Monday, June 26, 2006

Running running running.

Tonight, one of my summer students requested an evening conference about the paper he's writing, and since we're not in full session, the only place to meet him, really, was the classroom where he was working, nearly a mile away. I strapped my sandals back on, grabbed my good old (old old) hooded sweatshirt, and skipped out onto the street. Somewhere a few steps down the block, I realized how good it felt to be moving swiftly, and I lengthened my stride out, dropping my center of gravity just a bit, squaring my weight over my hips, and off I flew. Within a quarter-mile, I was about to burst into a run, just to run and run, following the cheerful insistence of the music in my ears, more of Sufjan Stevens's Illinoise (2005), the second in Stevens's projected fifty-album set, an album for each state. The sky was grey but not too low, the evening darkening but not too dark yet. By the time I hit the lawn outside the classroom building, I actually had broken into a run, bounding over the grass, leaping down a low-rising hill, springing through the swung door. It's all the energy of the underslept and overworking.

I am not trying to ignore everyone in my life, but I'm doing a pretty good job of that anyway, even without effort. I'm back up for air and human contact once I make it to Friday.

In the meantime: today, I shot the dragon for the first time in a long time. Somewhat on a whim, I lay down in the yard where he lives. Because I had headphones on, I couldn't hear my landlord when he came running over to find out whether I'd passed out on the lawn--and my not responding, of course, made things all the more frightening for him. Much blaming of technology ensued. However, I had already secured this image when the panic went down:


I suspect you can guess why I might have wanted to lie down for that one.

The real photographic business of the evening, though, consists of my giving you a much overdue installment of LRB personals. I will let them speak for themselves until such time as I can say something more useful of my own. I may never, ever agree with the classified manager's choice, but this week, in particular, I can say that I adore both his methodology and his prose.

8 Comments:

Blogger Poking-Stick Man said...

Oh no, it's got to be number 5 -- urinating next to Edward Said. I once rode in an elevator with Sally Mitchell, but neither one of us urinated.

12:37 AM, June 27, 2006  
Blogger Poking-Stick Man said...

Addendum: can you imagine the Google searches that will yield this particular comment as one of the results?

12:37 AM, June 27, 2006  
Blogger ttractor said...

I agree, totally.

7:57 AM, June 27, 2006  
Blogger four inches of ego said...

I once waited in the queue for the bathroom with Vito Acconci. Much to my chagrin I did shake his hand.

I don't think he washes very well.

9:27 AM, June 27, 2006  
Blogger Dr. S said...

The not-washing is of course the punchline of this week's personals. Well done with the acknowledgment.

I don't think I would have urinated in that elevator, either--not least because urinating around (or near) senior people in one's field is generally thought to be bad form. Or so I hear.

10:16 AM, June 27, 2006  
Blogger KYlitprof said...

On a far more mundane note, may I suggest that you may want to build in a day or two of collapse before you get our hopes up about hearing from you... You deserve some time to yourself.

10:55 AM, June 27, 2006  
Blogger ttractor said...

I once rode an elevator with Beverly Sills, but thank god it was not going down.

oh, I meant to make a comment about how great it feels to run, and how happy I am to see the dragon, but I am mired in the ribald. sorry.

11:53 AM, June 27, 2006  
Blogger Dr. S said...

It is eminently understandable.

11:57 AM, June 27, 2006  

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