HAP-y New Yrs

Dear Liberal Artists, Linguists, Fiction-ers
& Colleagues Across the Curriculum,

Final final words for the New Year.

(Can’t let go: indulging my Courses-Without-Borders
notion. Borderline personality, I admit it: on the edge
where illegal immigrants climb the barriers; outlaw
territory damnit: overruling closed doors and compart-
mentalism. as our alma matrix sings of: stalwart
pioneering toward frontiers yet unknown…)

You can improve my terms and images: languagers,
fictionalists and liberal artists-- hope of the free world,
yes? How could it be otherwise, all in touch with each
other finger-tip away, everyone a laptop dancer, in this
globule village and no child need be left a behind.

Local food back.

I’ve finished reading your final “course” work—fictions,
theories, expostulations, journals, creative translations,
Basement Writer reflections… acts of imagination,
which you recall Einstein claimed counted more
than knowledge & you better believe it even
though it goes against the common sense.

[The 9/11 Commission concluded after studying
the NYC disaster that our chief flaw was lack of
imagination. (Google IT your own self.) And
Alan Greenspan told his Congressional Committee
that we as people just aren’t smart enough.]

Don’t take my words for it!
I say: it’s not how much I
know but whether I can
put it in play or not
that counts.

Your work (all 3 classes) was the smartest, most savvy
best writing of any of my courses yet. I don’t understand
this & run a risk in telling you simply because it might
sound like brown-gnosis or patronizing, like me trying to
tell my daughter she’s beautiful & also amazing which never
had much impact because I’m her old man, and it don’t count;
where as any stranger, nut, drunk, football hero, teacher, home
less person, clown, cop, hippie tattooed punk puppie, or
construction worker might wink, whistle, smile, clap and the
complement would last 15 minutes.

We had a President back in the 70’s who genuinely made
everyone feel special so no one felt special at all.
Indiscriminate in appreciation. No hierarchy of
value & credit. Everyone on the same level
of special assesment & who feels good
about THAT?.

This is the problem and challenge:
How to make you all feel good about the work.
Best semester yet, as far as I’m concerned and
I don’tknow why.

I want to know why.

I’m guessing it has something to do with instant messaging
& massage and the tap-tap accessibility of the intelligence of
the universe: games, videos, music, I-phones, photo ops,
texting & con- texting; any one can Google Up how to make
a bomb plus Shakespeare and con-spiracy theories, mito-
chondia; I can locate exactly where I am via satellite, plus
infinite images to back-up ideas and terms of discourse:
tell and also show:


(CHAOS: literally! the gap, the chasm: the yawn)

Immediate cerebral gratification.

We’re experiencing Meta Sustainability Convulsions these days.
Pangs:
ouch
ow,
dang
damnit:
that really hurts.

And IT don’t fit my terms of desire
or understanding or sustainability addiction,
you know: my habits and habitats of humania.
Feels like BB Wolf at the Doors, that bastard
—huffing & puffing to blow my houses down.

Do I have a problem with that?

Hell yes I do. .

So I’m taking some small satisfaction in the ways
you guys put IT in play this semester. IT, I said.
No need to spell IT out. I’m sure & it warms the
cockles of my flintstone heart inside this dinosaurian
hire educational lurch & shuffle Big Box system we
sustain—me self-serving: trying to build an ice cream
you scream we all scream parlor in hell without insulting
either hot or cold—mixed meta force not with standing
or what's a college for?.

Many Thanks.

Best, Sam