The semester is steaming along, and steamrolling me. Wonderful discussions yesterday in two of my classes, both part of Poetry Inside/Out, contributed to the steamrollery and also inspired me to further consider the role of social critics and social criticism.
I’m headed to the mud hut for a few days, where I’ll be working on cisterns, the outdoor kitchen, and some raised garden beds. I used my magnus opus as the basis for a luncheon talk I’ll be giving next month to kick off the Honors College’s once-a-month series. Students in the Honors College were asked to read Daniel Quinn’s book, Ishmael, during the summer. Below, I’ve attached the draft transcript of my talk for your comments.
If you’re in Tucson this afternoon, I’ll be reading from, and signing, my latest book at the main bookstore on campus. The gig’s at 4:30 p.m., and I’d like to meet you there.
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There’s no time like Christmas in this “Christian” nation. The connection between reason and daily life grows ever more tenuous as the empire crumbles. And Christianity’s most holy days particularly encourage disassociation from reality.
It doesn’t pay to be a prophet, at least not in one’s own time. I’ve been ridiculed, disparaged, and generally mocked in public, and the email in-box is filled with hateful missives. I’m not complaining, mind you: Every social critic knows how little regard society has for criticism. I don’t much care for it myself, when it’s pointed my way.