Rock-n-roll miscellany (in which I link to myself in a frenzy of self-absorbed self-reflection)

While it seems as though I headed my last post with a poem from a fifth-grader on a class trip, it is in reality a matter of not knowing how to get the captions with the pictures I took in Conference City. I kind of like what the mistake has produced, though--my imaginary fifth-grade, budding-anarchist thoughts on the state of the nation in poetic form.

I am back home from what turned out to be a rocking and exhausting conference. All manner of good professional things that will keep me insanely busy for the foreseeable future happened, as well as some personal fun with old friends and some camaraderie bordering on creepiness with The Grand He. I am also pretty sure that the daughter of a famous critic (and a great critic in her own right, but I am being cryptic) called me a whore in an elevator, at least in a roundabout, rhetorical (perhaps fictional) way.

My illusion of coming back to much less work, having finished the conference paper and trying to balance writing and teaching, has proved to be just that, an illusion. TDC is ever toxic and positively rabid in her demands. Still I am somehow re-energized and reminded of why I am in this profession, something (mystification?) a conference always magically does for me.

In home news, the Chalupa did brilliantly at her vacation home with Milo and Kitty. Remember More Fun? It's almost time for him to roll back into town with the rock-n-roll circus. I returned home to a message from him, reporting that he and Feste and Demetrius (a.k.a. the Now Married One True Love) were hanging out all weekend in Best City in All of Texas, feeling nostalgic for their beloved Medusa. Must find a way to get my work done and enjoy this year's Season of More Fun.