The Anticlimax

Last night was the last meeting of my 20th Century World Literature class (I still have the final essay to write, but for all intents and purposes, it's over), and it was such a let down...for all involved. No one really connected with the last book, Chris Abani's Graceland, or if they were like me, didn't even really read that much of it. The prof didn't much care for it himself, and his attempts (valiant) to create a discussion about it fell flat. No one really gave him much to work with. For my part, I made a few truly inane comments (and I am not being unkind to myself when I say this. It's true.).

So tonight I sit down to try to recap, with some degree of commitment and intelligence, how my reading of literature has been shaped by this semester's analysis of Kafka and those who followed him. I'll make a light dinner and get to work. No mindless tv watching for me. No preoccupation with my troubled relationship landscape. I also have to put the finishing touches on some poems for my poetry workshop portfolio.

December is shaping up to be event-filled. Parties, get togethers, more shopping. I won't have much time to ponder much of anything until the dust settles on January 1st.