So here we are: the second full day of grading. Not that any day of grading, for me, is full. I have just enough of a dislike for it, and just enough of a scattered, inquisitive soul, to make the enterprise lumpy, irregular, spotty. So, whilst grading the rushed and repetitive products of California’s finest yesterday, I also a) sent some glorious emails, b) investigated– not experientially, mind you, only virtually– the rather interesting phenomenon of anthropomorphic sex; one side of the odd but not offensive world of the Furries, and c) further configured Warthog Media Express’ Nomadic Workstation. By all accounts, ’twas a good day. The ocean looked cold down in Ocean Beach, so I did not venture in; likewise, the snow is melting in Cuyumaca and Laguna, so I did not venture out.

Perhaps the finest moment came last night, after I turned off The Return of the King- so tired were my eyes of the computer’s screen. Digging through the strange library that I have kept out of storage– with the intention of forcing myself to read the books that I always want to but never seem to do– I pulled out a collection of Borges, Collected Fictions, and was vastly and deeply entertained for an hour or so… I keep forgetting how much I enjoy him, with all the knife-fights, labyrinths, and literary intricacies. I resolved that it should be one of my three books to take to the East with me, to read on the cold nights after my parents have gone to bed and I am still restless yet forced into quiet activities. What are the other two, might you ask? Well, the third slot is still open, unfilled, a potential, but slot #1 has been (for quite some time now) the perennial favorite Anti-Oedipus. I figure that slot #3 should be filled with something seemingly easy, fun, but useful to my “career”- such that it is: right now I am leaning towards a book of old faery tales, or perhaps a book of Slavic folklore, or a book of Old English Nursery Rhymes. But know this, all contenders for Slot #3: you are up against the recent acquisition of Thus Spake Zarathustra, and that will be a bitter, down-to-the-end struggle. I was transformed by Nietzsche before (Birth of Tragedy…), and I am looking for more than a little transformation in my life right now.

ok– much still to do. Keep yourself warm and dry, today. And I will too.