stuck between the moon and austin

Music: Christopher Cross: Best Of . . . (1992)

Sometimes after a really good seminar discussion, coming home is a big come/let-down. Are ideas and "theory" intoxicants? You bet.

I had put on a bit too much cologne before class; thankfully, it faded. I worried someone would comment, and had developed a come back in my head:

"You smell nice, Josh."

"Why thank you. I'm stylin' the transference, but you only get to sniff it."

When I first started teaching here at the University of Texas, my seminars were on Monday afternoons from three to six in the evening. I tried to extend my own advisor's tradition of retiring after seminar to a watering hole for drinks and more discussion---a buffer between, say, excited discussions of Benjamin and going home to an empty screen. Because seminars were on Monday this didn't quite work, so I ended up treating myself to Chili's. It was pathetic, but the wait staff got a little friendly after a few weeks.

I'm happy to report this semester seminar is on Wednesday, and so the discussion "ramp down" buffer zone is happening at the Hole in the Wall. It makes coming home after seminar much less of a let down (although I think I would prefer staying out all night; alas, I'm getting too old to do that anymore---if I want, at least, Thursday to get some work done without a foggy head). Last night as I was talking to students from various seminars, it occurred to me something like my own graduate student experience was being replicated (for them, and for me). The only thing(s) missing was David, Christopher, and a dart machine. And R.L. Scott to buy the pitchers of beer. Amy to bring on the late-night shots. And Rob's loud laughing. And Popcorn.

I reckon it's my job now to buy the beer. Roles change. I want them to have the same kind of experience that I had. And I want the experience again too. You can't have it both ways, or lines get crossed. This is the suckdom of becoming a (/an ethical) professor. I only let myself get unethical on Halloween and Mardi Gras, at least (and that just means drunk in front of others)

Last night on the way home I was listening to Christopher Cross, his solitudinous voice wafting "like the wind to be free again." There is a joke to be made, riding like the wind. And sailing takes him away. Hot tubs and massages do that for me, and I'm confident so would heroin, but I know shouldn't do herion, so I don't.

Sometimes in my dreams, though, I fancy a horsey.

Whatever happened to Christopher Cross, that golden-tongued native son of San Antonio? I've always liked his voice, like I like Alan Parson's voice. [Oh lord----the dog sitting on my shoulders just farted . . holy cow that's stinky] I remember in 1980 getting a cassette of Cross' self-titled album, which sold like crazy. In preschool when Ms. Linda and Ms. Whoever drove us around in VW busses we would do Christopher Cross and REO Speedwagon sing-a-longs (all of us youngsters knew the words). I also remember getting a cassette of Hall & Oats H20, the song with "Man Eater" on it. (Which reminds me: last weekend at the opera I ran into a woman I used to jokingly call "the man-eater," cause for a year straight she had a new boyfriend every other week. She reported she was engaged.) Where was I? Oh, yes, the Cross: "Sailing" was ubiquitous in my pre-teen years, and then he did the theme to Arthur which sort-of sealed the deal. A trip to Cross' official website leads one quickly to the conclusion he is still, pretty much, riding the past (his latest album was a double-album with his greatest hits, a bundle literally wed to 1980). He's doing gigs in Slovenia. He's playing his first album, live, on satellite radio. I reckon soon he's coming soon to a State Fair near you! (Like the Violent Femmes do these days, or that one time keyboardest for John Lynne's band that appears for free as ELO II).

Reliving the past: this would be an academic as well as a personal issue, something uncanny were it not for the humor or possible trouble. Cross' emblem is a lonesome, pink flamingo standing in the water; its on his first album, the drum set, the road-ready cases.

I have a new gnome. His name is Kyle Wimberlton. Or Wimberlton Kyle, I cannot remember. He was bought in a town named Kyle on my way back from Wimberly. I finished painting him the first week of class. Isn't he lovely? Why does he have a fish? Gnomes I thought existed to protect treasures, tap kegs, harvest magic mushrooms, and provide garden tools. But a fish? I googled "gnome with fish" but got no answer, just a lot of lawn ornaments for sale. Maybe it's a symbol of fertility? That would be funny, because I've never seen a lady gnome. Maybe gnomes are really ancient Greeks?

Also, at Dr. Mmmm's behest, I bought this shirt. It arrived a few days ago. I have not worn it yet, but I will. I will.