The Dissertation, It Just Ruins Everything

I'm at the luncheon following the morning's talks at the American Literature Association's Symposium on Naturalism.  (More on the them momentarily.)  I'm discussing 19th century evolutionary theory with two extremely bright graduate students and a number of professors. 

We're discussing our work, and I'm enjoying not having to explain everything for once—I say Haeckel, they think ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny; they say Weissman, I think de-tailed lizards—and the experience is beautiful.  (To return to the previous metaphor: you shag the final out and you're jogging back to the bench, faking punches, slapping asses, feeling camaraderie.)

Only there's this feeling. 

This recognizable feeling. 

This familiar feeling. 

But sitting at this table, having this discussion, I can't place it.  So I ignore it.

This annoys it.  It escalates its campaign from gentle prod to vigorous tap.  This fails. 

It soldiers on. 

Only when ankle kicks turn to body blows do I pay it the attention it desperately seeks:

"Who are you?" I ask.

"You should be working on your dissertation," it responds.

I hate it.  I really, really hate it.

Comments

[Cap'n Morgan]

Obi-Wan: But you cannot control it. This is a dangerous time for you, when you will be tempted by the Dark Side of the Force.

Or Perhaps

Obi-Wan: Your father... was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. He ceased to be Anakin Skywalker and BECAME Darth Vader. When that happened, the good man who was your father was destroyed.

[middlebrow]

But we were glad to have you at the luncheon.

[SEK]

Suck up all you want, I'm still snubbing you tomorrow.

Like I'd go to your presentation.

As if.

[Adam Roberts]

You shag the what?

And you call this filth, base-ball ...?

[Rich Puchalsky]

Sadly, Adam, the lack of acceptance of homosexuality in American culture means that the whole group sex thing has to be thinly disguised as a sport. But really, anything that explicitly calls for ass-slapping isn't too far in the closet.

And the "final out" is the low man on the totem pole, so to speak.

[Aimee W.]

Scott - it was nice to meet you, too. I'm fascinated by The Valve and will continue to read it and your blog (I'd direct you to mine, but alas, I don't have one!). Comments on your talk forthcoming - I'm sorry to have missed it!

[SEK]

First, I must apologize to everyone for writing what is, quite possibly, the Single Gayest Sentence in the History of the English Language (Unintentional Division). I mean, seriously, if that ain't proof of homosociality, I don't know what it is.

Second, to the two brilliant graduate students from the conference who've commented: Welcome! The conference was truly exceptional, in large part because of folks like you. I'm looking forward to continuing the conversation.