Through a Gnarls, Barkley

Now is the time to put away childish things.

Except for this blog.

Grad school's started - as close to the literal vise-on-the-brain as I'll get without actually putting my brain in a vise. It's not so much the readings, or the classes, but the pressure of the ether, the intoxicating smell of work clouding the hallways (in which I always get lost - my school is labyrinthine).

I find that William James, who suffered bouts of anxiety and a couple of nervous breakdowns, is an incredibly appropriate first reading.

Aesthetics, thanks for making the world.