So today was remarkably warm and bright outside, so I managed to finally go for a run, after who knows how many weeks. Other than that, today has been the usual weekend mess of sleeping in, reading books (I've decided I hafta now know far more about economics), and today defeating Wu and Shu in the name of the Wei Kingdom, which is droll because evidently this is what they also play in the O.C., though they misplace the context as a battle between samurai and ninja. Which is a typical whitey sort of mistake. So what looked to be just another day was interrupted, not only with the old roomie Jon, but also a call from Skaren Hargey, who insisted that I attend Alric's Oscar event, our current not-speaking-to-each-other notwithstanding. And so it's off there for me, though the current service changes on the N/W mean that I will hafta take the M60, likely with most of my stuff in tow.

This is the sort of week where the lack of immediate due dates will mean that I coast, though I suppose there is that statistics exam to be studied for. The Asianboi roundup will come later, after I have a chance to catch up with Alric. Everyone else is doing rather shittily.

So the past few days have been not so remarkable, as I've finished all my work and have been in the clear, though on Wednesday night my glasses, faithful companion for the past four years, and a present from my friends then, finally broke, as I was smacked by closing subway doors. They're patched now, with scotch tape on both sides where hinges once swung and on the one side to hold the lens in a twisty tie from a loaf of bread with knotted yarn on the other. So this has to last me another week or more until I can get a certificate from the UFT.

Other than that, there was little or note, beyond the unfortunate miscommunciation that left me standing outside Joephet's apartment at two thirty in the morning unable to reach him either through cellphone or buzzer, and forced at last to go home around three in the morning on a schoolnight. So I was rather enraged, and apparently Joephet actually feared my wrath, if only for a while.

Beyond that, there's been little of note these past few days beyond coasting at work and worrying about whether I will actually be allowed to graduate in May, given that I may have missed a deadline for applying for graduation--another bureaucratic fart I hardly need. Dinner last night involved an armchair analysis of the gayness and unattractiveness of Filipino men by a white who's marrying a Filipina. Apparently, the poverty of that particular archipelago is a fucking mystery of science, and not the doing of three colonial overlords in the span of a century and newfound political subservience to overarching American neo-imperialism.

Dinner with Kenneth tonight was overdue, and he seems to have taken his newfound singleness rather well, and we decided that I'm at a higher stage of moral development: caring-about-black-people. We've not come up with a comprehensive ranking schema, though.

A more comprehensive Asianboi roundup will follow...

So a double-blog is these days rather rare from me, and it's not as if I have much more to report, though I am glad that I'm free and clear for classwork now.

So we had an interesting discussion about gay marriage today in our school's equivalent of homeroom.

Before we get to that though, I should point out that apparently not taking chairs down (which, granted is lazy and ugly) before class begins is an insult to my students, who need a nice environment after coming, possibly, from "subhuman" conditions at home. Well. And this isn't exactly a white assistant principal in condescension. There is a reason why I'm a Marxist, after all.

No, today was a quiet day, with the usual agitators and agitations somehow absent. It's a sign of progress when you can walk into the bathroom, not raise your voice, and break up a dice game, no questions asked. Well, it's greater progress to be in a school without dice games, but we can't ask for the moon right away. Cuz only whitey's allowed on the moon.

But as to gay marriage, I found myself, as I usually do, taking a more conciliatory approach, making sure that my objector to Bush's constitutional ban had an understanding of the depth to which such a ban would apply, while reminding her gently that beating the living shit out of the President is a felony, as is the utterance of the intention to do so. It's hard at that age to see the other side, and to come up with reasoned arguments against, but it's good to see that there is some natural moral outrage there. And they're only on early Confucianism (as a religion, mind you), not Zhu Xi.

So it's frightening, the expansion of Joephet's piratable wireless, so that I'm in his living room, retyping stuff, watching TV, and sitting in an actual chair, which is odd, as it feels like home, except this is a Mac.

