Leaving the house in a moment, while it is still dark outside, for the commute into the city and into my longer teaching day, with the expectation that it will be getting dark outside again when I return home at last. This morning at the Dogpatch campus, it's squabbling Marxist aesthetes, Bloch against Lukacs against Brecht against Benjamin, as well as a screening of Joan Collins in Noel Coward's one-act
Hands Across the Sea. Later on, in the MA Thesis Workshop, six different drafts are nearing Final Review, ready or not. Excitement and anguish abound.
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