i’ve been getting emails from the class i dropped lately. apparently, the group i had signed up to do a presentation with at the beginning of the year had not realized i dropped the class over a month ago. i’ve been reveling in their email struggles to set up a time to meet with my professor. today however, my sadistic voyeurism ended. the prof finally realized that i was on the email list and was no longer in the class, thereby informing the rest of the group that “Adam Harvey is no longer a part of the class.” i could sense the venom in those words, especially since she sent the email to me as well. poor craptastic ex-teacher of mine.
in other news, i’m so tired of reading poems about rape in my poetry class that i am going to fight back. Now, the very fact that each week there is at least one poem a week written by a girl about sexual assault or rape or the invasive, violent aspects of sex, points to a variety of problems. first, that things like this occur on a scale such as this, second, that even if said writers have not been raped, they still feel that they must write about it constantly. third, that i have yet to see a poem that is constructive or feels even slightly enjoyable toward the sexual act. And fourth, that the poems i’ve been reading about rape are so unconstructive and have become so stale that i feel that i must write a poem from the standpoint of a rapist. at first my friend Kate suggested i write a poem as if i’d been raped. i immediately changed it to being a rapist. its quite more confrontational and i think i can channel my exasperation after 13 weeks of rape poems quite nicely. what is my poetry class coming to? jeebus.