25 August 2005

Son Of A Ditch

      August.... Such a wonderful word, but such a lousy month, as I've said before and will likely say many, many times again.   September, like a ditch in a Robert Lowell poem, is nearer than ever, with another academic year about to open up. This year it looks like I'll be teaching film and literature, though I've never strictly taught film before, and it'll be a return to one-hour groups which I've not done since 1996-97.   It also means I'll be teaching-- of all things-- Jane Austen at one point in the year, and my regular readers here are probably giggling hysterically at THAT prospect.    But before that comes the nadir, the passage through the devil's ass before the return to purgatory.   Yes, the last gasps of August, the drab, dreary days I detest more than any others in the year, the days when the dickory-drekery tick-tock seems louder and more daunting than ever.   Good God, just get me to the ditch; Vladimir and Estragon are waiting for me.  

      (Is it a Vlad sign that I've been drinking vodka lately?   Don't worry, I'm groaning right Beckett ya.)

      Anyway, this blog will probably be quite quiet for the next little bit, as it usually this time of year when the Doctor disappears to do a few days of damage and drowning. The Doc, following the advice of John Lee Hooker, is putting himself on milk, cream, and alcohol, alcohol, alcohol.    Don't worry-- the Doc will be back sooner or later, unless of course his life shifts from Waiting for Godot to The Iceman Cometh, in which case you'll know where to find him, hiding in grain sight.

      HILARIOUS POST-SCRIPT: Best something-something-day-Gift-Ever comes from Zelda, who somehow managed to discover this ancient image of the Doctor when when he was younger and closer to idealistic. More critically, it is, best we can guess, around 15 years ago. The Preacher (of Ecclesiasticus) was right: there is nothing new under the sun. Leave it to Zelda to possess stuff of me even I've never seen; it is to laugh in riots.   Thanks, bratto: you may truly have absented yourself from a career as an archivist.

The more things change, the more things remain the same....    With thanks to Zelda and to Matt: Zel for keeping the evidence, Matt for reproducing it. Oh My Arfing Gawd...

      Er, dare I say it: it has just occurred to me: how may guys look the same fifteen years later?   Not so bad.....

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