Not Much To Say, But It's Almost Thursday...

And it's about time. We are all beginning to look at each other like some kind of exotic and unpleasant fungus, and for all that I know, we may all be one. The semester is quickly outliving its usefulness, and everyone just wants to be quit of it. Unfortunately, it won't go away and die a quick and quiet death. Not sure how to swear at it. Are semesters male or female?

So, we soldier on, like a boxer knocked out on his feet, some unknown synapses firing the legs and feet while the brain has gone on holiday. The question is how long the body stays upright before the final message gets delivered.

...and I've got Pandora on and I should be going to bed because it's late and good teachers get their rest, but they are playing "Gimme Shelter," and it still hooks something dark and frightened in my heart just like it did the first time that I heard it over forty years ago. What fascinates me about that kind of imagery? Like Allyson said earlier tonight, sometimes you have to just sit in the dark with the music...