A Hard Day Ahead

It's my long teaching day, six hours of lecture in a row are looming. Even if it's Nietzsche and Safiya Noble I'm talking about, this will be a slog. My brother called last night to let me know our father has died. He was just 79 years old. Long expected -- he has suffered from Alzheimer's nearly eight years, he hasn't recognized even close family for a couple of years now, and lately he has had some tough accidents -- and in the context of a longer political estrangement as he went from the supportive if confused pro-gay Southern bible-study Christian with whom I lived in Atlanta for a while right after college to being a supremely upsetting Fox News viewer later in our lives. I am remembering his earlier gentleness now, his insecurities, and the efforts he made to connect to his weird queer hyper-intellectual self-righteous son. Nights before my long teaching day are never easy -- I skip the cannabis assist that makes sleep a snap on other nights, and I'm always already nervous as hell anyway before a performance -- but last night I'd be surprised if I managed as much as three hours' sleep. Reminds me of the bad old insomnia nights of last winter -- but it's surely temporary. Still, I'm feeling rather bruised and bleary for the beginning of a long demanding day. We'll see how this goes.