Fragments

Someone suggested we write an essay, an ideological intervention, against the reconfiguration of the university as workforce preparation.

It appears that already in the 1950s it was noted that Americans had been trained to work, but not to live. Entertainment is the opium of these masses, so that they are not energized to seek more spontaneous forms of living, and they need second jobs because their houses and household objects were engineered for obsolescence and require replacement from time to time.

My most successful student is that because she learned a great deal about how to live, how to spend leisure time, in college.

This is the kind of essay I like to write, and these take some research.

In travel plans I still need, at this time: a RENFE/SNCF tickets both to the Autun area and on to Paris, and a place to stay in Paris. For December, I need a place to stay on the way down to Los Angeles; perhaps Cambria, and perhaps some Air Bed and Breakfast near LAX … Marina del Rey, for instance. I need a place to stay in S.F./Marin as well. All of these things should be acquired sooner rather than later, from what I can tell.

Something I should aspire to, and should have been aspiring to for some time, are artists’ retreats like this. I was born to organize, born to write, and born to take long walks; these are my main characteristics, I think.

That was me before Reeducation and I am becoming that person again, only moreso. I am eating lunch at home, vegetables and complicated salads. Tofu. Carrots. Chicken fricassée with local hens.

There was a day when I was not depressed at all. Not depressed does not mean happy, it means you are feeling well physically, your mind is clear, and you are comfortable within yourself. You do not have to think about yourself or about how to handle pain, but think straight out about the world.

That had to do with having swum a long way the day before and worked on poetry that night, and with wearing clothes I liked and shoes that align my spine, but it was new since merely doing these things was not enough to make me un-depressed before. I am changing, learning to do what I want, perhaps.

There is much I could recount. Last summer I learned that one should fight on one’s own side but this summer I will learn that one must love oneself if one is to do this perfectly. I had a dream I cannot remember, that had to do with my mother and made me want to write a piece of fiction on her, about the complexity of people and on how one cannot come to “resolution” or a conclusion about who somebody was or, necessarily, what they meant.

There were so many things I renounced, but among them were self-love and meditation. There are two things I am lacking, and they are feeling comfortable where I live and having greater access to research culture. One thing I do not give myself enough credit for is how discouraging our job is, the atmosphere at our job, the people at our job; this must be recognized so it can be actively combatted. One thing I notice is that I have friends in Maringouin now.

Axé.

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