packages, unwritten things, too much work, and translated poetry.

[starfrosting]

No. 11.5 hours of work on a Saturday is not okay, especially when the kitchen closes at 9 but we have to stay open as long as those fuckers at the last 2 tables want gahhhh. When I left work tonight at 10:15, I realized I would have to be back there in 13 hours, for another round. I repeat, that is not okay. I am a fucking tired little boy, who is also grimey, and punchy, and can't focus enough to do anything, and has been working his ass off only to end up needing to put all the money into a)fixing the volvo which is almost as old as me and b)making my hsbc account not be in the red. Oops, switched pronouns. I me me mine. Maybe I will call Cristina. Maybe she will be out with her sister and her friend about to get, or already, drunk, and I will feel like a loser. This has been happening a lot when I call, because I have been at work all day and over in Texas the evening has just begun. I need to mail La Boîte de la Bourgeoisie to Matt, and the Package of Delight to Evren, and a check to Grover, and The Precarious Turkish Delight to Cristina, and a Letter Which Has Yet To Be Written to Carrie, and...

Also I have not yet even begun to think what my essay for that anthology on feminism and plastic surgery might be.

Nor have I written my SIT essay.

Nor, come to think of it, have I even begun that essay for Diane Harriford. Then again, she still has not given me back my Jeffreys book. It was dumb of me to loan it to her. I kinda wonder, if I don't send her another email asking for the book back, will she even remember I have the assignment to do? What do I want more: a summer essay assignment and my hateful Jeffreys book back in my clutches, or an even *more* postponed essay assignment and Jeffreys somewhere in Diane's library? Hm.

There is a really creepy looking beetle-like bug with wings crawling on my computer as I type. It keeps trying to climb on the screen and falling, and now it is crawling--AHH! now it's flying!! and buzzing near my fingers. Just cos it's kinda scary doesn't mean I should kill it, right? ::shudder:: I'm not even afraid of bugs and this one is beastly.

My Yannis Ritsos book came in the mail today. I'm not in a mood to read translated Greek poetry. I should've checked and seen if it was a bilingual edition. It is not. This sucks, even though I can't read a word of Greek. It seems like a shame somehow, to have translated poetry untied from its original language.

Disseminated, even.

I'm gonna go read Derrida. No, seriously. I should shower first but I probably won't.

edited to add:Aw fuck it, I'm gonna read butch/femme anthologies instead. I can't evven bear to pick up Writing and Difference right now. Besides, that'll help me store up wistfulness, resentment, and strength all at the same time.

Comments

[kaiaroo.livejournal.com]

so, supposedly my girlfriend thinks yr cute too... :sigh:

i love derrida but, yes, sometimes its really just a bit much...

[maddillinger.livejournal.com]

http://www.as220.org/as220/weblog/fest/20fest.html

You should come. Yes yes. You come. Is good.

[starfrosting.livejournal.com]

It sounds really awesome, but I gotta work :(. Thanks for inviting me anyway, man.

[dew-dropped.livejournal.com]

i had to read derrida for a law/sociology class and somehow understood him in that cloudy, glass mind breaking way in which you think about things in an absolute clear manner for a month, but which leaves you blank the next?

all i've managed to retain was that justice was the only idea which could not be deconstructed, because it changed constantly. or something like that.

that cloudy, glass mind breaking way

[starfrosting.livejournal.com]

I have not read the stuff about justice yr referring to (what essay is it? should I bother to read it?), but "yes!" on the sudden clarity that leaves you mad for a while. For me it happened in a bookstore flipping through Between the Blinds...I think it's just cos Deleuze was killing me, and Derrida clicked at that strange moment.