wow. woosh. deliriously exhausted, but in a good way. i'm working. i'm still trying. that's what matters.

emails from my students keep trickling in, to tell me of coetzee's award (disgrace on the syllabus again!), like, duh, as if the booker prize's not enough. i have to say, i start to worry about my students, like when they don't show up on the day i hand out paper topics and guidelines, and they miss our discussion on flannery o'connor. not that i'm a prizewinner discussion leader -- i'm a total goofball, i choke on my water and get chalk all over and make them do most of the work. teaching two classes back to back, at 8am, well, the first is like practice, and i feel bad for them, they miss my polished glowing rapture in the second. too bad, because the 8am early risers, some of them commute, and they're really motivated and bright, just groggy, like me. truth is, i'm starting to grow fond of them all, and really work hard for them, because i want to. i'm a nerd like that.

but what's scary is i wish i could keep this job! it's actually pretty cool, this time around. maybe because it's my last time teaching this class.

ah, maybe it's all just sexual chemistry.

anyway, after all that business, i saw a new therapist. oh, oh, oh. i'm worried. because i like her. she was recommended by a friend. she seems really busy and, while she listened and responded better than i can hope for, she also pointed out all of the negative aspects of working with her. like, it will take time for me to trust her, and by the time i do, it will be time for us to part. all that garbage. i tried to refute it, said but isn't that what life is about? it's worth the pain of separation, if only i can feel i can trust someone again. she seemed really genuine, and i really liked her smile. but when i got up to leave, promptly, when time was up, she was very quick to close the door.

hmp. i'll make do. for now. what else can i do.

i haven't slept in ages, and i'm drinking coffee smoking cigarettes and not eating much just to stay awake for a poet-painter meeting (ie party) and then i was invited to sit in on a workshop from 7-11pm. i have no time, but it's okay. i like to be this busy, keep my mind occupied. it helps keep the social dramas at bay. i'd rather talk ideas than relationships right now.

yep, i'm still hurt by this supposed friend of mine. whatever. should i be the one to make the effort, as i always do, etc etc. frankly i'd rather not think about it.

what else? an elopement party this weekend. i think i'll probably forgo it for the much-needed anti-violence dance in the streets party. it's right. and then? i'm locking myself up to get the shit done. it is fucking hard. it's hard to say the work matters more than people, now -- how can it? i don't want fame, i don't even crave being published. but other than my students, in the classroom, where else can i put myself in, and get something (even if it's intangible, frustrating, vulnerable, sorry, circular, with seemingly no progress, just more and more toil) out?

ps queer ballroom dancing rocked. there were about 8 or 9 of us, affable normal spunky gay men, and a few really bizarre women. none of us really knew what we were doing, but we do-si-doed and traded partners and flung one another across the glossy floor with glee. i'm paying for it now...