I can't avoid it anymore.

English 452. Class of death. Actually, I like my professor. I like most of my classmates. I even liked some of the reading. I just didn't understand it as well as I would have liked to. And now. . .

20 page paper. Due Monday.

This marks the first reading day I have ever actually spent reading. Benjamin, Brecht, Mura, JSTOR. We've all become good friends today.

"I have people I consider soul mates who don't confide in me this much."

Here's what I'm thinking: Mura says that he doesn't find a place for himself as a poet in the traditional English literary tradition. "I have to imagine myself." But how can a poet effectively accomplish this task? By establishing and acknowledging a dialectic such as those Benjamin sets up in his essays on surrealism and Brecht. A poet must take him/herself (the thesis), combine it with the outside world (the antithesis)--whether this is politics or economics or whatever, I don't care--in order to write a poem that extends to an audience greater than the poet (the sythesis). My professor wants me to act as the theorist, so I feel comfortable using my own poetic experiences to relate how me + religion or feminism has created effective poetry.

And now no one will comment because I'm not complaining about my unfulfilled sex life.