Still my fingers on the keyboard the time is out of joint. The aught years have been hurricaine season in academe and even as one of the lucky I’m catching the gale. There is nothing cute about our governor of Kaleeforneeia. The hypermasculinization of the political sphere cracks me up—McCain rippling his jowls and telling Jon Stewart he’s gonna be Hamas’ “worst nightmare,” and the governor pumping up the collective state identity with weird biceps, a spray tan, and stuttering contempt for higher ed. What is a stupider windmill for the insecure boys of the daddy state—Hamas or the ivory tower? Am I making sense? I’m saying the posturing meathead politics of anti-education are monkey theatre and, when they play out, highly inconvenient to my life. Meh.
Ok that’s my best grousing. Fussing is boring, especially when its object (the Republicans’ onslaught of antisocial legislation, which is just the self– attacking side of the party's bellecism) is so insulated from your backtalk. Besides, the truth is I do better—so much better it’s funny—without a net. The truth is the current adversity is energizing and oddly sweet for me, even if I deeply resent the way it hurts saner loved ones.
Anyway. I’m all for using the web to bring my selves together, but for a while I’m going to use it—if at all—to clear my head.
What could be the most content-free, boring, potentially narcolepsy-inducing blog subject?
(this?)
Maybe I will actually write an ashtanga journal for a bit.
Topics coming up on that channel…: revising everything I said earlier about EPB; subscapular tendonitis (oh my god! The man needs yoga); stretching your intercostals from the inside (because people keep complaining about ribcage soreness?); stamina and ways I suspect it’s mental; how I’ve sort of put off going in to my shoulders and why I don’t get to put it off now; third series hands.
This could get literal and mechanical but fast, perhaps upping the ante on my impatience. For now, what is usually play takes a turn at being methodical. Writing can be like that, supposedly… but I don't feel like I ever do ANYTHING deliberately or step by step. Maybe I can still amuse myself within this rubric. Or subvert it, like with the practice itself.
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