and i could kiss yr eyes

My word. Tender Forever. "How Many." Channeling all the best in sunshine pop and handclaps. Springtime Supreme.

That's all.

canyons

are carved slowly, over millenia.

I will be there (above) tomorrow, along with the textual versions of Alice Jardine, Chantal Mouffe and, because s(he) deserves to be brought along on all epic winter camping trips, dear, dear Orlando, who has just recently returned from Constantinople and remembered that crying is key to persuasion. Lady after my own heart.

read me

going on and on about profit, academia, epistemic window-dressing, etc., here:

On Opacity and Incommensurability

This paper is part of a larger, ongoing project pertaining specifically to the doctoral program I call 'home'-ish, but broadly concerned with academic impropriety, documented here.

false apo(lo)gee(a)

chapter abstract on intersex, categorical logic, coloniality, and technics of visibility done in t-2 hours.

Seriously. T-2 hours. No way will scrabulous stop me. Not this time!

would you rather barbara kruger be

a) yr best friend
b) yr momma
c) yr sugarmomma
d) yr eccentric aunt
e) yr girlfriend
f) yr thesis advisor
?


I'm undecided.

suffering

On our way home from seeing Sabhat Tuncel -- Kurdish parliamentarian, former PKK member, elected to Turkey's parliament by a landslide vote while in prison -- speak about the Democratic Society's tripartite position (re: 'the Kurdish question,' 'the ecological question,' and 'the woman question') at CUNY Graduate Center, after braving the hipster crush at Red Bamboo, endless jokes about fake askesis, toast, and the unbearable whiteness of being, and getting near-lost in the outer boroughs, we encountered a serious and severe whiteout in northern Jersey and were forced to pull off the road and get a room at the Holiday Inn in Suffern, NY. The lot was full, as the hotel was hosting the requisite annual Gun Show.

I fell asleep to sounds of mis companeras laughing hysterically at a camel-toed yoga-informercial, and woke up to the sounds of the men in the next room vociferously debating nationalist tragedy and the health merits of PB+J on wheat bread.