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This week is supposed to be catch up week from the work I missed through being in the theatre almost solidly last week. I ought to hand in last week's essay by this evening. Somehow I can't see it happening.

Time spent procrastinating on the internet: Lots
Time spent working: Not nearly enough
Time spent fallen asleep at desk with head in book: More than strictly reasonable

Still. The good thing about the penultimate week of term is you can spend the whole week going "oooh, [random weekly event] is only going to happen one more time before the end of term..."

I feel like I ought to write something about the marvelousness that was this term's show and the lovely shiny cast. But it would only be procrastination, and the people who would be interested already know.
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I had a very long and complicated dream last night, which I'd probably write up as fic if it wasn't for the fact that I'm snowed under with work. It involved Thierry Henry being wrongly accused of murder but having difficulty getting off because admitting where he actually had been at the time the crime was committed would have meant admitting to Teh Slash.

Other news? 2 Longwall Street has turned into feminist boot-camp this week. I'm working on feminist linguistics, and [profile] vampire_kitten has acquired a copy of The Descent of Woman. Plus all the Andrea Dworkin stuff that's been floating around - another thing I don't have time to write is the poncy essay floating around in the back of my head on Dworkin's feminism and slash as the appropriation of the male's been said before in general, but not specifically in relation to her ideas about body-indentity and pornography, I don't think.

Anyway. Back to the revision.


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July 2011

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