exquisite

The time between tuesday night and friday afternoon is always a blur of class and Post- (what up, 3am?) and sleep and syntax and fiction class and sleep and more class. Class and sleep and class and sleep and post- and class and sleep and class. I'm slowly coming to.

Yesterday in Fiction we tried to do an exquisite corpse out loud, based on some poems and excerpts that we were told to memorize.

K: I want you guys to memorize a poem for next week, the reason for which is as ambiguous as life itself.

The ambiguous reason was the exquisite corpse. We were meant to each say a line of the thing we memorized, or, if the spirit compelled us, something else completely. That's what I like about fiction class.

Alejandro: But the pen is mightier than the sword.
Sahil: Both, as it happens, phallic images.
Cara: Everything is a phallic image.
Ade: Freud would be proud.
K: That's what she said.

Exquisite indeed. I was just proud that the whole thing didn't turn to a discussion of menstruation. In my fiction class, that really is an accomplishment.

Love always,
Clara