subtle as a brick

I’m waiting for the reading for my seminar to print, because I figure I should at least do that, since they would know that I haven’t been reading if I at least didn’t do that. I’ve made a discovery. Since it is perfectly reasonable not to understand Lacan, I’ve taken to just saying things like, “I don’t understand what he means by boring-topic” in an authoritative voice, as if I have thought about it long and hard only to come to the conclusion that it is crap. Really, I just think it is crap. This may not be the best strategy, but really, it is either that or read Lacan.

I have been really, really sick the past couple of weeks, which is why I haven’t been updating. I went to the student health center and the doctor prescribed me an inhaler, which has helped tremendously. Using it does make me feel melodramatic, like the modern equivalent of coughing little droplets of blood into a lace handkerchief. Anyway, I’m nearly better, but I have a follow up appointment tomorrow. Hopefully she won’t tell me I’m asthmatic.

In other news, I met Paddy’s parents the weekend before last. They came out from Ireland for a week. They weren’t that bad (not like he had been telling me) and I think I made a good impression. I tried, although I was unfortunately sick most of the weekend. Friday night we went to a fancy dinner on the I talked about European economic policy with his dad. He is really opinionated, so I just had to ask a random question (has the new French president had an impact yet, or is it still too soon to tell? Has Germany recovered from their slump? Damn unions!*) and he would tell me all about it. That’s always easier than personal conversations. Saturday was good; we took them to dinner at a great Arabic restaurant and a light play. I think they enjoyed themselves. On Sunday we went to Golden Gate Park and that was something of a miss, although his mom did say something funny to me. Somebody walked by with their dog and she started complaining about how strange people were about them now, even dressing them up, since they have become a sad substitute for children. I said that I thought they must be lonely. Then she asked me if I dressed up my cat, which was funny and I said no, of course. The odd thing was that since she said the thing about children, it was as if she were asking me if I wanted any (or if I was satisfied dressing up my cat). When I told Paddy about it later, he said it was typical: completely roundabout, but as subtle as a brick.

* I was trying to make a good impression. His dad was an investment banker.