sitting at Rita's desk, again

I'm sleepy- didn't sleep well last night, kinda groggy, and wanting some coffee before my evening class. Oh, and today was the first Common Meal of the semester, so I made an ass of myself. Just like last semester. I guess someone has to be graceless and groggy so that everyone else feels at home.

That's it: it's not total lack of poise and tact, it's a ministry of hospitality.

So, sitting here at the desk in my cute skirt, reading stuff online. Last semester's beginning poem was The Layers, which turned out to be an appropriate choice for both the semester and the summer. Still sorting the layers from the litter. This poem that I found on Hugo's blog will hopefully not be equally appropriate to this semester, but I do like it:

Account

The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.

Some would be devoted to acting against consciousness,
Like the flight of a moth which, had it known,
Would have tended nevertheless toward the candle’s flame.

Others would deal with ways to silence anxiety,
The little whisper which, thought it is a warning, is ignored.

I would deal separately with satisfaction and pride,
The time when I was among their adherents
Who strut victoriously, unsuspecting.

But all of them would have one subject, desire,
If only my own — but no, not at all; alas,
I was driven because I wanted to be like others.
I was afraid of what was wild and indecent in me.

The history of my stupidity will not be written.
For one thing, it’s late. And the truth is laborious.

--Czeslaw Milosz

Other reading from the afternoon has included this Harper's article on dolchstosslegende, a story via Digby on clowns at a KKK rally, and a slideshow via apostropher on a 200-yard spider web.

More to come, perhaps.

Update: Also Is There Anything Good About Men?, Art for our sake, India's middle class failure, Hey Folks, You're Spending My Inheritance, and The elegant assissin.