"Every Day I % Write The Book," Elvis Costello

So here we are, officially homeless for the week, ensconced in a hotel in the first neighborhood we lived here in Big City, while the construction on our apartment commences. It's nice to be back around these parts. It is not so nice to cart six suitcases filled with class clothes, regular clothes, shoes, dopp kits, computer and accessories, and all the damn books and files I'll need to work on my chapter, chapter revisions, job letter, and teaching philosophy this week. Seriously, the book suitcase is very upsetting to me, as it's a concrete representation of what I have to distill onto the page. Luckily, the book suitcase is also topped off with back copies of Entertainment Weekly.

Also, we have two bathrooms in the room, due to the architectural oddities of old hotels.

Cats went to the pet hotel, and I'm sure they're fine, but I was a crazy cat mom while dropping them off, giving extensive and detailed feeding instructions. I did, however, stop short of explaining how you have to sing songs to Maggie in which all the words are "Maggie," "beauty," "beautiful," and "pretty."

Now I have to watch some football, mark some writing assignments, and finish writing my syllabus for my UChaos class. I'm confident that I can complete the first of those tasks.

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"Your Biggest Fan," Voxtrot

Oh, dear. We're going to have to spend the next week in a hotel, with the cats at a cat hotel, while major construction is done on the apartment. The landlords are installing central air and heat, which involves cutting holes in pretty much every single wall in the place. Also, I'm losing my walk-in closet, because that's where the machinery goes.

Had this happened a month ago, we could have just grabbed some clothes and decamped, but now that classes have started, relocating means also relocating all class-related paraphernalia. Plus, this week is C.'s birthday, which he now gets to celebrate by placing all of our belongings in dust-proof containers. Fun!

Today, I went to get a cat carrier (one of ours has gone missing), only to discover that Maggie just barely fits into the soft-sided thing I got. Also, pet store overcharged me for it, by, like, $20. Tomorrow, the kitten crew goes to the vet for booster shots. And I alone will be carting the 40 pounds of cats around, as C. has an ungodly-early class.

Wah.

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"Sister Sonny," Holly Golightly

Shockingly, perusing The Goddamned List and trying to work on The Godddamned Chapter simultaneously is decidedly unproductive on both fronts.

Edit: I split the difference by spending a while searching the list and setting up my job spreadsheet, so I could feel productive and organized. Then I turned to the chapter, and have managed a measly 3 pages (and one of those is mostly a 25-line block quote). Why is this chapter being so recalcitrant? I have 23 pages of straight-up close readings; you'd think it would be easy enough to build a frame around those, right?

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"Eye of Fatima (Pt. 1)," Camper Van Beethoven

I've maintained for years that this is one of the best songs ever written, but today I discovered I'd been hearing one line wrong since forever. It's "No one ever conquered Wyoming, from the left or from the right." Which makes more sense than what I'd been hearing all this time ("called from Wyoming"), if only incrementally.

Today was a meeting at Chaos about Ambitious Intro Class that starts in two weeks. Somehow, hearing that everyone else is feeling anxious and confused about it made me feel less anxious and confused. I still need to look over some articles to fill out the syllabus, but I feel ok about getting to that next week.

Big Willie is continuing to make me scattered and time-management-impaired. I really need to scale back the information I'm throwing at them, but it already seems that every other sentence out of my mouth is "But we'll get to that next [class/week/text/etc.]." Tomorrow's their first quiz, next week the first writing assignment, so I'll start to see what they're taking in and what I need to focus on.

In dissertation news, I seem to be reading myself into paralysis again. Which means I need to get back to writing. I have Friday blocked out to just sit and produce words, after which I can go out and drink with a friend from out of town.

And just to round out this portmanteau post, today I enjoyed two delightful consumer goods: First, a fantastic clippy pressboard binder thing I liberated from the supply closet at Chaos. Second, these

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"Guided by Wire," Neko Case

Why I Am Annoying (#614 in a series):

Every time I eat plums, I have to recite "This Is Just to Say" to Mr. Eph.

The solution? Pluots.

So, class happened. It was a hot day, with eight thousand percent humidity, and while waiting for the train I had sweat actually dripping down my face. I took to blotting my décolletage like a hot-flashing grandma. So, so pretty, I was.

The classroom was also too hot, which made me extra-manic, what with the pacing and the gesticulating (my gesticulations bring all the boys to the yard, damn right, they're better than yours). While the location of the classroom is fantastic (right across the hall from the adjuncts' office), it doesn't have a podium, and the desk is actually lower than the student desk/chair combos. There is, however, a comfy upholstered desk chair, all the better for lounging in during the cabaret performances that I'll be assigning, because there's also a piano.

Not the best opening day, overall. I screwed up my dates, meandered a bit, overshot the time and didn't get through my first exercise. Eh, whatever. Next time we dive in to Favorite Play and things will go more smoothly, I'm sure. If only because the weather's finally turned and I just got an awesome dress I eBayed for half its retail. Go, me.

