sick, sick, and too too sick, and sick and like to die
Yesterday I was hubristic enough to think I was up to eating Real Food, and this act ushered in the return of the Random Stomach Thing that's been bothering me all week. I find it profoundly unfair that I've spent most of my spring break feeling like condensed ick. It also means that I have done very little on the Woodstock paper other than to write a few sentences on the possible historiographical significance of ghosts with bad memories. Dammit. MUST DISSERTATE (proto-dissertate, I guess.)
However, rachelmanija and her readers have cheered me up a good deal with some hilarious conversations on bad theater.
Other things that have interrupted the craptacularity:
1. I now have a tshirt that says "Piers Gaveston is My Homeboy." I would take pictures except that my webcam doesn't seem to want to work.
2. I also have (at long last) the Measure for Measure/R&J/Much Ado CD from the Globe, and it is splendid, although we hear a couple of Romeo's speeches on it and the actor is pretty dire. The rest of it is lovely.
3. I am going to a readthrough of Arden of Faversham on Saturday at which there will be eight people and it will be totally on crack. Figuratively, I hasten to add. Figuratively. There may also be sockpuppets.
Also, last night I dreamed that I was taking a course with Michel Foucault, who was a visiting professor or something. He was surprisingly spry for someone who has been dead for more than twenty years (which fact I don't think occurred to me in the dream)...
However, rachelmanija and her readers have cheered me up a good deal with some hilarious conversations on bad theater.
Other things that have interrupted the craptacularity:
1. I now have a tshirt that says "Piers Gaveston is My Homeboy." I would take pictures except that my webcam doesn't seem to want to work.
2. I also have (at long last) the Measure for Measure/R&J/Much Ado CD from the Globe, and it is splendid, although we hear a couple of Romeo's speeches on it and the actor is pretty dire. The rest of it is lovely.
3. I am going to a readthrough of Arden of Faversham on Saturday at which there will be eight people and it will be totally on crack. Figuratively, I hasten to add. Figuratively. There may also be sockpuppets.
Also, last night I dreamed that I was taking a course with Michel Foucault, who was a visiting professor or something. He was surprisingly spry for someone who has been dead for more than twenty years (which fact I don't think occurred to me in the dream)...