Today was smooth enough given that I hid in my room away from the chaos left by two core teachers absent. The hard days are always Wednesday and Thursday, I suppose, and I've spent too much time too much time defeating the Wu and Wei in the name of the Shu and lifting lightly while dodging my landlord to be far enough along on the big chunk of thesis writing due tomorrow.

So it seems that the only reliable times these days I have for blogging are when I'm dedicated to the internet and other typery at college. It's been a first day back after a week, and even though the semester is only in the beginning of the third week, I can feel a routine having crystallized. Maybe I'm just getting older. The problems and issues are just as I left them, though many kids claimed to have been bored while at home. Still, when I look at some students, who still haven't learned that my name is in fact not "Mr Shit," and who have accumulated zero credits in their third year of the ninth grade, and wonder what I can really do in my position. The triage rolls on.

It's sad to note that the last-minute mode is still the only one I have when it comes to writing papers--with a week off in which to work, it is now, with my time on this computer running out that I am polishing off my paper. And it's only two pages. It's been a long time since I've actually written a response paper of this sort. I suppose I don't really mind the lapse.

So I been overtouched today by elderly women, though their lechery is in question, perhaps. First Lostin's aunt's elderly waitress employee, then my landlord. Ah, well.

So I've been headachey and sniffly these past few days, which is in part why I've not been blogging--break has also meant, in its deterioration of routine, that I have settled into a massive crusty rut--I'm never productive without deadlines, and right now thinking about school, I do not look forward to any of it, not one bit--indeed, last night's dream was that my classes were shuffled around, which would have been great.

Little else to report, as I've not been doing much, with novels finished, no comics bought in weeks, Lostin on the way to visit later tonight, no real progress to report in my videogames. I guess I did try at last the Hunan fish at the Chinese place across the tracks from Joephet, and it was tasty, and I did go solo today to see The Butterfly Effect, and wished I was taking notes as a structuralist reading of it might well be fruitful. But I'm a bit too groggy to tend to that for now. I will just say that you oughtn't trust any movie which quotes "Chaos Theory" as its epigraph.

So I have a couch of sorts, which is more of a trundle bed, the sort of gift forced upon me, which I must bear, thanks to my Greek landlord, who blazed through the apartment today in an attempt to secure from Neill, face-to-face, a promise that he will pay the rent by the end of the week. This was all rather amusing, as we were caught off guard, so we were both dressed all gay-like, in clothes way too tight for our own good. But I think our landlord's still a little clueless on this count.

With that taken care of, I should just be able to run off and do whatever I want with my day, but I have little energy to accomplish anything beyond maybe some more light lifting and some paperwork--taxes and perfunctory paper assignments.

So this is unacceptable: today on Jeopardy! (the teen edition, where an entire category was devoted to WB pseudo-dramas (actually, white-bujii-pseudo-dramas, which of course is probably revenge on the nerdy teens)) there was the following answer, which I paraphrase from necessity:

The Americas' only communist country, it doesn't have a ;-) next to its liberties and civil rights section of its constitution.

Now this is not to say that Castro has had a great human rights record, but that's just a cheap shot. It's sad, how as I've grown older it just seems dumber and dumber--and I swear that there are problems with the buzzers. But that's probably just the geeky quiz bowl experience talking (I was damn good)...

Other than that, today was mall-browsing with Joephet after a buffet lunch at a Filipino restaurant in Woodside. Any place that has unlimited drinks that come from pitchers is my speed, with shades of Java's Grill back in Columbus, which has since apparently closed. We failed to buy much of note beyond bamboo knitting needles and enough St. Ives to last us, well, maybe a week.

I've been reacquainting myself with the lit theory I dabbled with junior year, but should turn back to the math I'm now responsible for, as well as some more social-science-oriented stuff. I'm becoming exactly the sort of person we used to deride at math camp, though of course that's no real measure of anything.

Oh, yes. Lostin might well be coming to town later this week, which is rather exciting, especially since he and I have never actually hung out in person since we started talking to each other on a nontrivial and regular basis. It's so... internet. and gay. But he's not.

