(no subject)
three and a half hours lost to tossing and turning. a clouded and confounded mind. too much shit has been going wrong lately. earlier, i was marking a grammar test for my ESL class; my students scored horribly. 6.5/49, 12/49, and 14/49. i realized: they didn't score horribly--i did. i've been a horrible teacher to them. i assumed that my initial lesson and the small amount of homework would be enough for them to remember things: run-on sentences; sentence fragments; proper punctuation; singular/plural forms... i never did reviews, never meticulously went through the homework. horrible. telling isn't teaching. but this is fixable. i can do it. i can get better. i can personalize the curriculum more. i can take its cold, lifeless skeleton and make learning a lush experience. i will have to do this when i actually am a teacher, when i am faced with a shitty curriculum. i have to realize this. i can do it. i can get better. i have to want to make a difference. i just hope i'll get a second chance at this place.
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sometimes i feel like capital. the object of fetish and surplus, of the capitalist's logic. that i lack consciousness and ownership over the production process. that i am merely exchange value, and not use value. that i am diffused into the melting pot that is totality, and not loved, appreciated, for who i am and for what i am. this positional hierarchy has to be subverted.
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i yearn to hang my feet. over the edges of the dreaming spires. above the rush of the thames. i want to grip the soil that will feel more vividly imperial than that underneath this bastard colony of a nation.
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q-tip is god. phony rappers who do not write, phony rappers who do not excite, phony rappers you know they type...
Yo, I was riding the train
And this puerto rican kid said simple and plain
Let's battle
It kinda took me by surprise
Cuz the brother was moving wit his eyes on the prize
I said screw it, I aint got nuttin to lose but um
But I got to do this shit real quick so um
Hurry up kid, bust your joints and then I'll bust mine
And I be out cuz I got to see this hottie, he said ok
Now check it, check it out, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, thats what he said
Then I came back and just fucked up his head
woodi wooo! NASTY. his flow is too sick...
+++
sometimes i feel like capital. the object of fetish and surplus, of the capitalist's logic. that i lack consciousness and ownership over the production process. that i am merely exchange value, and not use value. that i am diffused into the melting pot that is totality, and not loved, appreciated, for who i am and for what i am. this positional hierarchy has to be subverted.
+++
i yearn to hang my feet. over the edges of the dreaming spires. above the rush of the thames. i want to grip the soil that will feel more vividly imperial than that underneath this bastard colony of a nation.
+++
q-tip is god. phony rappers who do not write, phony rappers who do not excite, phony rappers you know they type...
Yo, I was riding the train
And this puerto rican kid said simple and plain
Let's battle
It kinda took me by surprise
Cuz the brother was moving wit his eyes on the prize
I said screw it, I aint got nuttin to lose but um
But I got to do this shit real quick so um
Hurry up kid, bust your joints and then I'll bust mine
And I be out cuz I got to see this hottie, he said ok
Now check it, check it out, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, thats what he said
Then I came back and just fucked up his head
woodi wooo! NASTY. his flow is too sick...