Wednesday, July 05, 2006
The paper Travis read for his comparative literature seminar last week discussed tragic catharsis from an Aristotle text, with the viewer of the tragic play suffering "pity" and "terror" (this is a very general, one-sentence summation). In A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man the protagonist and another character discuss aesthetics first in terms of an examination of definitions of "pity" and "terror" (according to the main character's view). I am proud to understand the reference- I study the classics, I have realized, for no ultimate purpose other than to prove myself a smarty-pants.
Last night Bianca and I checked rooms to ascertain whether items had been stolen, needed replacement, et cetera. I scored about a dollar-thirty in change, approximately twenty wire hangers, and three disposable razors (which, as I explained to Bianca, translates to three whole months of shaving my legs for free). The graffiti of girls, I have discovered, is wholly dissatisfying- scribblings of "I love Bubba/Billy Joe/Javier (or: I love Bubba, Billy Joe, and Javier" and the Greek initials for sorority houses, for the most part. I did open one drawer upon a usual scrawling of "I love so-and-so", but dated "4/23/1985", the exact date of my birth. I hope the little slut wrote that as I slopped out.
The library had odd hours for the fourth of July weekend, but this morning I finally had time to drop off my overdue books so that I could check out the collection of short stories by Gerhart Hauptmann Jeremy tipped me onto. Unless a hurricane comes through, I aim to begin reading them tonight on the recumbent bike at the rec center. This week I finally knocked myself down to about the weight I was when I graduated high school. Ausgezeichnet. I probably lost between a half and one inch just from swimming more often.
Class (physical anthropology) begins tomorrow, but before then I have many errands to run and loose ends to tie. This morning I returned the entomology text, receiving a meagre seven dollars (half of which I spent on a banana mocha frappuccino at the campus Starbucks). Das anthropologisches Buch ist sehr teuer. Ich haße die Schule.
Grander projects for the afternoon and early evening include completing laundry (whilst listening to Björk, to whom I had never paid much attention until very recently), finishing the James Joyce novel, and studying Latin. Tomorrow I hope to find Kathrin after class so that we might rock climb, before I forget how to tie in.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:36 AM]