Excuses, excuses

Dear Reader:

It seems once again that my ambition has exceeded my talent and discipline. It's been almost two weeks since my last post, and I'm afraid that interest in my serialization will flag markedly if I don't provide the faithful with regular sustenance (cerealization?) By way of an excuse, I will tell you that I wake up early every morning to sit at my computer and peck fitfully at my latest post (a modernist and kaleidoscopic rendering of the many characters that populate my days and nights), before surrendering to the allure of news updates on the Times and the irresistible chuckles of The Onion. Also, it's springtime, and I've got better things to do than sit at my computer all day. Is this the birth or the death of the writer in me? Could they be the same thing?

Anyway, here are some pictures of the campus and environs, with captions, to accompany my last post.

Place Names: The Place

Please note that these were taken about two weeks ago, and that things have "greened up" significantly since then. The willows on the square outside my window are full of tender yellow-green buds, and the administration has begun the absurd practice of watering the grass by inundating it completely. It's beginning to look a lot like Venice...

Also, to keep your appetite for me whetted, I present you with a parodic "bizarro"-blog created by my mysterious doppelganger, "Foberts."

The Abbreviated Journals Of Foberts

Anyone familiar with my inner circle's penchant for portmanteau will identify its author immediately by elimination, as only one of the two knows the word "postcolonial." The post from Sunday the 22nd is a disarmingly complete picture of my unconscious, and a masterpiece of Freudian condensation. Anyway, it's the yang to my yin (or yin to my yang...a good discussion topic) and I hope the author finds it within himself to keep up the good work.

Soon, I swear.