Saturday, July 09, 2005

Ready to Export

So, I'm back on the Net. Back on the Information Superhighway. Back checking and threading the leadbare depths of London bomb news.

So antsy to leave Boston, it's crazy. I've done everything I wanted to do twice. I've even used that line a hundred times while relating with fake friends and grad acquaintances who stare you in the face as if you're more than a cypher to them. Oh well. Time to brush teeth, make out with expectations, and fumble with emotions like so many Index cards.

It's been a nice few months. Finishing teaching my class. Finishing my coursework. Not working on my own project. Going home to see a family whose stock is skyrocketing. Playing ball in Philly. Hanging effortlessly with friends and sucking in allergens from the dog.

Still working out. Still playing Halo. Still watching TV like it's a job. Still doing what I do.

Stuff's already in boxes here. Ready to be wisked away by some future version of me that loves moving shit. Some strong, calm version of me that drives a 16 foot long truck to Pittsburgh for fun.

Hoping to get some shit done in this liquid methane lake we call summer. No guidance, just a paper to write and books that stare at you with their fancy covers and slick finishes. Some shithead just threw them together. Now I have to listen to them like a CD reviewer and mix them back together into a soup and hand that soup to a man who will judge it too hot or too cold.

I'll tell you about the worst thing here if you'll listen. Come close. It's being alone. All day. No one. No intellectual community. No buddies. No drinks on the Fink. Just me and nothing else. No incentives. No disincentives. Just a limitless space bounded by God-knows-what. People blip in and out of it like points of light on a radar screen. Mostly I avoid the people here. Some understand the planet, but most are so wrapped up in the constructed existence they swim through that they judge you on how you think or where your ideas came from. They never separate ideas from men. They always accept the position points of the Democratic party. They sleep fitfully, having nightmares about lacunae in the literature. Or, worse. A working erection.

So, that's why getting out of here ain't so bad. I'm already a remote student here. I haven't really seen or heard from anyone since Year 2. Now enterring Year 4, with "many" years to go. So, I'll get work in Pittsburgh and see how life goes. It should be good. I'll have ownership there and be able to fit decisions through needlepoints. The apartment will beat this white tome full of Asians and Indians and the indignant, fleeting stare of people whose life begins and ends with rational experimentation.

If this sounds like a diatribe against MIT, it isn't. I'm just ready to go. There's nothing left for me here. I'm like the egg-eating dinosaur after having eaten all the eggs. I'm ready to export my life.