Yesterday I had a moment of wild happy clarity while driving home down 280, that highway of epiphanies. All my various theory-sources melded together. I felt I could write all the way to the moon and back. That feeling is still with me this morning.
And there is wild blathering! Let there by melding, and juxtaposition, and explaining of the reasons of unreason! Let Feyerabend be cited in the most unthought of ways for purposes unorthodox, and radical 70s feminists slammed together with the MCPs of modernismo and the idea of 'ergodicity' and the Cuban n3o-baroque, and let tiny particles leave their trails in the cloud chambers!
It was in class Thurs. when Prof. F. suddenly was saying that one could do anything with anything and about knowing and how you know and how to read. And I pointed out that this is where you get in Comp Lit, but when you start saying it, it's quite.... (and I was about to say "outrageous" but she suddenly chirped, "Outrageous"...) And then she said something like, "It is what is produced that's important" and I might have actually yelped out loud because it was just what I have been trying to say for 2 years about the method and the tools and the raw material's "orthodoxy" being not so important as being sure to list them and that even not being so important as "is it productive, and what happens if."
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