Little else to report beyond growing restlessness and a sense that I should be doing something with my freedom.

Last note: you know you're a little wacko when you're having a conversation with your sympathetic school friends about "bujii" and they don't buy your yoga-mat-sleeping, handsoap-abstaining, $1.75-wifebeater-wearing brand of angry jaundiced asceticism. It could be worse. I could be South Korea.

So I've not blogged in days, and now I'm off on vacation, even though the road to here was bumpier than I had thought it would be. Last night was quite satisfactory, despite my needless frustration at Joephet's continued tardiness, and embarassingly not being asked to make any decisions at dinner, only because Joephet picked out the wine. We were taking bets as to who would get the flower at the end of the meal--our dykey waitress took the diplomatic way out and gave us one each.

It's now much more interesting, though, to consider what I will do next, with this week off, and slightly better prospects for a successful resolution of the Neill situation. I think it's time for an East Coast college bustrip--to see all the old friends before they disperse, which is rather soon, I think, as we're all getting old. That and more physical fitness--it'll be good to get back into a weight-training routine.

I finally bought my first pairs of jeans yesterday, with Joephet. Other than that little news, though I'm disturbingly hand-to-mouth these days when it comes to money. But that's just for a short while.

So it's been a long day, and I've sleptwalkt through the latter half of it, which is fine, because I can get away with it.

So I'm a wreck, though not as bad as those Chinese laundry trucks I was ramming in GTAIII, though of course I tried my best to not kill any more Chinapeople than absolutely necessary. Sorry, Mr Wong, about that last Wong that went up in frames. But aside from that and the continued roommate woes, I've been settling into rather somewhat of a pleasant rut, with school going more smoothly than could be hoped, and only three more days before vacation, though no real plans in that direction--I was thinking of a longish roadtrip, time permitting.

I've been sleeping more and having more vivid dreams than usual, but the grogginess also gets washed away more easily--it's not bone-weariness, just opportunistic nappery.

I went running today at least, and next week I will continue these habits, if I don't take off for the upper North.

Ah, well. Now Joephet is complaining I'm still up, but my tits are not. He is demanding a refund. Or an exchange.

now that Kenneth's single, and Lostin's on the loose...

So I always forget about grad school classes, how soft they are, how nontextual and philosophically unrigorous, even when the text has substantial content in that direction. So it's all a bunch of -isms and other presuppositions which are inconsistent, or otherwise just not grounded or well-informed. I can't believe people think that de facto segregation is the result of elective coincidence.

I'm exciting about the math, though, and perhaps a little overambitious on that count. This entire semester has been a smooth ride, with one exception. There's so little else to say, I suppose. That's where things are at.

I was also realizing--and this is too obvious to be interesting--I no longer doodle and scribble because I'm happy. Or something close to it. Or not as under siege as I've been in the past. Or maybe I'm just soft now.

So it's actually always incredibly satisfying, though I constantly forget it, to have a clean house, or at least one where the hardwood floors are visible--and given how much time I spend at home, it's not that difficult to keep it this way--I suppose I am in a phase of ambition, which hopefully will last me past the week off I'm soon getting. Beyond that, I suppose I should be setting some short term goals--I really need to use the time off to get back into shape, as I've been slipping, and of course organize my finances as I've been overindulges some of Joephet's whims, though of course he deserves all the merchandise he gets. Ah, well. It's off again--I am in the mood to mop Joephet's filthy filthy floors (blame the pukey-cat).

So it's been a lazy coupla days, as Joephet's been off shopping for a suit and sighting famous internet personalities. I've just been at home, watching old six feet under and playing video games, generally just avoiding any real work for school. It's a beautiful thing, though, this new semester, so far--the first week is always the longest, the second made short especially so in this case as there's a vacation coming. Sadly, short of dropping in on Skaren Hargey, I have no idea what to do with myself, the more so because nothing can prepare you for that Long March. Still, it's nice to know what the routine will be.

