s also kind of a wonder how fast I can read when I’m not in school and feeling burnt out. Perhaps i shall actually get caught up with my “reading supplementals” list as it is known in my notes.

It would be the first time.

Mon dieu!


Well, actually 8:30 to 4:30, but you get the point. Sly has a job. It pays, and the coworkers are great…the office may be closing early on Wednesday so that we can go and protest Bush up in New London.

Team awesome, reporting for duty.

I know the FFF thing is going around, but my brain is sick of it. 99% of what needed to be said was said in the first 5 minutes. The rest of it has been blogular inflation. Sad to see Jessica talk about nubian’s interview thread at feministing as ‘that insanity’ when it was a major catalyst in her leaving, tho. Boo on that. Unmoderated threads are not neutral. They are a statement of who is welcome. If it shows up on your domain…you’re responsible for what you do with it.

I know you didn’t write it yourself, but if you consent to leave that material up with our mercilessly mocking the racist fuckery that it is…silence gets read. And it ain’t exactly honest to claim that it’s a surprise that silence gets read. If a dude doesn’t interrupt and confront a rape joke…that has implications about his feminism.

I’ve got a couple stories in the pipe…a piece on salon with some MN connections, and the payola slime of the Big Pharma. We’ll see when i get back around to that.


Done with school, for now. Now onwards to the job search for the summer, and maybe beyond.

We shall see.


While enjoying a good communal moment in the ejection of Mandos the troll/jester of IBTP, the following was offered.

I have no doubt that Mandos is in bad faith about his motivations about being here, although he may well be immature, an aspie, a guy who has never lived in intimacy with a woman, whatever, I don’t know, I don’t particularly care.

B. Dagger Lee, I hereby award you no points. May God have mercy on your soul.


Edit: This was a post lamenting a bad grade. It all turned out to be a paper work error…and it should be fixed soon. Huzzah!

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