Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Yesterday before anthropology class I sat in the courtyard reading my latest library book, which contains about a dozen essays written by an analyst of Greek tragedies. Having become well-absorbed, I valiantly ignored the intense Lubbock wind whipping my freshly-washed, silky-smooth hair above my head and every other which-way in which it is possible to make hair fly. Just another ten pounds, grimly thought I, before I shave half my head again and thereby lessen by approximately the same amount the irrational anger I experience every time I step out-of-doors. Ich haße Lubbock.
That essay (forty-five pages devoted to "The Two Worlds of Euripedes' Helen") I completed at my usual post in the foreign languages building. Dr. Grair came by to ask, "Was gibt es neues?" I pointed at the book title and stammered something about "griechische Tragödien". Der Grair Bear renders me speechless, the reasons for which remain hidden in the ever-vast recesses of my mind. He neither imposes nor intimidates, but he somehow manages to spirit away any knowledge of German or English I might have. It is infuriating.
I read the next essay (shorter by about half than the previous), "Pentheus and Hippolytus on the Couch and on the Grid", riding Javier. I had ridden Dieter for about forty minutes beforehand, and afterward I swam a full twenty laps (mentionable especially because I had wanted to clamber out of the pool again after only one). Upon my return to The Lauree Lair I began the next essay, "The Self and the Mysteries in the Bacchae" before putting myself to bed early, with the knowledge that I would arise early to work in the office, where I have eaten a wholesome breakfast of eggies, sausages, and yoghurt as I finished the essay.
The essays are interesting, and contain cross-references innumerable that I will never have the time to read. Natürlich.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:34 AM]