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"Tangled Up in Blue," Bob Dylan

Oh, happy day! I got Official Mail from a Crazy Person! It's a preview of a "groundbreaking" study of Big Willie. A 900-page study, in fact, that "proves" all kinds of juicy historical and biographical "facts." Delightful.

Of course, it's by one those ones, who are bound and determined that some poor kid from the country couldn't ever write well. They're just adorable, from a distance.

This is even more fun than unsolicited review copies. And far crazier!

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"Save a Little Room for Me," John Wesley Harding

Do I win the seat-of-my-pants award for procrastinated preparation? I've just finished revising my Big Willie syllabus; the course meets for the first time tomorrow afternoon. Nah, not that bad, then. I've changed the instructions for the final paper and swapped the scheduled positions of the Popular Fairy Comedy and the Popular Cross-Dressing Comedy, but otherwise I'm doing pretty much what I did the last couple times I've been through this syllabus. I was thinking (after my useful meeting with Cool Prof in my field at St. Happy) about adding a performance aspect, but I'm still not entirely sold on it. More thinking is clearly in order.

I also had a meeting today about my minor service position at UChaos, which has been so beautifully set up by the career-office person that all I really have to do is send e-mail and show up for events. Excellent.

And, um. Then I did some shopping on the way home. Just school supplies. And a lip gloss. And a tote bag.

Now on to the last, most important part of my class prep: What will I wear for the first day? The temperatures are still working against me, and I have ridiculous blisters that are limiting my cute-shoe options (is it sad that the student evaluations that most amuse me mention my cute shoes?). I'm thinking a full-skirted black & white dress, light cardigan, and my bad-ass kitten heels with the buckle on the pointy toe.

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"When You Land % Here It's Time," The Shins

So, there was a birthday. And there was a good dinner, and a deeply fantastic lemon tart. And a night out at the birthday party for my favorite bar. All fairly low-key, but nice.

Today has been spent cleaning the apartment in preparation for the new school term. Granted, the dining room table is still covered in piles of articles and books for Massive Chapter (which is stalled at 16 pages of unconnected close readings. I've been reading all week, trying to formulate a frame for the argument. Gah.) and bags from my mostly-failed back-to-school shopping trips this week. I've managed to buy lots of makeup, but no clothes except for a party dress. Because I clearly needed another party dress. For all my parties.

Ahem, so, makeup. I bought some. Lipstick is apparently back this fall, and I'm in favor of this development. I'm trying out a few different reds and wines. And I bought new eyeliner, which is more exciting than it sounds. There was also a haircut and color, and they are both excellent and delightful.

Tomorrow, Mr. Eph and I head out to locations southerly for my cousin's Backwoods Hippie Jamboree Wedding. I should probably be packing, and checking weather forecasts, but instead I'm watching What Not to Wear and catching up on blogs. And I'm apparently in denial about classes next week, as I have yet to even look at my syllabus for the Big Willie class. Eh.

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"When We're Dancing," Magnetic Fields

I am mercifully without an earworm today, so this is a random track from the player.

How is it that, with a month to go before classes start, I've gotten my second library recall notice of the week? That makes four total for the summer, which is more than I've ever been victim to before. Has the Unspoken Law of Summer Books been changed or something? And this last one is a book I'm currently working with, so I'll be waiting until the very last moment to turn it in and then recall it immediately.

Haircut tomorrow, then a birthday dinner out. No writing, per se, the last couple of days, but lots of reading and note-taking. I think I can see how the frame for the argument is coming together.

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"99 Luftballoons," Nena

Saw Branagh's new As You Like It last night and it was... not good. Really weirdly tricked-up for no good reason, with abrupt and pointless shifts in tone, and most of the great and strange lines were cut out. "Sweep on, ye fat and greasy citizens"? Gone. Touchstone's "Much virtue in If"? Gone. Rosalind's examples of "men have lived and died, but not for love"? Gone. Phebe's railing at Silvius that if she's killed him with love, why isn't he dead yet? Gone. And why is Kevin Kline only doing Sad Clown now? He's a perfectly fine Normal Clown. His Jacques here seemed to be an extension of his Bottom in Midsummer a few years back. Alfred Molina's Touchstone was great, but played as far smarter than he really should be, if you ask me. The epilogue was cute, though.

I just want Branagh to get back to the tragedies. Or the romances, which would fit his oscillation between serious and silly much better. I'd kind of love to see what he'd do with Measure or Winter's Tale.

Very little writing accomplished yesterday, but I did some reading and found a chapter in which the author does a whole lot of the work I'd otherwise have to do to make my point, but arrives at entirely the wrong conclusion. I'd forgotten the best part about other critics: you can make them do all the work and then sweep in to make the better point at the end. So, today, as a break from the ongoing close-reading I've been writing up (why did I think that I needed 20 pages of close-reading? Do I still think this?), I'll be arguing with Big Name Guy in this subfield.