Taking It Off

I’m bunking off from running, still, as the weather stolidly refuses to improve and my throat is still wobbly (it’s embarrassing talking about the death of Jesus in John’s Gospel with a voice that alternates between James Earl Jones and Mickey Mouse). Right now the BBC projects tolerable weather for Sunday, so I’ll tentatively plan to resume running then.
I neglected to mention yesterday that I had gone to the lecture by Paul Gilroy, ‘Race-thinking and the Half-life of Atlantic Slavery,’ and it was a remarkable conspectus of the many dimensions of the toxic persistent legacies of racial ideologies. I tried to take notes, but just couldn’t keep up; I hope they put it online some day. I hadn’t heard anyone invoke Castoriadis and Dusssell in a long, long time.
Today is Friday of Eighth; I’m still a little behind in my marking, but as of today I can’t get further behind, and all the marking I do will have the effect of zeroing out my essay debt.

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