From My Fragmented Mind

Bear witness to the mess who is me:

• The first week of classes are over, and I'm having a great time. I suspected it long ago, but it seems the Comp II class was practically built for me. It's sixteen weeks of analyzing literature and argument--the two things that compel me most in the classroom. The discussions in these classes are going to be great. And for the first fiction selection: Tim O'Brien's "The Things They Carried." I can't wait. Then I'll do Raymond Carver's "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love" paired with the satire "What We Talk About When We Talk About Doughnuts."
• For the past couple of days a new Metallica song, "The Day That Never Comes," has been streaming at Brave Words and Bloody Knuckles. Metallica has assured listeners (as they have for every album they've released for the past fifteen years) that Death Magnetic will be a return to their older sound. After listening to the song a couple of times I've come to the conclusion that . . . it does and it doesn't. What it sounds like to me is Black-album-era Metallica with some pseudo-Master of Puppets thrashing inserted in an unsubtle way. Like a Microsoft Word document that was written in Times New Roman but has chunks of text pasted in that were written in Courier New. That said, this is the best Metallica has sounded since the Black album (which Uncyclopedia has amusingly called Snakes on a Plain Black Cover).
• I'm starting to look like an Edge of the American West whore, but they keep blogging stuff that I like. Plus they tolerate me hanging around and posting stupid comments even though I'm a history moron and a . . . well, a moron in general. Watch a funny video Ari posted of John McCain's inability to keep track of how many houses he* owns here.
• Like I said in my last post, I've taken another job. That means that we're being supported by Michele's stipend (which is generous, to be sure) and my three part-time jobs. It sucks that this is the only way I can spend the bulk of my time teaching, but nobody ever said life wouldn't suck sometimes. Well, maybe someone did say that, but I wasn't there, and wouldn't have believed them anyway. But to return to my point--I'm working at Book Store again. This store has its differences from the one in Burnsville, but overall it's the same animal. The downside is that I am once again reminded on a regular basis just how fucking stupid most people are**. I've seen and heard more dumb shit in three and a half shifts at this job than I had in the whole previous year. Honestly, I fear the end is nigh.

I'm planning a rather large post on Sunday, as it's a significant day. More later.

*McCain, not Ari. I'm sure they pay the history profs at UC Davis a reasonable salary, but not enough to maintain ten homes. Besides, why would McCain want to keep track of how many homes Ari owns? Unless he wants more . . .

**Yes, I'm a misanthrope. But I'm a compassionate misanthrope.