day two: electric bugaloo

Music: The Smiths: Louder Than Bombs (1987) I’ve secreted away to my room for a breather from the overwhelming sound of a elementary school cafeteria (I think this is what Francis Bacon also terms “the marketplace”); after a while thousands of people talking at once is an overwhelming sound, a bodily assault on the senses.

And I’m sort of high, off the heels of a very good panel Adria organized based on our haunting seminar from last year. Everyone was prepared, read clearly and articulately, and just so good. And it was, as panels go, fairly well attended. I gave a brief response, and there were good and interested questions. I also felt very strange: these are more or less both my students and my friends, and I consider them as my colleagues. But I had one of those maternal “I’m so proud” attacks, a warmth in my otherwise cold and steely heart. It was nicely done.

Had lunch at the art museum with two of my most favorite people in the world: Bob Scott, my advisor, and Angela Ray, one of my count-on-one-hand best friends. At dinner I was noticing how warm and soulful their eyes seemed to me, like I was oddly at the end of a much-needed umbilicus . . . recharging.

After that, did the graduate fair. A good servicey thing to so and I met a few prospective students (they’re so articulate! When I was looking for grad programs I know I sounded so, like, dude, and you know).

So it was a nice second day at the conference. I’m meeting friends for dinner, and then later this evening I have plans to see some Chicago blues with the home team. This is lovely: what conferences should be. I think in two days time, though, I’m going to be exhausted.