My Thursdays are written off until at least December, perhaps even longer. Up at 5 for a 530 bus to meet my boss, then we rocket up the Skyway and burn rubber all the way to Port Credit. Work until four p.m. then do a 180 and fly by night back home. A nine-hour shift becomes a twelve-hour day, but I’m putting dinero in the banquito, padre.
We watched Metropolis, a German silent movie from 1927, a movie which features many ideas of terror regarding the Machine. Some good generative discussion grew until we disbanded at 130. I also attended another lecture about grad school engagement and had a very ephemeral, spectral discussion with my professors and classmates on the perceived and unspoken hierarchies operating in the classroom setting. The day closed with a couple of Olde English 40oz bottles clinking into my recycle bin.
Day 161. Entered my office at 8am, left at 7pm. Contained in those eleven hours: radically thought-provoking discussion in Power, Knowledge, Critique, Resistance; a viewing of “Metropolis,” a 1927 science fiction talkie; down time and high time, an anxious calm; and a few chuckles here and there.
Bob Dylan, folk music, Woody Guthrie, Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg.
Steal, borrow, sell out, tune in, turn on, drop out.
Restless, angry, splintered, ragged, stitched, tattered.
The dead moon.
Splashed windows where the view swims grey on the open mind of closed heart,
Splattering nocturnal laughs like celestial stargazing with lenses in cases
Gathering my pieces like Reece’s on the ground scattered like Skittles on brittle pavement.
Conversation on and on but never yawning only dreaming never sleeping only being.
Day 157. I usually teach on Fridays, but this week was canceled due to the scheduling of lectures and the overall layout of undergraduate courses. I used the time to make a Walmart run and gather the last few remaining purchases to make my apartment fully functional. I could have used the morning better, but the day ended with a trip through Hamilton’s Supercrawl. The streets were packed as the Arkells and the Dirty Nil played in the background. (I don’t listen to the music of either band, but they seemed like nice fellows.)
First day of picking up extra hours at Bulk Barn. The morning began early and the shift was generally flawless. I made it home with enough time to gather a few more apartment items and straighten up a bit. My mind is currently a tattered mess.
My third and final course of graduate studies, entitled “Mindworlds and the Boundaries of the Human,” seems very in-depth. It has already drawn me to new ideas concerning my major research project. After class I obtained a futon and a table from my professor, then met with my employment supervisor. She laid out everything I need to know about the TAship, then she introduced us to the class at the beginning of lecture. Teaching a class is going to be unreal.
My second graduate course, a core course simply titled “Power, Knowledge, Critique, Resistance,” seemed much more complex than my Bob Dylan class, albeit less relaxing. Shot home afterwards to relax and make a few purchases for the new crib; it’s coming along but still needs work.