Wabbit Season!

      Oh, dear lord, you can tell I'm procrastinating when I'm actually noticing things like this, that Google, in its great wisdom, has set up a series of different language options, including those well-spoken languages "Elmer Fudd," "Bork, bork, bork," "Klingon" and "Pig Latin." It's comforting at least to know that some people are even more given to wasting time than even I am.

      So, how the hell do I get off my duff and get crap done? I should be putting stuff together on Hamlet, but, frankly, that play so bores me now that I always feel like Sisyphus when I have to teach it again, as I realize, "Oh, great, now I've got to roll that boulder up that hill AGAIN....". I should be writing a letter for someone, but I don't feel like having to be in anyway precise at the moment. I should finish up some loose marking that I have, but I know that looking at another paper will likely entice me to rip my veins straight out of my wrists. I should be piecing together some theories on T.S. Eliot (the world's most famous anagram of 'toilets'), but I generally feel like I'm trudging through swamp-water when I try to put things together so meticulously. I should read Zane's essay, but I can't bring myself to give much of a damn about Marshall McLuhan right now (sorry Zane). I should, basically, be doing just about anything except writing in this blog. And yet, look what I'm doing. Blahhhhh...... Right now, I'm wishing I could like some Star Trek character revert to a gelatinous state and just sprawl aimlessly about, to escape form completely. Natch. Lethargy.... What an enticing word... *Sigh* I remember the old days, when I used to give a shit....