I scheduled an evening to write an entry, and I find myself with nothing to say. Or at least no structuring narrative. Starting this weekend I'll be problematizing (drink!) the concept of "narrative", pursuant to writing a presentation for next week's
Gender class (and no thanks to this week's presenters, who raised the bar way too high despite
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Now I'm picturing athletic shorts with "PPL" written across the butt in a gangster font. Someday we will be famous and we will merchandize.
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On a more interesting note, I've been listening to a mix of The Cult, Kansas, and Journey in the mornings. For about the past month, I have sung "Don't Stop Believing" under my breath each day.
It scares me that I might be on the same wavelength as some of your students.
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"Carry on, My Wayward Son", though: that's a song. If you're a marching band.
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And that's so NOT a count noun, I don't even know what is more not a count noun.
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I am byelka58, creator of words.
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