(no subject)
Curious about the swish swish swish swish wafting through my cracked front door, I took a peak and saw something of Old New Orleans was supposed to have lost to the crush of modern ways. A woman was dipping a broom in a bucket of soapy water and cleaning her steps, swish swish swish--all 11 of them, since her house is raised to counteract flooding. In the old days, before AC, people used to spend a lot of time on their steps, chatting with neighbors and fanning themselves (and drinking) hence the cleaning. She never sits out, like we do or did before nights started dropping to the forties, but she cleans her steps every week.
School is for people who don't like to cook: An anthology of things I won't get done. (OR: How to rebel against the fascist tendencies of American education.)
Skipping chorale, again, because an hour bus ride to and from UNO is hardly worth the hour and a half under She Who Cannot Conduct. It's part of a general trend of terrible wanton behavior towards my accademic work this semester. Nothing incines me to study, or even go. Example: A transcribed interview with an old person due in 3 days for an Oral History Project for History of New Orleans. Had someone in mind but didn't contact him so what to do? Shit, I'm considering making the whole thing up and if the prof contacts said old person I'll say we had the interview but the old guy just forgot.
10 pages due in 3 weeks on Recovery of Food Traditions in NOLA,
7 due on the Thibidaux Massacre of 1887,
another 10 on European Cultural Issues and Urban Anthropology,
another 10 I think the same week critiquing the New Orleans Charter.
10 page comparitive ethnographies report
=
47 pgs. and I know I'm forgetting something.
These asshole professors, they don't even read the stuff, of course they don't. They don't get paid enough. They just slap an A- on there and get drunk. NPR is my real education. You know they found a tree fungus that makes deisel?
Things I'd rather be doing:
School is for people who don't like to cook: An anthology of things I won't get done. (OR: How to rebel against the fascist tendencies of American education.)
Skipping chorale, again, because an hour bus ride to and from UNO is hardly worth the hour and a half under She Who Cannot Conduct. It's part of a general trend of terrible wanton behavior towards my accademic work this semester. Nothing incines me to study, or even go. Example: A transcribed interview with an old person due in 3 days for an Oral History Project for History of New Orleans. Had someone in mind but didn't contact him so what to do? Shit, I'm considering making the whole thing up and if the prof contacts said old person I'll say we had the interview but the old guy just forgot.
10 pages due in 3 weeks on Recovery of Food Traditions in NOLA,
7 due on the Thibidaux Massacre of 1887,
another 10 on European Cultural Issues and Urban Anthropology,
another 10 I think the same week critiquing the New Orleans Charter.
10 page comparitive ethnographies report
=
47 pgs. and I know I'm forgetting something.
These asshole professors, they don't even read the stuff, of course they don't. They don't get paid enough. They just slap an A- on there and get drunk. NPR is my real education. You know they found a tree fungus that makes deisel?
Things I'd rather be doing:
- making food for me and the nice gay, Yankee doctor from Wisconsin who moved in next door and yells in Spanish to the Latino family on the corner and thus makes me happy.
- Making a list of things I'd rather be doing
- Arobics baby!
- Fuck all.