archives for August 2007
in the midst of course prep, this from mandarin makes me snort my tea
Wednesday 29 August 2007 | I like a cookie
read ‘in the midst of course prep, this from mandarin makes me snort my tea’
propaedeutics
Wednesday 22 August 2007 | 2 cookies in the jar
At the moment I’m finding the teaching associate training incredibly frustrating, which I’m sure is no secret to its four instructors, since I usually sit in the front row and glare balefully at them—at first, ever-optimistic despite myself that something exciting will happen; and then fighting boredom by ignoring the “discussion,” doing the next assigned […]
recapitulation
Monday 20 August 2007 | 4 cookies in the jar
There being nowhere in particular to begin, since dozens of unbegun beginnings have rocketed past me and been lost to ahistorical oblivion (”…but then you are headed there anyway”), I’ll begin with…right about now.
The Brujo is in my study recording his radio show; I hear snatches of music and back-announcing, sometimes the name “Max Roach”—who […]
she writes copiously but does not post
Monday 20 August 2007 | I like a cookie
because now she must go photocopy handouts for purposes of teaching Comp I at SEVEN-FORTY in the morning tomorrow. Traffic on this here little blog has about dropped to zero, excepting mine. I better get y’all some damn copy up here soon or you will leave me forever. Just give me one more chance, baby! […]
read ‘she writes copiously but does not post’
last. week. of. teacher. camp.
Monday 13 August 2007 | someone left a cookie
I kind of feel like Eric Cartman in the underpants gnomes episode of South Park—the one where he says, “No…more…coffee!” and then throws up?
read ‘last. week. of. teacher. camp.’
no comment
Friday 10 August 2007 | 3 cookies in the jar
at the lavandería with the brujo
Thursday 9 August 2007 | I like a cookie
Washers are 39¢ on Tuesdays and Thursdays, dryers are 40¢ every day. The only Anglos in the place, we watched tiny girls and boys scampering around, spinning carts, trying to climb into dryers, while the B. and I did our laundry together for the first time. Silk goes in lingerie bags, is washed in cold […]
read ‘at the lavandería with the brujo’
remembered another part
Thursday 9 August 2007 | I like a cookie
In which the Monk wants to leave me with something to remember him by—a sardonic “gift.” He holds up a bright blue silk cord, I’ll show you how to tie a knot that will never come undone, and reaches as if to wrap it around my neck. We’re surrounded by people somehow—maybe in the Greyhound […]
read ‘remembered another part’
final nightmare
Thursday 9 August 2007 | someone left a cookie
The Brujo drives me, giddy with relief and with twelve-hour computer head, to Trader Joe’s for the mercilessly addictive ice cream bonbons, which are small slops of molten chocolate by the time we’re back in the car and I open the box, because we live in Tartarus. I email the 285-page document to its publisher […]
after a twelve-hour marathon
Wednesday 8 August 2007 | someone left a cookie
THE DYING BOOK IS TOTALLY DONE.
