| Rockstar
Today I had two midterms - the two that I had been somewhat dreading. One was for my math class (it went pretty well - it is, after all a math test) and the other was Postmodern lit. Now, in the last week I have read 1500 pages for this class - much of it dense, overly elloquent while paradoxically remaining totally inarticulate. I showed up and the midterm, which he had previously said would consist of one essay, it turns out now consists of two. The prompt for each essay was a page long. I had to read one of them seven times before even getting what it was asking let alone before I could answer it. Here's the thing - neither of them required the reading. At all. The first asked about the role of garbage in one of the novels (requiring imagination, but not information) and its role in articulating the postmodern, consumerist condition and the other was about the role of identity. What the fuck does that even mean? Anyway, I went through two test booklets in answering. All good, right? Well, as I left the room a cascade of things I forgot to mention came tumbling into my head. Then, as if the universe wanted to mock me more, a car splashed a puddle onto my pants giving me, in the rainy weather, the precursors to pneumonia. So I did what I like to do in these situations. I drove to superfresh. I got a pound of turkey, a wedge of brie, a big red tomato, and a thick loaf of twelve-grain bread along with a bag of chips and a box of Kirspy Kreme donuts. I stopped at an alcohol store and got Brooklyn Lager Oktoberfest. Now, as an aside, cooking with Greg: Post-trauma caloriefest sandwich: I ate the sandwich, two donuts, and half of an enteman's raspberry danish twist, along with 5 of the 6 beers. I am feeling very content. cranked out at 5:19 PM | |
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