Here at the little institution where I work, a place that likes to refer to itself as "the Harvard of the Midwest", we have a long-standing tradition of calling off work for one day, unannounced until the night before by the student council president, so that we who are so privileged and work so hard may live graciously.
Pffft.
Originally intended to get all the spoiled brats off their duffs and into the real world, the day once meant that students, faculty and staff left the classrooms and offices and got together for a big community project. Volunteering. Building a house. Planting flowers. Stuff like that. Now pretty much everybody goes to the beach and gets shitfaced.
Not a bad way to spend a day.
But not for me. Instead, yesterday I sat wearing a cashmere hoodie under the sun in my backyard and read this. I could. Not. Put it down. I can't figure out why I hadn't read it before now.
Sonofabitch.
I still have serious questions about Capote's reportage. How he could reconstruct so many of those quotes without taping and without taking notes. Now I've got to read this.
And this.
But soon I'll be reading loads and loads of Czech writers. In English. Although I've signed up for a Czech language class. What fun! I'll be expanding my understanding of Czech culture and literature beyond what my high school obsession with Milan Kundera offered me. And I'll know how to communicate more than "Beer, please!" (although knowing just that phrase, as well as "toilets?", in tongues native to the countries in which I've travelled has gotten me very far. Far as I wanted to go, anyway.)
I may have secured a sublet in Prague for much cheaper than I expected. And I have an opportunity to keep it longer than the one month I'll be working. I'm starting to think that may be the best option for me. Instead of flitting off to hard-to-reach islands or Eurorailing it across Western Europe, I might just plan to stay grounded in Prague; do trips from there to Eastern Europe; see new things, new people; position myself to take a lover; and have a hell of a lot of fun. Without spending all the money I don't even have. That'll leave me just enough time to skeedaddle off to the South of France by the end of August. . . .
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2 comments:
they say i went to the harvard of the west. no, not stanford. the university of IDAHO. yup. but i think it was more that our campus was beautiful and LOOKED like an ivy league school.
because, you know, like, looks are everything.
Da: "bigdog"? Is that Arkansan for "leapin' lizards!"? You are so susceptible to language. They say it's a musical ear that does that. . . . I have it, too. That's why whenever I get drunk I start speaking with an Irish accent. Or as one very drunk Irishman in San Francisco once said to me, "Why do you sound like a retarded Irish person?" And yes, I've seen the movie. Have you read the book? Astonishing. I can't imagine how revolutionary it must have been in '66. Did it influence you in journalism?
Soviet: Damn straight! We've got lots of red brick buildings covered in ivy that surround a pretty, green quad. Smart kids, great teachers, just as I'm sure they had at UIdaho, but it's true. Looks are everything. Lucky for us we're so damn beautiful!
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