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RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
2001-02-01
Finally I shut off the TV and sit down to begin work upon my Ph.D. thesis proposal. I entitle my thesis, "Style and the Infinite Extensibility of Self." Then I rest.
I survey the task before me. The Doctoral Thesis�daunting, like Everest, only more so. More probably fatal, at least. Am I equipped? I snap my gum. Of course I am. In my secret card catalogue brain I have collated sources ceaselessly, for many years. So I wrote nothing down. The brain is mysterious! I think I remember reading somewhere that when you�re writing the thesis you�re really going to finish, the quotations just come to you, out of the blue ether�spiriti verbatim, I�m sure they�re called�and that when you get near the end of the thesis you�re finally going to finish they�re coming at you in clouds�page numbers, publishers, dates of first publication. That there�s really not this need the neophytes expect for a great deal of written preparation. And it�s not as if I�ll be vulnerable to criticism upon any stage of my ascent�after all, I�ve rehearsed each and every necessary line of self-defense so many times over by now that I�m just waiting for my cue, it�s impossible to shake me. In fact, as I arrive, at last, at the Doctoral Thesis, and look up, I am so prepared for my performance of this showiest of mental labors, I am so made up for it, that I am virtually fluorescent in goggles and wig.
When I recall that I am not�nor have I ever been�in graduate school, I wonder whether it follows, in that case, that I should turn the TV back on again? Why does it feel like it follows.