I finally set foot out of the apartment.
I took out the trash late last night and noticed that my neighbors are more prominantly displaying their pictures of Vishnu, perhaps to remind everyone that they are hindu and not muslim. I doubt if most rednecks know the difference. The one thing I’ve missed all week is all the Indian children playing outside my door. They are so well behaved and polite, especially when compared to American children. But they’ve been inside, even though the weather has been beautiful.
I read the essay I finished last night, Hot and Bothered this morning and was appalled at all the errors. Of course, in fixing it it’s now grown to 3,000 words. I actually requested that I not be forced to read it in class, partly because it contains drug references that some might take exception at (being the bible-belt and all) and partly because I have the sneaking suspicion that most just won’t get it. After I finish posting this, I’ll fix the online version. There were some good essays read in class today, and I wonder at my ability to always pick the most complex things to try and convey. Yeah, like I’m going to explain a town in a 1000 word essay. It’s tough, even with 3,000 words. But I’ve never been good at scaling back. This crap just flows out of me, and I’m starting to really appreciate just how much people just don’t want to know.
My buddy Slim wrote a song about that once. People always ask “how are you doing?” but they sort of brace against it, because you know that they don’t really want to know. People are complicated; you’ve got to be careful who you let in. The problem is, eventually, no one gets inside without bursting into flames from the pent-up tangle of emotions, especially from so-called arty types like me.
When I walked outside after class, it was black. The rain clouds moved in, and I knew it would be sprinkling by the time I got out of the library. I had to xerox four essays to read tonight, but I think I’m going to put that off and read more of Hume’s History of England instead. I can read more about “process theory” tomorrow. The books I ordered from Powells shocked me by showing up today: Doing Documentary Work by Robert Coles and The Mind’s Eye by Henri Cartier-Bresson. I’m tempted… but… school, think school. The history at least helps me make sense of Milton!
When I got home I could see the little indian children playing inside their apartments through sliding glass doors. There are a lot of Indian or Pakastani children, and adults, in my apartment complex. I really hope that things stay as low key as they’ve been. Everyone is looking so serious. Smiles are hard to come by these days.
