John Currie

The following is from class. Note the book Finite and Infinite games is referenced. A surprise to me that eve. Is this always on my mind?

Though I could talk about Carse's ideas of finite and infinite games I am hesitant to. Yet that hesitation is precisely the dilemma-- How to access "life as a vision of play and possibility" --the infinite or my assumption or critique--the finite-- a short lived(possibly) rule based game for time or limited ends.

There is too much sweating now that I've cooked and eaten my Nova Scotian curry, but truly writing this to avoid doing something more complicated(though that assumption may end up biting me on the ass).

At times when I go to write these reports, I sometimes think I should have a quill in my hand and a voiceover in a posh BBC dialect stimulating some unearthed romance. It is always the opposite.

What is on my mind? The overwhelming concern is how to deal with James and the giant qualia. The book didn't seem so nearly out of my grasp twenty or so years ago when I read it as a youngster living in Washington Square. Perhaps the Jamesian locale helped me front or I was so enthused to be living in the thick of it in those days, I convinced myself I enjoyed it and understood. Or maybe I'm just looking for more now that I've seen how easy it is to convince yourself of specters passing through amongst the living.

The overwhelming reality of my consciousness today and this week has been my technological and generational difficulties with online realities seeing that I go to these cafes and can or can't get to my blog or my email or in that sense my soul, thinking there is some basis for the glich but must understand that often, that is the way it is, despite pleading with the wireless networks, nothing can be done.

Jenna, I'm sympathetic. It seems since I started grad school I have been plagued, but then again, I don't want to be too dramatic.
In that spirit, here is Jenna's link.

As I have been told or bumped off the network, I don't know if this has been published. If not I have lost my opening sentence, If so it will appear twice. So be it

Jack Frost knows how maples are tapped. Jack Frost knows, the winter is upon some of us.

The overwhelming sense today for this spill is my distinct immobility of thought as, instead of any empty apt. for my studio, my "other" is here, working and making phone calls to some of her clients and getting gossip calls from her girfriends.

I guess, which I suppose most of you are not, if you follow dates and track my habits through posting dates you would see I have allowed myself to get behind in class. Maybe that's acceptable you but it's not for me so you can't just stop it right Mr. and Mrs. Blogosphere.

"Everywhere you go, there you are." And here I stay, still feeling behind the eight ball sans magic or fortune telling.

It is that time already, they have delivered a tree to rock, which seems to happen earlier every year. This year as part of the green theme so much media has discovered more of as of late, they cut this huge tree down with hand saws, which took them an hour longer to do.