A Comedy of Errors
Because we've been busy with other things, and a little strapped for cash, Seth and I didn't make any plans for Labor Day weekend. But by Saturday night we both felt like we wanted to get out. There's a new pub in town, and they were promising live Irish music, so we walked over there. Unfortunately, there was a mix-up and the band never showed. Undaunted, we decided we were going to have fun anyway--drinking. Only we're not drinkers, and we really should have known better. I finished up my Guinness, Seth his Magner's, and then we walked over to the Mexican place for a couple of strong margaritas. I had one strawberry and one sour apple made with citrus-flavored Tarantula tequila. They were delicious. We got drunk, and happy, and chatty, and called a friend who wanted to meet us back at the pub. On our way over there we saw a man walk by with a cockatoo on his arm and decided we were having the best time ever. Our friend ordered us a round of Guinness before we arrived, and after we sat down suggested shots. BIG MISTAKE. Seth begged off, but I ordered a vanilla vodka. As soon as it hit my stomach I knew I was in trouble. Had I been ten years younger I probably would have forced it right back up, but the fact is I'm not twenty anymore. And I wasn't in some dive in NYC, I was in a nice little pub here in town. I made it home on my own two legs, but it was all downhill from there.
Yesterday we slept late, woke up hungover, and vowed never to do that again.
For some milder entertainment last night, we decided to go see a movie. Because I don't care for the kind of big Hollywood films showing in town, we drove down to Waltham to see Broken Flowers, starring Bill Murray. It was possibly the worst movie I've ever sat through. The director was going for some kind of artsy minimalism, but the result lacked anything one might expect from art. The acting was so heavily acted that there was no possibility of suspending one's disbelief. The silences were all pose and no humanity. The plot was ridiculous. The attempted symbolism was trite. It was Lost in Translation minus beauty, feeling, mystery, and character. And I didn't even get a student discount.
Fortunately today is a new day, and I'm on my way to the office supply mega-store to pick up notebooks and an academic-year organizer. (I will have to resist multiple temptations, as I don't really need more than that right now.) My fall schedule calls for a great deal of discipline and organization. I'm going to be working in the morning, going to classes in the afternoon, running the review, trying to write, AND reading for a new book club. I'll have eight hour days on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; eleven hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And then there's homework. But I LOVE what I do, and I can't wait to get back into the classroom. My book list for this semester includes:
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics
Plato, Five Great Dialogues
St. Augustine, Confessions
Yeats, Collected Poems
The Norton Anthology of Poetry
Stephen Adams, Poetic Designs
Henry James, Portrait of a Lady
The Ambassadors
The Wings of the Dove
Daisy Miller
The Spoils of Poynton
The Figures in the Carpet & Other Stories
and more...
So, I'm off to it. Happy Labor Day everyone!
