Blogging has been light due to preparation for the last class I have left before my last qual (emphasis on last.) The plan is to leverage this very particular set of classes in military acquisition into credits towards a Masters degree. That said, I must submit my material and hopefully the university board will agree with me.
I studied and went through the classwork today at my home away from home, Panera Bread. And when I could sit there no longer, I went to my local hippie coffee place. In what could only be described as a toe-curling (toe-curdling?) experience, a poetry grad student read her work to her professor one table over from me. I have selectively chosen to forget what I heard. Poetry is best left to the pros who can craft literary nectar as if whispered to by the Gods. In honor of the amateur poetess, I will leave you with this piece of Russian music by Anna Akhmatova, Along the Hard Crust:
Along the hard crust of deep snows,
To the secret, white house of yours,
So gentle and quiet – we both
Are walking, in silence half-lost.
And sweeter than all songs,
Are this dream,
becoming the truth,
a-nodding with favor,
The light ring of your silver spurs…
Thank you Anna. Poetry, best left to experts.