Last-times

She sent me another email today. In spite of back pain, she said, I expect you - Consette - to fulfil your duties as blogger. Bog off, I said. But here I am, ensconced in a bed of hot water bottles and wheat bags, battling onwards, for her sake. I asked if she could perhaps help out and write some of the posts, but she says she's too busy being idiotic in Somerset, UK, and that I really have nothing to complain about, and that the L.A heat must be doing my joints some good. Well, it's not, and she's a twat.

This post is entitled 'Last-times' on account of the idiot's neurotic tendency to keep track of the 'last time' she will ever do such and such, in such and such a place. In the weeks leading up to the end of Reed, I would often find her in tears mumbling something like, "this is the last time I will ever eat a Commons chicken quesadilla with extortionate amounts of ketchup on the side", or "this is the last time I will sit in this film class and wonder how the hell the conversation got here and what on earth they're talking about."

LAST PRESENTATION: It may have been a baptism of fire, but on the whole Reed has done the idiot an awful lot of good over the past year. She, who has a chronic fear of speaking in public, was forced on a weekly basis to present things in class. For the most part a 'presentation' comprised quite a small-scale blurb on a poem or an essay. This fearsomely capitalised LAST PRESENTATION, however, was a bit more formal and knee-quaking. Film Theory's final project was to write a collaborative essay (shudder) in a group of three, post it on the class moodle, and then give a 15 minute presentation to the rest of the class, with accompanying visual analysis and question-fielding. The idiot joined up with Kerstin and Stephanie for an inquiry into Clouzot's Les Diaboliques and the horror genre. She really fumbled her part of the presentation - bringing out the words climax and sutural pleasure far too many times, getting temporarily lost amidst the hieroglyphic notes on her lap, and going way over the the time limit. This had a domino effect on Kerstin and Stephanie's presentations, and Becky (the professor) had to cut the whole thing short in the end. The idiot was also responsible for the manifest technology fail (no DVD player, no computer, no wire for projector and, when all of that had been resolved, finally, no sound). By way of apology - for putting her pupils through this degree of stress - in the last ever Film Theory class, Becky herself gave a presentation of the creepy consanguinity between Jim Henson's muppets and French theorists/philosophers. Also, Scooby Doo before Reagan.

(First and ...) LAST NITROGEN DAY ICE CREAM: Nitrogen ice cream is kind of grainy, but still impressive.

LAST (ever chance to see ...) HUM PLAY: Again, I reiterate, 'hum' is pronounced 'hume', as if you were going to say 'humanities'. Every year on the Friday before Renn Fayre Friday, students put on a play 'dramatising' the HUM110 syllabus from the last year. Although, some clever sod scheduled the Creative Thesis Reading to happen at the same time and, after a hasty coin toss, it was decided that we attend the reading and miss out on Hum Play. Of course the reading was very excellent all round, but I don't appreciate being exposed to further blubbering from the idiot. She said that Maya's memoir was one of the best, and most moving, pieces of writing she'd heard all year.

LAST CLASS: Two hours before Renn Fayre begins, super Gail Sherman brings donuts to 'James and Ozick/Faulkner and Morrison', and the idiot experiences instantaneous nostalgia. Not just for the donuts, but also for JOFM and Reed classes in general. But it's okay - barely a week later Gail invites us to her house on the other side of Portland for brunch and further intellectual stimulation (ie. a revelatory game of 2 truths, 1 lie). And when I say 'brunch', I actually mean FEAST. Bagels and lox and frittata and coffee and juice and blueberry crisp and whipped cream and wedges of artisan chocolate.

LAST EVER DATE WITH ANGEL DAVID RIVERA: As head of the International Society, David has the exchange students over for a lunch date to say goodbye, and to get feedback on their year abroad. He's a wonderful man, David, and it's just a shame that he won't allow us to call him Angel.

(First and ... ) LAST C.A.V.E: Carnivorous Alternatives to Vegetarian Eating, outside the library during Reading Week. Procedure: 1) arm oneself with wooden skewer 2) wait in crowd while BBQ-ers cook the meat 3) chant MEAT MEAT MEAT 4) pounce.

LAST READING WEEK AND LAST PAPER: Reading Week and Finals Week both bizarrely come after Renn Fayre, which, in customary achronological style, I will write about in my next post. The idiot got 2 out of 3 finals done and dusted before Renn Fayre, which left her the entirety of Reading Week to get on with Gail's paper. Mainly to escape from the Stim Table stench in the library foyer, she did most of the paper off campus, one afternoon even setting up shop at the grand county library in the city centre. Of course she left much of its 15 pages to the last minute and crippled herself with the computer hunchback, but, when finished, felt this strange elation and/or sadness, definite disembodiment and loss of what to do now.

LAST TIME SHE EVER TRIES TO SELL HER CLOTHES ON HIPSTER BOULEVARD: Idiots don't handle rejection too well.

Consette x