Friday, June 29, 2007

hi it's friday

not that days of the week mean anything to me anymore. it's summertime--basically the only good thing abt grad school other than winter break. summertime means that i sleep until 2 and i never know what day it is and it doesn't usually even matter what day it is. what matters is that i have my car back (and thus my independence, my freedom and my soul) and that i'm officially half way through infinite jest.

i am def slogging through that giant motherfucker. i find it funny. i find that i'm compelled to utilize its bizarre jargon in common, everyday speech. i know that i'll miss many of the characters after 1000+ pages of hanging out around them and up in their lives and (often drug-addled) psyches. but i don't love it and its incessant digressions make it bloated.

also, i think postmodernity is dead. thankfully, i have for a semester or so thought of myself as stuyding contemporary world lit rather than postmodern american lit. phew. cuz pomo american is, like, an HIV+ dinosaur. totally on its last legs. i still love pynchon and i can really appreciate dfw. but, peeps, if you write you should get to writing b/c something new has got to be on the horizon. reading the really, explicitly postmodern stuff now is like having to watch a bazillion different reincarnations of reality bites. good at first but now it's just the same tricks over and over again and less amusing every time. plus, its not the 90s any more. just please please please don't bring me post-secularism as an appropriate response, please.

yes, i've had a bottle of coppola rosso but, no, i don't think this is a vino tinto invective. it's just that the standard pomo stylings are beginning to give me the howling fantods. hah. see, literary inside jokes--even when i'm anti-pomo i'm pomo. or is that more of a modernist trait? i need out of school; my brain's in circles.

so it must be time for the knickerbocker and manhattans.

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