Cleaved from archival resources

It's that time of the year when I reestablish connections with you before they grow too tenuous. I'd call to try to accomplish this but I'm even more awkward
on the phone than I am via written word . . . . I will not do too much sharing of personal information except to say this year = upcoming enrollment in South Dakota, University of + renewed interest in defeating dualist body/self distinction (which is essentially defeating a "take that" attitude towards bodily health) + departing from flyfishing/hiking/conversations with Montana separatists/Indian reservation life + continued resistance to televisual technologies + awestruck gaping and head-shaking at modern American life.

Books - Brothers K, Education of A Coach (or whatever the Halberstam/Bellichick joint is), Dispatches, Revolutionary Road, Main Street. Employment - teaching, Forest Service chainsawing. Music - Stravinsky, Thermals, EPMD (Greatest Hits), that SOS song by Earl Greyhound (oh-oh, oh-woh-oh-oh), Gang of Four revival. Torrid summer, muted fall winter, balanced spring, back to muted this summer.


Shots from the hip/in the dark:

It's become clear to me that nostalgia is not just a theme in the Great Gatsby. Esquire Magazine is the devil and John Kruk confounds me. It's probably going to get much worse before it gets worse, geopolitical situation-wise. Depictions of suburban angst may eventually win a split decision over grumbling about the inanity of depictions of suburban angst. I have yet to find an adequate response for attempts in casual conversation to define the Nineties or any aspect of culture, politics, intellectual paradigms, etc. therein. Costello's "Allison" just came on (cf. "nostalgia" supra). I have both too much and not enough furniture.