The Comments

I confess that I fantasize about being a drug addict, particularly of prescription drugs. I confess that I would pursue this if it wouldn't be inconvenient to my kids (and set a poor example), hurt the day job, and generally make interpersonal relations much more difficult.

Alcoholism is another option with some appeal. But, I hate the way that too much wine messes up my sleep, can't stand the day after, and find that alcohol contributes to weight gain (perhaps because I find myself munching to absorb the alcohol). I confess that I've been worrying about this since I have an academic meeting next week. Alcohol is the best way to get through it. Yet, I have several early morning panels and have to interview job candidates. So, that suggests moderation, something I find quite challenging.

I confess to porn envy--I admire the porn symposium and envy the authors of the contributions. Yet, I confess to having nothing interesting to say about pornography. I generally find myself torn between appreciating aeshetic values, interesting new stagings or arrangements and the more basic: does it get the job done?


But IT, every time I see you you're both sober and sociable - as rational, sensible, and non-self-destructive as anyone could wish, really.

Clearly you need to spend more (lunch-)time in grim cafes. The only other alternative is full-time work, which I cannot in all conscience recommend.

Remember: time is relative, lunchtime infinitely so.


I confess I haven't been spending as much time mucking about with things like monadic frameworks for delimited continuations as I used to, and that I miss the warm cameraderie of the #haskell IRC list.

I confess that the literary-philosophical-dilettante side of my life and the armchair-computer-scientist side of my life appear to be permanently irreconcilable, and that neither looks like resolving itself into anything resembling professional, full-time commitment any time soon. I confess that I'm vain enough to believe that I could do great things if only I could focus on one thing at a time for long enough. I confess that I strongly doubt I will ever manage to do this, and enjoy just mucking about dilettante-ishly too much to be really strongly motivated to try. Why sweat for glory when you can get most of the kicks that matter by just tossing off occasional blogposts?


Focus is overrated. It makes your eyes tired.

I confess that I sleep a lot.

I confess that IT's porn post is the only one of her posts I've not masturbated to.

In my capacity as head of the PhD Students Association at CTS, I have to plan a chapel service for the first week of school. I confess that I don't want to plan it -- in fact, normally I don't even go to chapel. I confess that I haven't been to mass since Marion's class ended. (I used to go to the afternoon mass at one of the churches downtown on my way to his class, just to get in a Catholic mood.)


I confess to general grumpiness here in the land of boredom. Also, that I've done nearly no work aside from some on my grant and have instead watched Law & Order and Star Trek:TNG and DS9 six or more hours a day. Further I confess I'm sick with guilt at my disgust at nearly everything about this town and the way people here live.


I confess that I'm very jealous that, at the very least, IT was shortlisted for a job post.


I confess I looked up "polemical" in the dictionary.


I confess that I no longer know what is going on here.


Maybe I can help -- what in specific are you having trouble with?


I confess to being back home again


How was Seoul?


i confess to the fact that though i only read this blog occasionally and have never posted a thing on it, the recent chatter about porn and alcohol has made me wonder if just by reading it i am hurting my chances at latter academic employment. not that i am above any of this, its just feels like the cards are already stacked against me.


The cards are already stacked against you for academic employment. As in Vegas, you're better off giving in than fighting the house.


Dominic - well, I would spend more time in deliriously grimy caffs - if only people wouldn't keep leaving me to go back to work! Last literary meet seemed about twenty seconds long. We need weekends!

Brad - If I get the job (I won't), you can have it.

falsename - doomed, doomed, doomed.


For tenure track positions, they definitely track down your history of visited sites -- and not the one on your computer, the one on your ISP's servers. It seems unjust, but if you think about it, they have to have some way of getting down to a reasonable number of candidates from the 8,000 applicants for each position.


We need weekends!

"Dear, I'd like to go away to London next weekend to spend the day sitting in a cafe with my new communist friends - maybe spend the evening watching some DVDs of 'arthouse erotica' - then spend the whole of Sunday traipsing around London looking at delapidated slabs of defunct utopianism, discussing the semiotics of the cum shot and talking about Brian Eno's penchant for photoshopping pictures of women's bums. You'll be OK looking after the kids, won't you...?"


I'm going to hold you that, IT.


Oh Dominic...the truth couldn't be any closer. But you could bring the kids! And the wife! We love kids! And wives! We're communists! we love everyone! And I'd hold my paws over the little eyes during the arthouse porn. Before teaching them about alienation and modernist architecture, of course.

I confess I sometimes wonder what my life could have been like had I decided to be a 'mother' instead of a (erm...whatever it is). I suspect I might have not been very good at it. I'm sort of curious-envious, but not enough to give up drinking for.....9 months! and my life for.....eighteen years! I get this kind of metaphysical haze. I think anyone who thinks about it so oddly probably shouldn't do it.


Thank you for correcting my spelling of "dilapidated".


Ha! you noticed...very astute. I may be a sot but I try and keep words pretty.


Do Roehampton know you're blogging here too? If not, I'll happily let them know.


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