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December 21st, 2003

"Bring on the cabaret--we can all have a laugh.
I'll play the Theater of the Absurd--at last".
--old Be Bop Deluxe song

In my real life, I'm an attorney, who spent Saturday from 7:15 in the morning until 5:30 at night writing an important brief. This process, now well familiar to me, involving drafting text, scanning legal databases for cases, and working on the various document assembly matters, consumed my entire day, including the part of a warm-ish December day I'd hoped to set aside for a nice walk at the Dallas Arboretum.

My work life is not at all a bad life, really, because I enjoy the intense thought that goes into the process. I think that people under-value the opportunity for mind-stretching an intense work project can feature. I like that sense that the rich sea of intellectual stars involved in any profession create a sort of alternative universe, which one can visit with one's personal mental teleportation device.

I think, sometimes, I picture myself in some alternative life, teaching undergraduates things I barely know myself, and reaching similar complexity of focus on, say, Winifred Holtby's male characters, or Etruscan religious rituals. I imagine that ideas unfettered by any responsibility but to truth must be a heady thing, indeed. I respectfully dissent from my acquaintances who are doing dissertations about the rigors of that process, because it is my theory that life is about doing one's dissertation, one way or the other.

This morning, though, I'm on a different track. I'd like to discuss what I'll call that Folk Singer Inside. I came, I strummed, I conqueredCollapse )