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The new semester is off and I'm generally liking most of my classes. One in particular is quite striking, 18th Century Restoration Drama, taught by the novelist and playwright Carey Harrison. He is a wonder--humble, humorous and generous in his sharing of a story involving Allen Ginsberg. They use to share the same classroom, the very one we take the class in; he wrote, according to Harrison, his very last poem before passing on the chalkboard. By the time he was finished relating this I don't think I had smiled that big in a very long time. I have a feeling the class will be a wonder. And, on top of all of that the cutest girl sat across from me reading the Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. I just about melted. After arguments over materialism in my Intro to Semiology class I got online and ordered Harrison's Richard's Feet: A Novel and look forward to reading it like I haven't since I started reading. In the meantime I curl up to Carver's Short Cuts and have daydreams involving Oates characters. I have so far to go, and I can't wait to get there.