Sadly, it's also a matter of a roommate search, as Neill still has not come through, much to my annoyance and avoidance. So that's just another aggravation in this next week. Ah, well. At the least, I've been enjoying my reading--Sanguo in translation, John le Carre, and the like. I've also finally found the old notebook again, and have at least been itching, even if I have yet to really crack it open and go at it. It's troubling, though, how the videogame thing has replaced my former comic book habit--it's been half a month since I've gone, which, granted, is only two cycles, but is longer than ever before, just maybe.

So there's been quite a gap, but I've finally settled all the issues surrounding my registration this term, after quite some running. It looks like the thesis course will be challenging but worthwhile: everything else I can skip or pretty much fudge, though I wonder how wise it was assigning Sen as a first theoretical reading at a CUNY school. That the graduate center isn't up to snuff--it's just that the satellites are a little wobbly.

And here is a belated....

Asianboi roundup

Alric is getting away. I should really call him. I dreamt of him recently. It's strange, how quickly all that disappears. I wonder how much Rob Chin would learn from him.

Joephet is getting his iBook fixed. He's settled into a new routine, and is adjusting his friendgroups at the law school.

Kean is getting back. It seems as if his trip has done well by him, but I also haven't heard from him in ages. My homecoming is still some time off.

Kenneth is getting touched. Well, mostly by Joephet, on his firmer-than-Drew's pec. I don't know where he's going in his relationship or anything, but I think he's not wracked with the same doubts I was in college.

Lostin is getting some. Well, something like that. Rather, it goes to show that there really is a culture of sexual oppression here in this country.

Rob Chin is getting paid. He is not getting excited, though, which I find odd, as it's a great opportunity. And even the Marxist in me approves of his evil corporate job.

Thai is getting around. He's a real heartbreaker, disappointing all sorts of other ugly Asianbois with his prudery and at the same time whatever else he has. He actually reminds me of Edward, with a lobotomy. But that's just the build and the bad haircut.

So I managed to show up somehow an hour early for my class, something that surely will never happen again. So I have been wandering campus and bored, as I am half-assing it as far as the teaching goes this week, though surely there are all sorts of surprisingly successful things I'm doing in class as far as paperwork and forms go. Beyond that, there's nothing to really report other than train nappings, and a Jehovah's witness who was praising Jesus on the 5 train for keeping her house from burning down for the six days she'd gone to Vegas to visit her family, even though she'd left the stove on for some tea. I'd be more impressed if Jesus could keep us all from snickering.

So I have managed to be quite successful this week, at least as far as undermining the rest of my semester by signing up for more work goes. I'll be successfully enrolled for all 14 credits I wanted, soon enough, though I'm finding that now with three hours before my class in Brooklyn there's really not all that much to go and do, though I guess there's always Bulletproof, and various other distractions, such as Canal Jeans. And of course a coursepack to buy. So I'm feeling pretty good, even though I had to do a full gallop in full gear and half-boots across campus to get to the Fellows office before they closed for the evening. I made it by a few minutes, though, and am now just going to coast.

So I am home, and tired. I don't know what it is--the long-ass day and the commute, or the unaccustomed hunger, or what, but I'm feeling a little queasy, I'm at home, and I feel like a nice long sleep, so I wont' say much more, except that I'm successful in getting that overage I wanted. My library trip paid off my fines and netted me some le Carre and some Sanguo, the latter of which has been thoroughly satisfying so far. I've sadly, however, continued my habit of utter unproductiveness after class--I'm just too spent to do anything beyond some light Capcom vs. SNK 2, and now some bed--tomorrow is the sort of day you soon forget, as it's a second-day, and second-days somehow lack the wonder of firsts, the settledness of thirds, or the drabnesses of fourths.

So the word of the day is "steamroll"--with new kids in your classes and manageable sizes, it's amazing how far you can get if you just don't ever stop talking. It was a thoroughly pleasant day--I don't remember being insulted once, and I was for once on my game logistically, which is of course overdue. Now at Brooklyn, taking care of classes and other business, just wrapping everything up. It's not time to get complacent, of course, but time to get everything done, snap-snap.