The red Dragon Flits Away

My hair looks good. So I'm cheered up. Fuck everybody anyways though. Hah! I rock. Still mentally constipated. I'm reading books by my thesis advisor to help me kiss his ass when he judges the defense, and I have to say he's a smart cookie, as far as a French pundit goes. When I'm finished the defense and it doesn't matter anymore what he learns in this blog by Googling himself - for example, how I made a considered decision to murderize him back in November - I'll tell you all about him. Because God forbid a French pundit should have an opinion that isn't passed on to as many people as possible. Seriously though, France is coming from somewhere - albeit a paranoid, nasty, dank place - in terms of foreign policy. And one thing I'll say for the claustrophobic, smelly little hole their strategy comes from - it's a place which is at least a little more conscious of the common good of the French people than whatever Boschian nightmare American foreign policy is of the common good of the American people. I think that's the thing that really gets me about American foreign policy - so much pain, so much terror, yet the equilibrium it fights for tooth and nail might not be what its citizens need. I'm thinking of economic needs, of course. Militarily, obviously they've done a bang-up job of preserving the people ever since the Civil War. But I reckon military concerns are just symptoms of economic problems so I'm afraid that will change, that it is changing now in front of our eyes, and if I had a little more imagination I'd be shitting myself over that instead of one lousy little thesis defense.

Anyways, my advisor is clever, and his writing is witty and cynical enough that even I and my crap Moon-Man skills can appreciate it. The thing is, he was a lousy classroom manager and I was a lousy student, so I didn't appreciate his class. See? This is the AWESOME thing about knowing how to read. You can catch up on all the things you should have learned when you were smoking too much hash and living through a laughably unhealthy relationship during your master's coursework. God, I was weird, fuck. While chatting about boys in Moon-Man with a very patient Lady yesterday evening, I realized how little aggravation I have in my life now compared to Moon-Man Land. What was my problem? Was it arrogance, an addictively maternal belief that dude couldn't fasten all his clothes, tie his laces, blow his nose if I left him? Or was it a massive insecurity; honestly believing that was what I deserved? Probably both. I hope I actually learnt stuff from that about how not to be an idiot. On verra.