Bono was singing about writing a dissertation. A gloriously ambivalent love song to a dissertation.
I just cracked this sweet sweet chapter. Owned. I am writing myself a note to remember what allowed me to do it. (Gym says 98kgs, I says 18 hour days.) Pep talk in point form for future reference.
1) Take it easy. You have so much stuff. Too much. Remember that time when the woman said she would try to fit you into her schedule and her friend said, “I bet you’d fit in my schedule.” Don’t try to fit it all in. Be gentle.
2) Be simple. Don’t think too much about the huge amount of research you’ve done. You are not writing for me or someone like me who has read everything you have read. You are not writing odes to dead French men. You may not be writing philosophy. You are certainly not writing love poems. You are writing a demonstration.
3) Rhythm. An argument flows, it is not unveiled like a missing car in a magic trick, or delivered like a joke punchline Nike tick. You can dance, you got good rhythm. Watch. Dance.
4) Smarts. All sorts. Got it. Yummy. Shit is known like a biblical bad reputation. Relax, don’t do it, when you want to… create a plateau of intensity. So intense it is its own superstition.
5) This is not a Pete Townsend song. This is not kareoke. Sure, you built this diss on rock and roll, but just play the fucking game for once in your life, please. Be good to yourself, me.
You didn’t happen to be driving along Enmore rd this morning, did you? About ten?
love songs to theses: right on glen!
maybe they’re like plants in that way. i wouldn’t know, it’s all a blur…
Say Hello, Wave Goodbye was the right song towards the end…
Say Hello, Wave Goodbye was the right song towards the end…
yep, friday night last week. lol
npb, nope. i didn’t get up till 11, and only then did i realise i was already 30 minutes late for an interview.
Creepy. You have a doppleganger who looks like the pic you used to have on here somewhere.
npb, maybe you have that image of me on your mind. creepy!!!
😉
You’re fucking telling me.
telling and fucking, very deleuzian. words, you eat them.
ok, i admit, drunk.
pretty girls.
ffs.
Shit. At least when I’m drunk my comments make some sense.
Pretty girls? All I saw was a very ugly Obi-wan and a giant pink teddy bear.
what’s your email address, glen?