I'm reading Kant or rather I'm reading about Kant and asking myself - why the bother? Indeed. It's called a book club and the last two books didn't have the hoity toity air about them that this one does. Besides, his "adoring" overuse of quotation marks has me parroting him like an airhead. Perhaps, I'm just venting my frustration at my general lack of knowledge of Philosophy that makes reading Velkey's Being after Rousseau a chore of "looking it up". Just what exactly is synthetic nature? It addles my holey brain. Thankfully, my subscription to oxford online is still current.
Instead of working on my dissertation, I spent most of my day getting to know my couch better. I suspected that Buffy the vampire slayer had been drilling my head with her femme-powered fists. It could be the other way around - it may be exactly that arse-whipping, quip-throwing epitome of girly normality that I need to drop-kick my demon-headache away.
Instead of working on my dissertation, I spent most of my day getting to know my couch better. I suspected that Buffy the vampire slayer had been drilling my head with her femme-powered fists. It could be the other way around - it may be exactly that arse-whipping, quip-throwing epitome of girly normality that I need to drop-kick my demon-headache away.
Such days of demon-headache sighs is what gives me cause to think, could I not hang up my dissertation hat and pursue the secret agent life I've always wanted? And wouldn't being an artist be the best cover?
