La la la. That's me, ignoring the freaked out voices in my head (Monday! I have to teach Monday! That's the day after tomorrow! I am not a grown-up! I do not know what I'm doing! I never had anything intelligent to say about literature ever! I know! I should assign a novel! I've never read any novels before ever! My brain doesn't even work! It's broken!).

So instead of actually sitting down and WRITING the blasted syllabus, I am going through all of my papers looking for photocopies of poems. Because I figure maybe I'll want to use some in my class. Yeah, that's what needs doing right now. And, in going through my papers, I must read everything, including a 20 page paper I wrote in 1998 for a feminist theory class (entitled "Destructions, Constructions, and Deconstructions in Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale"--catchy, no?) which I begin with the following epigraph: "If she's a her-she, it's in order to smash everything, to shatter the framework of institutions, to blow up the law, to break up the truth with laughter." I don't know what it means Helene Cixous, but I still like it. I know! Maybe I'll teach The Handmaid's Tale! Or is that too 1980s? Too feminist backlash era? Too Roe v. Wade? You see the trouble. I am all tangential.

I must need a break from all this work (yep. this is me, working hard). I'm calling Bathsheba.

No answer. Da da da. I have the following words from Tim Buckley's song "Moulin Rouge" stuck in my head:

"Love is a leap" she sighed
"Someday I'll be your bride
when I leave the Moulin Rouge."

Goethe said love is a leap. I say, who cares.

Ugh ugh ugh GUG. Oooh big thunder in the sky. I better crack open a brew and go watch. Uh, I'll do the syllabus. Later.